Category: Photography

H’mm that suddenly looks a bit serious

On By AlexIn Other stuff, Photography7 Comments

Today I’ve been breaking things. Planes, wings and promises mainly. Avid readers of hedgehog (and I’m setting a pretty low bar here – being able to manage your own cutlery passes for Mensa for inbound hedgies) will remember in this post I crowed over near future ownership of something similar but different.

There is complexity here, but essentially boredom, beer, eBay, the attention span of a special needs moth and an inability to say no has led to an MTB like dive into relative stupidity. So while this pre-loved trainer is replete with engine, flight box, starter, gas and something scary involving fuel pumps, I’ve made a creative leap into buying another one that’s almost exactly the same.

Madness is merely method lacking explanation and my justification was a) I don’t like backing out of deals even if I seem to have done lots of them b) this fiendish looking craft is missing a radio system and c) realistically they are nothing more than expensive consumerables with me at the controls.

c) is important as this morning I launched the little electric* into a gusty sky, having courageously re-trimmed** it the night before, and the next five minutes were nothing more than a growing conviction the bugger was overrun with alien mind control. 8/8ths cloud didn’t help much and the only time I really worked out where it was, was when I was digging it out of a frozen field.

And while replacement parts are cheap for this little soil basher, the same cannot be said for the big mutha now in my ownership. The previous owner terrified me with tales of extreme balsa action, and the 200 step instruction for starting the engine. In true hedgehog fashion, I nodded sagely and went in search of a stiff drink.

During which Carol decided to relocate the wings from their clearly unsafe position behind a cabinet, bedded down on two inches of foam and wrapped in a blanket*** while failing to understand that there isn’t much difference between six foot of wing and six foot and a bit of door aperture. There is no way I’m skilled enough to effect any kind of repair, so I gaffer taped it up and hoped for the best.

This has served me well with MTB’s and it’s important to play to your strengths I feel. Which is why I’m considering a radical approach of installing no radio at all, and just launching the plane at full chat into a big sky. I’ll feel none of that terrible responsibility to bring it back in one piece and it’ll probably be less damaged than if I were at the controls.

And best of all, I can crack open a beer as it disappears over a far horizon. I tell you, that and the knob gags are going to ingratiate me to the new club in no time at all.

* I believe RC has even more euphemistic potential than MTB. Except everyone except me appears to be 900 years old and universally sponsored by the denture industry. Knob gags have so far failed to amuse. I’ll keep trying.

** I’m not explaining this. It’s dull, hence my approach being to wait until I was partially pissed before hitting the spanners.

*** Let’s just not go there eh? Although I will say that House Harmony is not at an all time high this evening.

I’ve killed the dog.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Other stuff, Photography1 Comment

Okay I haven’t but how the hell can that be comfortable? I tried lying like that – cementing the owner imitating pet myth – but quickly ran out of flexibility, dignity and limbs. We’ve been leaving the cage open over night and, aside from the daily loss of at least one wicker bin, he has so far failed to eat the furniture, cat or anything structural.

I feel he may be merely luring us into a false sense of security. One day we’ll sleepily fall downstairs* only to gasp aghast “Where is the ground floor? All I can see if one fat, sickly looking dog!”

Talking of fat, I’m merely filling until time and wine converge to bring forth the much awaited** missive on plumbing. It has a poem and everything. No, I know you can hardly wait either. But tonight, I abandoned this much stared at tube to go and ride my bike. Yes that’s right, riding it, not fixing it, hanging pointless bling off it, or staring at it with frankly worrying thoughts.

It’s thawed. Hard trails have disappeared under muck. Tyre trails snaked more sideways than straight on. Trees viscously reached out of the dark to deliver a barky headbutt. Nothing much was frozen, except for feet and noses. We lured in a newcomer with talk of an easy ride and almost no hills; and now he’s bruised and broken, but vowing to come back for more.

Top night all round really 🙂

* now Carol has removed the carpet which makes a “Headlong Plunge Fakie Bloodied Skull Finish” the descending move of choice.

** This might be classed as a phrase quite close to marketing. Which is the Dictionary Of The Hedgehog is the entry next to Painful Death.

You can be smooth, then fast…

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

… but you can never be fast, then smooth. Sage advice for almost any walk of life, but properly pertinent for those riding avoiding death. It was delivered as the single version of a truth by a man who was both, to another man who was neither. And since that day, I’ve spent quite some cash and a little less time looking for what happened between fast and stacked.

Afan December 2008 Afan December 2008

The problem wasn’t a lack of bravery. That’s the default position of the riding hedgehog and it’s never really been the high water mark of speed, perceived or otherwise. No it was the constant fear of crashing on every single corner, the neural link between that and the brakes, the frustration of being left behind – again – by my riding pals, and the total lack of bloody enjoyment every time I went out.

