ginger stepchild

Funny thing, riding cross bikes.

Ginger stepchildren of the road and mountain bike world, roadies can't understand the appropriate convention of baggies and packs (baggies for brambles, pack for three litres of water and eight spare tubes), so dispense with the nod of recognition and break out the old-school sour-faced glare.

And mountain bikers, well, what would you do if somebody riding what is apparently a road bike overtook you and your five inches on a technical descent?

Caught somewhere in the middle, and usually with a foot in one or both camps on other days anyway, those that do seem to plump for either grinning a big, fat, myteetharebeingrattledoutofmyheadbutboyisitfun hello to everyone, or nothing at all - which goes to show how people are funny things as well.

Tell you what, though - cross bikes are the best thing in the world for poaching N. Downs cheek. The ramblers don't have a clue what they are...

jenn.

Ride 12 of 31

I'm a bit ill. I've been riding the last few days with a bit of a cold, a bunged up nose but nothing too serious. Today I woke up feeling rough. The cold has become a cough. The restorative properties of ice cream are well known so I very gently pedalled to the corner shop for a Fab lolly. The packet said made with real strawberry but when I actually read the ingredients something makes me think I can't count it as one of my 5 a day. Still, it made me feel much better.

Vikki

Ride 11 of 31

I've been riding bikes most of my life but have only just seriously started getting into mountain biking this year, I'm spoilt by having natural riding right on my doorstep so have never visited a man-made trail centre, but that has just changed. Alarm at seven this morning, too early for a Saturday, but up I got. Dress for riding, bike into back of car, husband bid farewell. Drive to Carolyn's house, pop her bike in to car, off we go for an adventure. Just over an hour in the car and we pull into the car park of Coed Llandegla (North Wales). Bikes readied, sun cream applied, helmets on, off we set. Carolyn's a pretty experienced rider and assured me I could cope with the "Black Run" so this is our first target. Steady climb to begin with and then we reached the first berm I've not much experience of berms and somehow all went slidey and sideways, my bike skidded towards the fence, fortunately my body was in the way so no serious damage done to the steed. Dust myself down and back on the bike. The "Black Run" was a tad too scary for me, lots of berms and I now have a new phobia of them. Lots of bits where I was off and pushing. Fortunately the trail was pretty quiet so I didn't get in anyone else's way. Made it back down to the shop and cafe. A few minutes in the shop eyeing up shiny bits and shorts and we hit the cafe. A big slab of carrot cake and a can of coke restored my self confidence so out we went again. "Red Trail" this time. Shared start to some of the routes so the berm of evil is soon approached, this time no problem. The "Red Trail" is ace, super swooshy, lots of nice linking berms, oh yes I am quickly cured of my new phobia. A great run back down to the trail centre. Coffee, jaffa cakes, and a banana. Bikes back in car and the drive home. What a great day!

Vikki

24hr party girl

Friday nights have been somewhat lacking of late. Either driving to a race, or travelling across London to see the boy, but precious few spent doing something nice to make it feel like a weekend. Frenetic. Time to take some time out for self. Cancelled all plans and left work at 7pm with nothing to get up for on Saturday and therefore no time constraints. Cross bike, pocketful of gels, one bottle, lights and a warm thing. Glowing sunlight. Up across the golf course to Cissbury and then a meandering route to Steyning through singletrack (all off-camber and dusty after so much wet); some road hills to Jack & Jill. Back across the tops, getting stuck into the climbs, pausing to watch the pinkest sunset and a pair of kestrels hunting (wildlife all over the place at the moment, seen hares twice this week, buzzard struggling to escape a roadside perch with breakfast in its claws, many deer displaced by the crop cutting that's going on around the clock, dodging bats between hedges and the inevitable rabbit encounters), for a welcome wee in the bushes (can anyone else not concentrate when they're bursting?)... Then putting the hammer down and flying to Blackcap along hard-packed, glowing white chalk, big ring, sore legs, joy of speed through the dusk. Investigations of new trails down from the hill and then quiet lanes to the village. Topped off with the piece of litter caught in an overhead branch suddenly coming to life and swooping down over my head as I rode beneath; a barn owl, so close I could have reached out and touched it, flying alongside for a few wingbeats and then circling out over the field into the darkness. Level crossing open, beer in the fridge. Bliss.

