Yer Tiz

Over the last couple of years, the Forestry Commission, Bristol council and the SW Cycling Project have been negotiating, designing & building a series of mountain bike trails in Ashton Court and Leigh Woods. The Ashton Court trail was opened last June, Leigh Woods last month.

They are fun! One aspect of offroad cycling in winter that I've not liked is the gloopy sticky mud with we get around here, which means that old biffers like myself slide around and have trouble staying upright. Plus it's hard to keep up a reasonable pace in the muddy woodland trails, which become cut up and full of water.

These packed gravel routes are relatively fast & swoopy, knackering on the old single-speed and FUN. I've been out most weekends the last month or so, and have returned filthy and happy and exhausted.

With luck I'll persuade myself into some early morning rides once the day length increases a little more as at present sunrise is a little late for a decent ride before nice.

:o)

Major One

Late last year I bought a bike from eBay, sight unseen and theoretically my size. It was a road single-speed, just what I wanted, but the 49cm size turned out to be too small for me. Damn. I had fun enough riding it but I was very aware that it wasn't quite right so when in January I saw that a woman on Singletrack was looking for an identical small bike to replace one that had been stolen I offered to sell mine. No joy. She decided to buy a better bike made by a different manufacturer, but also 49cm. I didn't know about that, of course.

A couple of weeks ago I dropped her an email asking if she was still interested in my bike and she told me that her new purchase turned out to be too large. So with a bit of havering and cash adjustments and parts-swapping we decided to exchange bikes. I'm pleased that we did.

I've ended up with a lovely single-speed carbon-forked cyclocross bike that's just a pleasure to ride, at a just-about-affordable price. It's rare for me to really like a bike from the outset, but this one feels just perfect for me. I hope that I remain strong enough to use it for a good long time.


Thank you, Juliet.

:o)

Boosted!

With Moonface out walking for the day, I decided to go for a cycle in Leigh Woods. Crossing the Downs was a pleasure with the sun on my face and primroses growing beside the paths. As the quarries that I use as a warm-up spot were free of kids I spent longer there than usual before pootling over towards & across the Bridge.

Where the paths start off North Road, there is a short steep gravelly section with a sharp bend half-way up. I arrived there just after three other cyclists , blokes in their late 20's - 30ish on newish bikes. I was riding my very tatty old singlespeed which I tend to use more an more when I'm out on my own.

And I burned them off! I overtook two and gained on the third; me with twenty-six fewer gears and at least twenty-six years older! I was so pleased with myself that I had a huge smirh=k on my face for the rest of the ride. Perhaps I'm not as unfit as I feared.

:o)

Corvids

This morning I awoke clear-headed, alert and full of energy.
By early afternoon my hours of staring at a screen had made me heavy & torpid so I grabbed the chance to cycle around the Downs for half an hour or low bright sunlight.

There were so many corvids around, pecking at the turf or scavenging discarded food wrappers.
I saw crows, rooks, a couple of jackdaws, plenty of magpies and a solitary jay. Why so many? What's so special about the Downs?

:o)

Zipties

I went off to the Welsh mountains cycling with the lads again last weekend. Although we started off as one big party, as usual we split into smaller groups after the half-way (ish) point, so that the weaker (or more realistic, or wiser) members could take an easier way back. Just Antony & I decided to retrace our path along the ridge of Offa's Dyke, so we cycled and talked together. I was explaining my love of bodgery and simple mechanics when we heard a loud bang, and my rear tyre immediately flattened & weaved from side to side.

It turned out that it wasn't simply a punctured tube, but a 3" split in the tyre wall itself, not reapairable. It was going to be a long walk back to our base, probably eight miles. So I improvised. I always try to carry a number of zipties with me as they are so useful for odds and ends. I was so grateful to have them with me this time, as after replacing the tube I used three zippies to bind the tyre and to stop the inner from bulging out like an embolism. We cycled slowly back, with me trying to put all my weight over the front, and being extra-specially careful over the bumps and edges; but I made it.

Frankly, I was really pleased with myself, both for having the zippies and for thinking up the idea of how to use them. Smug is not the word.

:o)

Bicycles:

“The bicycle is just as good company as most husbands and, when it gets old and shabby, a woman can dispose of it and get a new one without shocking the entire community.”

Ann Strong, Minneapolis Tribune, 1895

********************************************

"To prepare for a race there is nothing better than a good pheasant, some champagne and a woman."

Jacques Anquetil, 5 times winner of the Tour de France.

I must prepare a bit more..........

