Author: Alex

I am calm.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Clic-24, Mountain Bike RidingLeave a comment

Brean Down Sloping

And here’s a picture of a tree to remind myself how calm I am. Because there are a number of reasons that such mental nirvana may soon be transformed into a state best described as 30{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} tourettes, 30{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} head banging lunatic and 40{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} roof jumping depressive.

The major reason is that CLiC24 is just around the corner. Well 60 miles due south if today’s pedantry is geographically based. Now six weeks ago, this wasn’t a problem at all; some of my confidence was based on hard winter’s riding, some good early season form, the onset of BST and drying trails. Although it was the “six weeks away” that really swung it from terrifying to something even to look forward too.

Well it’s here now. Soon I’ll be looking back on it. Possibly from some kind of medical institution. I lost two weeks of riding to a leaky elbow and seemingly two more to work/holidays and – more worryingly – apathy. Should be out riding now but pretending I’m tapering for the weekend. Which sounds WAY better than “sitting in front of a ‘puter wonder what beer goes best with nachos”.

Been flying a lot instead. Been crashing a lot as well. One model needs some life saving surgery that will inevitably end well if Carol is involved or badly if powertools are. Obviously I’m keen to get to the core of the problem by the simple application of a motorized blade. Might consider that on the bike after this weekend.

So not ridden as much as I should. Going to manage a single ickle ride which – if we’re as lucky as last week – shall end first on a rooty downhill track with cheeky steps and latterly in the pub. Where I shall talk a good game about exactly how our now reduced team of two shall storm down the leaderboard through the ruthless execution of our race strategy.

It goes like this “ride a lap, have a beer“. I feel it’ll work well for four or five laps. After which it probably won’t work at all. And neither shall I if my previous performances are anything to go by. Yet, ever the deluded optimist, I’m treating a team mutiny leaving us exactly half staffed as something of a bonus. This way I have the opportunity to ride more laps at a leisurely pace. Assuming it’s not snowing.

Great charity tho remember: I shall make sure my best – however un-best that is – is hauled round the course as many times as possible. One final thing does worry me though, if I don’t really fancy riding at the moment, how the hell am I going to feel afterwards?

Friday Nutter..

On By AlexIn Photography1 Comment

An occasional slot dedicated to those individuals whose skill/bravery/lack of imagination both inspire and diminish any watching rather than doing.

Nutter bike videos are fine. I’ve reconciled myself that the pleasure one can illicit from watching such wheeled perfection is in no way lessened by feeling of jealousy or frustration. Because, as I’ve espoused before, anyone that good* is clearly an alien and there are many amongst us.

Gliders are slightly different. Smashing up the toy ones is obviously a home grown skill that would translate badly to the full size. Having flown many such engineless behemoths in my youth, I’ve a vague idea of exactly how dangerous/bonkers/physically demanding that stuff going on in the video is.

My favourite bit is either when the huge loads on the airframe (that’s a Swift which can stand 10G and -7G Inverted… find me a powered plane that can do that) sound out in creaks, groans and aural implications of impending doom. Or when a pen flies up into the cockpit under massive negative G and the pilot calmly grabs it.

Various Air Forces around the world use the Swift to teach fighter jocks aerobatics. Proper bonkers.

* or, let’s be honest, that much better than me

IVR

On By AlexIn Other stuff2 Comments

An acronym to strike fear into the heart of any innocent attempting to pay for the privilege of wasting their own time. It’s not – as you might suspect – shorthand for It’s Virtually Rude or even I’m Very Rustrated*, but the rather more semantically challenging Interactive Voice Recognition.

Worked with these things a bit in what passes as my professional life. Fairly sure they’re designed specifically to ensure that a) you slam the phone down in righteous anger having pushed 1,3,7,6,3,2 waited for half an hour and then hit gjhfu97874 with your fist and been immediately disconnected and b) you enjoy a significant contribution to the non-customer-service service line profits by dint of a premium number.