Jenn.

Ride 10 of 31

I ran errands today, the sort of stuff I might normally have hopped in the car to do but because of my pedal every day policy I was out on two wheels. A carrier bag classily swinging from the handlebars. Dry cleaners, post office, appointment making at the dentist, really dull stuff. In the car it would have been nothing but a bit of a drag but somehow all the chores seemed balanced out nicely by the always taken at top speed fab swoosh down the hill into my bit of the village.

Vikki

Ride 9 of 31

Husband of mine is not a biker, very rarely I manage to lure him out for a ride and today was such an occasion. Chicken sandwiches, mini pork pies, cherries, malt loaf, fizzy water and a rug stuffed into a ruc-sack off we set for a family picnic. Flipper the dog lolloped along next to the bikes as we did a very steady 4 miles along the canal tow path to the woods. Rug spread, sarnies scoffed, sticks thrown and mud spread (Flipper obviously involved), cherry pips spat, bit of a relax, then rubbish and rug all stuffed back into ruc-sack and pedal home. It was a dreamy sort of afternoon, dragon flies and swans, Wigan in the distance even managed to look like a Tuscan hill town in the sun. All that was missing is that we weren't wearing straw boaters and striped blazers and riding Pashley Princesses.

Vikki

Ride 8 of 31

Riding this afternoon with two friends. I've got one of those speed, distance, GPS units, I mostly use it for running but occasionally take it out on the bike. Statistics for my ride. Duration 4 hours 41 minutes. Total distance 23.26 miles. Max speed 26mph. Total amount of climbing 878m. Highest point reached Winter Hill at 456 metres above sea level, but honestly the descent made it seemed like the highest point on the planet. An even gnarlier descent followed later, locally known as the ice cream run. I hadn't done it before, I had visions of a soft scoop raspberry ripple sort of happy time. Instead there were rocks, big ones. The sort of riding that leaves you feeling pounded. I'll confess I wimped out of the final climb of the day, left the others and peeled off for home. I feel good but both me and the bike have got a kinda crunchy, clicky thing going on in the drivetrain, I recommend oil for one of us and apparently chocolate milkshake is good for the other.

Vikki

nettle stings.

and sun burn.

that is all :o)

jenn.

Ride 7 of 31

I went into Manchester today on the train (no bike) to meet my friend. He's a very stylish photographer so although I don't really do city chic I felt a bit compelled to make an effort, you know the sort of thing, hair actually dried instead of being allowed to form in it's usual tangle of tails. I had a lovely time, doing lunch, catching up on gossip and shopping but I had that slightly overwhelmed feeling that a city always gives me. I got home feeling a bit zonked. Flipper the dog was very pleased to see me home and instantly set about me with the heart melting rays she can magic from her eyes. I quickly changed into some baggies and a tech tee, grabbed a bike and headed out with the dog. Just a quick nip along the disused railway track and back but the perfect antidote to the city. Now, if I could just work out how to bottle that "bike riding good" feeling I'd be onto something.

Vikki

Grizzly bears and bicycles

I had a dream last night that I was walking along a warm, quiet, hedge-lined country lane. I came across a large, hungry looking Grizzly Bear pawing at the ground, so after a sigh of gentle annoyance I turned right and broke through the dense hawthorn hedge and scaled a muddy bank to get to the field above and out of sight. Odd.

So I obviously have bears on the brain. That is most likely because today I'm driving to Gatwick and tomorrow flying to Calgary. On Sunday the Trans Rockies begins.

I can't believe it's crept up on me like this, stealthily hiding behind the excitement (and pain) of Mayhem before jumping out on me: 'Da daaaaaa'. Last week was mental. Packing, washing, buying, breaking, re-buying, unpacking, packing again, unpacking, removing home comforts, packing again.

Now I just can't wait to get out there and ride my bike. I'll be writing a blog each day (facilities permitting) so you can see how I'm getting on.

As my friend Huw wrote in his good luck card to me "Take it easy girl, but take it". Will do...

Fi
x

a little spot of bother.

