Time Out

It's very easy to get bogged down with paperwork as an event organiser, so every now and again it's good to get out into the fresh air and get your hands dirty. Last week presented just the opportunity with a trip to Rock UK to do some trail building and maintenance on the 24 Hours of Exposure solo champs race course.

With a handful of willing helpers from Rock UK staff and a couple of huge piles of stone from FC Scotland, the week was spent shovelling, digging, raking, brashing, strimming and compacting on various sections of the route around Priest Hill in Newcastleton.




Despite the typical Scottish winter weather switching from hard frosts to torrential rain, a very productive week was had and good headway made into the task ahead. And, of course, there was lots of splashing in puddles and making mud pies...

Priority Change

Quick switch of priorities today as the urge to carry on my good work from last week was still there. Ride first, then work, as opposed to work, then ride (which always ends up in just one more email, just one more cup of tea, oh look it's too late, too dark, it's too cold, it's dinner time etc and never an actual ride).

Quick two hours on some previously unexplored lanes and an undulating 27 miles. Clawing your way back from total unfitness is never fun, especially not when the temperature noticeably drops a couple of degrees whilst you're out and you can literally see the water freezing over. Still, if I can ride in this, I can ride in anything.

5 in 5

It seems my motivation to ride just isn't there at the moment. Luckily my dirty habit of organising mountain bike events means every now and again I have to go and ride a bike. The strange thing is, once I'm there and ready to go, I really enjoyed riding and just wanted to ride more.

Wednesday was a short loop around Afan checking out a demo loop for the Demo Series. I don't know why, but Afan is my 'make or break' trail. A number of times now I've been to Afan having not ridden for a few months and thrown myself into this south wales deep end. Every trail starts with a lung busting, rocky climb that's a real shock to the system and on this occasion was followed by a fast, rocky descent. Just the kind of mountain bike kick start I needed. If the light hadn't been fading, I'd probably have done another loop (ahem!)

Thursday was off to Margam Park to recce the British Mountain Bike Series Cross-country race course. If Afan is the deep end, this is a diving pool! Climb after climb interspersed with old school off-camber descents. Ace, but not really what you need after so long off the bike and an increasingly more evident lack of fitness. Still, after a lap and some lunch, I was eager to get back out into the forest and explore some new trails (thanks to trail fairy Gareth Hayes), once more ending the ride at sunset.

Friday was a quick and uninspiring ride around Bedgebury in Kent for another demo route. The less said about that the better but I'll join the increasing government trend of blaming everything on the weather. It was, however, a nice break from the leg burning hills of south wales.

Saturday - Sherwood Pines. One of the perks of officially scouting out routes for events is that you get to meet up with locals to show you off-piste stuff. As a cross-country course Sherwood is as you would expect - fast, tight, twisty singletrack with few features and some 'steep slopes' that make up the tiny amount of ascent the course has. My riding mojo was back after four days of consistent riding and the miles of flowing singletrack were grin-inducing enough to keep me riding most of the afternoon.

Sunday and another trip to Cannock for a lap of the 'Follow the Dog' and 'Monkey Trail' trails. The pedally singletrack was making my thighs burn and I could feel the previous rides in my legs. But Cannock is undulating and fun enough to make you want to keep going to the next downhill section (well usually, when it's not an energy sapping, treacle mud fest!)

5 days, 5 venues, 5 rides, 53 miles, 8 hours (alright, it's not going to break any speed records) and a very good basis for getting back into the habit of riding my bike!

Two in a Row

Not deterred by yesterday's post-ride feeling of dizziness, nausea and as if my legs were about to drop off I decided to give it another go. The rain finally stopped and I squeezed in an hour and a half of the usual road loop. By the end of the ride if felt like the cob webs had blown away and my legs were spinning freely. (The numb backside has almost gone as well, settling in nicely to a trusty, well worn saddle.)

So whilst many of my braver cycling friends are attempting a New year "30 in 30", I've opted for a slightly easier "10 rides in 10 days" approach. I've ridden more in two days than I have in six weeks. A promising start to the year.

New Year - Again...

So my winter training has started in earnest with a quick 45 minute spin on the rollers. For those of you that don't know what rollers are, it's like a turbo trainer but with the added hilarity of continuous wobbling, a reluctance to remove your hands from the handlebars (even when the sweat in your eyes stings so much you can barely see) and the ever present possibility of falling off the edge and riding straight into the wall in front of you.