Afan December 2008 Afan December 2008

Get a grip I hear you say. And you’d be right because a second unquestionable truth is that once your front wheel is pointing in the right direction, most other stuff is merely distracting detail. Having lost that grip about half a second before ripping my knee open, it’s only taken me two and a half years to find it again.

Afan December 2008 Afan December 2008

That and frozen hard trails at Afan, a year riding the same bike and so much grip that – short of taking the front wheel out and installing a melon – the corners would go as fast as your eyes can deal with. This proved to be jolly good fun, and most of it came together on the last trail I real remember riding properly on.

Afan December 2008 Afan December 2008

To be fair, it wasn’t all one way Karma, two of the fellas received frostnip on a day colder enough to promise IceWilly(tm) later. Dave forgot most of his kit on the way down, and the rest of it before every ride. Andy’s lad made the near fatal mistake of chasing his dad, resulting in some quality learning time lying dazed some way away from his bike.

Afan December 2008 Afan December 2008

Nige found that eight weeks, and one wedding is not the ideal training regime for hauling cold muscles up big hills, and Jason’s poor wardrobe decision left him with extreme chafing where no man should feel even the lightest of chafes. Still I had a great time, and would take frozen and hard over cold and sloppy* regardless of chill blaines in the nether regions.

Afan December 2008 Afan December 2008

Last year we slopped about for two days trying to find some grip. This warm up to 2009** must be a sign that we’ve paid our cosmic debt, and a proper summer is merely a few months away. Probably means I’m due another huge stack then.

* Any situation. Every time 😉

** The whole new year nonsense can go and get stuffed with what’s left of the turkey as far as I’m concerned. I covered that off last year and nothing much has changed. Except getting a year closer to death. but hey let’s not start the year on that kind of downer.

Christmas Presents – Part 2 and 3

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

Part 2 you can see right there ^^. That photograph was supposed to depict the speed, excitement and frisson of danger that only a competitive game of Air Hockey can create. Sadly, it fails to do so which is a shame because – even our bargain basement example – is way more fun that a big fan, a swathe of MDF and two Mexican hats for a small dog should ever be.

The designer must have been provided with a strict brief “Think Cheap and remember we’ve got a warehouse full of black ash MDF that needs shifting“. I was transported back to 1983 on opening the box, and the whole thing has “least cost bidder” written all over it. However, this in no way affects the way it makes you giggle when playing it. I intend to get all protractor angly good at killer shots, and then start playing my friends for money.

Part 3 you cannot see as it’s under the desk and seeping a bit. My right leg has some crazy paving scarring from an accident I spent about twenty seconds trying to have last night. It was not even a big drop – less than two feet – but both the entry and exit are a bit nasty. My standard approach is to hit it as fast as I dare, so lessoning my inability to pop the front wheel at low speeds.

Last night I was following Jezz – wheel popper extraordinare – at a speed that was clearly going to require some input from me other than closing my eyes and hoping for the best. Sadly, my pre-lip gurn/lift and shift did nothing other than unclip my right foot from the pedal.

Things went downhill rather rapidly from there. The pedal whipped round and struck me a mighty blow on the calf, I pitched forward over the bars, and my left wrist rotated round those bars to almost point back at me, while waving a desperate warning. This was some way away from “stable and calm body position” experts purport is the least life threatening approach when you and the ground are no longer connected.

The landing* started with only two of my limbs attached to the bike and nearly finished there as well. Convinced the end was indeed nigh, I withdrew my head – turtle like – from beyond the stem and braced for impact. Crashing through some gorse bushes in a one legged, one armed buckaroo fashion distracted me from the unbelievable situation of still being wheels up and attached.

Eventually the cacophony of sound (bike, undergrowth, rider screaming) ended without anything damaged other than the bloody leg where we came in. Lying in the hospital after the big accident I had in 2006, I kept replaying the crash in my mind, specifically how I could have been so damn unlucky to smash myself up on such a benign trail.

Well last night Karma may well have been restored. And that seems the right note to sign off and wish all you sufferers of the hedgehog a very Merry** Christmas 🙂

* See previous post regarding the SuperCub. Landing is really underplaying exactly how fraught and bouncy things were at this time

** Oh yes. Starting about now. What d’ya mean it’s 9am? And your point is?

Plane Stupid

On By AlexIn Other stuff, Photography3 Comments

Not those environmental worthies – most of whom happen to live under the Heathrow flightpath – crusading against a third runway, and generally being far too nice to prevent a million tons of concrete being poured. I struggle to see how making the Heathrow Terminal experience any busier can in any way be a good thing, but I care little for matters of the South nowadays 😉

The SuperCub celebrates its’ first birthday on Thursday. Last years’ Christmas present had been packed away and hidden behind the still many, many unpacked boxes*. Its’ abandonment was not merely physical, the first flights had not gone well, and even tho I’d put in some significant Sim Time, the prospect of drilling for mud with an extensive and expensive parts list held not much interest.

