Saturday was supposed to be a tourist trip to London, but alas that fell through at the last minute. Luckily Simon swooped in with a trip over to the forest of dean for a bit of cross-country bike malarkey. I grabbed a lift from the G-Dog and despite getting caught up in some closed road shenanigans en-route, we eventually arrived and met up with Si and Emma at the cycle centre.

After the usual extended faffing we headed off around the FODCA trail, me on the ‘dale, Garry on the shiny Enduro, Simon on his Yeti DH6 and Emma on a tiny Spesh Hardrock.

The trail is only about 4km or so long, but that’s 4km of technical, swoopy, rooty joy. None of us were on top form, struggling up the climbs and depositing ourselves ungracefully in the dirt on the descents. Garry even managed to pull an SPD-cleat right out of his shoe at one point.

It was all good fun though, especially the final section of the trail which is a slice of fast swoopy singletrack from bike-heaven. WOOP!

After a quick bite to eat we set off again, for a nice relaxing half-hour jaunt down the fireroads to the lake. It quickly became a jaunt that took us miles off-course and significantly more than half an hour.

Fireroads aren’t the most interesting things in the world, but the slog was well worth it. We eventually found ourselves at the top of some lovely singletrack which took us across the top of the hill before diving steeply down the side, taking us nearly all the way back to the cycle centre. Lovely stuff.

For once it wasn’t the other traffic endangering me on today’s morning commute. It was me.

I was absolutely flying this morning, despite the constant whinging from my legs. “What are you doing? That really hurts, I can’t be expected to maintain that sort of pace!” The roads were a bit damp but it’s nothing I can’t deal with. Or so I thought.

I’m approaching a right turn, pedalling like I’m an a sprint on Le Tour (really must fit a bigger gear). I look back, signal, carry on for a bit, then throw the bike over into the corner. It tracks cleanly round the bend and I carry on as usual, pedalling like fury to the next obstacle. Except this time it didn’t quite work like that.

This time I threw the bike into the corner and the front wheel decided it wasn’t going to grip. At all. BAM! My knee hits the floor followed by the rest of me. Traffic comes to a halt and a lady is asking me if I’m OK. I get up, smile at her, tell her I’m alright and the world carries on as normal again.

Perhaps turning in at ludicrous speed wasn’t a great idea in the wet – my tyres were never going to grip the white lines and knackered tarmac all that well were they? The best bit is that I’ve managed to bruise the knee and elbow that didn’t hit the ground. It seems that my bike is made of pretty solid stuff :-/

I hadn’t ridden the 222 for ages. It’d been in the cupboard since Rheola and was in need of a blast. So on Friday night I dragged it out kicking and screaming, made the siezed bottom bracket and freehub spin again and then changed the oil in the forks. That last job is one I’ve been putting off for months, or is it more than a year now? Either way, they had too much oil in them, which meant I was only ever getting about two thirds of the available travel. So I changed the oil, put less in than Marzocchi reccommend, and huzzah! All the travel is available. Winner!

So on Saturday, Anton, Garry and myself dragged our Oranges (two 222’s and a 224) up Leckhampton hill, covered ourselves in body armour and ragged them down the trails all afternoon. I discovered that I had completely forgotten how to ride a bike and had to re-learn the skill over a few hours. Still, I conquered a few more bits of trail, fell down a few others and generally had an ace time. It wasn’t even all that cold. Anton had just fitted his new 888 RC2X forks (you can buy me some if you like) and was getting used to riding a bike without a 25 tonne boat anchor attached to the front.

Avid readers of Weon’s pages (is my jacket really that pink?) will already know that Sunday took me out on my other silver single-pivot full susser. It’s bonkers how bikes have progressed in the last few years. My XC bike isn’t far off having as much suspension travel as the DH bike. Luckily it weighs quite a lot less, or the climb up Cleeve Hill would have been even more painful than it was. We managed to offset the pain with attacks of the giggles – inventing things like Arse Knuckles and the Wheelie-activated Hunting Horn tends to do that to you. Luckily the descents were a lot more fun than the climb, even if the mud made them as slippery as a slippy thing. The trail down to the washpool was ever so slighly sketchy, but the rocky run down to the Rising Sun and then the Devils Steps more than made up for it, even if Owen did nearly run me over on the final stretch down to the road. You haven’t got disc-brakes mate – you need to slow down before I do!

Speaking of which, I nearly went deaf on the ride back into town – my front brake developed a horrendous banshee-like wail that didn’t relent until I put the bike away at home. Must remember to sort that.

I finished the evening off by returning to Weon and Anne’s for dinner. We watched the very good House of Flying Daggers, whilst gorging ourselves (an understatement) on Anne’s fantastic cooking: A chicken-based cottage pie (alas not made of real cottages), then crumble and custard for pudding. Very good pie. Mmmm pie. Thanks Anne :)

I’ve been wanting to redesign this place for ages, but I’ve never really found the time or indeed motivation to do it properly. I needed to change the look with absolute minimum effort for me: I figured a new header image was probably the easiest way to do it, so that’s exactly what I’ve done (it should look like this – you may need to hit reload or clear your cache if you’re not seeing it).

G-Dog gets his five minutes of fame this time. You can tell the pictures are quite old – he’s riding an Orange 222 (You’re my bike now Dave!). They were taken back in July of last year up on Leckhampton Hill , then amalgamated in Photoshop. Yes, I know it all needs a bit of tweaking – especially the navigation. I’ll get around to it at some point.

Oh and a completely unrelated HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAGGUS!

I managed to drag myself up Cleeve Hill today. I rode along the Honeybourne Cycle Path until it’s conclusion, across through Prestbury, then took the climb up Mill Lane. It was absolutely horrible – really hard work to get anywhere (although it’s much nicer having gears for that climb), then when I finally got to the off-road bit, I seemed to have lost any skill and poise I might once have had. Every attempt to ride up a techno-rocky section saw me stall before flailing wildly trying to get a foot out of the SPDs. I’ll conquer that one yet, just you wait.

It was well worth it though. The sun came out just as I reached the top of the climb, making everything seem worthwhile.

I rode to the masts, then followed the road the to moto-cross area, before heading down the rocky descent into Prestbury. I was feeling much more confident this time, riding straight through sections that had me beaten last time. Typical then, that I should meet a Land Rover coming up towards me. I had to stop and scramble up the banking to get out of the way. Fair play though, it went straight up stuff no car has any right to climb.

The rest of the descent seemed to have a river flowing down it, which served to remind me of two things: Firstly, I need to fit a Crud Catcher to the front of that bike (or maybe even my ‘zocchi fender if I’ve still got it) and secondly, I still need to get myself some riding glasses, to stop any cack that a Crud Catcher doesn’t. AARRGGHHH, I’M BLIIINNNNDDD!!!

I’ve bunged the pictures on Flickr if you’re interested.

I took the new toy up Leckhampton Hill today. It was a struggle – my body just didn’t want to know. I had the raw power required to get up hills, just not the lung capacity to do it without nearly dying. Despite all that, I had a barrowload of fun, especially firing down the rocky section up by the devils chimney. Always good for a laugh, that one. The final descent of the old tramway was ace too.

I spotted the Ferrari in the supermarket car-park en-route home and figured it’d make a good shot. Alas my camera isn’t great in low-light situations. The idea was there, even if I couldn’t quite carry it off. Maybe some sort of mini-tripod might have helped?

Some things to note:

• It was really bloody cold out today. Despite the pissing rain and the feeling quite unwell I went out riding anyway – after all, I have a new bike to play on. I’m glad I did, it was ace!
• I’ve not ridden in clipless pedals for ages, but I got back into riding them as if I’d never stopped. I’d forgotten about the way they don’t want to clip-in when the sole of the shoe is clogged up with snow. That’s ever so slightly annoying when you’re approaching a tricky and steep bit of trail.
• Yes, it’s quite snowy up on Cleeve Hill. Not snowy enough to board, but plenty to turn the landscape white.
• The climb up Gambles lane is an absolute sod. It goes like this: Sit and spin until it gets really steep, then stand up and stomp. Die of exhaustion upon arrival at the top.
• I don’t think I’ve got enough air in the forks and there’s perhaps a little too much in the rear shock. On the way down Cleeve Hill I was constantly bottoming the forks, while the back was skipping around a fair bit. It got loads better when I just let go of the brakes and went for it, but then I went blind from the spray. Must get around to buying some riding glasses.
• I’d forgotten just how fast you can go when you’ve got a full complement of gears – handy when you’re on the wrong side of town and it’s getting dark very quickly. I also kept forgetting to change down when approaching a red traffic light – trying to pull away in top gear is quite difficult isn’t it?
• I struggled to get used to the SRAM X-7 shifters. You change to a smaller sprocket by pushing from the opposite side to a Shimano Rapidfire shifter. Most confusing for my tiny little mind.
• My Raceface Freeride Team jacket is really good in these conditions. I didn’t get overly hot and never felt particularly cold. Very glad I bought it now.
• Um… NEW BIKES ROCK!

Yes, I think me and the Cannondale are going to get along quite nicely thank-you. Now, where do they sell fitness and strength? I seem to have lost all of mine over Christmas…

Oh yes, I forgot to take my camera with me. Some “nice clean bike parked in the house” shots as and when I can be bothered.

Update: Some “dirty bike out on the trail” shots from today (8th Jan) can now be seen over at Flickr.

You may remember that we had our garage broken into a while back and I had a load of stuff nicked. Well the kind Mr Insurance man paid up – in the form of credit at one of the local bike shops. It’d be churlish not to go out and spend it all at once, wouldn’t it? Of course it would.

So on Thursday I’m going to pick up a shiny new Cannondale Prophet 400.

Excited? Me? Never.

Well OK then, maybe just a little tiny bit.

OHFERGOODNESSSAKES GIVE ME MY NEW BIKE NOW DAMMIT!!!

Update: Anticipation phase complete, new bicycle aquired. It’s rather nice.