Sunday’s ride: my first ride for weeks.
Joe Marshall and John Himsworth made contact with me via this very forum. I’ve ridden once before with John, but not with Joe.
Joe suggested we should meet at Beeston Railway Station on the south platform. That’s quite a distance for me, across town, so I chucked the Coker in the back of the car and drove. Half a mile before the station, I passed John, Cokering merrily along the pavement. Strange thing: I noticed a cyclist, but didn’t notice he was on a Coker until the last minute. Maybe I no longer see a unicycle as a remarkable thing.
By the time I’d parked and got the Coker out, John had arrived. We had a quick scoot around the car park then went to the station platform to wait for Joe, who arrived, not by train, but on his 29er. (And no, not riding along the main line, because that would be silly.)
Soon we set off along the short section of residential road towards the canal bank. Joe establishes his credentials by riding up the short pebble-embedded concret slope out of the car park, whilst John and I take the easy option through the official exit. Within minutes, we are at the cobbled bridge over the canal. I know the way, so I’m leading, and an originality-challenged individual on the bridge asks me, “Where’s the other half of your bike?” I point over my shoulder at Joe and say, “He’s got it.”
This witty riposte is aimed perhaps a little high - either that or my opponent ducks - and there is another cry of, “Where’s the other half of your bike?” I hear no comment from Joe, but I do hear our interlocutor ask the identical question of John, then, for good measure, he asks us all, a bit more loudly.
We swoop away, elegant against the skyline as we ride along the top of the flood bank. A few football players on the sports field make imaginative comments, along the lines of, “look, look, look!” and so on. Then we reach the tricky bridges: a sharp turn right, then left, then over a narrow bridge with low railings. I’ve not been on the coker for a while, and I nearly take an early bath, but I manage to keep the rubber side down, and turn sharply onto the second bridge, swoop down the ramp and clumsily make the 180 degree turn at the end. So far so good: the trickiest collection of turns and obstacles on the proposed ride is out of the way… just.
Having ridden only half a mile or so, it’s a bit soon to stop at the Marina Cafe, and we ride on into the nature reserve. The tracks through the reserve are mainly packed mud or rolled grit. There are narrow side paths, too tricky for a Coker, too slimy for Joe’s Big Apple 29er tyre, so we keep to the road more travelled, ducking under the occasional low bough, and even bowing under the occasional low duck. We treat all pedestrians with courtesy and a cheery smile (not that they see mine, in my full face helmet, of course.
Out of the nature reserve for a short section of road, then back in to ride the cut through past the wides and most scenic of the lakes, and the quaint olde English church… along this section the population is dense, in more than one sense of the word, and it’s a challenge to keep moving without flattening anyone.
Soon we are back on the wide and easy stuff, clattering over the slatted bridge (great sound effects!) and I’m looking for the right fork towards Sawley. I take the wrong turn and end up in a dead end. I ride too far, hoping to find an heroic way out through the undergrowth, and end up having to step down to turn round.
Once out of the nature reserve, there are fewer people, and we find ourselves riding along muddy single track across a field. I take the precaution of warning the other two about the possibility of horses in the field. I must have sown a seed of doubt, because John takes one look at the solitary horse and turned to the left, failing to get out of the rut (I know that feeling!) and UPDing. The horse skitters to one side of the path. I slow right down, looking for the best way past, and Joe also UPDs, sending the horse cantering away.
I keep riding to the next style, which is a “choke” rather than a step, and too narrow to ride through. We pause for a minute, speculating on whether Roger would jump through the style (it is wider at the top) and imagining the amusement if he were to do this and catch his pedals against both sides of the choke, mid flight.
The next section is tricky single track: nothing unrideable, but all of it a challenge. I’ve never yet ridden the whole section without at least one UPD, so I’m on a mission. With three of us, and slimy bumpy single track, UPDs are inevitable. I’m the lucky one because I’m in front and can pick my pace and my route. I soon lose the others but my mission is all important… and I make it! For the first time ever, I “clean” this whole section.
At the end, I wait for a couple of minutes and the other two arrive. After regrouping and getting our breath back, we ride the next easy section along a canal towpath, until we arrive at Trent Locks (2 pubs and a tea room). Near the end of this section, Joe overtakes me, his legs a blur, long blond locks flowing behind him. He’s on a 29 with 125s, I’m on a Coker with 150s, and, to my shame, I can’t keep up with him. Never mind the arithmetic, he’s just better’n me.
I have an afternoon appointment (visiting my mother) so I suggest we stop at the tea rooms for cake and a drink (no one has tea, although it is British Tea Council Approved (!)) then we shake hands and part. No doubt one of the other two will report on the next leg of their ride.
My own ride is straight back along the river bank. I UPD once in the section I had just cleaned (complacency - there was no obvious wheel trap, I jus’ fell off) and once in the horse’s field.
I pass several people in the nature reserve and one says, “Wow, you make a wonderful sight!” A novel and somewhat flattering response! I just mumble “Thank you” and ride on.
Then back on the road, I see a small blue hatchback coming the other way. The driver is a young man of Rastafarian appearance, who waves and hoots, then does a 3 point turn and drives up along side me, shouting words to the effect of, “Hey, man where’d you buy that thing?” Seeing that he is genuinely interested, I stop, and we chat for a few minutes. I give him the unicycle.uk.com address, and some basic advice. He seems keen. We shake hands and I remount and ride the last quarter mile to the car.
That was only about 8 miles in all (I didn’t set the computer), but a pleasant hour or two spent with other riders, and it was good to be back in the saddle.
Sounds like a very enjoyable ride.