Two days’ holiday to use or lose by the end of the year! Despite last night’s hint of rain, this morning is bright and clear, if a little chilly - ideal for a ride, although I decide I need a T shirt under my cycling shirt.
The MUni has just been fitted with a UDC gel saddle, in place of the Viscount with its metal handle, so this will be a test ride. For those who care: the uni is a Pashley 26 with 170mm cranks and a Maxxis Holy Roller 2.4" tyre.
I drive to Sherwood Pines Visitor cente in Sherwood Forest. As I arrive, England have just bowled out Pakistan fairly cheaply and with overs to spare. Things are looking good.
The uni feels a bit wobbly. My last ride was on the 700c, and it always takes a little while to adjust. I’m still in two minds about the massive 170mm cranks. They do give me more control on descents, and a bit more torque on hills, but the ride can feel ungainly on the flat.
200 metres from the car park, I overtake a man who is walking his dog. He bids me a polite “Good morning,” and that is the best comment I’ve had for ages. As it turns out, it is the best comment of the day, because in a ride lasting around two and a half hours, I don’t see anyone else at all!
The first section is a slight downhill along a wide packed-grit road, so I turn off as soon as possible into the forest. Soon I am scooting along beneath pine trees, the tyre almost silent on the bed of pine needles. The track winds this way and that, first descending, then climbing. It gradually turns southwards, until I have the low sun straight in my eyes. It may be dimmer than a thousandth of an atom bomb, but it’s still bright, and I can barely see the trail. Dazzled and confused, I pass the wrong side of a tree and find myself boxed in by deep undergrowth and UPD.
A couple of hundred metres later, I get trapped again, but this time I spot the problem quickly enough to stop, stillstand, idle and attempt to turn on the spot. The ground is uneven and sloping, but I’m doing well until I suddenly find myself face to face with a massive pine tree. It refuses to step aside and, again, I UPD.
Further up the hill, I find myself on a long straight trail, with the sun to my left. This area is all pine forest, artificially planted, and with that slightly sterile uniformity you get in plantations. It is almost silent except for the occasional chatter of birds. A squirrel darts across in front of me, running for a few steps then leaping high with all four feet off the floor before it continues on its way.
I have a vague plan to explore parts of the forest I seldom visit, and this leads me down a lovely long descent where the trail is only footpath-wide, and winds between trees and over roots. I keep ducking my head to deflect low growth from the trees. The Holy Roller is made for this sort of riding, and the uni is flowing. Then I come to an unphill section that is harder work, and eventually, to the main road that bisects the forest.
When I had a 4x4, I used to drive along this road from time to time. The last couple of winters have not been kind to it, and sections have eroded to leave holes so deep that even a Land Rover would bottom out. The surface has mixed patches of fine sand, coarse sand and loose gravel. I surprise myself by ridng most of it, with only a couple of UPDs, but it is exhausting.
At the first opportunity, I turn back into the forest, where I find a path that swoops down steeply before finding its way beneath beech and oak trees. By now, I am out of breath, and when the inevitable UPD comes, I take the opportunity to stop and sit on a tree stump and recover. It was frosty last night, and there is still a chill in the air. My breath forms clouds, and vapour rises from my body and drifts slowly away on the breeze. I watch squirrels racing up and down the trees, and wonder if the taptaptapping I can hear is a woodpecker. Spiders’ webs sparkle in the sunlight - they are a fraction of a millimetre thick, but visible from 10 metres away.
Behind me are pine trees, their green canopies against the pure blue of the clear sky. As they sway, slightly out of phase with each other, I am reminded of the times I dived in kelp forests. There is the same feeling of being in a three dimensional environment, and of being small, and far beneath the surface. The forest is a good place to be.
Back on the uni, I soon reach a short gravelly climb where I memorably overtook some white-clad bicyclists a few weeks ago. This time, my wheel strikes an obstacle, unseen beneath the carpet of autumn leaves, and I UPD. There are more trips and falls over the next mile or so, and I start to get bad tempered with myself. Fatigue is setting in far too soon because I am out of practice.
But eventually, I reach a long swoopy downhill section and my morale improves. This section soon pops me out onto a wide access road, but I go straight across and find more challenges, with swoops, humps and hollows apparently deliberately carved for mountain bikers. This is the sort of riding that is fairly easy as long as you read the ground carefully, but it looks dramatic and feels good. You swoop down into the hollow, splash through the muddy puddle at the bottom, but try to keep enough momentum to make it up the next slope. For the last couple of pedal strokes, you stand on the pedals and pull on the handle, then almost stall at the very top as you see what the next descent holds in store. Great fun!
And this section finally spits me out near to an area I recognise, where there are more artificial obstacles. I ride 'em all, including the tricky little drop off a log (did I mention I don’t do drops?) and I ride 'em all again. I even try a couple of descents I’ve not done before.
From here, I have four options, and one of them I never take, so I take it this time: it’s a half-concealed track that disappears into the woods, and presents me first with a couple more mountain bike humps, and then with a long climb up a rutted gravel track. With dry autumn leaves lying in a deep layer, this is never going to be easy, and I UPD about three quarters of the way up. Each time I remount, I stall within a metre or so, my wheel spinning on loose gravel. I remember what my grandad said to me: “If at first you don’t succeed, suck a lemon.” I have no idea what it means, but I remember it.
Eventually, I decide that “suck a lemon” is a metaphor for “walk to the top of the hill” and I do so.
The next section is fantastic: I turn off the main path and find myself riding beneath and between small silver birch trees, and much larger beech trees. The ground is golden with beech leaves, and I notice with surprise that they are dry and have retained their shape. That means they’ve only fallen recently - and it’s midwinter in two days’ time!
When I UPD on yet another concealed obstacle (I could do with a leaf-plough on the front of the uni) I realise I am not only breathless, but sweating like a particularly sweaty thing on a hot and humid day - which is strange as there is frost on the ground in places! More because I can than because I need to, I remove my shirt, and for the next couple of miles, I am riding shirtless in late December, beneath trees that have not yet lost all their leaves. When I stop for refreshments (Snickers: all the sports nutrition you need!), I notice that some of the gorse bushes are in bloom. Nearby, columns of insects dance above the broom bushes. Can someone tell Mr. Bush that global warming really is happening?
Note for American readers: “plough” = “plow”. This regional difference in spelling was a vital clue in a Sherlock Holmes story. The Two Garridebs?
Shirt back on, I find myself scooting along a straight but sandy track that seems to run across one of the highest parts of this area of the forest. The sun is out, the sky is blue, there’s not a cloud to spoil the view, but it isn’t raining in my heart at all. A light aircraft drones over head, and as I look up, I see airliners high above leaving long white fingernail scratches in the sky. One of them catches the sun just right, so that it becomes just a big bright reflection with no shape to it at all - a UFO sighting for those who wish to believe.
