Tag Archives: MTB

Sunday Social Shenanigans

It’s Been A While

Since starting up the #12×100 Monthly Cycling Challenge I’ve tried to keep up a regular routine of cycling and it’s definitely helped. There are very few Tuesday nights I don’t get a few miles in, and every other weekend tends to have a good ride in it, too. Most of my cycling has been done alone though.

I do like riding my bike on my own. The chance to gather my thoughts out of the house, to take in the views, to enjoy the weather and listen to the sounds around me is a chance I like to take. More recently though it’s become obvious that although I know loads of other cyclists, I don’t often ride with any of them.

A close neighbour now rides me with me most Tuesdays on his old boneshaker. I’m hoping that his Missus will let him buy a better bike once he’s proved that he likes cycling and he’s going to keep it up! At first I struggled to adjust to the possibilities of conversation and sociable tea-and-biscuit consumption, but now I have to admit that it’s been good to have someone along.

There are always going to be good chances to ride alone and I’ll keep taking them. My lack of fitness and ambition are less obvious when I’m plodding along alone, lazily winching up the hills and flowing down them. My opportunities to take photos and capture the beautiful countryside within which I live are also more plentiful when I’m not encumbered by anyone else’s conflicting desire to cover more miles or keep their heart rate up.

But, when Chris suggested it was time for a social MTB ride, he was right.

A Bad Start

Going out for morning bike rides with diabetes is sometimes a pain in the bum. Managing my diabetes means that I tend to fuel up in pretty short bursts: you don’t really carbo-load when you know it’ll push your blood sugars high. The normal short-term, in-day rules apply but carbs usually have to be ingested to suit the exertion planned. Basically, that means: eat for today, not tomorrow.

We’d arranged to set off from mine at 10am. When I got up on the day of the ride my blood sugar was a bit higher than I’d have liked, so a big porridge breakfast wasn’t on the cards. I opted for a brioche whilst the lads turned up, pottered about and we all scratched our heads over Joby’s totally screwed rear brake. More about that later.

Powered only by instant coffee and a small helping of French bread with choccy bits, I led the lads down the canal towpath and up beside Clegg Hall towards Hollingworth Lake where we were meeting Adrian, our fourth rider and expert guide for the day. On getting there, we all joked about Joby’s knackered brake, suggesting either that he should descend first so as not to hit us in the back when he went OTB, or go last so that we weren’t inconvenienced when he bit the dust on the rocky Pennine descents Adrian had planned for us.

Brief hellos done, we set off towards the M62 viaduct where Rochdale and Littleborough are left behind and “the moors” are entered. Immediately, a massive gap opened up when the lads steamed up the first climb and I just let them go. Admittedly, they did climb very quickly (Strava told me later) but I was over a minute down on my usual time for an ascent which takes less than four to finish. I didn’t know that at the time: I just knew I was knackered!

I knew I’d be hanging off the back of the party all day. On the next climb, I got up without dabbing but at the top I was properly worn out. Only 5 miles or so ridden, all of which I’ve done many times alone, and I needed to get off the bike for a long rest. Thankfully a horse asked us to hang back (well, a woman riding a horse, but a horse asking would have been amazing) so I didn’t feel so guilty sat on the grass, sweating, not talking, with three blokes wondering whether I was going to bottle it and go home.

I’m glad I didn’t. It wasn’t a race.

Starting To Enjoy It

From there, we went along to Piethorne reservoir where the descent to the waterside and the views are amazing. Adrian got told off for startling two lady walkers but he had the good grace to feel a bit guilty, so that was ok. Poor Joby’s back brake had evidently spilled all of its hydraulic innards and was totally useless, so he followed gingerly down the descent, leaning off the back of his bike with the front brake on, somehow managing to avoid any face/rock interfaces.

The lads were beginning to talk of sausage butties by this time, so I played my trump card. Everyone needs to bring something to a social ride, and I’d brought my knowledge of where the best food was! One problem though, the climb from Piethorne reservoir to the Ram’s Head is a bit unpleasant. Rocky and steep, with hefty water bars and no clear view to the top – but remember, there was a pub at the top, so we got there.

How nice does THIS look?

How nice does THIS look?

You know you’re getting a posh burger when the chips are arranged in a little mesh chip pan which has clearly never been immersed in a fryer. Suffice to say that it tasted bloody marvellous. You should go to the Ram’s Head – it’s actually easier to get to from the road than the moors, for you roadie-whippet types.

Final Legs

Dropping back to Piethorne ressy from the pub was lots of fun for everyone except Joby on his single-braked steed, then we took the easy service road alongside Piethorne and Ogden reservoirs before a little portage back up towards the junction where I’d flaked out earlier. The burger and chips were working their magic and I felt much, much better with some proper carbs (and meat, and fat – all the important food groups) working through my system.