:o)

Racing

Just north & above Bristol Zoo and across the road, on the Downs, there is a path winding its way down towards Bridge Valley Road. It's a track that I regularly cycle. Yesterday as I pootled along it a buzzard swooped down from a tree to my left and raced me through the clearing. It won, of course, its silent buff wings only about three metres from me and at the same height as my head. Then it cheated by flying over the next bushes that I had to cycle around, and it was gone.

Magical.

:0)

23:30

It's 11:30 at night and five men, all over fifty, full of curry and beer, are strolling home through the quiet empty streets in the inner suburbs. We've been to the Tuesboyz Christmas curry night and we are all behaving responsibly on our ways back home.

The streets are sheeted with white ice, so we frequently scamper along to gain speed then slide along the hard car tracks where the slush has frozen again into a perfect line of shining slickness. We are acting like ten-year olds, except that we know that this dry powdery snow is no good for making snowballs so we don't bother.

We find a discarded office chair by the side of the path down the slope of Cotham Gardens, so we grab Dan, seat him in it, then slide him down the ice while he grabs onto the arm-rests. He crashes into a tree while we hoot with laughter.

There is hardly anyone else around. The difficulties of driving have kept most other people indoors, and the snow deadens the sound of any traffic from further afield. It's a peaceful, contented walk back, the only source of noise the crisp crunch of of our feet as we break the new-frozen crust of the old snow.

:0)

Getting Physical

It's three days since my second climbing lesson, on which we spent about two hours on the actual climbing floor, as opposed to about an hour the previous week. My forearms and shoulders are still aching, the palms of my hands are sore and I can feel that the tendons of my groin are stretched. It feels great.

There's a great physical contrast between cycling and climbing as sports. Climbing seems to take place in exhausting five-minute bursts whereas cycling can be hours of steady effort. On a push-bike the range of movements is constrained; even on a singlespeed where I stand on the pedals and heave on the bars a lot, there's still not a great range of movement. Climbing has lots of stretching, a great range of movement and is absolute hell on the fingers and forearms. Road cycling in particular allows my arms to atrophy to nothingness which is why I enjoy being in the woods on the singlespeed, heaving away and making my shoulders work as well as my legs.

So it looks as if I need to do both to regain the svelte figure of my youth and stay relatively fit for an oldie. Besides which, I will have the chance to acquire yet another collection of boys' toys sports equipment. Hooray.

:o)

Tuesboyz

It must be nearly a year since I last went out with the Tuesboyz in the evening, riding through the woods in the dark. I've been for road-rides more recently, and out by myself, but I'd been disheartened by always being at the back of the string on the night rides.

But last night I surprised myself. Yes, I was at the back for much of the ride. Yes, I'm damned slow up hills. Yes, I lagged badly during the last few miles through Long Ashton to the Nova. But for most of the ride I wasn't far behind, much of it I was in the "peloton" or its equivalent, and I know that I can keep up with anyone on the downhills and the twisty bits.

Now, the relative fun and keep-up-ness may be due to increased fitness, but I doubt it. It may be due to the change in leadership of the group so that the front isn't being so competitive, or it may be that I've got a better bike (the nice, slightly-too-large Litespeed) which lets me go faster, but I'm not complaining. I had a good time.

:o)

New York Wheels

I usually enjoy city cycling: I love the feeling of being at one with the environment but constantly aware of its dangers, the exhilaration of physical effort and the stimulation of being menaced from all sides by the metal (or mental) equivalent of mindless bulls. Bristol and London are fun: one can outrun the traffic, dodge the cars, scorn the taxis and dodge the pedestrians.

New York was different. I hired a bike for just a couple of hours, starting by a couple of of circuits of Central Park. So what's the fuss about? Yeah, it's a park. Yeah, it's in a city. Yeah, there are lots of runners, mainly grim faced and joyless, pounding around a circuit which surely must pall after a lap or two. But I did see my first american robin, the rusty blackbird that's hardly a real redbreast.





Then I went onto the roads. Ummm. The traffic's faster, accelerates and decelerates harder, drives closer and pays less attention to other users. The roads themselves are more pitted and potholed than I'm used to, with deeeper holes and sheets of slick steel at intervals, all designed to throw off unwary cyclists. To be honest, I didn't like it that much, especially as the traffic intersections are controlled by lights instead of roundabouts, so there was too much waiting around (except when I jumped the lights, which is fun)

I went from Central Park to Times Square via Broadway, 5th Avenue to East River and around. I felt Manhattan's nerves, but I'm unlikely to try it again as I had two traffic touches, two too many in that time. The first was when a taxi cut in front of me then slammed on his brakes. My front wheel hit his fender, and my testicles hit the cross bar, which hurt. I cycled somewhat slower after that, not entirely by choice. Then later, when I swerved to avoid a deep and wide pothole off 1st Ave, my bars touched a taxi which was passing me very closely. My confidence waned, so I cycled back to the hire shop somewhat more sedately than I'd otherwise have done.

