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around home, friends, history, vehicles

Kentish long-weekend

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After a big weekend of riding the previous week, where I managed to pull a muscle in my knee on the Saturday making Sunday’s large singlespeed ride rather painful, it seemed to a good idea to leave the bike(s) at home for the last long weekend of the summer. The physio sorted out my knee quickly, but recommended I do some form of exercise other than biking – a thought that hadn’t crossed my mind recently. So I went for a run & pulled a muscle in my foot – I promptly gave up running.

Not taking bikes, meant that the four of us could all fit in the same car as we travelled to a quaint 15th century cottage we had rented for the weekend – our base for a friends’ wedding. It’s quite fun staying in a house that is more than twice as old as the country you’re from. Happily, I also had a long weekend for my birthday for the first time in my life – a rather dismal day weather wise, we pretty much spent the day eating well too much. We also managed to fit a visit to Canterbury Cathedral in (I’d been before with Trish a few years ago, so as the weather was pants I didn’t really take many photos).  Eventually we settled on a huge roast dinner and if that didn’t fill me up – the two birthday cakes certainly helped.

Plenty of exposed beams

Kings Head Cottage – plenty of room for us all

Across the village green

One of the older houses in Chartham

Thankfully, the wedding day had considerably better weather than my birthday.  Laura & Luis got engaged before I started working here in the UK, so it was good to see all the plans that we’ve heard so much of come to fruition.  The service was all very traditional (dearly beloved, have & to hold etc.) and quite good fun, I still can’t sing very well though.  On seeing the wedding car, below, I immediately had to get a few snaps for Uncle Geoff back in Australia – I’m pretty sure Bentleys of such age are his favourite.

With a bit too much time to spare between ceremony & evening wedding party, we went down to the white cliffs at Dover in our gladrags – where we picniced on the beach, mucked around, went to the pub and then wandered a bit on top of the cliffs.

After the speeches was the dancing for the night – a céilidh.  Basically a gaelic folk dance, it reminded me of the (awful) folk-dancing endured at primary school – but it was miles better due to there being a good band, a caller to tell me what to do and no longer being scared of girl-germs.  But I still had little idea what I was doing – but it really didn’t matter as plenty others didn’t either.  A huge pig-on-a-spit topped the night off nicely; amusingly the happy couple drove off in a tuk-tuk.

around home, bikes, combe raiders, friends, GPS, MTB, UK

Combe Raiders Swanage Weekend

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For the second weekend in a row, I was off to Swanage for a riding trip.  To make a pleasant change, I had the short drive to get to a Combe Raiders ride – fifty-five miles instead of the normal hundred to Taunton.  Arriving early due to the afternoon off work, I quite happily passed time in the local bike discussing bike-packing & my next bike.

The ten others turned up in dribs & drabs; once settled into the dormitory/bunkhouse & John had dinner prepared we headed out for a quick ride before it got dark (after being told not to bring lights, I forgot to pack the small ones from my commuter).  Most of the trails in the area I was familiar with from the SSUK 2013 events of the previous weekend, although we did find a nice little descent off the other side of the golf course.  Up onto that ridge again, I had to walk about twenty metres as the headwind was gusty & it was just too much on a singlespeed.   The downhill off the ridge & back into town was just as good & is even better when someone has opened the gate on the blind corner halfway down.

I think this weekend away had been booked well before this was decided, but somewhere along the way it turned into a bit of a celebration of D’s fiftieth birthday – but perhaps that’s just what the guys with wives had to use as a reason to get away for a weekend of biking. Either way, there was special Combe Raider cider, whisky that I actually found palatable & a very enjoyable Friday night. Somehow I managed to avoid the rooms with the chronic snorers – snoring stories are much funnier the next morning when it’s not you that has been kept awake all night.

It would have been too much to expect two glorious weekends in a row – but Saturday was reasonably nice as we headed out to the lap that John, Rich & I had done last week (except they’d wizened up & brought bikes with gears – I was the only nutter left on a singlespeed).

