The idiot diaries

So week two of after dark off road biking has come. It must be autumn then. No pretending it’s the end of summer anymore. The mornings are dark, as are the evenings and there is more than just an occasional chill in the air.

So how did week two go? Well, late on Tuesday afternoon it seemed as though half of the waters of the shipping forecast dropped from the skies in about 30 minutes. Any sane person would take that as a signal not to venture out into the woods to tackle leaf strewn trails. I am an idiot. Off I went in to the dark. There was a definite slipperiness to the trails not to mention standing water. The rain had been sufficient to turn the surface of the trail to slime, while the dirt below remained firm. The slime, the soaking leaves and the abundant tree roots made for an interesting experience.

I felt I had the required control though and ploughed ahead, deciding to wander in a slightly different direction from normal. The rocky and rooty descent which often takes riders by surprise in the daylight proved to be quite fun. As the ground leveled out at the bottom of the slope and I slowed, both in forward motion and mental process, the front wheel slipped away from under me, dumping my right knee onto the dirt, roots and rocks. Bugger. First time I had experienced an unintentional dismount (fall) in the dark. I knew it was down to not concentrating, so I hopped straight back on and set off again.

All was well until the very last little section of flat trail, which I was only pottering along. I must have been thinking about what soup I was going to have, or which socks were the most comfortable, or something equally important. What I was not thinking about was avoiding the slippery roots and suddenly I was on my side in the slime. Bugger again. I wouldn’t make such foolish mistakes on my next night mission I promised myself . . . .

Thursday evening and the second night ride of the week. Picture the grim determination (or constipation) as the cranks spin and the wheels roll across the Clifton suspension bridge. My hydrapack is on my back loaded with water to sustain me. My ageing Cateye RC230 lights, with their huge lead acid battery pack, are in place, charged and ready to go. I’ve even donned my full finger gloves instead of the summer favourites. The sky is clear, it hasn’t rained since Tuesday afternoon and the wind is in my hair. Hang on, the wind is in my hair . . . My hair is exposed to the wind. My helmet is not on my head. My helmet is on my bed. Oh buggeration. Do I risk a trip sans bonce protection? Er, not on the evidence of the last outing! Back across the bridge I go and back to the flat. Oh well, at least it’s all downhill back to the flat. That means it’ll be all uphill again very soon. The same uphill I’ve just done. Ho hum.

Eventually into the woods I go. Still not fast, but at least I’m not feeling as utterly unfit as I did two weeks ago. The fear of four days biking in Scotland in early November is good motivation. I won’t be fit by any means, but I may avoid heart failure. Anyway, my road light has just run out of battery power on the second trip across the bridge, so I have single light illumination only. The road light usually lights the area right in front of the bike. Not normally of too much interest, but useful in a peripheral vision kind of way. The trail is dry though and it’s all good. As I head down the descent that lead to my Tuesday mishap, I can see light through the trees ahead. When I say light, I mean car headlight bright. How can someone get a car in here? A couple of hundred yards more and the mystery is solved. A group of four mountain bikers are sitting there and one of them appears to have created history. By all appearances he has harnessed nuclear fission and strapped it to his bike helmet. Perhaps this is the second coming? Light radiates from this biker's head and those gathered around bathe in it’s glory - the disciples no doubt. Where the hell is the challenge in riding with that thing on your head?! Well, apart from avoiding radiation sickness of course. Never seen the like . . .

The rest of the ride passes comfortably. A surprising number of bikers are out. I must have seen about ten in all. Of course, they are all in groups of at least two, none are stupid enough to go out on their own. That would be foolish and probably asking for trouble. I enjoy it though. Being out on your own, biking in the woods, is always good. Sometimes company is good too, but I like the solitude. Being out, biking in the woods - in the dark - on your own is a different experience, but a good one. I’ll be back for more next week after a dose of daytime riding at the weekend. Variety – spice of life. Sweet as.