As a morning's entertainment it was great, but I'm not sure that I'd live long doing that every day.

:o/

New York Greys

Skyline from across Central Park, misty day.

I took a 36 hour stopover en route to Washington for a business trip.

New York, at least Manhattan, is overwhelming.

It's noisy, crowded and the buildings are huge. I'm not a fan of London, but this place was the Square Mile squared. I felt intimidated at first. It's vertical, sheer cliffs of stone and brick and granite and glass only missing pterodactyls to be a scene from a man-made hell. Yet it's thriving and busy and at ground level more than the equal of anywhere else I've been, every frontage occupied with eateries and shops. Most were busy from the huge numbers of people living around only a few blocks from wherever they needed to be.

With only a day and a bit in the city, I chose the wrong weather since the tops of the skyscrapers were dressed in mist, grey ladies in veils. My site-seeing was limited to two hours cycling, lots of walking and a visit to MoMA....next time I'll do more. At least I'll have someone to do it with. Perhaps.



:o)

Riding

I'm feeling quite pleased with myself at the moment, in spite of the pain in my side.
This is the fourth weekend in a row in which I have been out for a proper cycle ride, as opposed to just a spin around the city. They've been very varied rides, as well.

Three weeks ago, 6th March I guess, I went with Dan, Jeremy and some of their mates over to Wales to ride the Skyline trail near Afan. The day had started out fine, but turned to drizzle and then steady rain one we had gotten going. To be honest, I didn't enjoy that day too much, as I was by far the slowest of the group, and it was all a little too much for me. The others riding were all long-legged skinny whippets with thighs of steel. I'm not like that.

Two weeks ago I had the offer of a road-ride with Dan & Dunc, but instead went down to the Quantocks with Simes & Graze. We had much better weather, the drive down was shorter, and the riding both easier and more open. Although weather had a massive effect on my enjoyment, I'm convinced that the Q's are just a better place to ride. The climbs aren't so onerous, for a start, and the singletrack seems to be drier and (perhaps) easier, too.

Last weekend I'd made arrangements on the Saturday to meet up with Dan, Duncs & Matt in the Mendips for some more open ridge riding. We met up as arranged in the Farm car park near Shipham but the others thought they had arranged for a road ride, and had accordingly brought road bikes whereas I had my rather heavy & slow MTB. They were all three wrong, of course. Whoops. Bugger.

So they went off on their lightweight carbon 23mm-tyred pieces of expensive nothing, and I drove almost to the top of the plateau and went off-road. It was lovely - sun shining, a cool wind, few people around. It's just a shame that I managed to fall off the bike onto my ribs. I'm not sure whether one is broken, but I do know that it still hurts like hell a whole week later. The fall was my usual story of going too slowly up a hill and losing my balance when going over an obstruction. So I fell off sideways, still clipped into the pedals. This is why I had given up SPDs until the previous week, when I replaced my normal flatties in an attempt to improve my speed following my ignominous performance the week before that in Wales. It hurt, and I was too winded to get up again immediately, and felt a right fool lying there on the grass and gravel, gasping. Eventually I did rise, get back on the bike and continue, but I think that my heart was no longer in it.

And today, I spent two hours on the road cycling to Shire and Hallen, Blaize and back. Again, great weather, light winds, and enjoyment.


:o)

Heavy, Man

Instead of taking the van up to Bracknell to join the Singletrack people for a mass cycle ride, I joined Duncs and Matt for a couple of hours around Blackdown in the Mendips. Oh bugger. I was so much slower that them up the hills, and since the Mendips are just that, the poor sods had to wait for me at the top of every climb. Now, this might have been because I had my rear tyre squishy and underinflated, and the suspension set too soft, but it might also have been because my legs are not as strong and as exercised as they should be. So I ran some sections where the hills were steep, keeping up with Duncs & Matt as they spun their cranks in granny gear, but in others I had to copy them but found that I was just slower. No matter. They had plenty of opportunity to rest, and in spite of my inability to go fast, I didn't seem to get very out of breath.

And on the flat or downhill, I had'em. Whether it was confidence in myself or confidence in the bike, I was able to overtake on the descent, jumping and sliding just faster than them. And I really liked doing so. Overtaking scarily is FUN. My glasses steamed up and froze over, but what the hell? I need to get fitter so that I can climb as fast as them, now. I guess losing some weight might help, too. Trying to lift my current 82kg of blubber up the slopes isn't as easy as the 72kg or so which I weighed five years ago. I need to lose it.

