I really ought to biggup mattmagic. He’s managed 5000 miles by bike this year, the majority of it off-road on his singlespeed Chameleon. Well done sir, that’s a big total.
By the way, that fantastically high quality photo is of Matt at Mountain Mayhem a few years ago – back in the days of Team Kusatado Ninja. Ah memories…
Blimey, that was cold.
Saturday 26th November 2005: Myself, Anton, Flash, G-Dog, Rob and Stubacca drove up to Rheola, in the Vale of Neath, South Wales, for a bit of Dragon Downhill uplift day action.
After about ten minutes stood on the back of a truck, chugging it’s way up a snow-covered fire road, you get to ride down the track – and it’s epic. The first third is awesome – the closest thing I’ve found to the alpine courses. Fast, wet, rocky and very very good fun. We finished that section by blatting out onto snow-covered fire road, before diving into a completely bonkers chute-of-doom. From there on down it was tight, deeply rutted singletrack to the bottom – with the occasional “North Shore” interruption.
It started off being quite rideable, but by the time we got a couple of runs in the track was getting really proper mental. Bikes and riders were completely unrecognisable by the bottom – coated from helmet to tyres in a thick layer of the local mud. I’m told that I looked like the “Wild man of Borneo” by the end of the day. That didn’t stop it being bloody great fun though.
I had a series of absolutely comical crashes – none of which hurt (at the time), which was nice. There was the headfirst dive down the chute, the getting high-sided by the bike wedging itself in a rut, falling off and sliding backwards into a ditch (in front of the photographer girlie), not to mention the one where I rode off, failed to grab the handlebars properly and ran straight into a tree. Wonderful.
I also ended up on a pretty exclusive uplift truck at one point. This lot will mean nothing to those of you who don’t follow the sport, but I was stood alongside Brendan Fairclough (they Royal Racing rider who was second in the World Champs), Rowan Sorrell (of Mojo fame), Steve Jones (Dirt Magazine) and a load of others who I recognised but couldn’t name. Oh and me, who in comparison can’t ride for toffee. This lot could probably ride a shopping trolley down that track faster than I could on my bike. Proper bonkers quick.
Big thanks to Anton for the lift up there, Alex Burwood (I think?) for letting me have his place on the uplift, G-Dog for taking my bike up there and back, Jason Carpenter and the Dragon Downhill crew for organising it and Maccy-D’s for feeding me at the end of it all. I might have left your bathroom a teensy little bit muddy – sorry about that.
It’s really bloody cold out there! By the time I got home my gloves were icing up and my face was beginning to go numb. It’s only a couple of miles!
What’s more I had to ride most of it on the pavement thanks to thick fog rendering me nearly invisible. I tried riding in the road but one or two cars passed me so close that they clearly weren’t aware of my existence. HELLOOO! THERE’S A BIG FLASHING RED LIGHT AND LOADS OF REFLECTIVE BITS ALL OVER ME! Fools. The thing is, when the fog’s like that, you can’t really see oncoming pedestrians or gert big kerbs, which makes things interesting. Still, I got back alive and without killing or even slightly maiming anybody. In these conditions that’s a result.
Right, the remainder of my apple crumble awaits me. Must dash…
I rode a long way today, at least by my standards – it was the furthest I’ve ridden in a long long time. It was one of those rides where every time I get to a junction I thought “Oooh, I’ll try this way” and see where I end up.
Unless you know Cheltenham and the surrounding area well, this bit will mean nothing, but I’m going to put it in anyway.
So I set off from home on the singlespeed Stiffee and rode out through Swindon Village, up the uber-muddy track to Elmstone Hardwicke and along another to Stoke Orchard. Turned right at the end, then left into a new (to me) bridleway. Followed that to it’s conclusion and turned right again. From there I followed the roads out towards W…something, then to Gotherington and Bishops Cleeve and up through Woodmancote.
Here I did a silly thing: I went up Stockwell Lane. Oh my, that was one steep mother hubbard. Alas it defeated me and despite my best efforts, I ended up walking the final section. Still, it’s proably the most direct route up Cleeve Hill. After a rest at the top, I rode up through the golf course to the aerials at the top of Cleeve, before following the Cotswolds Way (oo cheeky!) across the top. It’s a public footpath, with padlocked gates at either end. There’s no was a horse can get in there and yet there were plenty of fresh hoof-marks. Hmmm…
After that trail, I took the roads down through Andoversford and Upper Dowdeswell, before joining the main road at the Kilkeney Inn. That was scary as, what with all the lorries and mental drivers, but I stuck it out until the shooting school. There, I turned off and headed down the bridleway, which was the muddiest place in the entire world. So much so that my back wheel nearly stopped turning thanks to a severely clogged rear brake. I must sort out a disc-brake compatible rear wheel. In fact, I think I’ve got one in the garage… don’t think it’s a light one though. Hmmm.