Today, I’ve been lucky enough to batter through the electronic barriers to real people – who obviously don’t give a shit either but at least they answer back, albeit in monosyllabic grunts farmed from non-helpful scripts – in order to give them some of my money.

Firstly Vodafone. They have a “customer experience” system designed by a sadistic lunatic with a specialism in repetition. Dialled the access number, prodded my way through to “any other enquiry” – because you’ll always end up at the same place so no point shunting through multiple queues to get there – exiting the numeric maze by entering my mobile number.

I get Gary: “Can you tell me your mobile number please?” I explained I had just done so to his electronic IVR colleague. “We have to ask again” he tells me. But he can’t tell me why. I provide it so we move onto the address. Which one? Head Office, My Office, Home? Either, or, all apparently. No, still not sure why.

After a dull game of “no not that one, try again” we establish it’s the firms’ head office. “Do I know the post code?” Obviously not because I am not some kind of mnemonic memory man. “I need it before we can go on“. Don’t ask why, I did. It wasn’t a conversational branch finishing in an epiphany.

Apparently it’s for “Security Reasons“. All I’m going to do is Google it so it’s unlikely this would deter any thief with access to a) the Internet or b) an IQ of more than 11. This triggers a surly response from an increasingly grumpy Gary that this is not his fault, and – power crazed with the opportunity to deal some small minded smackdown – he refuses to proceed until I’ve pony’d up the six digit code.

I fail to do so. We agree to disagree. Up to the point when I mark him as a “script based monkey with the customer facing skills of a baseball bat“. I hang up before he does. So I win, right? Okay probably facing imminent phone cut off, especially as Vodafone – with staggering ironic timing – then called me asking for any feedback regarding their services.

Probably wished they hadn’t.

So flushed with failure, I attempt to wrest control of my administration nightmare with a multiple-no-choice assault on the DVLA. In a rare and welcome example of joined up Government, it seems my gurning passport photo can be seamlessly transferred to my driving license with nary a filled in form or extreme post office queuing all for the princely bribe of£20.

Except I can’t. The electronic form burped me out once it established a tiny discrepancy between names on the two documents. We’re not talking much here; Alex Leigh on one, Reisling J. Pineapple The Third on the other that kind of thing, but no amount of 20-year-IT-Man-and-Boy shouting at the screen garnered any progress.

So back to the hated IVR. Boredom ruined my first attempt with random button jabbing leaving me in some repeating cul-de-sac. For some low-rent entertainment, second time round I counted the number of menus, sub menus and options. I ran out of fingers just before I ran out of enthusiasm but was shocked from my increasing torpor by a human saying one thing and meaning something else entirely.

Try it next time you hear “Hello, how can I help?” have a proper listen to gain the real meaning which is “reading OK magazine, go and read the web site, call back if you’re still stuck, it won’t be me you speak too“. I explained in great detail the issue I’d had, how I’d tried to work around it, what options I’d considered and a proposal that would save me from a possible stabbing in Hereford Post Office.

For all my hard work, reasoned argument and lucid rationale I received a response from the best of the best that the DVLA can offer.

“No”.

IVR? I think it’s probably call centre short hand for “That half an hour of life you had? It’s ours ALL OURS MWWWAAAAHHHHH”

* I couldn’t think of an angry work starting with R. Rapscallioned? Rucked off?

This. And That.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, PhotographyLeave a comment

This:
Black Mountains Loop - April 2011

is one memory of a properly fantastic day in the mountains.

And that has just clocked a 1,000 kilometres without feeling the urge to tear itself apart like the previous incarnation.
Black Mountains Loop - April 2011

And, after beer and sleep. I shall try and write some more about how ace those two things allied with old friends and stunning weather has made my day/week/holiday 🙂

Lush

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, PhotographyLeave a comment

BlueSmell Ride

Not one of my favourite words. Especially when used to describe an everyday object and/or an attractive member of the opposite sex. Try as I might, it’s hard to improve upon “I tell thee what, tha scrubs up well for a plain lass”*. Honest, hint of northern romanticism and in snogging distance of affectionate. So Lush, rubbish word but entirely appropriate composite of Lust and Dust.