British Cycling. Something is deeply, deeply wrong with an organisation which purports to uphold the best interests of our sport and then refuses to send the four-times national champion to the Worlds in her own country. Thankfully, they relented - or at least we hope they have, because the list of 'additional' riders still hasn't been announced, and we don't know who will have been 'allowed' to go.

To cut a long, convoluted and really bloody depressing story short, their sole purpose as an organisation is to grab as many Olympic medals for Team GB as possible. Medals mean funding (via the National Lottery/Sport England), presumably for more medals (and salaries). Therefore, anyone who does not stand a chance at podiuming stays home...

What would be a better use of all that lottery money, a couple of brassy coins on a ribbon every four years or the opportunity to inspire people to ride, by 'just' participating?

A solution? Get the suits out on a bike. Not an elitist track bike, or an unattractive road bike, but a mountain bike of the sort found in (maybe) every third shed in the country. Send them to a Merida, or a Gorrick, or a 24. Let them see and ride with real people, who live nowhere near a velodrome or an iconic hill climb but do have woods or the park just down their road and for whom participation is what matters, not winning. Riders who don't stand a chance of ever seeing the world from the top of a podium but are still out there every weekend, getting fitter and happier as a consequence, as a by-product of joining in.

Spend my share of the lottery money (and all of my licence fee) on that, please, British Cycling.

Jenn.
(BC licence 707895)

Ride 6 of 31

Didn't really have a plan in mind for a specific ride so just went out to play for an hour. Rode a mixture of canal tow path, disused railway line, farm track, woodland paths, nettle patches and B-roads. Sunny but not too hot. The ride turned into something like an animal magic roadshow, sadly no Johnny Morris voiceover. I saw ducks, moor hens, butterflies, sheep, cows, goats, a frog (left unkissed for someone in greater need of a prince than me), a pheasant, a squirrel, a huge shuffling hairy caterpillar, and best of all a pig. I was just meandering along past a bit of a small-holding which has a couple of fields of free range porkers when I hear a lot of piggy grunts a lot closer to me than expected. I turn to see a good size pink lady coming towards me with a sort of piggy indignation as to why I was on her patch. After a bit of an inspect of the back wheel she seemed satisfied I was no competition for her mud patch and let me go on my way.

Vikki

Heat and Dust

The edges of my eyes are still red and my skin is bronzed where I sweated off the suncream. Yesterday was a proper summer's day. This weekend was a proper summer's weekend.

Saturday night we escaped. Tent up next to the river. Dunster Castle behind us. Mist clinging to the long grass in the valley. Hip flask, Jack Daniels, sound sleep.

Morning saw a beautiful sunrise, tinkering with bikes, hot tea and bacon rolls. 500 riders pouring out of Dunster and climbing up and up and up (and up) into Exmoor.

The views were breathtaking, hazy, summery, golden. The ups were sweaty, hot, bent double. The downs were eye watering, dangerous, fast, flowing. The end was welcome, more tea, cold cans of coke, congratulations, washing in the river and a sleepy crawl back down the motorway to Bristol.

People who don't have weekends like these are missing a huge chunk of happiness from their lives.

http://www.exmoorexplorer.com/. Next year...

Fi

Ride 5 of 31

Today I thought I'd go for the one wheeled option. I've been trying to learn to ride a unicycle. It's frustrating as I am finding it incredibly difficult. In fact, possibly the most difficult thing I've ever tried to do. It's a bizarre mental and physical challenge. Speaking to others who've tamed the one wheeled beast apparently it's just a knack, a sudden mental clicking that allows the physical act of riding to happen. I have yet to experience this moment of mental clarity. I mostly still need to hang onto a wall with one hand, I can manage a few turns of the pedals without this aid to balance, something starts to feel like I'm going to make it and then it all just goes pear shaped. And when things start to go a bit wrong on the unicycle I find they rapidly go very wrong. Believe me unicycles bite. My shins are mostly being held together with Germolene new skin and I have a bruise on my thigh the like of which I've not seen since a cowboy once suggested I try my hand at riding a mechanical bucking bull (that's a whole other story). I have given up for today, but I will be trying again.