A final little climb and back down to t’Lake finished off a great couple of hours in the hills, so we said goodbye to Adrian and headed back to mine along the canal towpath.

Lessons Learned

Let’s make this clear: I had a really good day out. I loved the cycling, the company, the scenery and the food. This social ride was a brilliant idea. Thanks Chris for the suggestion and thanks Joby and Adrian for being there too.

I learned three things on this ride:
1. As a diabetic, a poor feed means a poor ride.
2. I should ride with other people more often.
3. I’m even less fit than I thought I was.

My fitness isn’t a problem when I’m out alone. I’m fitter than most 42 year old men, but the trouble with grossed-up statistics is that they don’t reflect your individual circumstances. Most 42 year-old men spent last Sunday eating crisps and watching the Olympics – they weren’t trying to keep up with 3 fitter, younger men on mountain bikes in the foothills of the Pennines.

Being fitter than most 42 year-old men isn’t good enough. I need to get as fit as most men who regularly ride mountain bikes in the hills. I guess that means that I have a goal to achieve.

Strava map of our social ride

See the ride on Strava.

You can see the full ride on this link to Strava. Tell ’em Phill sent you 🙂

Mountain Biking, Exploration and Discovery: There’s Farms In Them Thar Hills.

Yesterday, I had a job to do.  The job was painting the base of our new trailer. The good news was that I needed to leave it for 4 hours between the primer and the top coat.  “What’s this got to do with Mountain Biking?” I hear you ask.

Well, those 4 hours gave me enough time to (1) Avoid a rain shower and (2) Explore the hills on my bike.

Exploration

I’ve got into a habit of riding up past Hollingworth Lake, under the M62 and over Tunshill then back home.  I love that ride but I fancied trying something new whilst I had the time and a lovely dry afternoon on a Bank Holiday (hurrah for leftover pagan holidays!).  Despite the stupid climb from the motorway bridge past Tunshill Golf Club up the top of Tunshill, that’s the way I chose to climb.  On foot.

On reaching Four Lane Ends, the easy option would be to head back towards t’Lake, so I decided not to do that.  The path towards Ogden and Piethorne reservoirs ambles gently downhill from the junction, so for the first time, I headed that way. Good decision!

The full route I took is on Gpsies here, it’s worth a look. A nice uppy-downy afternoon out 🙂

You can see from the old map extract that the farm buildings had fascinated me.  Some digging (on the internets, not in the ground) after I got home revealed that Rag Hole Farm had been a busy Rye and Barley farm in the 1850’s, before the reservoirs through the Piethorne valley were commissioned in 1878.

Presumably the farmer walked away from the property with a nice big cheque and lived happily ever after, leaving the rye and barley fields to be lost beneath the reservoirs and the farm buildings to be reclaimed by the land.

Isn’t it amazing how things change, and how the simple act of an afternoon’s bike ride can uncover new knowledge?

Learn a little more about Rag Hole Farm and the area here:
United Utilities information about Piethorne Valley
Rag Hole Farm photo on Geograph

I love my Mountain Bike!

 

In Search Of My Mojo

I was born in 1969.  So, apart from the less-than-3 months in which I cried, poo’d and drank my way through the 60’s, I was a child of the 1970’s.

As soon as I was old enough to get weekly “spends” (10p a week) and be allowed to walk to the nearest shop, I learned that the greatest value for money that a 5 year-old could realise was to exchange 10p for a mixed bag of 3-per-penny chews.

Three-for-a-penny chews came in two varieties:

  1. Black Jacks:  Turned your tongue black. Tasted of an unidentifiable fruit-based chemical. Were vaguely racist.
  2. Mojos:  Were fruit coloured. Tasted of chemically-enhanced fruit. Weren’t socially questionable.

So, I spent my money on Mojos. Every week.

OK in the 1970's, but where's my Mojo now?

Where do you find YOUR Mojo?

Now I’m 42, I can’t buy Mojos at three for a penny.  As far as I’m aware, I can’t buy them anywhere.  So, on ride nights and every other Saturday, I have to look for my Mojo within myself.

Sometimes I find my Mojo. Sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes other people find it for me, and sometimes other people drag me out on my bike even when I can’t find my Mojo.  At these times I’m grateful.

At other times, when I can’t find my Mojo, I sit on the sofa in my riding gear, wondering where my Mojo is.  Those aren’t the good times.

Where do you find yours?

Datatag Bicycle Security – My Experience

What’s Datatag?

