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Lakes Trip 3
Introduction On the last day of this years
Addiscombe Lakes trip, James agreed to purchase one of my mate's Orange
222's and organised to pick it up on the last weekend of November, an
agreement which was great for James (who was getting a new bike), Shaun
(who was getting a big cheque) and me (because I always love going home).
Friday So, come Friday morning, both of us
piled our stuff into the Cushtie-Mobile and headed for the North. After
being offered some disgusting knock-off leather coats for the price of
hiring a car by a dodgy Italian bloke and witnessing the intelligence
levels of the youth of Preston's graffiti artists, we eventually hit
Cumbria with the sounds of Klaus Wunderlich echoing around the car. We
unpacked quickly and headed out to the pubs for a meal and then to a Glam
Rock duo regaling us with the hits of the Seventies and Eighties, before
picking up James's new bike and heading home for some sleep.
Our initial idea had been to meet up with a
mate of mine and then head over to the downhill course in Hamsterley
Forest, near Teeside. Unfortunately, Keensy was on his plantation felling
Christmas trees and as we didn't fancy navigating our way across the
Pennines to find a forest in the middle of nowhere, we decided instead to
head for Grizedale Forest, via a couple of bike shops. The decision to
head for Grizedale had a lot to do with the Lakes trip last month as
everyone had really enjoyed the two downhills we had done. This time,
however, we would be on downhill bikes and could ride the trails as many
times as we wanted.
Saturday We arrived in thick mist and heavy
rain (usual Lakes weather) and after building up the bikes, headed down to
the visitors centre for a cuppa and a fag before committing ourselves to
the worst of the weather. Fully refreshed, we began the long walk up the
rocky trail that we would be descending shortly afterwards. Although the
trail was not as wet as it was four weeks ago (it was literally a - fast
moving - stream then), there was still enough water coming down the bottom
section to make it appear very slippy. We pressed on and finally reached
the top, where we turned and began our descent as fast as we could.
Unfortunately, we didn't get to far before we had to stop as our goggles
had misted up so badly that we couldn't see out of them. After relegating
them to my rucksack we carried on, picking up speed at an alarming rate
and fighting with the bars as our wheels clattered over huge rocks and
through gullies with water splashing up constantly. We regrouped at the
end of the first section and then set off into the lower, using a section
of narrow, twisty singletrack we'd spotted on the way up. Through this, we
came back onto the main path for a last mega-rocky blast to the bottom.
This was followed by another full run using
a different top section and then a mess-about on the lower, rocky section
where there was the potential to jump through two drop-offs which I hadn't
even noticed the other week. Basically, if you carried enough speed, you
could jump straight off the top of a gulley and clear a huge section of
rocks that slowed you down if you rode them. This was followed straight
away by another drop. If ridden fast and jumped, you hit the bottom
section back to the visitors section flat out, which made it interesting
to say the least. After frightening ourselves for a while, we crossed over
the valley floor and climbed up to the start of the Stone Fox downhill.
Once again, the Stone Fox downhill was
drier than the last time ACC were there and with downhill bikes instead of
cross country ones, it was going to be a lot more fun. We started off with
a full run; me jumping off every rock and ledge I could see and James
blasting through everything on his new downhill monster. I had a lovely
run down, taking everything as fast as I thought safe and was only slowed
down at the last corner, which had a flock of pheasants on it which only
moved when your front wheel was almost on their tail feathers. Once James
arrived, we walked back up and rode small sections of the track which has
taken our fancy on the full run down; basically every ump and drop-off we
could find. Once we eventually reached the top, we headed back to the
visitors centre down a very fast, loose, rocky downhill which scared the
life out of me (I tried not to touch the brakes and only did after the
bike went sideways in a particularly rocky section). Once back, we parked
the bikes up and went into the café to warm up, have a cuppa and eat some
warm food. By the time we left, there was a lake under our table.
Saturday Night As the previous evening in
the Fighting Cocks had been so 'entertaining', we decided to head back
there, especially as we'd been promised that the band that were on were a
glam rock Blues Brothers duo who wore silver codpieces. James nearly got
us thrown out of Arnside before we'd even got there by telling the taxi
driver about the group we were going to see and mentioning that they
lowered a gigantic plastic penis from the ceiling half way through the act
(he made that up, honest). The taxi driver replied with "You're in
Arnside now" and never spoke again. Oops.
The Blues Brothers proved to be just as bad
as we imagined they would be but unfortunately didn't have silver
codpieces. We were however regaled with tales of how local simpleton
binman Dave had found an 8th century Viking brooch on the beach and
believing it to be a purse clip, had thrown it in a bush. He'd also fallen
off a cliff whilst drinking Special Brew but had come away unharmed. Just
as I was thinking that it couldn't get any better, some girl asked whether
James and I would like to go to Lancaster with her as she was sick of the
band. We agreed that it was a better option and after James had heard the
pleas of her new boyfriend to "not fiddle with her", we piled
into her car on our quest for late night drinking. Unfortunately, the
young girl in question is a few bricks short of a hod-load. James had
trainers on and was turned away from every club we tried, apart from the
one I suggested but the young lass wouldn't go to. We wandered around town
for a while whilst James tried out his fancy chat-up manoeuvres (which
failed, miserably) then headed for home again. Within no time at all, the
windscreen had misted up in her car. Seeing this, I put the heater on, at
which point she went mental and said that she wanted to de-mist the
window, not make it worse. She turned it off and we drove back the whole
way with her peering through a tiny clear patch at the bottom of the
screen.
Sunday (James's birthday) The previous
night, we'd been making loads of plans to go back up the Lakes again but
these were scuppered when we both got up far too late. Instead, we decided
to go for a local ride, starting with the woods near my Mum's house.
Whereas the geology of the Grizedale is grippy slate, around Storth and
Arnside the landscape is Limestone. Limestone tends to be covered with
soil mostly but where this has eroded, you get limestone paving which is
bare rock with grooves in it, and also the slippiest surface known to man.
Add to this a covering of wet leaves and no matter what tyres you've got,
steering is not an option. It is something that you get used to after
time, but it's a while since I've ridden there and was James's first
experience of limestone. As soon as we left the top of the hill, we were
slipping and sliding all over the place and what should have been a fast,
pedally downhill turned into a slow, panicky descent that we were relieved
to have got through in one piece.
We set off for Arnside and the pie shop and
after battling with the wind and James's terrible fatigue, finally made it
to the home of those wonderful pastry delights. All pied up, we climbed
for what seemed like ages until we reached the trig point on top of
Arnside Knott where we were rewarded with the weather clearing up, blue
skies and wonderful views over the estuary and out to sea. We weren't here
to look at the view though. Fully kitted up again, we set off down a wide,
fast track which was littered with small drops and sweeping corners. This
was followed by a bit of a climb before the next descent; fast singletrack
which gets steeper and steeper until you think you're going over the bars,
before being deposited on the beach. James was now so tired out that we
headed for home along the shoreline, before picking up the road to the
Ship Inn for a couple of pints. We supped up, returned home and ate our
tea whilst watching Superman 2; "On Your Knees". In the evening,
we returned to the Ship to get drunk as monkeys with a couple of my mates.
Monday Our journey home was pretty
uneventful, apart from us being offered knock-off watches by the fattest
man in the world. We popped into Oxford as well for a couple of pints with
one of James's mates and reached Croydon at about 5:30, tired but happy.
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