Another trail brought me down to somewhere near Coberley and from there I climbed up the back of Leckhampton Hill, before riding across the top along Proflex Alley and then dropping down the zig-zags. Whilst up there I ran into some of the usual suspects – Stu, Anton, Gary, Aaron, Rich and co. You did all that, on one cog? You effing mentalist!
. They’re probably right. Damn good fun either way. From there it was a blast back across town and home, where I collapsed in a heap. My legs hurt now.
By the way, the Crud Catcher is a fantastic invention. Nicely done Mr Tomkins. SPDs and riding glasses next for me I think. Whaddayamean I should get some gears!? PAH!
It started well. I plugged my earphones in and rode out into a sunny afternoon, across Kingsditch then up the RUPP to Elmstone Hardwicke. I was riding like a lunatic – drum and bass tends to have that effect. After that I wasn’t really sure where I was going, but a series of bridleways and country lanes brought me out just outside Tewkesbury. Exploring new trails is ace!
Shortly thereafter I came to that bridleway. That bridleway was rubbish. It’s obviously used more by horses than anybody else, so it’s muddy, bumpy and churned up making it a real challenge to go anywhere. It’s one of those annoying trails where if you lose any momentum you end up having to pedal down the hill.
I get to the end and turned left onto a road, and noticed a twig stuck to the front tyre. It’s slapping the fork with every revolution of the wheel. Not a problem, I’ll stop to remove it.
Oh CRAPOLA! That’ll be a thorny twig stuck in the tyre then. So I take off my camelbak, open it up… DAMMIT ALL TO HELL! I’ve still not put my pump back in there. I carefully break off the excess bits of twig without removing the thorns from the tyre. Now it’s a race to get home before the tyre goes flat…
After a short while, I come to a junction with the main road. The sign tells me it’s eight miles back to Cheltenham. I’m fairly sure I’m going to be walking some of that. Now, I know this main road – it’s a nasty big dual carriageway and really not a nice place to be on a bike. There’s got to be a much better route back through Elmstone Hardwicke again. So I take a left and follow the country lanes. I get to a t-junction and I spot a bridleway going straight on – that seems about right to me, so I follow it. Alas, within half a mile I hit a dead end.
There’s a stile over there, but that can’t be right – it’s a bridleway isn’t it? Horses can’t climb over stiles. I clamber over and and follow the trail anyway – it turns out to be a footpath that goes right through someone’s back garden. Oops! I eventually find another bridleway that takes me over the M5 and in the right direction.
They’re really badly signposted around here – there’s several junctions in the track where I’m reduced to following horse and bike tracks in the vain hope of staying on the bridleway. Somehow I do and and up on familiar ground. I know how to get back from here – or at least I should. I’ve not approached the path from this direction before and ride straight past it the first time. It’s only about half a mile further up that I realised my mistake. I go to turn around and realise the tyre is really starting to get soft now. NOOO! It’s OK though, I only have to get down the RUPP and then back across Kingsditch. It’s not far now.
I’m pedalling like a complete loony to get back quickly but I can’t devitate far off a straight line because steering is really getting interesting now. This would be fine, except the trail is getting to the really boggy rutted bit now. I nearly lose the front all over the place and keep catching pedals on the sides of the ruts I’m inevitably getting stuck in. Ah, there’s the burnt out car – I’m not far from the end now then.
The tyre went completely flat about 50 yards from my front door. Winner!
First ride out on the new triple-two today. I think we’re going to get along just fine. I got on it for the first run down Leckhampton’s main DH track and instantly felt at home. It’s a fair bit slacker and plusher than the Azonic, which only serves to make it more friendly.
At first I didn’t think I was actually going any faster than I used to on the Azonic. But then I started arriving at corners carrying quite a lot more speed that I had done previously, needing all the brakes I could get hold of just to bring myself to a halt. I rode straight down steep slopes that had always scared the life out of me before. I can tell this bike is really capable. Now it’s just the rider that needs to improve…
That’s the last time we’ll see my Azonic Saber in that particular build.
It’s been well loved over the past few years. It’s been almost the ultimate all-rounder. I’ve ragged it down world-cup level downhill and four-cross courses at one extreme, and done a 24 hour cross-country race on it at the other, not to mention the time I took the gears off and did the european singlespeed champs on it. It’s been ridden up and down hills and mountains in England, Wales, Scotland, France and Switzerland.
I’ve got some fantastic memories too. The trips to Glentress, Innerleithen and Fort William were fantastic. Those three weeks pinning it down the trails around Morzine, Les Gets and Chatel in the French Alps were awesome. Caersws at the end of last summer was amazing. That descent of Afan’s The Wall trail has to rate as one of my best-ever biking moments. Times like those, when it all comes together remind you exactly why you play this game.
Now it’s been stripped down to a frameset and a few associated bits hanging up in the garage. It’s served me well, this beastie, but it’s time to move on. Something bigger, badder (and with any luck, better) is taking shape…