Especially after the local flying club – two miles away, beards mandatory, Cap and Tie at all times mandatory, humour and grace strictly forbidden – poo poohed my membership application on the grounds that it breached Rule 27, Paragraph 4, Subsection b), Item iii) towhit lowering the average age below 100. Anyway that route lay training and log books and theory, and frankly that’s far too bloody dull when you’re meant to be enjoying yourself.

So teaching yourself is both invigorating, occasionally frightening and always expensive. Yesterday with holiday and energy to burn, I launched the airdrill(tm) across the field and spent ten minutes wondering where I might be able to land it. In the same field actually, full of nascent winter crop and muddy enough to provide the kind of soft landings my vertical approaches require.

My flying has definitely improved, and I can say that with confidence because – even after eight impacts**, the stout little Supercub is absolutely intact with every component still attached. Sure I’ve had to empty the engine compartment of clay, and my lack of battery awareness did create a hike across someone elses field to retrieve the powerless plane, but otherwise all is tally-ho and top hole!

I can now fly right and left circuits, twirl figure eight turns, and mostly work out which way to twiddle the sticks when the plane turns turtle and heads back towards me like a homing missile. So having mastered that, I should bed down these manoeuvres, work on my turns, try and land the plane within a square mile of the house and generally hone my skills.

What I’m actually going to do is try some aerobatics. I know, I know you’re thinking the same as me “Top Idea what could possibly go wrong?”

* Does anyone else think if you have no idea what the contents are, and haven’t been casting around for the “forty eighth stuffed toy, you know the one that looks like the other 47“, donating the whole damn lot of unopened boxes to charity is the right thing to do? In our family, it goes 3 to 2 against, and that’s with me claiming Murphy’s vote.

** Landing would be too charitable. The field is rough, so even a perfect approach and flare would stil result in the plane’s arse pointing accusingly to the sky. That’s my theory not ever having made that perfect approach 😉

Kona hits the dirt!

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Photography5 Comments

Kona Kilauea by you.

Although hit the mud would be a more accurate description of the first meeting of old bike and recently squelched trail. It’s a build completed through the scavenger process of beg, borrow and reverse-steal*. The wheels are borrowed, the outer ring offers no toothy service other than stopping the chain falling off and the tyres are a cheeky combination of old and useless.

A lovely warm morning greeted my childish pre-ride enthusiasm. And while I was ready, the Leigh brood were not. And in accordance with the law that any actiivty with Children – up to and including a week long holiday – takes twice as long to prepare than actually participate in, it was rain not sun which greeted our cautious slither onto the trails.

It’s been nearly eighteen months since the kids rode out on proper dirt. A gap only just long enough to ease the trauma of Verbal’s repeated facial braking experiments last time out. And although they both had little falls and the biting back of hurty tears, they also made their old man properly proud with no whinge mud sloppage, some fine turns in leafy singletrack and brave attempts at muddy roll-ins.

At the end of which, demands were coming thick and fast for grippy pedals, mud tyres, cooler riding togs and bigger wheels. All of which were apparently “holding them back”. I cannot imagine where they learned such things.

As 3/4 of the family retired to the inside of the love bus to munch snacks, I took the Kona for a fast run through some sweet rider built singeltrack. The handling is on the lively side of involving mainly due to a stem a full two inches shorter than stock. But the whole experience was about as I remembered it – instant pickup from a pedal stroke, look-corner(tm) steering negating the need for any obvious muscle movement and a wrist battering experience vaguely remembered from 1995.

I’ll leave you to decide exactly how such an experience came about 😉

If I close my eyes, I can see long summer evenings offering up dust and hardpacked singletrack in equal amounts. Riding something like this through the trees toward a dropping sun and a well earned pint could very well be a path to cycling nirvana. Although not until I can find a tyre that is a) less than 2 inches wide and b) points in the same direction as the front one.

* This is where you enter a shop, request a small but vital component only to stagger out some five minutes later having been legally mugged.

I used to think..

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Photography7 Comments

… I could just about ride a mountain bike. This fantastically filmed bonkers headcam follow shows me I’m only slightly above ‘recently removed stabilisers’ in the cycling food chain.

Great camera as well. Most of the headcam stuff is horribly pixelated and further ruined by changes in light blowing away the contrast. And that’s before the generally shit riding destroys what quality is left.

I had a fantastic night ride yesterday. All two wheel grassy drifts and opposite lock tractionaless descents. By the end of it, I really felt quite good about my standard of basic bike control.

