What’s missing from this picture?

Flickr Image

a) Summer

b) My new frame

By the time b) arrives, a) shall either be over or it’ll be all lovely and sunny. And late August. I like to think of myself of man of action and would proudly hold up the bike rationalisation strategy as proof of my single minded drive to take an A and make it into a Z.

Closer examination may reveal that intermediate letters such a F[Financial review], P[Plan] and S[Sale of discarded frames] have been passed over in a hand waving ‘it’ll all be fine, cost neutral? Of course” scenario. It’ll will be fine of course, less bikes, more riding, less useless tat, more handy spares, less lamenting poor purchasing decisions, more making new excuses for the current ensemble.

The conclusion I’m slowing coming to is I quite enjoy building bikes, I certainly enjoy riding them and many of my friends can offer weary evidence to my enthusiasm for talking about them. I just need to cut out the bit marked “pointless upgrades” especially if it coincides with the financial blast zone of wine and eBay.

It’s just not going to happen is it?

Oh I missed c) It’s the wrong house. The move date of the 18th seems to be hurtling towards a test case where I harpoon the solicitor and throw myself at the mercy of the legal system. Because not only are they – and I must issue a pre vernacular warning here – sodding useless, they also appear to have taught Pace Racing the complex art of non delivery.

Roger and out***

Voodoo Canzo, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

Okay I admit it, it really was pink. Although the fella buying it and I exchanged manly nods while classifying in a “lively purple“. He was lucky to get a test ride in between the torrential showers, and luckier still that my ham-fisted debuild* didn’t customise the paintwork with a ‘deep screwdriver‘ motif.

One down, one to be delivered on our annual “trip of scars” to Scotland. I hefted that rather lovely but unused bicycle out of storage, and gave it some pre-sale TLC** between distinctly non manly blubbling.

Somehow in between acts of a model credit-cruched citizen, an unplanned event occurred on the eBay/wine horizon. Still you can never have too many sets of wheels can you?

Nurse? Nurse? The tablets. I’ve just seen some orange spokes and I think they’d match a squirrel I once saw.

* If the airline industry can get away with deplane, I am on safe ground here.

** Tender Loving Catpolishing. Cat loves it really. Like a live Chamois. Only with less cow and more claws.

*** Post tennis update. As a tribute to the Swiss cheese holed by the unbending enthusiasm of the Spanish bull, I’ve changed the post title. It seems my new strategy is already in disarray as the delivery of the new frame has been delayed by a goat strike, and the Cove has something gritty going on ‘downstairs’.

Bugger.

What type of plant is that?

Jsaon climbing from hope.

That will be a face plant – Latin name body-pummeler rock slasher – found in great numbers where soil conditions include abrasive rock, rubbish riding and a higher than normal incidence of Al.

Passing naturalists exclaimed “By Jove is that a greater bruised Alex, nestling perfectly between a sharp outcrop and muddy stream bed? Not often you see them with their legs still wiggling. Get the camera out

And all this crashing about in the hard edged undergrowth after the first day had gone so well. Great swathes of the Peak District being mowed by the wavy lines of rumbling tyres, huge cakes disappearing at the speed of indigestion, and endless climbs bridging the distance between the two.

Even better, it was not even one of my own bikes getting a custom attrition paint job from high speed rock strikes. I didn’t have anything to ride you see*, SX lost in storage, Hummer akin to taking a toothpick to a gunfight, Canzo too pink to be allowed into Yorkshire. So I borrowed one, and it was lovely.

Except for the fork which had the structural integrity and lateral stiffness of a wilting lettuce. And the brakes which worked long enough to get me out of the shop. And the chain which fell off a lot. But hey it was a hard working demo which someone else had to clean and mend, once I’d sort of wrecked it.

Sort of would have been absolutely had the 15 seconds not quite falling off ended as it should. It’s the only time I’ve ever clipped both sides of a gate – held open by my wide mouthed riding buddies – as the plunging buckero of man and bike was hurled down the hillside by angry gravity.