The conditions were icy. It was -4c when we left Bristol, and it must have been -7c on the hills. The grass was white with rime, the ground was frozen solid. We had a great time, cold or not.

:o)

And, because I hadn't headed to Bracknell for the day, I had time this afternoon to fix the breakfast room light fitting which had detached itself from the ceiling. Another little job done around the house.

:o)

Unfit

This weekend I've been out twice on mountain bikes, for my first off-road rides for several months. They weren't long rides, perhaps an hour and a half each, but I feel absolutely exhausted now. It's mainly in my shoulders and forearms, where heaving upon the bars and counterbalancing over bumps has taken a toll. I realised that I was losing strength, but this fatigue was scary. I was more tired after the first of these two rides than I was after the 40-odd road miles which I covered on Christmas day, cycling to the farm (and back on Boxing Day).

So I now know that it's time to get fitter, lose some of the mince pies stored around my middle, and get my upper body back into shape.

The two bikes I used were an interesting contrast, or at least they were to me, the cycle nerd. Yesterday, Saturday, I took out the singlespeed with its ancient suspension forks and low bottom bracket. The fat tires slowed me on the road, and somehow I felt that the whole experience wasn't precise, I was relying upon instinct for steering rather than being able to rely upon the forks to follow the intended path. The headset is sloppy and wobbles, which doesn't improve steering.

Today, after a couple of hours' successfully fettling the gears (which I should have done months ago), I took out the Niota for the very first time. It still needs tweaking, as the shock settings are much too soft, but it rides nicely and seems to be faster than the singlespeed Edge One. Riding the Niota took it out of my legs, as I found myself sitting down into the saddle and spinning my feet around, rather than standing upon the pedals and relying upon brute strength and determination to get up hills. I don't know which bike I prefer, as yet. It'll be horses for courses, I imagine. I've preferred the singlespeed for a number of years now when going out on my own, as it's somehow a purer exercise; but when in company I need a geared bike so that I can keep up with the pack or at least make a reasonable effort at doing so.

What remains to be tweaked upon this new (secondhand) bike, the Niota? Change the tyres, adjust the saddle, put more air into the shocks. Let's see how it rides after that, then decide if more is needed. [/nerd mode] I might even try some night riding again....

:0)

End of Term

Moonface has now finished her first half-term in her new job as head of Access courses, and she seems to have coped well. It's not been easy, it's been stressful, but she appears to have coped well. We think that her recent bout of under-the-weather-ness is probably a result of her having to manage new relationships and new activities every day, combined with a shorter daily walk instead of a longer cycle to work; she misses the cycling.

But I'm proud of her and pleased with the way she's taking the changes. One of her more disparaging ex-colleagues told her that it would be "a big job" with the imputation that she wouldn't cope. He was right about the former, wrong about the latter. Twenty-five reporting staff (some part-time) and a budget of a million quid is definitely a big job by any means; I've worked in companies with far fewer staff and less cash moving through. She's doing well, she will do better. And I look forward to seeing how it goes.


:o)

Thorn

Since I was about sixteen, when I had my first five-speed bicycle, I've wanted a racing-style bike with bar-end mounted gear levers. They always seemed to me to be the height of cool, with regards to push-bikes. And now, many years later, I've got one. It's a Thorn Club Tour in racing green, suitable for long distance rides and likely to last many years, I hope.


I bought it second-hand as I'm a cheapskate, but it took me safely to Trowbridge and back a couple of times, and around town with ease. Its only drawback is that as it's a tourer rather than a cross or racing bike, it's got a long wheelbase which is just too long to fit it the lobby where Moonface and I usually leave our bikes.

I've had my first mechanical with it already, though.
Cycling off to the Lake last night, I heard an almighty "ping" and my rear brakes started binding and rubbing the wheel immediately. A spoke had gone, and the wheel immediately went badly out of true. I'll have to get it sorted out professionally.

:o)

Furious

Disclaimer: What I wrote below was in the heat, both literal and metaphorical, of Sunday afternoon, before we sorted out my visit to Trowbridge; after which I cooled off considerably.

Although I enjoy many forms of music, and enjoy it both recorded and (preferably) live concerts, I don't enjoy festivals; there's something about the unrelenting humanity and the atmosphere which oppresses me. After attending both Glastonbury and Trowbridge a couple of years ago, I decided to stop going, as I didn't enjoy them much.

Moonface, however, likes them and has been to both for the last few years. She asked me to come along to Trowbridge for at least a day this year, and I agreed to keep her happy. She knew I would go if the weather was half-decent, as she took some spare clothes for me, and knew that I'd declined other invitations.