Having watched that, I’m off to get a shopping basket and a Sam Browne belt to properly position my cycling prowess. You watch these guys basically taking the piss, and sometimes you feel inspired, sometimes humbled but always assuming something alien is going on.

This time I just felt scared 😉

You can dance..

On By PhotoIn Other stuff, Photography4 Comments

Murphy 6 months, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

You can jive, having the time of your life*

I am mired in a pile of shit here. Not literally, although our weekly night ride later in the lamping rain will probably turn metaphorical into the physical. What it certainly means is I have no time to share with you my latest ranting at the world in general, and the railways in particular.

So In the meantime, here’s Murphy at six months demonstrating his:

a) Dancing skills
b) Willy.

I have a picture of me doing the same. I’ll not be posting that just yet 😉

* Yeah yeah you may be pointing and laughing at my homage to the Swedish Gods and Godesses of Pop. But I bet you are humming along.

An accident waiting to happen.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Photography2 Comments

Bit chilly, very windy, much fun.

A statement that well describes both an elongated plunge into a handy bush, and the dreadful way I dispatched a vast quantity of decent red, the evening before. The two may have been related. A weekend of much alcohol occasionally interrupted by riding was both fantastic and slightly frustrating.

Before I suffered serial navigational confusion, a tree accosted my riding person and threw me into the squidgy dirt. This was merely an end game which was nicely set up by fat floaty tyres, a trail of tractionless mud, a head still more drunk than hungover and the unpleasant sensation that you’re no longer in charge of the steering.

I’m fine thanks for asking, but still a bit confused.

You see back in the Chilterns, I knew most of the good stuff. Where to ride when it was gloopy – so that’s nine months of the year then – the best descents, the cheeky trails and when it was safe to ride them. Here, I’m still a bit of a trail remembering novice and, with my legendary navigational skills, getting lost happens always as often as getting it right.

None of this is helped by generally riding with people who know where they are going. And mainly in the dark. Attempting to translate light strobed memories into confident trail finding was about as successful as failing to open that ‘last’ bottle of wine. Although the Malverns – with the help of young whippersnapper Tim – was not so much of a problem as the Forest of Dean the following day.

Although “not so much of a problem” may not be an entirely accurate description of “er, hang on fellas, left here. No right, no straight on, ah that’s a quarry is it, right definitely left” and “bloody hell, it all looks a bit different in the light“. A hangover sharp enough to shave with wasn’t the best sidekick for a day when I was nominally in charge.

The Forest of Dean held no such fears. I didn’t even pretend to know my way around there. After a night of incessant rain, the mud was almost as constant as the rubbishness of my route finding. After the Malvern ride, the bikes were merely wiped down to remove splatters of dirt. Once we’d slopped back to the Cafe in the Forest, a full on hose down and relube was required. And that was just the riders.

It’s made me more determined to get out and get exploring even when the weather edges to the increasingly ploppy. Once you’re up to your armpits in winter vegetation, and properly lost half way down a steep hill, getting wet and cold are mere bagatelles to the main problems at hand.

On the upside, I was super confident in the twisties of the wine cupboard, and showed great bravery when presented with a line of difficult beers. Tomorrow I’m going to ride to work and if I don’t arrive, I can probably be found looking lost and confused on the road to Hereford.

It must be the cold.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Photography16 Comments

Because what other reason could there be to find myself stroking the monitor, when I saw this:

1993 Kona. Also known as Als Insanity
1993 Kona. Also known as "Al's Insanity"

I used to have a really nice Kona but sold it when the Emperor turned up with some new threads. That one up there is even older. About 1993, which is WAY before I even started riding Mountain Bikes. Although those of you privileged to have seen me ride would probably prefer the more accurate “Short legged man being inconvenienced by a bicycle”

This one was built before the advent of suspension forks, fat tyres and the marketing fallacy that without a ‘integrated component stack of class leading technology” you would die the instant you hit the trails.

It is not without problems. Some of them are technical around old standards and the need for some advanced shed-bodgery. Others are more ethereal, but rooted in a houseful of bikes already and the proximity of a rolling pin. After the Pace, I said no more. Then I bought the Jake. Which reminded me how good Kona’s are.

You see. It’s not my fault. And I have a whole box full of spares – okay none of which will actually fit but that’s just you lot being negative.  Shame on you. Anyway I’m going to sell the Roadrat. And some pedals. So basically we’re looking at the financial instrument of extreme dubiousness “Cost Neutral”.

In no way related new,  those of you wish to read something that is not merely an electronic prod to my vanity, try my friend Alan’s blog. He doesn’t write much but what he does makes good sense. Almost the opposite to me then 🙂