Still four times over the bars the next day was a price almost worth paying for tweaking the nose of terror. If the terrain was any more technical, it would come with a four inch manual and a nine year old boy to explain how to make it work. The Andys** whooped along it with all the trouble of men attempting a single flight of stairs. The same trails dispatched me into a dark, sweaty place where bikes don’t clear rocks, corners cannot be turned and steep bits must be walked.

At one point – the point being where my head was yet again wedged into a painful rock sandwich – my sense of humour was declared missing in action. Presumed dead. The final descent cheered me up with it’s lack of near death experiences and bumpy swoopiness.

What cheered me up even more was finding my cash had gone the same way as my sense of humour and I was forced to sponge off two card carrying Yorkshiremen. Honestly you should their faces on receipt of a receipt of a loan request for one pound – it was as if I’d asked for first go with the whippet.

Two last thoughts.

1) It’s summer right? At what point did gales and driving rain replace sunshine and wispy clouds?
2) I liked that new bike very much indeed. It may be the bike page is facing a radical overhaul.

* Not QUITE true. But close enough for it failing to be prosecuted for lack of evidence.

** Strange Northern Tribe. Can float over impossibly difficult trails while discussing the pro’s and con’s of whippet ownership.***

*** Pros: Any port in a storm. Not bad eating. Cons: Bit smelly, no fold back teeth.

Long Wind

Now as a man, I’m pretty much there in terms of the operation and maintenance of a personal wind turbine* But 40 years of semi professional parping in no way prepared me for the rampant gale playfully attempting to blow us off an afternoon of high ridges.

Of which the Long Mynd has legion. From the top of every one you can see Wales and even these mere foothills of proper mountains have real altitude. My pre-ride ritual of a sneaky piss up against a bored sheep registered 20 knot sustained with gusts of twice that**. Thankfully I was relieving myself downwind – it’s just a shame I chucked the car keys that way as well.
Long Mynd June 2008 (16 of 30) Long Mynd June 2008 (26 of 30)

The headwind made an already trying climb seemingly like trying to ascend a knobbly wall while God turned the hairdryer past a Spinal-Tap 11. We wasted what little breath we had left attempting to verbally communicate, but the wind whipped away our words in a contemptuous shriek.

Uphill and into wind was marginally less fun that – say – angle grinding your bollocks while drunk and blindfolded. Downhill was super, singletrack-y, exposed and endless. The problem was you were not really in control of the steering*** as frisky gusts would plunge you and your front wheel into the nearest valley floor.

Long Mynd June 2008 (29 of 30) Long Mynd June 2008 (13 of 30)

Which was some 300+ feet below you. Luckily a combination of a death grip and extreme mincing saved the day for me. That kind of exposure doesn’t seem to worry my friend Jason, as proved by him peering into the abyss from the edge of a mahoosive cliff in an absolute raging hoolie. And he has the smallest feet of any male human over the age of about 7. Bonkers.

Long Mynd June 2008 (10 of 30) Long Mynd June 2008 (2 of 30)

Much fun tho hardly ruined at all by my navigational blunders compounded by an inability to reconcile a map, a GPS and a bloody massive great stone saying “YOU ARE HERE”. We got there eventually, although the track log mimics the stagger home of a serious ten pinter. In a foreign country. While trying to work out what the hell you’re meant to do with that anglegrinder.

Long Mynd June 2008 (5 of 30) Long Mynd June 2008 (4 of 30)

Still my happy-clappy karma lasted for as long as it took for some walking acne to drag his crappy pedal across my new wheel, as he boarded the train. His risible apology incensed me – as I made a sneaky exit – to the point of sneaky retaliation.
Hope he has a pump. That’s all I’m saying 🙂

* Operation: Lift cheek and fire up the peristalsis booster.
Maintenance: Sprouts and organic beer. But never at the same time. You risk the very real possibility of blowing your own trousers off.

** The Pissfaut scale is more than a mountaineering urban myth. I have witnessed with my own eyes a ‘piss-off’ where serious hillmen declare “Well Bob’s a heavy pisser and that’s gone aerial, so we’re talking 25-30 knots and that’s not allowing for gusts

*** All together now “Nothing new there then eh?

Not really a mountain, some mayhem

The start of summer, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

Last night, the kids and I marveled at the huge tented sponsor’s village which comprised just a small portion of the whole Mayhem experience. It makes the CLIC-24 like a few mates riding from the local pub, but I guess 3000+ entrants, a huge field and a near 100{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} showing from the MTB retail sector would do that to any field. Even a wet one.

How different yesterday was, cracked earth, rock hard ground and swirling dust. The course was 100{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} rattly*, riding fast and loose, cheekily off camber in sections and punctuated by two tough grass climbs. Riders were coming in from sighter laps with smiles on their faces and sweat on their clothes.

All this pre-race happiness despite the entire riding flange desperately checking late forecasts to see if the rain was still coming. And it has come, right on schedule. Wind, misty but persistent rain, entire county clamped in low cloud and general ugh. A nice man in a BBC suit cheerfully explained it’s going to be better tomorrow but worse later today.

It seems the epicentre of the front will converge on Eastnor Castle at about 2pm. Which, because Sod makes laws, is the exact start time of the race. Maybe the rain should just buy an entry like everyone else since it turns up every year and pisses on and off every rider, as they slog through the muddy and sodden course. It’s even worse than elite riders charging through shouting “Podium rider, make way“.

Yet the atmosphere was great last night, and it made me remember what I loved about these events. Meeting old friends, caressing box fresh bike bits, grabbing a beer and talking about old times. Many of which were fantastic, almost none of those had anything to with riding.

I wonder how that atmosphere will feel when we wander up later with cake, waterproofs and mud tyres for some friends who are rain racing.

Until then I tip my virtual hat to the lot of them. As I need to tip it anyway – it’s full of rain.

* So I heard. There was no way I was wasting valuable drinking time trying it myself.

Trainy Days

Roadrat on the train, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

It wouldn’t be the twisted democracy of the Hedgehog if I didn’t poll its’ readership* for suggested content, then completely ignore the results before rambling on about trains again.

You see where Haddenham – a tiny provincial station – was blessed with 500 parking spots, 3 trains an hour, a waiting room, a uniformed parking jobsworth, a full time station master, a proper coffee shop selling non ironic skinny espresso’s and many suits. Ledbury has a peeling wooden shack hutted by Bob*, himself surrounded by a pre-Beecham photographic collection and an aura of extreme antiquity.

So a pleasant enquiry on the availability a Cappuccino, easy on the foam, skimmed milk, choco on top is met with an old fashioned expression, and a stern lecture to whit: I should thank my lucky stars there is even a platform, in days or recent yore, you merely threw themselves at a passing train in the hope that an observant passenger may haul you in.

There are – and Beared Bob is clealy not happy about this – some sops to modern life; Fewer large animals stroll on the lines than back in the glory years of steam, rubbish fencing and Fresian roaming***. Both platforms sport posh electronic signage predicting the arrival of next train and the one after that****.

And – according to these neon glows of technological wonder – the trains always run on time. Tending to the persnickety, this perfect schedule may be symptomatic of their obvious non connectedness to any real time arrival information system.

Nor do they need to be, as a sweaty, fat man leans out of the signal box and updates us all with a cheery “The London train is running 20 minutes late. Keith the driver forgot his sarnies and he’s popped back home to pick them up“.

The train to London dwarfs the platform to such an extent that the front half is servicing passengers at Coldwell, some four miles up the track. It’s absolutely huge. And old. And slam door. Legions of train enthusiasts/pointless wankers take brass rubbings and boringly relive the golden age of the Inter-City 125.

It wasn’t golden then and it’s not fantastic now. Bang up to date the naming conventions may be (Train Host, Train Manager and the whole “Welcome to our Service/How can we fleece you today?” experience) but not much has changed in terms of tired carriages or bumpy track. Forget that Wii balance board you’ve promised yourself; just try going for a piss between Didcot and Reading without spraying everything from the knees down.