Then early on Saturday afternoon she phoned to check that I was coming, and at my request, confirmed that there would be tickets available, as the online booking had closed. She forgot to mention that there weren't many tickets left. So, in the absence of a car, I cycled for nearly three hours to get there. Then, she gave me duff directions to the van, so I was hot, sweaty and fuming when I found her & Stuart. It took me a while to cool down & change, and then - what a surprise - the Festival had sold out of tickets. Moonface hadn't bothered checking how they were selling in the interim, or trying to reserve one on the grounds that I was cycling and couldn't return easily. So, as the only other choice was to sulk in my tent like Ajax for six hours, I returned home.

I arrived back knackered, too late to go out in the evening, and too angry to go to bed.
On Sunday, I was too tired to go out on the pre-arranged bike ride, which I would have gone on if I had been fresh, and hadn't attempted to go to Trowbridge.

So - what a wasted weekend.
No music.
No other social activities - cancelled because I was trying to please Moonface.
Exhausted.
Slept badly
Wasted most of Sunday because I was too tired.

God I am furious.


:o(
:o(

Postscript:

After a trip to the Lake for a calming cooling swim, I called Moonface to see if she still wanted me there. After some prevarication, I tootled off to Trowbridge by train, and spent a late afternoon and evening trying hard to enjoy myself. I didn't, that much, but I enjoyed her company and was pleased that I went. Upon our return to Bristol on Monday morning, I'd calmed down and was ready to face the world of commerce again.

Perhaps I was angry just because I missed her?

:o)

Slow

It's a few months since I have been out in the woods cycling with the "boys". I use the push-bikes frequently, either around town or by myself in Leigh Woods etc, but not with the gang that I used to see frequently. Since I have signed myself us for the Exmoor Explorer in week or so, I thought that it was time that I got in some serious practice so I headed for the Tuesday night two hours with the Tuesboyz. (Mostly in their late 40's). I'm still slow, still the last on the climbs, but I can usually keep up on the downhills and more technical twisty stuff.

Waiting at the bridge, I noticed how slim all the cyclists are, compared with the general populace. I know that I've put on about 7kg since 2003 after my illness, but all these guys looked whippet-thin and long legged. It must be the exercise.

I was also invited out by another crew on Wednesday, so in spite of my sore muscles from the day before, I decided to repeat the abuse. The difference in the rides was instructive. Whereas the Tuesboyz include a moderate amount of twisty singletrack in their routes, with a lot of bridleways, fire roads and tarmac; the Wednesday crowd (who start a useful hour earlier in the evening) ride almost exclusively through parts os Leigh Woods into which I had never ventured, finding nasty drop-offs and rooty, twisty trails that I would have never tried unless I was in company. So it was a much more technical and tricky ride, but I felt less left behind. It also helps that the age range was in the 50's rather than mainly in the 40s, I suppose.

And I found that my bike was falling apart, again, with a flexy fork and dubious back brakes. I need to do some serious kit modifications to get myself ready for Exmoor.

:0)

Farewell to the Rainbow Pig

A couple of weekends ago I went for a ride in the Cotswolds with an assorted group of internet-abusing cycling nerds. Surprisingly, I wasn't always left behind in spite of their impressive physiques and new shiny bikes. Instead of the semi-defunct singlespeed, I took my ancient(ish) orange 1997 Norco Bomber.

But on one bouncy, twisty, rooty downhill section, I felt a spray of liquid on my calf. Looking down, I saw that they shock-absorber from my bike was spraying fluid from a leak, and I felt that the bike lost its rear suspension. The bike's eleven years old now; I bought the frame second-hand while on holiday in Whistler in 1998. In spite of emailing the manufacturers of the shock absorber and their agents in the UK, it seems like it's irreparable, so that's the end for the bike. It has a serious design fault, anyway, which splits the cup in which the blank end of the shock absorber fits. I've bodged it together with a Jubilee clip, but it's not ideal. Norco recognised that fault, and in 2003 they sent me a replacement free of charge, but I never got around to fitting it as I thought that the same would only happen again.

And why did I name it the Rainbow Pig?

It's because I fitted parts from my spares bin to the frame to get it up and running quickly, and I didn't worry about its appearance. Although it's not immediately apparent in this photo, at one time it had the orange frame, yellow forks, green mudguard, blue bottle, a red saddle and purple bars. The closest I could get to indigo was the peacock of the saddle-bag. Pretty, it wasn't, but it did the job. And now the bike's defunct. It's a shame, as it was a fun bicycle: probably the only one of its kind in the UK.


:o(