Category: Words

The Plan for saturday was was to drive westwards cross country to Kirroughtree and ride the legendary red and black run combo. The lure of highly rated trails and challenges like McMoab and Heartbreak Hill were too good to miss. The trails lived up to our collective expectations with massive lengths of swoopy Singletrack that had is all grinning at the end. The trails were pedally but flowed and it was fair to say that we rocked around.

The legendary bits of trail proved to be every but as good as we had hoped and every but as evil. Towards the end of the day one of the multistep rock drop downs proved to be too much for Tyrrells riding style and the forks on his bike, which blew through thru travel and promptly stopped, pitching him over the bars. Superman acrobatics led to a midair somersault to running landing off piste, saving some expensive dental work and facial reconstruction.

Shortly afterwards the terrain took another savage turn and took a big bite out of his rear tyre. The smarties cake wrapper came into play agains and with a swift patch up we were ready to roll again. The trails were great but it was a real work out in the wet conditions plugging through the route.

By the time we made it back to the car it was clear there was no way we could fit in a trip to Ae as well in one day. Of course by the time we made it back to the car the continual drizzle we had endured all day had disappeared and the sun had come out. That was just typical! In the end after a quick lunch stop by the time we reached Ae it was 4pm and with only an hour left of daylight it was time to crack onto Glentress. A cafe stop in Moffat allowed us to recover a bit before continuing the trip.

After a drive up from Manchester on Thursday night, we rode around Dalbeattie on Friday morning. Unfortunately like last time the weather was the nasty side of grim. Thursday night saw a torrential downpour which meant that the ground was already saturated and the day long drizzle didn’t help either. The fireroads were dragging and some of the Singletrack was boggy, but it was still a top place to burn around on the bikes.

Unlike last time we took a bit of time out to ride the slabs. For the uninitiated these are fairly massive steeply sloping granite faces, complete with eroded faults and cracks. Once you’ve rolled in you’re committed, but we all gave our best on this. Towards the end of the day on a section of rocks I managed to catch the rear wheel and sustain a pinch puncture.

For lunch we headed over to Mabie and the ace cafe cum bike shop. After soup and a combination of sausage and haggis butties we headed off in pursuit of the red run and the infamous darkside black run. Conrad and I had wisely missed this out on our trip three years ago, but a brief emergence of sunshine gave us the encouragement to try it.

The truth is that even with Stick-E rubber tires, appropriate use of tyres, brakes and handling, the wet wood (especially the natural timber as opposed to the cut materials) was just too slippery. We mucked about on the first section down to the lake and then headed up to the the start of the double black diamond. Puncture number two struck here with a thorn. The challenge of the double black diamond stuff was far too much. The combo of the tretcherous surface and tired legs and challenging trails was just too much. After a few offs and some near misses we decided to head back to the red.

The red run has some of the best sections of any man made trail I know. The bermed corners, jumps and drops were a great combination. It was in one of the later sections that a rifle shot signalled the end of a days riding at any pace. The Kenda Nevegal that had been doing an ace job had blown the side wall just above the beading. I sent everyone else ahead and rumaged through the rucksack for a tyre patch. Fortunately a Smarties cake wrapper saved the day and a cautious trip back down to the cafe was achieved.

Mostly packed and ready to leave tonight for Scotland. I think it’s going to be a great trip with some great trails and weather. I’m hoping to get some more photos in. Wales was disappointing with poor light and nasty weather and only six anywhere near near reasonable shots out of over 75. Maybe, I’ll produce something worthy of the NEMBA contest.

Each year NEMBA run a web forum based comp that allows members to share their best mountain bike picture online and let NEMBA forum members pick the winner. The deadline for submissions is March 8th, and the online judging will take place shortly afterwards. The winner for best picture of the year will be determined by an online poll, and all registered members of NEMBA’s forum will be eligible to cast their vote! NEMBA’s panel of judges will select eight (8) finalists, and Forum members will be able to vote to determine the winner.

Each finalist will receive a NEMBA ball cap and a Park BO-1 bottle opener tool. The winner will be awarded a Certificate of Best MTB Picture of the Year, a NEMBA Jersey, NEMBA ball cap, pair of NEMBA socks, a New Sun hydration pack, a 2 lb. container of Hammer Heed, and a one-year membership to NEMBA.

