Category: Bikes

Tens of thousands of words and the odd blurred picture of fast moving vegetation rehashing one of two tenuous threads. Spliced together using random punctuation and alcohol.

Nine 1/2 days*

On By AlexIn BikesLeave a comment

Yep, nearly ten days of serial riding – just like the film but with less Kim Bassinger but a similar amount of Aerobic effort.

If there has been another time when I’ve stretched sore hamstrings every morning for double digit days, then it must have occurred while under the influence of strong medication. 143 miles, five different bikes, four different counties but with only a single set of legs.

Much commuting and a Peaks trip made up most of it with the remainder coming from some later summer exploring in the mode of an enthusiastic boy scout. But with less woggle and worse map reading. And now I don’t want to break the cycle (that’s generally a maintenance task) and I wondering how many more days I can manage under sunny skies and a minimum of 45 minutes/5 miles to make it count.

For all of our supposed busy lives (“Time Poor” I heard the other day, it’s just more fucking marketing) most people should be able to manage that especially since it has such a positive effect on fitness, energy, moral outlook and a irresistible craving for Snickers (sorry Marathon) bars.

It feels like riding comes first and everything else comes second. Anymore of this and I’ll have to replace my office chair with a saddle. Although, if I am absolutely honest, it is not always that much fun especially when blacktop replaces late summer trail dirt. Stirring reluctant muscles at 6:30am is never easy because I know I’m just going to go out there and hurt myself for twenty five minutes. Then get on a train before doing it all again at the other end. I so wish that taking it easy was part of my riding make up but it just isn’t – it’s either 100{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2}, maxed out, flat out and gulping air like a dying fish or stopped.

I’m thinking of it as training for the terminally stupid.

And I’m tired everywhere. Yawning through the day and even finding a post ride stretch too much like hard work. All my riding gear needs washing, my mp3 player has cycled every song five times, most of my bikes need fixing and the ones that’ don’t need cleaning. And I can do all that if someone will just let me sleep for a day or so.

It feels good πŸ™‚

Spookily close to 91/2 is the sixth anniversary of 911 which falls tomorrow. This seemed a perfect time to get on an aeroplane although it is to that most take-no-sides country, Switzerland. Common myths surrounding Switzerland include that they have no standing army, they have more languages than people and they top the European anality league by banning almost anything exciting.

At least one of those things is true, and all of them are more interesting that receiving a six hour demonstration of ton of expensive software talking to a telephone delivered in perfect English. By a man who has probably stashed a couple of mill of Nazi Gold in his perfectly groomed cellar. Oops, anyone know a good lawyer?

I shall return with tales of airport frustration and – if I can smuggle a small one in – a Milka cow.

* Yes I know it was 9 1/2 weeks but, mimicking the latest movie tradition, you’d need a stunt arse for that.

Roger The Pink Hedgehog

On By PhotoIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Photography8 Comments
Voodoo 008, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

It’s built but it’s not finished. A dish of bodging and rushing spiced up by a side order of frustration is not not a palatable way to build a bike. Still having got this far and given it the round the bloke test, the following has come to light:

– The forks are a bit like my hosting server. Occasionally working, most of the time not, no one seems to know why.

– The rear brake needs bleeding. This process walks a well trodden path from me having a little bleed, then a big tantrum then a cuddle with the beer fridge. I cannot be calmed by even the most rational family members for many hours.

– The rear shock is an enigma. I found an instruction manual in German, but my attempts to translate it triggered an urge to invade my neighbours garden.

– There are apparently 27 gears in this configuration. I can select only 4, of which three make a noise not normally associated with longevity of drivetrain.

– It’s fast though, short chainstays mean sharp acceleration and it carves corners in a n”oh, we’re already round” kind. It feels like it should be great off road if someone cleverer than me can fix all the stuff I’ve broken.

And the best part of riding it in the hills is it may get muddy. I seem to be the only one who thinks pink is a good colour for a mountain bike.

EDIT: My friend Jay has come up with the perfect name for the pink poof as per the new title of this post. From now on, it shall be known by the acronym RTPG. Which – you must agree – sounds better than “yegads, whose is that pink horror?”