Vikki

Ride 4 of 31

A friend of mine claims the best things to go shopping for are shoes and hats because no matter what neither can make you look fat. While I agree with this statement I have to add that the absolute finest thing in the world to go shopping for is a new bicycle. A new bike can do nothing but make a girl look fabulous. To this end today's ride was a ride to have a ride. I pedalled to my local railway station, and hopped me and the bike onto the train to Manchester. A speedy, bus dodging, nip along the cities Oxford Road onto an aromatically mouth watering "curry mile" and a left turn found me outside Manchester's Bicycle Doctor. There is nothing quite like the smell of vulcanised rubber to get my wallet itching to make its way out of my pocket. I was expected at the shop as a Surly cross-check was there waiting for to test ride to make the final decision on frame size before ordering. A few whips round the block and as expected I do indeed need the smallest one they make. Lots of chat followed about exact spec with my bank balance having to unfortunately over-rule my heart on certain points, but a decision was made and an order placed. A happy me then cycled back along the Oxford Road stopping to take in an exhibition at the Whitworth Gallery and some lovely salad for a late lunch at a vegetarian restaurant I spotted. Then it was back to the station. Rather than hang around on the platform for the train directly to my village I got the first one available that got me within 6 miles of home and rode the rest of the way from there. A relaxing day, lots of fun, some easy riding and a new bike to look forward to.

Vikki

Ride 3 of 31

Ride 3 means day 3 of the 31, so not quite a tenth of the way through my self inflicted challenge and already I'm suffering the physical consequences. I'd arranged to meet my friend Carolyn at 5pm at Rivington Barn (cafe just outside village of Rivington). (Carolyn organises the women's rides of a local mountain bike club www.groovytribe.co.uk and so she had also arranged to meet Nicola, a new rider thinking about joining the club.) From my house to the barn is about 3 miles by road but I always nip up a grassy track I know to cut a corner off. This short cut has a gate that is my nemesis, it has one of those very strange revolving stile things next to the very locked standard 5 bar gate. To get through this I have to pop the bike up onto it's back wheel, then wedge the bike into the revolving bit, a weird balancing act that defies every law of science. I then have to climb the 5 bar bit swing the bike though towards me and begin the untangling process. Every time something goes a bit wrong and I lose a chunk of skin, today was particularly dodgy and I lost 2 bits of arm and scraped my ear on my front tyre. Made it the rest of the way to the barn without incident. Met up with the others and off we all set for what I knew would be a cracking ride all around the Rivington area. The rain mostly held off, not too many other people about, and felt really good to be out with other bikers. All well until about the ten mile point when on a bit of a breath catch and drink stop a sudden stingy itchy sensation on the back of the knee made me realise I was stopped above a patch of evil ants. Several minutes later and a bramble patch scraped another bit of arm. Nicola left us at about the 12 or 14 mile point but Carolyn and I felt we had another climb in our legs so off we went, now I'm home my legs are not thanking for me this decision. But through all this physical adversity I was grinning like every biker on a good ride does. I smiled as I made it to the top of the climbs and I giggled my way down the down bits. I made it home at about 9pm, gobbled down some stir-fry and glugged a beer. I ache and I'm scratched up, but nothing another beer and a bath won't sort out and I'll be more than ready to do it all again.