Basically it's a balancing act, pedalling a normal bike perched on three belt driven rollers with nothing holding you up; that's if you don't count the various body parts wedged against door frames, the well known 'head leaning on a wall stance' or the even more popular comedy 'elbows out with just the slightest hairs breadth brushing against the wall every now and again' posture. I haven't braved riding in spd pedals yet so I'm still in trainers with an old Bulmers crate as a mounting block. But I am getting the hang of it and at least I'm riding a bike.

And there we have it, once more my resolution for the new year is to ride more, for the fourth year in a row. So my resolution now has an addendum of 'more than last year'. Considering my riding has actually slowly decreased over the last three years, this might be one resolution I manage to keep.

Four Go To Anglesey

I was more than a little surprised a few months ago when an old cycling buddy, Steve Makin, asked me if I wanted to go on a walking trip with him. I've always known he was into walking and went on regular trips, so do I, but we've just always been cycling together. Walking had never really occurred to us. So we were probably due a trip. Initially the tiny little Welsh island of Anglesey didn't sound all that exciting, but given the year I've had - the lack of exercise and the total absence of holidays - plus the fact I've never actually been to Anglesey and the plan to do some pleasant coastal walking, the idea started to grow on me.

Thursday morning started with a lovely scenic train journey with the final leg from Chester to Holyhead meandering along the north Wales coast on a sunny Autumn day. I had a good feeling about the weekend. Steve picked me up from the station and we were off to the beach overlooking Puffin Island for a bit of wildlife spotting. I saw my first seal! And two dolphins! Then a gentle wander around the coastal path (with a few, er, detours), dropped in at a Norman abbey and back to Beaumaris for a real history lesson at the 14th Century Beaumaris Castle, one of many built by Edward I in a ring around North Wales.



The Friday walk was to be the longest, potentially 9 miles from North Stack just outside Holyhead to South Stack via the highest mountain in Anglesey - at a whopping 220 metres! Okay, so not exactly a mountain, but still fairly craggy and steep up to the trig point with views of Holyhead harbour and south down to Snowdonia. The weather had turned slightly now and being right on the coast the wind had picked up.
Dinner was leisurely hour long affair at the cafe near South Stack. Down the road to an iron age settlement just as the rain started and we decided to cut the walk short and head back to the car. Time for a swift pint or two in Red Wharf Bay and then back to Trecastell Hotel for yet more alcohol and dinner, awaiting the arrival of CG, Matt and Fraser the Dog.

Saturday continued the theme of 'leisurely' and was a little more focused on sightseeing and photography, with some amazing photos from Steve and Chris on their flickr pages. The weather laid out the morning plan with an impromptu stop to climb the Marquis of Anglesey column and coffee at Llanfairpwllg-thingymabob-gogogoch (you know the one I mean!) just because it was there and we could and we'd never been.



Saturday afternoon involved a deliciously leisurely lunch at Rhoscolyn and a walk around the cliff tops heading towards Trearddur Bay. An extended camera stop for a couple of perfectly placed rainbows and some menacingly artistic storm clouds meant we didn't quite make it, but we did spot an enormous grey seal basking in between some rocks and spent as much time staring curiously at him as he did at us!

Sunday was a real treat - a trip to an ancient copper mine Parys Mountain. This place has to be seen to be believed and I could sit here all evening trying to explain the atmosphere and the colours, but you might as well you go and visit and see for yourself.


And that was that - coastal walks, seals, storm clouds, ancient monuments, a trip through Welsh history from the Bronze Age, through the Romans, Normans, Edward I, Industrial Revolution to present day island life, all with great friends, great banter, beer, wine and exquisite food. If I only have one holiday a year, this will do.

0-100 in 2 days

And that's still faster than my poorly Ford Focus. A broken cam belt has resulted in an enforced bike commute to work over the last couple of days. So what's wrong with that? Well, the fact it's 25 miles each way for a start. Now, bearing in mind I can count the number of miles I've ridden in the last two months on one hand, this was going to be quite a task.

Luckily I'd ridden the commute a couple of times during the summer, so I roughly knew a few routes. But those were on lovely summer evenings, on quiet country lanes, birds singing, sun shining, gently spinning along without a care in the world to get to work to start night shift. And similarly the ride home - fresh mornings, bright blue skies. You know how it is.

Skip forward a few months to yesterday morning - 8am and still a hard frost, a biting wind. Bike panic as I realise various things are wrong, can't find all my lights, leave 20 minutes late, the usual route is closed and the only other route I'm totally sure of is the longest one at 25 miles. End up time-trialling the last 8 miles at around 19mph and arrive at work late, cold, soaked in sweat, wheezing (having not yet totally recovered from a cold last week), and then find the shower is out of order. I should also mention that as I was unpacking my bag, I discovered my front light had accidentally been turned on at some point - it's relevant for later on in the story.