Ah they do…

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding5 Comments

… do it in pink. I’m now the proud owner of a pink 18 incher, but with a mere three and a half of vertical travel. It’s part of a bike rationalisation strategy I’m calling “benign insanity“.

And, before anyone asks, I shall not be accesorising it by purchasing any further “light purple” components especially anything that may be thought of as a pink helmet.

And because I’d have to dig down to create a bat cave if this was a simple addition to the bikey herd, the old bull elephant has to be cast out. So anybody in the market for a previously enjoyed Turner 5-Spot, let me know.

Otherwise I’ll be forced to lie on fleabay.

Fantastic, a new bike…

On By AlexIn Bikes, Photography8 Comments

… only not for me. Verbal has visibly outgrown her 20inch mountain bike that was too big for her when we originally bought it. That’d be all of about 18 months ago. Luckily because we’ve learned that you merely rent stuff for kids between the ages of one and ten, there’s a complex recycling process essentially handing down previously enjoyed bikes from my ever expanding group of cycling friends.

This latest little stormer comes from my friend Steve whose own daughter had abandoned it in the shed, the minute she had entered secondary school. A few notes changed hands along with that most consistent of world weary parenting laments “honestly they never stick to anything for more than about ten minutes“. Driving it home, a thought occurred that we’ve essentially become a Borg like Specialized bicycle family with one for each of the normal family members and one for me from my menage of a thousand.

And because I have sufficient cycling passion for the entire street, it is not a big surprise that the kids have never been that bothered, but even they are not immune in the face of shiny new toys. We headed out to our very local ride spot which is a concrete oval, most of which gives a perfect view of a few hundred dead people. Which considering my accident to ride ratio, seems entirely appropriate.
Kids ride 012Kids ride 037

I though it may be too big. It wasn’t. I thought she might struggle to ride it. She didn’t. And during one catastrophic mix up of who was going which way she managed to ride it up a 5 inch curb. Which was pretty impressive although maybe a little less so when the alternative was throwing herself insouciantly into an existing six wheel pile up.

Random was going pretty well too. She gets apexes and doesn’t believe that at 6, she knows everything there is to know about riding bikes. Other family members under ten don’t share such an enlightened view of the world.
Kids ride 045Kids ride 033

I’m not a big fan of having my picture taken because it shakes my belief that a full thatched athlete is riding his bike like the champ he knows he is. However, Carol was having no truck with that and bounced the flash off the balding pate on far too many occasions.

Kids ride 036Kids ride 034

All my talk of high elbows, weight on the front end, stomp the outside pedal were met with much ridicule and misunderstanding. This is essentially how the world works when it’s three against one and you’re the one.

Kids ride 031Kids ride 037

Still another bike can never be a bad thing. Two things are left to be sorted out, firstly who is next in line for verbals’ now discarded one, and is it my turn for a new one next?

Do you do that in pink?

On By PhotoIn Bikes8 Comments
Voodo.jpg, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

I have kids and I’m pretty comfortable with my own sexuality. Rarely do I show any interest in shoes, handbags or anything closer to cosmetics than Tesco’s value underarm smelly.

And yet… and yet I find myself strangely drawn to this pink lovely on sale at Sideways Cycles (from where I stole the picture). Tim has, over the years, put up with much vacillation and the occasional U-Turn as I try to spend money in his shop.

And now he has this on sale. I nearly bought it a while ago. I don’t need it, I have almost no use for it whatsoever. After a recent ebay yard sale, my spares holding has been reduced to two semi slick yellow tyres and a cracked seat post. There is nowhere to put it nor any terrain close by to do it justice.

Right, glad I’ve cleared that up then. By simple dint of disconnecting my phone, eating my credit card and refusing to accept that this is the stonking deal of the year, I expect to remain on the boring yet non starving fiscal road of responsibility.

Nice tho isn’t it ?

Maximum.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Road Riding2 Comments

Indicative of the traffic insanity that is the London arterial road system, my commute passes 22 lights in a total of 4.1 miles – four of which could be labelled tricky. Especially when clipped in trackstanding generally starts wobbly and finishes either in intense humiliation or death by bus crushing.

So you have to use some of the cruder arts of cycling; learn the phasing, be able to spring like a madman or roll like a snail, scout alternate routes and failing all that, cheat. It’s akin to crafting a maximum break in snooker – except for dressing up like Victorian butlers, the use of a table and any balls, unless you’re including the spheroids of steel required for this maximum effort. 22 lights breaks down nicely into 15 reds, and seven colours.