Actually it isn’t at all, that’d be, er, Lust. Or Dust. Never mind, we’ve got this far may as well plough on and ignore my inability to combine two four letter words. Two rides in the Forest this week – and one more to follow – have raised the bar high for perfect singletrack mountain-biking this year.

This time last year, the country was basically under snow and the bluebells were trapped below that wintry blanket. This Spring of sunshine and no showers has seen them cover acres of Forest, and already they’re wilting back. Best get some sustained viewing from the height of a bike then.

Last night the “Malvern’rs” were treated to a 25k of lust/lush/dust singletrack, most of which was perfectly framed by swaying columns of bluebells. Since I was mostly route-finding – simply achieved by asked David riding next to me where we were going – out on point with the fellas in close attendance was the default downhill configuration.

Which is all fine, except for the massive distractions of dust whipping off the tyres into eyes entirely focussed on the periphery leaving almost no visual assistance to a brain demanding a little help on the next muscle movement. Flowing, nose to tail, through singletrack is one of the absolutely emotions to explain to those not obsessed by bicycles.

Let’s go with Lush for the moment shall we?

* Not that I’ve ever tried it myself. a) because women are one of the few things on this planet that regularly render me speechless and b) because a hard-swung bit of 2×4 is unlikely to improve my day.

I am an idiot

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Pretentious nonsenseLeave a comment

No, really I am. Stop your protestations right now. Ah, I see by my waving the electronic ear trumpet in the general direction of the Internet, all I’m hearing are a few bored people muttering strong affirmations.

Idiocy is really nothing more than short cuts crashing into brick walls. I’ve always maintained life is fairly agreeable if you are lazy or stupid, with only simultaneous behaviours becoming problematic. Getting stuff done is actually quite easy for the lazy person; the trick is to sequence start to end whole ignoring those boring and time consuming interim steps.

Such a strategy marks you out as an efficient and busy person who couldn’t possibly be asked to do anything else. Especially if you’ve booked the afternoon for some blue sky thinking*. Only very occasionally does the edifice crumble generally with someone noticing the emperor is playing naked. And at that very point what looked like frenzied competency is laid bare as unstructured idiocy.

Happens to me occasionally. Few examples come immediately to mind; booking a campsite and time off work at the same time but not for the same dates. Commissioning a 4m satellite dish without troubling a structural engineer, and being mildly disturbed when it ripped the top of the building off** Launching blindly into obstacles on fat tyres and receiving fat lips and hospital appointments. That sort of stuff.

After the latest rock-Al interface, a week was barely enough for the elbow to start healing. But experience tells that the mind needs to get back on that horse right now. Otherwise displacement activity fills the riding void; nasty thoughts about how much it would hurt to fall again on that body part, maybe wait another week before getting back out there, stick to the road, trails’ll still be there, etc, et-bloody-c.

So with some trepidation and not a lot of my normal pre-ride enthusiasm, stuff was sorted, bike was given a cursory examination***, – short cuts remember – excuses shelved and clothing donned. Additions were a set of lender elbow pads that made me feel silly and secure in equal amounts. Deletions were anything I’d been wearing the previous week because clearly it was my riding environment rather than my riding ability which had triggered the crash.

In the zone of stupidity now, I took different paths on every level; first a slightly different route choice then stretches in reverse order, bike on trailer not in the truck, light on first then battery, rear shock checked first not forks. I grudgingly accepted the ritual pre-ride cuppa but considered following Jezz’s jokey advice I should run around the car three times to break the hoodoo. Definitely considered it. Idiot I thought. You’d probably think so too.

And it’s nothing to do with being stuck in some groundhog night, stuffed down the same trouser leg of time that ended so badly last time. It is – however – everything to do with finding something else to worry about other than the ‘it shall not be named horror‘ of being too damn scared to ride quickly. Fast is a filter graduated by ability, experience, age and your mates. It means different things to us all, but being less fast and less brave than you were…. now that’s a problem which speaks of slow decay and the end of things.