But it gets better. I was not looking forward to the ride home. It always takes slightly longer, closer to 2 hours as there's more up hill, add to this it being dark with my eta just after 11pm and having minimal lights with me, things weren't looking good. I have a feeling that just a few miles into the ride my rear light failed, I can't be sure exactly when but now I know why that car was beeping at me on the dual carriageway. Around half way through my front light started flashing. Oh dear, that's not good. This was also around the time I noticed just how many street lights are no longer in use...

I rode the next few miles on a mixture of extremely low beam and flashing mode, trying to squeeze as many miles out of it as possible, even resorting to totally turning it off when I did reach a row of street lights. With around 6 miles to go it failed completely. It was well passed 10pm by now, and the temperature had noticeably dropped - luckily it was a clear night with a bright moon that I was now using to light my way through the dark country lanes between Chesham and Hemel Hempstead. But with continuous passing traffic my night vision was shot to pieces.

Suddenly a revelation! I remembered the tiny keyring LED torch I had on my house keys, better than nothing right. For the last 5 miles I held it, like a shining beacon of safety in the pitch black. If a car approached from either direction I'd swing it side to side so it caught their eye. On the last, winding, bumpy downhill (usually descended around 30mph) I slowly crept down, one hand on the handlebars and brake, the other holding the light low enough so that it illuminated the white line at the edge of the road and my aim was to ride 6 inches to the right of it so I didn't crash into the bank or veer off course.

I finally arrived home, freezing and exhausted, some time after 11pm. It had taken me over two and a half hours to ride the 25 dark miles.

Today wasn't much better. My legs were heavier than expected after yesterdays ordeal and it took almost 2 hours to ride to work into a headwind in the pouring rain. This time I was prepared for the ride home though and had a total of 8 lights with me. Lit up like a Christmas tree I felt mildly safer but they're not roads I would choose to ride on at any time of day, never mind late at night. Almost home, and making reasonable progress, there was a familiar hissing noise... Lady Luck finally took pity on me and just before my tyre was unrideably flat, the slime sealant in the inner tube sealed the hole. Oh thank the Lord for slime filled inner tubes - a product my fellow riders have made a jibe at me for many times over the years. In this case they were my lifesaver. From there it was slow going, but the my lights lasted the distance and I made it home in one piece.

So after 100 eventful and difficult miles, my entire body aches - from my neck, shoulders, arms, hands, lower back, legs, knees and everything in between. But maybe it was the kick start I needed to get back on my bike. My theory is that tomorrow will be the true test. I've got the day off; I'm either going to spend the day on the sofa with tired legs wondering how to lose all the weight I've put on in the last 18 months, or I'm going to feel invigorated and can't wait to get out on my bike. Time will tell...

The Week That Was

It's an odd life being a mountain bike event organiser some times, you never quite know what's going to happen next or where you going to end up.

It all started just over a week ago with my second car accident in 3 months. I've decided now that Dalby Forest is jinxed - I've only ever had two car accidents in my life and both of them have been the night before travelling to Dalby for an event. Nothing major, just a three car shunt this time, very frustrating. My jinx continued when I arrived at Dalby for a week of possible riding only to discover I'd forgotten my riding shoes, also something I have never done in 15 years of mountain biking. So this lead to doing half a lap of the Dalby red route in t-shirt, shorts and trainers (and helmet) balancing precariously on spd pedals.

The Dalby event presented its usual carnage with various ambulances and helicopters popping in and out, yet again highlighting the distinct lack of skillful riders in British mountain biking. This added more fuel to the fire that had been ignited last Tuesday when I sent a rather scathing email to British Cycling criticising their recent approach to exploiting what some organisations are starting to see as cash-cow mountain bikers. (See, it really wasn't a good week!)

Leaving all negative thoughts of Dalby behind it was off to the familiar, relaxing and safe environment of Kielder - well usually, just not when there's a crazy gunman running round the area obviously. Plans to ride off into the wilderness were somewhat thwarted by the possibility of running into either the crazed gunman or "the men in black Range Rovers". I don't think I've ever seen so many armed police officers in a day and driving through a small Northumberland town where every other car is a police car is rather an odd sight.

