Bloody wet to you
and me. With some weather system
effectively buggering up any chance of having dry trails until 2030 the stoic
few of us in the midweek ride group met in the Forest of Dean to make the most
of a bad situation. Our now regular ride
haunt around Ross is currently falling foul of the Forestry Commission who are
able to turn any piece of woodland quickly and efficiently into a landscape
worthy of an end of the world or war film.
We set off with no
real plan apart from try and stay upright and to gain as much feeling of smug
as is possible for braving the conditions whilst our nesh mates sheltered in
doors.
Heading up the man
made trail from the Pedalabikeaway car park we were soon heading to a small
piece of raised woodwork that was being put in as a trial. Whilst we all cleaned it without issue, Matt,
who is probably the best rider in our extended group had multiple
attempts. Any time he doesn't do
something first time and better than anyone else is cause for much hilarity and
woe betide him if he falls off. Whilst
he circled around for yet another attempt I wasn't sure whether to take a
photo, or, as H suggested crack out the easel and sketch him riding it.. I'd
have had the time
Not a great picture,
maybe I should have gone with a sketch..
I've not ridden the
Verderers trail for about two years and I had a great time picking up the trail
again, lots of berms and swooping through deepening puddles whilst the
relentless rain pounded down on us. A
strange evening though, wet but humid meaning getting the right level of
clothing was tough.. Coat on, coat off..
Sitting at the back
through a sweeping section of trail Jamer lost the front end after dipping
slightly off trail, he hit a tree dead centre and superman'd it over the bars..
No harm done but he took no time in extolling the virtues of his knee pads to me.
Hitting a well known
trail I couldn't believe the sheer amount of standing water and thick mud which
lay in front of us, it wasn't recognisable since my last trip down it and if
one thing was certain is was that no records were going to be broken as we each
(with the possible exception of Matt who had regained his crown as trail
maestro) struggled to stay upright and pointing down the trail.
It was here that two
things happened, firstly I lost the front end in mud and went over and
secondly, I became aware that my cleat had become loose, luckily I fell to the
side which I could still unclip from, but the tumble jarred my other knee
painfully. Finishing the trail somewhat
more carefully than seconds earlier my mates rallied round and in increasingly
heavy rain rearranged my cleat for me.. No lost bolt thankfully but something I
need to sort out at home and in the dry.
With the rain now so
heavy that our headlights made each raindrop look 6 inches long we headed for a
final descent and the sanctuary of the cars.
The descent in
question contained a section of trail I've never cleared before, in thick mud
and pouring rain I managed it, getting to the bottom I had an enormous sense of
achievement.
Last climb and drop
and we were back at the carpark, but not before the final problem of the night
made itself known.. My forks had completely seized, something was up and it's
the sort of something which needs the bike to be dropped off at Revolutions to
sort.. and only 4 weeks until the new one turns up...
Arse
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