Ride to work today. Get to a set of lights on red. Eye up the competition for the race to the next set. A number 42 Stagecoach, a black cab and a traffic warden on a Honda Scooter. The lights change. I crank up the 53:15, the scooter gets a quicker off, but we’ve left the bus and cab far behind. A few metres later I’ve caught the scooter back up. I cruise up along side on the inside. I look across. He looks back.

It’s like something out of the Fast and the Furious or should that be Meet the Parents? A non verbal competition has been made. I look ahead and put the hammer down, he buries the throttle. In a second I’ve pulled away, winding it up, sprinting out of the saddle I drop it down the block and gun it through the next lights which are on green and the ones after that. Now I need to change lanes into the outside one, for my turn off. I look over my right shoulder and I’ve put in a 30m gap to my petrol fuelled comrade. Sweet.

I tell thee. Marmalade sandwiches for breakfast are the food of champions. Champions of the traffic light sprint that is.

Catia’s dropped me an email. She’s concerned about the fact that Fisher Price have made what appears to be a turbo trainer linked to a TV for kids. As she rightly points out, this is surreal, shouldn’t kids pedal in the open air, get all muddy and come back home with a few bruises? The again after last night’s Top Gear, may be it isn’t safe to go out on the streets in large portions of the US anymore.

I had to put a new pattery in my Polar AXN700 the other day which meant I thought I’d better record my totals since I bought it before the trips to the alps last summer. Whilst wearing it…

Since 07/06/06 I’ve burned 51,657 Kcal
On the 15/07/06 I reached the highest altitude 2,795m somewhere in Zermatt
Since the 07/06/06 I’ve climbed 25,400m and descended 25,790m

Also of interest is the fact that the CTC now has an online system for reporting of obstructions on byways and bridleways. All you have to do is go to www.clearthattrail.org.uk and fill in the details, and CTC will do the rest. It couldn’t be easier – so please use it to help to make our routes fully ridable.

For those who prefer the do it yourself approach, obstruction forms can be downloaded from the Rights of Way Section at www.imba.org.uk

My usual commuting route into work has been out of action for the last few weeks as a group of workmen sip tea, read The Sun in the front seat of their transits, wolf whistle and ogle at attractive young female students and piss into a hole that has meant that Upper Brook Street in Manchester is closed to inbound traffic.

As a result of the other alternative routes being particularly unfavourable, I have been running the gauntlet along Europes busiest bus route, Oxford Road. The irony in this is it actually has a pretty good provision for bikes in the form of a dedicated bus lane that runs from the top of the Curry Mile in Rusholme right into the city centre. Unfortunately this route is for quite large sections shared with buses and runs through heart of the University campus.

This means as well as dealing with mobile alley ways between buses and cars there is the added thrill of taxi drivers taking ‘shortcuts to nowhere’ and students in various states and combinations of being: high on drugs/drunk/hungover/ipod’d/late for lectures. This of course means that each year there are generally at least two fatalities and many other serious injuries as people discover the implications of being hit by several tons of Magic Bus. NCAP tests for pedestrian safety don’t seem to extend to buses, least not the diesel belching death traps that shuttle the nations finest to our World Class institution. If you get hit by one of these bad boys you’re not going to be getting up.

Over the last few weeks even riding the white line between the two lines of traffic hasn’t been enough to escape near death experiences. I have discovered that:

1. The exocet missile properties of taxis in relation to taking out cyclists is that they think they rule the road and that everyone should get out of their way. Even if you’re in the right, by their book you’re in the wrong. Even if you do catch them up at the next set of lights you have to face the language barrier of communication, be it Polish, Afghan or Mancunian.

2. You can’t trust anyone to watch where they’re going. Ever. It’s every person for themselves.

Onwards to today. Coming down to the Precinct Centre next to Manchester Computing heading into town. Line of about five buses in the bike/bus/taxi lane dropping people off at a bus stop and a queue of stationary traffic in the other lane. I’m gunning it down the outside of both on the white line and a pedestrian emerges from in front of a van, doesn’t look and steps out into my path.

It’s amazing even when you’re on the hoods how much ground you cover before your reactions let you hit the brakes and you start to sloooowwww doooowwwwwnnnn. Weight back off the saddle. Front brake is full on and the steering is going squiffy. The call of “Whoa!” sounds like it’s being said over the space of a minute, The girl turns, possible clocking a blob of bright orange out of the corner of her eye hurtling towards her. She turns, stops, starts to step back…

It’s all too late I’m right next to her. Lean to the right outwards into the oncoming traffic. Catch her with my left arm. Feel it run over her, then ‘Thwack!’ Folowed by ‘Ooomph!’ and the sound of teeth as my shoulder makes contact with her chin and sends her head sideways.