Near the start of the ride – a pub we didn’t go in (well, I had the week before).

“If you’ve got time to hold gates open – get to the back & ride up with the stragglers.” Up the first climb – Isle of Wight just visible in background.

Rich standing in front of Swanage.

As this was the same ride as I’ve already detailed last week – just without the two-hundred odd singlespeeders – I’ll spare you the details, except I rode everything again. Normally, when riding around those with multitudes-more-gears-than-me I don’t mind getting off & walking if I have to; but this time I knew I could ride all of the big hills, so made myself do so – my knees weren’t so happy about that. We stopped in Corfe Castle because someone said there was a good bakery there – I had a great pasty & danish again. The climb up to Kingston was a bit easier this time around  & soon enough we were back at the Square & Compass – nice ale & I convinced myself I deserved another pasty. Back into town via Priest’s Way & time for ice cream by the seaside.

Come Sunday, we’d done most of the trails of note (or so we’d been told) & were looking for a slightly easier & shorter ride before the respective drives home. Somehow, it fell to me to cobble together a route using two photocopied OS maps; I’m not sure that was the best idea for those looking for a cruisy Sunday ride – after all I was riding a tank of a singlespeed (I still can’t believe how heavy it is – that had conveniently escaped my memory before I brought it back from NZ last year) & could not be thought of as taking it easy. Pleasingly for a group of eleven, we only had one mechanical for the weekend – & that was only a puncture on Sunday morning when we weren’t pressed for time. Coming off the Priest’s Way (this time riding up it) we found ourselves in the middle of a Wiggle sportive for roadies. For the next fifteen minutes we had a great time chasing down those ever-cheerful breed of cyclists that wouldn’t even smile or return a greeting as they whizzed past us. I don’t think one of them was overly impressed by being tailed by mountain-bikers – although the icing on the cake was when I managed to pass one up a hill.

I think this photo was taken to show the niceness of the countryside – very pleasant to ride through, if not as spectacular as some recent photos.

After we got over the hilarity at being sworn at by irate roadies that couldn’t handle knobbly tyres passing them, we found a descent we hadn’t done yet. Down the side of a ploughed field, where I was filled with my usual trepidation of riding parallel to barbed wire fencing, we were in between hedgerows and all of a sudden the trail got really rocky & absolute great fun. This was the part of the weekend I most wished I was riding the bike I had in Moab. We joined the main road back into Corfe Castle, joining up with the road contingent before stopping at the bakery again.

More new route took us north of Corfe Castle where we discovered a nicely wooded section filled with bluebells, other flowers & mostly-smooth fun trail. Up & over another ridge & we could see the village of the lunch-pub in the distance.

I had one more nasty surprise on the map – what turned out to be the steepest climb of the weekend.  Unfortunately, we could all see it coming – I was pretty sure that I would be walking up that as it looked like loose boulders at the bottom of a continually high gradient.  To get to it, we had a reasonable climb on the road where we passed more of our road friends again.  I was pleased to clear the whole climb – somehow I negotiated all the rocks before settling down to slowly push the pedals around & get to the top.  From the top of the ridge, we could see the weather closing in – there wasn’t much to see from the lookout, so what else to do but head to lunch in Kingston.

We finally got rained on, for the first time of the weekend (not bad going), sitting in the beer garden waiting for a delicious lunch.  The bonus of the beer garden was we (well, D – he who got sworn at) could boo every roadie that went past.  Then the road got slick & they started crashing on the corner in the village & it would have been funny if they had not needed medical attention.  With the rain set in, we took the easy fast route back to our cars in town.

So a great weekend, where the company was the highlight, the riding was good, the food & drink plentiful and I didn’t blow my knees apart – well organised John.

bikes, friends, GPS, MTB, USA

Last Moab day – Slickrock & Klondike again

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It was with some (OK, great) sadness that I ate my last bowl of camp porridge and had my last mug of Egyptian tea for breakfast – for Friday was our last day in Moab.  I still hadn’t put in a fast lap of the Slickrock Trail – something I was keen to do to see how my fitness & riding had improved over the ten days.  Alex & I headed out while it was still cool & the trail was pretty much deserted.  I was quietly pleased to rattle out the trail in seventy-five minutes – about fifteen minutes faster than two other best times.

With camp packed up, there was nothing left to do but leave our little home (and go and hit the brewpub and drown our sorrows). Actually there was, I posted postcards and we finally visited Sweet Cravings, a cafe (serving breakfast, lunch and plenty of baked goodies) that we’d had the eyes of our stomachs on for some time. Megan promptly declared her lunch as the best sandwich she had ever had – my Thai chicken wrap was also worth of similar levels of praise.

There had been some discussion of what would be our final ride – Megan & I were keen for Captain Ahab again as it was so damn good, but that was hardly family-friendly. We settled on heading out Klondike Bluffs again to do a bit of riding with the Tout, before Megan & I could address our unfinished business with the singletrack that we didn’t get to ride on the mud-scapade . This worked out OK as there was still much tiredness around due to the second (& as far as I know, last) instalment of Finn’s night-terrors. We had a pleasant little ride together on Dino-Flow – rocky, but not too technical – before Alex & Finn left us to the more tricky stuff.

We rode a bit of EKG, which proved slow, rocky & reasonable technical; Megan wasn’t having a ball as she struggled to stay awake, but we made it up to UFO and that trail flowed a lot better and was a lot more enjoyable in our not-quite-peak state. Taking the easy, but fun, way down Baby Steps that we knew was there and onto the last part of EKG & then that, as they say, was it. All over red rover; I’m not sure I’ve gotten over that yet.

I had to head back to town to return my trusty steed & took the chance to grab a shower. I was pleased that I wasn’t charged for the few minor scratches, but especially because I was pretty convinced I’d blown the seal in the shock.

We rolled out of Moab faced with the four-hour drive back to Salt Lake City. As the weather closed in, I was well relieved to get a message from Jeremy saying that we could stay in their basement while they were away – not camp on the back lawn as was originally planned. That saved us much hassle & time in not pitching & taking-down camp in the rain and cold.

As I tend to do, that long solitary drive back to Salt Lake gave plenty of time to reflect on a fantastic biking holiday. I can’t even put the variable weather down as the only negative – it wasn’t always brilliant, but that was all part of the trip & gave some interesting snow scenery & riding. As for all the positives – excellent trails, spectacular scenery, great friends making for superb riding buddies, a very good bike, my riding & fitness improving significantly and some very tasty meals & beer – I’m not sure what to name the highlight, although one does tend to lean towards the riding, as it was a riding trip after all. Definitely the best holiday I’ve had in a long time (probably since the last USA riding trip in 2011) & that’s saying a lot as I’ve had plenty of trips all around the place in the intervening time. Maybe it’s because there’s not usually many photos of me on my, mostly, solo travels – but seldom have I seen so many photos of me grinning maniacally; that’s probably a good indicator of the quality of the trip.

Up sort of early Saturday morning as the others faced a 1500 km/almost 1000 mile drive back up north, we sorted everything out and then made a rather tortuous trip (due to being trapped within the SLC marathon course & new tires being bought for the others’ car) to the last of Jeremy’s recommendations – WAFFLES! It’s not often that I sink fifty dollars on breakfast, but every last cent was worth it – delicious. Then it was goodbye time in the rain, which at least made it mercifully brief & to the point – but then I wouldn’t expect much else from us lot.

Before I knew it, I’d returned the rental car, flown back to Heathrow (two planes, Mama!), tubed, trained, taxied, picked up my car and made it home – winning the not-race home as the return to Canmore was slowed by snow & ice in Alberta – and was back at work.

bikes, friends, GPS, MTB, USA

A Snowy Porcupine

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I was adamant that Jackie should ride Porcupine Rim before leaving us as I had just as much fun, if not more, on it as we had had on Amasa Back & Captain Ahab the previous day.  This of course was more than convenient as I was extra keen to ride it again.  Alex was of course keen as well, which was also convenient as Megan was probably the most exhausted of all of us as Finn had suddenly developed night terrors (as opposed to the normal restlessness & noise-making in the  middle of the night) and kept all of us awake for quite some time absolutely inconsolable.  It was a beautifully clear morning, therefore freezing at camp; as we drove up to the trailhead the temperature dropped further to -4ºC and I was starting to regret the decision to wear shorts.

Considering the cold, we spent quite a bit of time horsing around at the car organising ourselves and then pretending to stab people with icicles for the camera – I await those photos, Jackie.  I knew there was a good two kilometre climb to start with, so that may have been part of it; at least that got us warmed up as Megan carried on to the sealed La Sal Mountain Loop Rd and the easier drive (when you’re half asleep especially).

On the climb, it wasn’t particularly snowy (but definitely much more so than the week before); but as we got into UPS & LPS it got snowier & icier.  It was good fun breaking through all the icy puddles that had appeared in the intervening time, but the riding was a little slower – it was also a little difficult to see the trail through the snow when moving.  I was pleased that I got to see the trail and surrounds dusted with snow, it made the ride interesting – even if I didn’t ride any of the downhill sections as fast as I had the previous week.  There’s little point describing the ride for the third time, so here’s a few snowy pictures & some others.

Snow cactus

I ended up riding just as many of the larger drops as I had the week before and decided I wanted some photos – so made Alex take some as I sessioned this two-foot drop.  Of course, the first time I rode it as part of the trail was the best – alas, no camera waiting; it took a bit of trial & error to get a decent photo & find the best approach.

A good one of my bike & my puny legs – at least, I’ve been told repeatedly that they are

Almost got all of me

Not a great landing – but at least I’m completely in the air & in the frame

I rattled through the last piece of singletrack, but the lack of sleep started to wear a bit thin; it was with some surprise I hurtled around a corner near the bottom of the trail & found the source of the lack of sleep running towards me.  Megan & Finn had made their way up the trail from the parking lot to meet us; but I had trail to finish, so I took off back to the car.

Every time we drove up to Sand Flats to get back to camp we passed Milt’s Stop ‘n Eat – a diner that has been sitting on what was once Main St since 1954.  It looked like a classic American diner, so after a chilly start & a good ride it was most definitely lunch time & a good opportunity to try out the advertised milkshakes.  That’s a double (I should have got the single) chilli burger below & it was fantastic, even if it doesn’t look the sharpest; the butterscotch shake was also well worth it.  I can’t think why I struggled to finish a large bowl of four-cheese pasta that night – maybe it was because I went on only one ride that day.

Sometime earlier in the week in a rare moment in Moab of committing to anything other than riding (in fact committing to not riding!) I had agreed that I’d watch Finn while Alex & Megan went for, what I imagine is, a very rare ride together without towing an increasingly heavy toddler.  It was time to collect for all the organising, driving, gear supply and general awesomeness that Megan & Alex have shown me – which also worked well as I was rather tired and had a very full stomach.  Jackie was having none of this child-minding business, so packed up her tent & left for more rock-climbing while Alex & Megan hit Slickrock.

Finn passed the time watching a Thomas the Tank Engine film, again, until the tablet gave up the ghost due to abuse at the hands of a two-year old while I wrote postcards.  Then we climbed rocks a lot, played in the sand & I generally contemplated the fast-approaching end of an excellent holiday, life and how I live on the completely wrong continent to regularly get a suitable mountain-biking-in-big-open-spaces fix.

Toddler throwing sand & being told off while I try not to crack up just out of shot