These are not happy thoughts and they followed me up the first climb. Which I generally put up with as it has a fantastic woody descent that is both fast and furious. It was neither of those things this time around, because Jezz was reigning it in an effort to build my confidence. Damn fine gesture but it didn’t feel good, it just felt slow.

Next climb my phone is ringing and I’m ignoring it. We’re climbing again into the twilight and the horse is waiting for me, steaming and rearing in the middle of the next descent. I’m stupidly nervous, stomach churning and talking myself out of it. Because it’ll still be there next week, I’ll do it then, it’s not a big thing, I’m not going to be somehow diminished by taking a safe course to the side.

Yeah. Right. Lights on, hard to know if to trust night vision or bar mounted lumens. Drop in at 80{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} of last weeks speed, Christ it’s loose, was it this loose before? Have I got a flat? Oh for fucks sakes just get on with it. Miss an apex and slide close to the trail edge, too slow to ride on instinct, too fast to really be in full control, see rock, give it a pre-huck nod to show I mean business, look away down the trail, anywhere but right in front, relax stiffened muscles and flop over in the manner of wounded seal attempting to make landfall.

Relief floods through muscles – my favourite natural drug second only to adrenaline – and that demon is pretty well exorcised. The rest of the ride was 70{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} fab and 30{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} worry about a total lack of flow and smoothness. Last night was about 90/10, and I never got anywhere near the rock. Been there, done that, got the scar.

I’m an idiot though. From almost the second I hit the ground, insidious worry sat front and centre blocking out what is probably more important stuff. And it was a non event, a million times less dramatic than what’d be playing in my minds’ eye. So stupid, pointless and – if I’d followed those logical steps I’m so keen to launch over – I’d have realised that the fear isn’t the rock, it’s being too broken to do what I love doing at a pace and danger that absolutely defines the difference between being alive and merely living.

Riding last night is EXACTLY why slogging through the Winter makes some kind of idiotic sense. Rock hard trails, dust, cheeky routes, nearly crashing, holding it together, maybe not so fast but a little bit smooth, good friends, happy times. The elbow is still sore, but it’ll heal before my head’s entirely unfettered by thoughts of crashing again.

But consider the alternative. If we’re looking for hoary homilies, you really don’t know what you’ve got until it’s taken away. So when the very next person adds their weight to an argument that riding bikes with the definite possibility of hurting yourself is idiotic, I shall offer them some useful advice in return.

Try being an idiot for a while. It rocks.

* which – as slackers everywhere know – means looking out of the window at blue sky and thinking “I wish I was out there”

** It wasn’t my building. It wasn’t even in this country. A fair part of the top floor did end up in a Moscow street tho. It wasn’t entirely my fault. I made sure everyone was more than aware of that.

*** So no surprise that the cleaved gear cable and bent mech weren’t noticed until catastrophic gear selection failure half way up the first hill. At times like this, it’s important to appear humble while others with good skills fix your bike.

Done.

On By AlexIn Other stuffLeave a comment

Work done. Mostly. For a given value of mostly. And – come to think of it – work.

Riding done. Well a single jaunt back over the same trails that landed me in the dirt and then in the hospital. Managed to screw up enough courage to dispatch rocky obstacle of elbow bleed without pitching head first into a tree. Fantastic conditions, some diffidence. Hardly ridden at all in April, probably a bit too early to pretend I am tapering for Clic-24.

Fixing things. Done. Well some. ST4 needs some loving after my post-crash cursory inspection failed to pick up a gear cable attempting to wrest itself from the tumbling bike. Bodge got me past one ride, it wont’ last another. New Helmet with New Sizing apparently. My last four helmets in ten years have been from Giro. All have fitted me melon-like dome in size large. The latest incarnation is light, clever, airy and entirely suited to extremely large land mammals. Think elephant or rhino. If we are prepared to consider aquatic, does anyone know if whales browse eBay?

Packing. Not done. Not at all. Luckily Carol seems to have corralled food, tent, children and a vast quota of stuff. I thought we were going for three days. Maybe it was months? I dunno, what I do know is it is colder where we’re going to be sleeping in a thin draughty tent than it is here in a warm house. Apparently that’s proper camping. You come back burnt or frostbitten, there is no middle ground.

Windows. Done-ish. We have some new ones. Very nice they are too. Three tiny issues: 1) Only 2/3rds are fitted due to the house being built by a blind drunkard with only a hazy knowledge of straight lines and a buying strategy based on the cheapest tat available from anywhere. Poor bloody fitters have earned their tea times ten. The only straight thing in the whole process is their spirit level. Every other wall/floor/apparently flat surface is on the piss. 2) The rest of the windows now look really, really shit.* 3) We’ve run out of cash before we’ve run out of windows to replace.

Trailer. Done. Proper man now. Aged 43, I finally own a 6×4 metal trailer that will be absolutely vital for stuff. Stuff I’ve yet to fully explain to Carol, but let me tell you when that stuff comes along, I shall be in the vanguard of dealing with it, trailer firmly to the fore. Okay it’s missing a wheel (not a vital one, well probably not) and it’s certainly somewhere south of extremely pre-loved but it was cheaper and it’s metal. And manly. Oh yes, do not let there be even the slightest discussion on that.

Beer. Not done. Of the many and varied things on my to-do list that doesn’t even rate an entry. I shall enjoy that list an an entrée with Mr. Speckled Hen.

Back in three days. Or possibly three months.

 

* there’s a reason. They are. see point 1) re: purchasing strategy.

Elbows out!

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding1 Comment

Jessie, Haugh Woods from Alex Leigh on Vimeo.

Jess and I have been out a few times “skills training” since our last video production in the woods. And it shows I think, both in how much better she’s getting (although still has that cursed-dad stiff looking riding technique!) and how much time I have to spend showing her the “rushes” before we can go ride the next section.

Today I found riding is possible with a dodgy elbow and we lost the dog. Luckily he retreived the rest of the riding family pacing it out on the fireroads while Jess and I were so busy having fun on dusty singletrack, our reaction to missing mutt would have been “we own a dog? Are you sure?”

Trails are lovely. Elbow less so but it’s definitely on the working side of ridable. Off back to local community hospital tomorrow to beg stitches out. I’ve borrowed some elbow pads for the next few rides, as there is no way they will be passing me by in my favourite season.

Still I did miss HONC, so that’s something. Looked hot I thought as a beer and I made an afternoon acquaintance. Much rather ride with my kids than 1,000 lunatics on trails of mostly dull.

That’s me that is.

On By AlexIn Other stuff3 Comments

From my friend Will who clearly has an eye for the strangely relevant.

I never really understood that question anyway. I mean compared to what? I guess for women it might be Childbirth, but for blokes you’re never going to say more than a 3 are you even if the limb in question is hanging on by a single bloodied ligament.

Ho Hum, it’s the weekend and with my painting arm out of action, it should be a nice relaxing one. Unless riding with Random tomorrow somehow ends up with me elbow down in the shrubbery.

Be happy..

On By AlexIn Other stuff, PhotographyLeave a comment

Get ahead. Get a hat

I didn’t post the picture of my “organic body armour”. Definitely need to turn safe search on for that. A chunk of the right side of the honed athletic frame / mildly chubby middle area splashed down in the crash is missing.

In its’ place are large red wields, yellow and purple bruising and stitches. Plus some assorted scarring that seems to doing it’s best to complete a large join the bloody dots puzzle.

After that description, might’ve be better just to post it 😉

Sore today in case you’re interested. Bruising in all the obvious places, some swelling which isn’t as exciting as it sounds. Thankfully my backup drinking arm is in full working order. In fact I am somewhat over engineered in terms of Disaster Recovery for getting my wine quota. Probably end up hacking it off in the next crash in a “value engineering” approach to riding.

In case the “God of Crashing” is on-line, I AM JUST JOKING. No more accidents this year please, I have a low pain/boredom threshold.