Still, on to the safety of urban life in Newcastle-upon-Tyne for lunch with Saddle Skedaddle. Sadly, even this didn't prove straightforward and the local car thieves were taking advantage of the police pre-occupation with crazy gun man by smashing the driver side window and breaking into Paul Davis's van whilst it was parked outside the Gateshead Travelodge overnight. Luckily they were the stupidest car thieves on the planet (sorry, you'd already figured that one out as soon as I said 'Gateshead' right) and, whilst getting away with a lovely little Tom-Tom, a large chain lock and a couple of in-car chargers, they'd somehow missed the laptop, brand new iPad and 800 quids worth of brand new bike parts and prizes, opting to go through the cupboards for food instead.

The 9 day long trip ended with a very windy and cold 6 hour drive home. Today was spent doing the mundane parts of life - washing, cleaning, hoovering and reading the post. Sometimes normality is ace.

And....Relax...

Well as you can see from my last post, I've been fairly busy. Many of you will know what with. And for those of you that don't, it was obviously mountain bike related (the clue is in the name!) Including a couple more rounds of the British Mountain Bike Series, which were pretty wet and miserable in all honesty. Even Margam, and it NEVER rains at Margam. Except when it does rain, and when it rains, boy does it rain!

I was also the Marshal Co-Ordinator on the UCI Cross-Country Mountain Bike World Cup in Dalby for the first time - or the "UCI XCO MTB WC" as 'they' like to call it. We just called it "Dalby", because that's what it was. It came, it went, it was hard work, but I did get a free week in a swanky hotel in Yorkshire. Can't complain I suppose.

May saw the first running of the 24 Hours of Exposure, the UK Solo 24 Hour Championships and okay, I might be a little biased as this was one of our, SIP Events, events, but it was way more fun and as usual I was as excited as a child on Christmas morning. So excited in fact that I managed to drop another bottle of Single Malt. This seems to be a common theme now, having dropped Deano's bottle of single malt at the Montane Kielder 100 last year, only to have it bounce off the flagstone floor and roll into the middle of the Kielder Castle courtyard totally unscathed. Lady Luck only shines her light on you once though and sadly the 24 hour bottle didn't make it, smashing to smithereens in the centre of Newcastleton at the rider sign on just before the race. So familiar am I with these kind of mishaps and cock ups that as I walked past the start area and the bottle fell out of the box, followed by a loud smash and a very pungent waft of peaty malt, I barely broke my stride and popped the now empty box through the open window of an event vehicle with a small shrug of my shoulders. S*%t happens.

Unfortunately some are now calling this 'Single Malt' event a tradition, even some sort of bizarre sacrifice to the event Gods. So the question now is, do I keep up the tradition of smashing, or attempting to smash a bottle of fine Scotch at every event to bring good luck, or do I chance it as I'm loathed to spend yet more money on excellent alcohol that nobody will get to drink. Discuss.

Fantastic Days!

...are few and far between these days. Those truly magnificent days when everything just drops in to place, the world seems perfect, life is good and you wish the day would never end; you wish that you could somehow spend the rest of your life in that day. Yesterday was such a day.

A long overdue walk with Tony (TalesFromTheRock) and the Gods were smiling upon us. Weatherwise it was by far the best walk I have ever been on with Tony - a bright blue cloudless sky and perfectly still. Up on the Black Mountains the view stretched for miles with the Brecon Beacons, the Malvern Hills and even Clee Hill visible for once.


This was a practice walk for the Big Black Mountain Challenge in May and followed a section of the route that included the toughest ascent. It was also the first time I've been walking with Tony's Bernese Mountain Dogs - when it comes to companion dogs, there's no better breed than this! They barely strayed more than 3ft from us all day and Rocky insisted on a cuddle every time we sat down. (Yes, they really are that soft!)


A few hours in and we were both still revelling in the gorgeousness of the day: the ribbons of snow on the Brecon Beacons, the glistening reservoir, the silent valleys except for playful Skylarks (and 240lbs of panting dogs!) If only I could have cooled off as easily as the Berners (Spot on the left, big Dad Rocky on the right)


As the miles ticked by we circled back to the car and the paths got busier with families on Easter holidays. I enjoyed one last look around and savoured the oh-so-perfect moment and time stood still just a little longer.

And then, as if the day couldn't get any better - an ice cream van in the car park! 16 miles and 6.5 hours of sun bathed mountain walking with great company, a warm, satisfied feeling inside, (no knee pain/rib pain or blisters for once) and an ice cream. If this isn't the definition of a perfect day, then I don't know what is.