Datatag is a simple idea, combined with a few technically effective ways of reducing theft and improving the chances of recovering your valuable item.  In my case, the item was my new bike.  The kit supplied by the Bike Leasing Company which came from Datatag included some simple, easy-to-use gubbins:

1. A highly visible big sticker which is adhered using strong resin-based glue, making the bike less attractive to thieves;
2. A few stickers with a clearly identifiable registration number, which are designed to fall apart if any attempt to alter them is made;
3. A bunch of microdots in a clear glue solution, which can be painted onto inconspicuous bit of your frame or parts and which the police can read using magnifiers;
4. A rice-grain sized transponder to place inside your bike somewhere, which the police can scan to identify you on the database which Datatag shares with them.

On top of this lot, a registration form is needed which the Datatag people use to get your details – and your bike’s – onto their database.  They give the police 24-hour access to this database so that they can trace you in the event of picking your bike up from some thieving scumbag, or purchaser of your lovely bike after it’s been fenced.  If the stickers are vandalised, the transponder will still work and it can be triggered using a hand-held reader, very much like the things used for cats & dogs, if you’ve ever seen one of those.

How Did I Do The Datatag Thing?

All in all, I reckon the process took me about half an hour.  I simply wiped down the areas where I was going to attach the stickers & microdot solution to make sure they’d adhere properly, then got to work.  You can see from the photos how they look.

The microdot solution looks grey here because it’s wet – it dries to a clear coating so you can put it anywhere, but it doesn’t dry to a gloss finish so it’s best to put it somewhere inconspicuous.

The photos don’t show every sticker or each location of the microdot stuff, but I needed to make sure all the expensive bits were identified.

Also, the transponder can be glued somewhere it can’t be seen, but can’t easily be removed either.  Any good quality resin glue can be used for this.

And Finally, Don’t Forget!

The job isn’t done until you fill in your registration form and send it back to the Datatag people.  Otherwise, if your bike is stolen and the police recover it, the database wont’ have your name on it!

In my case, the kit came from the people I got the bike from, but if you’re concerned about your bike and if you’d like to be able to get the best insurance prices possible, this idea might put your mind at rest, and save you some money!

Tell ’em Phill sent you 🙂

Merida One Twenty 800 D Carbon 2011 – My First Review

My Marvellous Merida

After (almost) two years happily thrashing my hardtail Fat Boy around the trails of Rochdale, Littleborough and further afield, I gradually came to the decision that I wanted a bit more bike.  Since I decided to buy the Fat Boy, my mileage has increased and with it, the amount of time I spend thinking about bikes in general.

I toyed with the idea of going roadie at one point.  A neighbour offered me a good bike at an excellent price but after much soul-searching I decided that mountain biking was my true love.  I’m lucky enough to live in the foothills of the Pennines, not very far from where Singletrack Magazine is based, so their features and photos never fail to inspire me to get out into the hills where I live.

So, I started to look around and to think about buying options.  My research was in-depth and extensive.  But I’m not writing about the purchasing process here: I’ll do that in another post.  This one’s all about the bike.

With much advice, much checking, much thought and much procrastination, I decided that I definitely needed a 120mm full-suspension steed.  Any more would be too big a step and the bike would be bigger than both my talents and my usual trails.

Merida One Twenty 800 D Carbon 2011

Merida are arguably the biggest bike company in the world.  They hold a 48% stake in Specialized (apparently) and their Taiwanese operation turns out huge numbers of bikes of all shapes & sizes.  Their MTB design team is German-led and the mountain bikes seem ideally designed for European conditions.

The One Twenty range is designed to merge go-faster XC with go-more MTB riding.  The geometry is reasonably steep by modern standards, but noticeably slacker than my speed-intended Focus.  As such, the bike feels like a fantastic plaything beneath my feet and hands.

So, How Is It?

I’ve only covered around 8 miles so far, on a beautiful winter’s day.  There was plenty of snow, a little ice and some trepidation about staying upright!  The bike feels incredibly stable and is a simple pleasure to propel along.  The Carbon frame and lightweight wheelset accelerate amazingly and the Shimano gears click into place instantly.

The forks and shock are a total revelation.  I have no frame of reference, since this is my first full-bouncer, but the comfort and grip offered as I pootled along in the snow were excellent.  I deliberately avoided locking either the front or back, so I could get a feel for how active the suspension was at each end.  There seemed to be no stiction when I hit any bumps, but I certainly didn’t feel to be bouncing as I pedalled along my path, even when I climbed out of the saddle.

I can’t wait to get out into my local hills when the weather’s a bit better and I have more time.  The new bike’s been a total revelation so far, even with the tiny little ride I’ve managed so far.

Bring it on. 🙂

Where is your business growing to?

Find out how Phill Connell Marketing Solutions can accelerate your business growth. Practical, realistic steps to improve your revenue generation.

%d bloggers like this: