Ride Report: Whiteways August 09

Posted by f

Off Piste

Extreme Gardening: Whiteways Ride August 09

Hectic single track, a tree stump, braking, lost it, over we go (only the third time today). Felt quite safe for a fall – must be something to do with the adrenalin rush – also felt shunt moving me forward. Metallic noises (rider behind forgivingly non-vocal). More metallic noises (likewise newest rider). Sorry guys!

My abiding memory of my first Brighton MTB outing? – not at all.

I’d seen the network of bridleways in the forest area west of Whiteways on the map. It looked interesting. I hadn’t seen the Brighton MTB site and the Whiteways meet until the day before. Great thing the interweb.

On Sunday I was belting down single track created specially for bikers out of forest. I’ve seen such things in the Grizedale Forest in the Lake District, but they seem a more commercial thing. The single track was technical and exciting to ride. The heavy rain the day before helped! Scrapes one and two were over fairly promptly after the start. No damage done and it felt as though I’d got the hang of it.

Where did we go? No idea at all. In the car park before we set off, I mentioned the bridleways I’d seen on the map and was a bit mystified by the response, “We won’t be using them!”

Some parts were very overgrown and speed was the only way of making sure the branches and brambles didn’t get a complete grip and slow you to a standstill. This results in scratches and blood, but Savlon cream was on tap. Later we rode tracks we were told were very overgrown!

I was probably the oldest biker on the day and definitely suffered several decades on some. But someone was always with me to ensure I didn’t drop off the back and get lost. Four hours into the ride I was given a gel shot by another friend (note to self: I must remember people’s names). How I’ve avoided gel shots all the years, I don’t know. True to predictions, the shot gave me the boost I sorely needed to get me to the end. The group was friendly, fun and – most importantly – forgiving of a less fit and able rider (thanks all round).

The mystery for me is not where we’d been but more how the ride leader gets to know the single track routes. I’m only guessing here, but this may be explained if they are one of a band of dedicated extreme gardeners, locked away in the forest creating bike paths, complete with tricksy bits. And that, I’m sure, is quite another story.

View from the back

Posted by mtbnomad

Nick shows how its done

Foolishly I was unprepared for the last summer ride.

I had expected an autumnal ride of slips and showers and dressed accordingly. Instead the riot of fall colours was steaming in the late summer heat. Shorts were a better choice than my Gore Profi 3 trousers but long sleeves did save me from the whipping of the undergrowth.
I love the trails at this time of year as it makes it a challenge to find the dry ones and avoid the mud. The least known tracks are covered in a camouflage of leaves so many of them are left to the familiar.
Whiteways car park was filled with Hogs glinting in the sun but we found space for all of us and after coffee AND NO BACON BUTTIES we pedalled out and up. We looped through a few sections of single-track in the trees including the new Rich Reward linking old with old and ran down some of the main runway stuff before heading out over the hill.
The man from the meadow, (Monsieur du Pre), and I slipped twice at the bottom before he was spurred into an attack on the hill and sprinted off with me chasing. Three quarters of the way up as I faded Alec was in the perfect position to jump onto his wheel but with the disdain of a top twenty place recently achieved in the night time trial over the South Downs he informed me that he “had nothing to prove”.
Rob trundled up ahead with unassailable lead.
We raced through the next sinuous section with a couple of our new faces performing with aplomb. Pete lost the trail for a second but showed me an opportunity for a new link.
We separated a little as we ran the ridge trail with Nick keeping a wary eye on this slender trail. He seemed to enjoy it as he followed the rear wheel of the Gary Fisher down the hill. Almost too close as Pete somersaulted over the bars after hitting a log but he landed softly in the leaves. At the bottom a certain Blur rider confessed that he had done exactly the same and he has no excuse having ridden this countless times over the years.
Over the horse jump logs I challenged Mr. Donne to clear the lot and in a flash he was off. And in a flash he was off; at the second log wrestling to hold the bike and spoiling a clear run with a dab. “Puncture” was the cry, as Pete’s tyre went down whether as the result of the acrobatics or not the cause will never be known. Time for a munch while he played mechanic. Nick’s nice, light Fuel brought out an engineering lesson for the second group with Rich eventually settling for “just tell me what to buy?” That’ll be VPP, Rich. Mike swapped his patriot with the S works of Rich for a bit as the puncture was prepared. Rich zoomed off and Mike used the S works chain ring as a saw on the next large log.
The other Mike ran ahead through the overgrown trail to grab a picture or two. The main group should have been intrigued by the bouncing log that we had laboriously sawn through the previous weekend as a trail obstacle, but it seemed to be just a log. The sweat was not worth it.
We hit that little climb next and dug in. Not very long, not very rocky, not very narrow and not very easy and a few pushing up to the top. Always hurts me that one. Around the quarry ridge, dry and clear with v brakes shuddering behind me as Mike tested out the braking of Rich’s racing steed with the security of hitting me rather than something solid. I sprinted to get away and did fine until I hit three or four of the strongest uprights in the panda garden. I stayed on with skill and aplomb proven by the appreciative gales of laughter from the two Mikes at my maestro demonstration.
More single-track, some roots, some happy walkers encouraging us on and another mechanical. Alec’s tubeless had come unstuck. Very rare as he rides so light but as he have bottomed his fork perhaps he was carrying extra speed into the gullies. A new tube and we rode around the road section after a democratic decision which went against me.
The little hill on the last leg of the way back found us running out of water as the heat took its toll. The last run down through the two main runways brought us back to the final climb that reminds you that your fitness is never good enough.
So that was my ride as sweeper. How was your ride?

photos

Gourmet Special Ride

Posted by mtbnomad

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Bikes for Boys

Posted by mtbnomad

Little boys that is. And it is an area fraught with difficulty if you do not want to be a Disappointing Dad. The test for this is a small boy’s silence or even worse a half smile.You could walk into a supermarket, a discount chain or even order from a newspaper advert and buy an astonishingly cheap bike and although it may cope with the occasional bridleway, it may struggle with regular trail duties. Your local bike shop may carry one of the major players who make a kid’s version of your own steed.That may be an easy solution but only if it is going to be used and not end up joining other investment items which you store unused in your garage.

Some web sites offer frames or bikes with useful information on sizing and weight. These can be a good point of comparison.

However we all have a shed or garage with lots of unused kit which would be ideal for someone else because you really needed Steve Peat’s grips and Cedric Garcia’s bars and your old ones are on the shelf and if not you really need some new wheels anyway so that would not count on the costs of course.

After a little research, I settled on a hardtail with a maximum target weight of 25 lbs. The frame was a real problem as advertised sale items were plentiful but finding actual stock proved difficult.

Merlin had an older model which seemed ideal but the cost was a large chunk of a whole bike from a chainstore but I felt that the quality would be better and the weight a little less so that help justify it.

I was so pleased at the silver frame when it arrived I choose forks specifically to match and although I had intended to use as much of my shed stock as possible that changed to only shiny silver bits. I did reuse some wheels and some v-brakes but bought new handlebars, stem, seat post, clamp and saddle to match the frame.

I had expected to buy much of this from whatever internet retailer was offering a discount but Halfords provided some bits cheaper and most importantly in silver.

All the bits laid out brought a smile to the face of an eager boy that only fell slightly when I explained that assembling it himself would be good for him.

I felt sorry for his teacher when trying to explain the method of installing the crown race to the fork as he fiddled with just about everything else.

After much ado, and over a couple of days, the build slowly accumulated. The bottom bracket was fitted, the fork, stem, bars, seat post and saddle but it did not look like progress. Tubes and tyres, a cassette and quick releases and the wheels fitted. Now it looked like a bike and if you are twelve then surely it is almost finished now.

Shifters and brake levers, fit the v-brakes, now the brake cables, this is how you adjust them. How much longer Dad!

By the time we had measured cut and fitted the cables the set up of the transmission seemed to be an unnecessary punishment so I crumpled under the pressure and finished all the little bits myself somewhat later.

The finished bike looked great and a satisfied smile and a brief, “thanks Dad”, means that I have passed the test.

For a couple of hundred pounds we have enjoyed a joint task and he has learnt a few new skills. He can join me around the trails of Sussex and I can impress him with my hard won skills built up over years in the mud.

Unfortunately, there is a downside to this.

Like many of you out there, I tackle the steepest climbs with determination, the knurliest roots with courage and even the occasional shallow river crossing with gusto but I cannot jump.

Well I can jump a bit, the odd lip here, a small drop off there but nothing big. Not anything, you find in a BMX park, not even if it is a tabletop.

And there is the rub.

First time out at Whiteways, slippy, treacherous, rooty single track, straight over the top. A drop off with a steep edge, straight down, and even the large bomb hole drop, straight down. Now I have led a few rides round here and usually a few people shy away from this drop or at least need some reassurance to roll over the edge. So all my advantage gained from years of experience evaporated in just one ride.

But this pales into insignificance with jumping. Tricky log – jump that. Tight awkward corner – jump that. Ditch – jump that. Big rock – jump up, jump off. Great big hole that you must avoid – jump that.

It gets worse. Standing at the side of the track watching your little baby boy hurtling towards the jump ramp that you have ridden around for years looking at sideways thinking one day, one day. He launches himself a metre into the air, hangs suspended, lands three metres after the spot you were assuming to be the landing area and all as gently and as lightly as a little deer.

I will never be able to do that even if I threw caution to the wind and hurled myself towards potential oblivion with careless abandon risking life, limb and mortgage payments.

And if I did, I would land more hippopotamus.

So if you have to face the choice then do not be the Disappointing Dad who picks the wrong bike instead choose to be the Disappointed Dad that Father Time has cruelly exposed.

After all, we can all live vicariously.