A quick look back over the shoulder and she’s still standing. A call of ‘Sorry’ follows from her and is responded to with an ‘Are you okay?’, but she’s already turned and started to make her way across the road to the otherside. That was close.

I often wonder what goes through people minds as you over take them as they sit there in their cars in nose to tail traffic. The fact that you see the same people sitting their day after day as they burn petrol (read money) and inhaling diesel fumes seems odd. Maybe they enjoy it? Am I missing some perverse thrill?

Clearly the fact that they’d get where they’re going a lot quicker if they were on two wheels, might actually benefit from it health wise and would be part of the solution – not the problem – hasn’t quite registered yet. Maybe they need some education Cars’R’Coffins style.

And don’t get me started on the number of people who are in the cars on their own. Bring on congestion charging that’s what I say. I think the general understanding of the term ‘car pool’ isn’t the socially responsible act of sharing transport with friends and colleagues, rather the conceptual movement led by Keith Moon and more recently Clarkson.

Just under three years ago Conradski and I loaded up the car and on a crisp and snowy day at the end of February ventured out into the Derbyshire Dales south of Buxton to ride. An updated photo gallery from the original trip into the Peak District’s White Peak area can now be found on this page.

This weekend Tyrrell and I returned to revisit the same route and this time didn’t get anywhere near as lost or exhausted. The mud on the route over the top’o’the quarries wasn’t nearly as deadly, the trails weren’t buried beneath snow and we had the luxury of sunshine from the start of the ride until the end. More photos in the gallery.

Not posted for a while, which does mean I have the advantage of a whole heap of things to post that have accumulated in my inbox. Remember all those TV shows you enjoyed at the time and then forgot all about? Well it looks like someone has taken the time to actually compile a fairly comprehensive summary of them all. Check out Retrojunk for your reminder of Street Hawk, Manimal and Airwolf and just how dated they are now – they’ve even managed to find Tales of the Golden Monkey. Ace!

From: Tyrrell
Subject: These are pretty funny
HOW MEN AND WOMEN DIFFER

NICKNAMES
* If Laura, Kate and Sarah go out for lunch, they will call each other Laura, Kate and Sarah.
* If Mike, Dave and John go out, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fat Boy, Godzilla and Four-eyes.

EATING OUT
* When the bill arrives, Mike, Dave and John will each throw in R50, even though it’s only for R115.50. None of them will have anything smaller and none will actually admit they want change back.
* When the girls get their bill, out come the pocket calculators.

MONEY
* A man will pay R2 for a R1 item he needs.
* A woman will pay R1 for a R2 item that she doesn’t need but it’s on sale

BATHROOMS
* A man has six items in his bathroom: toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, a bar of soap, and a towel from Dischem.
* The average number of items in the typical woman’s bathroom is 337. A man would not be able to identify more than 20 of these items.

ARGUMENTS
* A woman has the last word in any argument.
* Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.

CATS
* Women love cats.
* Men say they love cats, but when women aren’t looking, men kick cats.

FUTURE
* A woman worries about the future until she gets a husband.
* A man never worries about the future until he gets a wife.

SUCCESS
* A successful man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend.
* A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

MARRIAGE
* A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn’t.
* A man marries a woman expecting that she won’t change, but she does.

DRESSING UP
* A woman will dress up to go shopping, water the plants, empty the bins, answer the phone, read a book, and get the post.
* A man will dress up for weddings and funerals.

NATURAL
* Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed.
* Women somehow deteriorate during the night.

OFFSPRING
* Ah, children. A woman knows all about her children. She knows about dentist appointments and romances, best friends, favourite foods, secret-fears and hopes and dreams.
* A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY
* Any married man should forget his mistakes. There’s no use in two people remembering the same thing.

* What a woman says: C’mon…This place is a mess. You and I need to clean. Your trousers are on the floor and you’ll have no clothes if we don’t do the laundry now.
* What a man hears: C’MON … blah, blah, blah YOU AND I blah, blah, blah, blah, blah ON THE FLOOR blah, blah, blah, NO CLOTHES blah, blah, blah, blah, NOW

Can you relate to any of that?

From: Catia
Subject: Mailbox

Why don’t you get a postbox like this?

Oh and that little race in South Africa? Well things are getting a little hot in the Port Elizabeth area. Tyrrell says this news report is talking about the shopping Mall he used to go to all the time.