The ickle turbo that fills my bikey commuting sandwich is actually a bit better. Mainly because you spend lless time on it, and all of that is in shorts and a t-shirt. I’m still full of childish delight that no bastard love child of the Gestapo and a Butlins’ red coat churlishly waves Railway Regulations at me, whilst triumphantly ejecting my bike from the speeding train.

And because it’s not London, the whole experience is significantly less deadly and – so far – completed with the correct underwear count. Okay it still took me 30 minutes to find an office precisely two miles from New Street Station. 28 of which were desperately circulating wet Dual Carriageways wondering if “Doncaster” might not be a good route choice.

So far, so groovy. Longest day tomorrow. Winter after that. Important to get a preemptive grump in before I start to really enjoy myself.

A final question unrelated and yet troubling. If your kids are lapped at the School Sports Day, and your representation to add “Nintendo Mario Karts” to the event list is mercilessly rebuffed, what’s the solution? All the non city kids clearly run twice round the farm every morning before indulging in a spot of cow throwing.
I could institute a strict regime of exercise to hone their athletic performance for next year. Or I could teach them stick out a leg and cheat. In my role as a guiding force for good and true parent, which do you think it may be?

* Good word. Could mean 1000, could mean 1.

** 1 of a part time staff of 2. Responsible for ticket sales, laminating of timetables, hut painting and repair, general airs of resignation and pulling of beards.

*** 1989

**** Which is generally tomorrow. And replaced by a donkey service via Reykjavik.

It must be mud, mud, mud..

With Mudtain* Mayhem just a few days away, this photo seemed entirely appropriate. Only last night was I covered in sticky red mud, flayed by aggressive vegetation and bitten by creatures known only as ‘lumpy arm givers’. Nothing to do with riding, I was merely visiting that special type of club so loved by the FIA president. Allegedly.

So muddy right now, and a storm has recently decamped – with a look of some permanence – on the doorstep. The forecast could be better spelt ‘meteorological portent of imminent doom‘ which fully justifies both my smugness and the decision to turn down a last minute offer to ride. Instead, my plan is to trundle the five miles to Eastnor Castle, truffle my way through the beers of various riding friends, before wobbling home to a bed that is neither on the floor or inside a moist tent.

Since I’m into recycling other people’s work, here are some more. Finally the BBC takes up the righteous cause of StupidSpeak(tm) – one of the many curses of corporate culture. I don’t know if it is rooted in self importance or the belief that turd polishing somehow takes the eye away from what is, at the end of the day, going forward, still a turd.

Either way, my focus is on teaming leading an idea pool to cruxmollify** the low hanging fruit, through a process of seamless boundary interactions, into a organisationally transitioned leveraged key outcome.

In layman’s terms, I am off in search of a cup of tea.

* It really should be called “2000 Lycra fetishists chasing each other round a small field. Reasons unknown“.

** I may have made that word up. But because Corporate sheep follow StupidSpeak, I shall experiment with it in some finely crafted emails. I fully expect someone will ‘let me know it is right on their radar

Mal & Vern

Two blokes we met while riding up and over these steep sided and overly managed hills. The first took exception to our polite entreaties to get past, by denouncing all cyclists as trail eroding scum who’d serve the country better by throwing themselves under the nearest lorry. Or something like that; I must confess to stopping listening when I realised he wasn’t either.

Tim impressing local walker Fell off down there. Scary

The second was an old boy who very gently chastised us for riding on a path we probably shouldn’t have ,been but finished up with “I wouldn’t worry about it, nobody will care really”. And for the remaining 99{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} of our ride, he was absolutely right. I have no intention of getting into the access issues around these closely guarded nuggets of great trails*, other than to say, there seems to be enough for everyone and much of it is fun on a mountain bike.

Lush. And Hilly. Really quite hilly All downhill to beer from here :)

We did seem to climb alot tho. My GPS sprouted** some nonsense about 3000 feet of uppage with some corresponding smile cracking trails heading back into Malvern. However, the first one we found could have been named “extreme exposure” although I felt my alternate title of “aarrgghh I have fallen down a 45 degree slope” was a little more accurate. Two rolls and a suicidal grab of a passing – and accelerating – bike generated more than enough interest for one set of pants I can tell you.

And the fall wasn’t because I was all rubbish and clipped in; no, rather I was checking out the view, and congratulating myself on all things West of the South East. One of those things was the lush rolling landscape into which I plunged – head first – to better investigate the phrase “terminal velocity“.

It’s not just the stuff you can see that is different here. There are other clues as well; the non ironic Wurzels tribute band at the School Fete, the strange popularity of Welly Throwing and the complete lack of any justification required to tuck into a barrel of Cider. At the local pub, there is one bloke who doesn’t seem to have moved during the three times we’ve been in there. Either he’s dead or very, very drunk.

Tomorrow I start commuting again using a proper vehicle to sandwich the train journey. Which means, according to my personal rainometer(tm), I’d better go and harvest the waterproofs.

* Because I didn’t sign up to any charter and I really don’t understand what all the fuss is about. What’s wrong with: ne polite, be sensible, be sensitive to other trail users and get on with it?

** And as part of my new found sensitivity, other vegetables are available. I’ve no problem with the concept of Broccoli taking on some verb action. Just as long as I am not required to eat any of the Devil’s testicles.

Its done..

Rough Ride 2008 (7 of 11), originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

.. so am I. More when I’m less distracted by beer and food. In summary:

Weather: Damn Hot. A bit too damn hot really.
Course: Last descent and singletrack great. Rest of it made up of mainly grass – both upwards and downwards. Plus some road. So, erm…
Organisation: Fantastic.
Post Ride Food: Rubbish. Veg Curry? I WANT THE BACK END OF A RECENTLY DEAD COW IN A BUN!
74k course details: No idea, sloped off, like the wuss I am, and did 48k variant.
Other riders: Occasionally amusing, generally pedestrian downhill. I’m not quick but they were glacial.
Doing it again: No.

I am trumpet.

An odd way to join the first person singluar of ‘to be’ to a windy noun but sense shall be made, read on. Trumpet is a real place as well as an instrument, although this morning it swung between the two, hiding between rolling hills and mocking me as an instrument of navigational trickery.

In two hours, I visited it a total of four times, adding it a collection of random small villages (Much Marcle: Twice, Pixley: three times, Aylton: never saw it but attacked it from the West, East and South in a one man pincer movement) on my explorations for some local singletrack.

I had most of the map and half a GPS. Add that to my imperfect sense of direction and dodgy internal gyroscopes and what could go wrong? Well I did find two ends of an interesting looking bridleway, but never the join, I also discovered many friendly people to orientate my map, before kindly sending me back from whence I’d come. I also lost 45 increasingly worrying minutes crashing about in a small wood, trying not to fall into a stream.

Exploring Exploring

Eventually I arrived home, one hour later than planned, nettle stung to buggery, slightly more knackered than a man attempting to summit 7000 feet of nearly Welsh climbing probably should be, and in need of a medicinal beer. Since it was only 10:30am, I settled for bumper mug of Guatemalan Elephant* and a satisfied expression.

Because when I finally found the woods, there was more untrod singletrack in there that you could shake a stick at. Although, quite a muddy stick it must be said. Possibly not all legal for cycling but with no evidence of any other human activity, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Unless I get lost again when I might possibly starve and have my eyes pecked out. Not that such a mental image was glued to my inner eye while my outer eye could see nothing but trees – oh no.

This is mere displacement activity for the horror of tomorrow. Nige, Frank and Andy Tracklogs are converging on the log later and we’re off to the Cider Press for a couple of sharpeners before dinner. I ask again, what could possibly go wrong?

Cider Exploring

If I were a betting man, I’d wager a kidney on the next entry including the phrases “Never Again” “Reamed Arse” and “Writing this from the Hospital“.

* this is a blend of coffee. Although Random does a pretty good impression when attempting to quietly cross a room.