Vikki

Ride 2 of 31

When I initially discussed this plan for summer cycling with Minx I mentioned that my childhood rides had all been fuelled by Kia-Ora orange squash and Wagon Wheels, these two products ranking somewhere alongside Smash instant potato and fish fingers, anyone who grew up in the 70's will no doubt share this culinary nostalgia. So I decided today to ride to my local Tesco to purchase Wagon Wheels and Kia-Ora. I recently bought a new Chrome courier bag and yet to ride with it thought this little shopping trip the perfect opportunity to test it out. The easiest way to get to Tesco is an unimaginative 6 miles along a wind tunnel like section of the A6, but instead I took the back lanes which can get me most of the way there. Cows and horses in the fields, tree lined farm tracks, the sun shining, it's more hilly and a longer ride than the main road but none of that seemed to matter as I tootled along in my little nostalgia bubble. As soon as I started towards rejoining the main road a car cut across in front of me causing me to brake hard to avoid being squished, my nostalgia bubble was a little dented but not popped by this incident. Then I had the tricky bit of the ride negotiating a series of roundabouts including one where traffic leaves and joins the M61, there are some cycle lanes here but they sort of appear and disappear leaving a rider occasionally stranded, as I picked my way through this section I could feel my little nostalgia bubble shrinking a bit more but I pressed on. Tesco finally reached safely. Biscuit aisle found, wagon wheels into basket, squash aisle located, no sign of Kia-Ora, checked shirt assistant tracked down, no they don't do Kia-Ora, puzzled look given as to why none of the other 9 brands of orange squash stocked will satisfy my needs. I decide not to try and explain. I spy instead some Panda orange drink, thinking this may be a satisfactory alternative I reach up for a bottle. Before I even have time to register the split in the plastic I am partially coated in sticky orange. Nostalgia bubble well and truly bursts at this point. I abandon the Wagon Wheels and head for wines and spirits. I am happy to report that all the necessary ingredients for making Margaritas will fit into a Chrome messenger bag and can be comfortably transported home at speed over windy distances of 6 miles.

Vikki

Ride 1 of 31

When I came up with the plan of riding every day in August I had this idea of re-creating the summers of childhood, I pictured sunshine and just being outside pedalling all the time. Somehow I forgot all that annoying grown up stuff that just gets in the way. I've been away on holiday and only got back last night so after collecting Flipper the dog from friends, wading through mountains of laundry (how can two people have worn so much in two weeks), grocery shopping and sorting out some paperwork I finally got round to a ride at about 7pm. Feeling a bit pudgy and tired from holiday and noticing that Flipper looked like she'd gained a few pounds from 2 weeks with a retired butcher I decided on a gentle pedal with the dog. We did the 200m to the end of our road and joined the bank of the Leeds-Liverpool canal, 200m of tow path and we dropped down the steps under the aqueduct up the steep slope and onto the dis-used railway line. This is the start of lots of my rides as from this point I can stay on the railway line, access some cheeky singletrack through woods or take advantage of lots of points to rejoin the canal tow path. This evening was a gentle pedal down the railway line for a few miles and a turn round and pedal back. Nothing technical, nothing challenging, just me making the most of two things I love to do, riding a bike and being with my dog. We both hung our tongues out, wagged our tails and let our ears flap in the breeze.

Vikki

Miles

Jeesh what a weekend. Just had to share. With new found freedom (long story) I spent the ENTIRE weekend riding my bike. It was great. No guilt, no calling home and no worrying I should be doing something far more grown up and sensible with my time.

I cycled over 100 miles on saturday and over 100 miles on Sunday. Just because I could. I listened to the radio on my new phone (it's a week of news) and giggled my way all over North Somerset and Devon, drinking in the views, dodging the showers and generally indulging myself in a lot of pedalling fun.

OK so my legs may be a little on the tired side today but I still managed to get back to Bristol last night in time for a quick shower and de-lycra and head off to a new Spanish restaurant in town for a paella with a bunch of mates.

In my book that is the perfect weekend.

Fi

summer tyres

I don't do the whole 'what tyres' thing. And, from chatting to other women in the shop, it does seem to be an exclusively male phenomenon. Most of us ride the same tyres all the time, maybe having a set of muds if it really matters but otherwise just getting on with it. None of this rifling the shed because the trails might have dried off a bit and therefore it might be time for the stickies, but on the other hand there'll still be a bit of slippery muck out there so maybe we should stick with the spikes, but what about the roots.... blah blah blah.

There's pleasure in riding the same tread pattern all year round and getting used to it. How it rolls, how it grips, and how it doesn't grip - all of this makes you a better rider. And gives you one less excuse for being crap. I sense a theme here.

However - it has not stopped raining for two months. I am fed up of grey skies, puddles and flint-strewn roads. In a fit of temper, I've just put the summer tyres on the road bike (baby blue, matching tape), otherwise I am not going to get to use them until next year. No matter that we're currently cut off from the pub by the overflowing river and the sky is full of thunderclouds, I am sick of tying down my lovely light bike with stiff, leaden Ultragators. Punctures be damned, I'll carry three tubes a ride if I have to but somebody has to take a stand...

Jenn