Foul shots include running reds, using cars as rests and any dabs at all, even if it was only you who saw it. Like a 147, you’re always it planning it but you mustn’t think to hard about it because that way lies failure by performance anxiety. First tough lights looking good, sprint over the Marylebone road, skip through the next two sets and then a quick double off the cushion to avoid a long red at Edgeware road. This leaves a tricky shot that is the shoot into Hyde Park Corner, traffic solid from the right, so slow weave into the left lane and commit to a death or glory to be positioned for the next light. This nearly ends in a t-bone from a desperate Merc gambling on amber.

I acknowledge the internal applause as the break nudges over a 100 but the most difficult part of the break is still to come. A slow filter gains me a green onto Constitution Hill and a split decision β€œ but a good one β€œ to take easy brown over a difficult black bumps me through a slippy dirt track to miss being held up outside Queenies. I’m disappointed not to try out my trick shot to beat the next long hold but another green sees me heading for the crux β€œ Trafalgar square.

I’ve looked at this from all sides of the table and there are no easy pots. Not enough room to circle, off camber makes even the good trackstanders struggle, basically it’s down to luck. And today I was lucky, if narrowly avoiding being stomped by a big ref bus can ever be counted as lucky. Still I had slipped up his inside β€œ so to speak β€œ to avoid the indeterminable pedestrian lights outside charring cross.

My reward was a veldt of green awaiting my charging steed. Onto the colours now and the first three dispatched with a sprint as they made to change. Last tough shot coming up over Waterloo Bridge. Deft, tight filter β€œ oh I so wanted to unclip as I ducked under a mirror between bar wide lorries β€œ put me in perfect position to dispatch the light and I’m away around Aldwych heading for a simple blue-pink-black of three fast lights.

The first two were green, the last may not have been even as I lined it up to punch it into the bottom pocket.; I was ready to jump off the bike, hug random passers by and claim theΒ£1.47 first prize I’d awarded myself. Unfortunately even the most colour blind may have noticed the colour of that light was not a combination of red and yellow, more red and yellow.

In my defense, I never saw it, as far as I was concerned, it was black.

Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner.

On By PhotoIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Photography5 Comments
Post route finding, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

Inspiration is an interesting concept; sometimes it wanders in disguised as an old friend with a new idea, occasionally it is the product of weeks’ of intense rumination, and about once in a lifetime it is a lighting strike of Good God, The Flux Capacitor, OF COURSE

I’m currently orbiting a geostationary position in a galaxy full of new ideas; and after a moment of mild epiphany when the trail pixies fired up the adrenalin compressor last weekend, it seemed apposite to try the next thing that came into my head.

Thankfully it wasn’t go and find a gibbon and see if she puts out β€œ instead a rather boring go and find some trails and see if they give good vibes, sent me riding from home in the hope of finding something other than field edge rubbish. I’ve tried this before and it’s always been a collision of disappointment and frustration as promising looking mappage is nothing more that hub deep hoof shadow.

So with a low level of expectation and a similar level of light, I struck out with a a map I can’t read and a GPS I don’t really understand. Sat here in the pub a couple of hours later, I reflected on what I’d learned:

1. Footpaths round here are mostly footpaths for a reason.
They’re rubbish field edge slogs on an elevation profile similar to Holland. All the enjoyment one can elicit from receiving a saddle up the Japs eye at one second intervals for approximately ever.

2. Some footpaths aren’t
And they are upgraded to evening bridleways, carefully highlighted and shared only with the other shadowy members of the Creation of Unseen Natural Trails*. We rarely use the four letter acronym as it upsets people.

3. MP3 players rock when you’re riding alone.
Especially when you have a shiny new one that has more memory than you have songs. Okay transferring music to it has sounded the death knell of my elderly PC but as the review goes when listening to The Throbbing Buttchumpers ˜Sprouts are my muse’ the retroactive bass blends perfectly with a trebly surround bumped acoustically by a deeply pleasing squish fader it clearly offers something classier than your mate farting Abide With Me.

4. Living somewhere isn’t the same as knowing it.
It’s great to find some bonzer new trails after riding the same ones for over five years especially as some have sufficient cheeky value to promise much fun over the next half decade. There are clearly some very rich people living round here as well with sprawling piles (must be the expense account lunches) marking the end of lost footpaths. I hope they’ve read the Aylesbury expansion plan because they’re about to have 10,000 near neighbours.

5. Riding bikes is just bloody ace.
I was running of light so cut short my exploration at the top of a stingy climb. Reversing direction, it was a delight; some fast switchbacks in the woods then a fantastic trailside up’n’over where a footpath intersected, leading to a flat out brain out rooty gulley finishing in panic stop as cars flashed past on the main road.

It would’ve been about perfect if the player had dished up U2’s Perfect Day or something pumping rock chords from Feeder or Linkin Park. What I actually got was Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes This is the time of your life.

Like I said, Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner**

* I stole this joke from Nick Cummins’ about five years ago. I’m assuming he’s forgotten
** I’m not explaining this. If you don’t get the film reference then you’re way cooler than me. If you do /Waves

Dark Peak Epic.

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

Long post, short geography lesson. The Peak District is essentially split north/south around Tideswell. The South Side (White Peak) is primarily limestone whereas the North (Dark Peak) is a combination of Millstone and Gritstone. All of it has been fiercely eroded by first eons of glacial action and latterly by wind, water and man.

What it lacks in woody singletrack, it makes up for with proper hills, grinding climbs and loose rocky descents naturally created for the best sport in the world. Classic descents such as Lockerbrook, Jacobs ladder, Oaken Clough, Hag Farm and the notrious “Beast” are famous in this little piece of MTB heaven, and I was long overdue a crack at a few of them.

It’s always a proper big ride especially when Andy “Tracklogs” Shelley is planning a summit bagging epic, this in the face of your trembling bottom lip and 35lb freeridey bike powered by jelly legs on flat pedals. First up was a grind up to Cavedale from the Peak Forest side – once there, I managed to stay on the bike for about the first five seconds before picking first myself and then the bike off the floor. My saddle has been fitted with a precision testicle homing device and so it was with some wincing that the steep section was minced mainly by walking.

.CavedaleCavedale

Continue reading “Dark Peak Epic.” →

It’s all about the bike

On By PhotoIn Bikes, Other stuff2 Comments
untitled, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

Saw this on a forum (originally from somewhere else on flickr) and it struck a chord. Every day, threads are posted on bike forums everywhere about someone losing something very dear to them.

And it’s not an inanimate object like a car. I wouldn’t give a shit if my car was nicked, claim, buy another one, job done. But if I lost a bike that is has some of my best memories locked into it, I’d be absolutely bloody gutted.

And they get sold for peanuts, by thieving tossers who don’t know their material or intrinsic value.

You could argue that this guy has taken angst to the extremes and is merely venting with understandable if impotent spleen. But I think you’d be wrong and there’s about 90{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} of me hopes he finds the low life scum who stole his bike.

Sprouts was it?

On By AlexIn Bikes5 Comments

Ask any cyclist what they hate most about being outside and the answer may surprise you. Especially if your interviewee is the autistic nut-job who launches into a breathless lament of the worst day of my life was the closure of the sturmley archer factory, and the ensuing shortage of left hand threaded thrust bearing reducers.

For the rest of us, it’s a toss up between rain, cold, murderous motorists and wind. Yet it’s easy to get warm and stay dry if you’re prepared to spend big on rustley technology, and death by driver is merely a background hum to the seasoned commuter. But wind is a bugger, it takes you up the arse and then throws itself back in your face.

This morning, it felt like Autumn, chilly start, blustery conditions and a sky crucible forging incessant moisture from leaded light and steel coloured clouds. When the wind finally swung behind me, it was worth a good couple of gears and for a pleasant interlude I was a sail.

The problem with tailwinds, of course, is they beget headwinds in the opposite direction, so I’ll be having an early evening cocktail of swirly rain, slippy roads topped off with a 20 MPH front facer.

But in the cheery optimism of the significantly medicated, I’m going to pretend this is good training for when the weather gets really shit. Although, it is of moot relevance as to whether such efforts will help me drive the car. Which is β€œ in a nutshell β€œ my transport strategy post October.