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Tales Trails

Tales From the Trails

Hi folks,

Once again it has been a great week for the MTBers with fifteen people out yesterday in what can only be described as god-awful weather, Still, the Sunday ride more than made up for it and it is very encouraging to see so many people making the effort to travel down to Westcott in bad weather to join us; the size of the pack when the weather gets better is surely going to be astounding and lead onlookers to believe that there's a race on!!

So, as I mentioned above, Sunday saw fourteen (I know I said fifteen, but all will become clear) of us off-roaders meeting in Westcott in the fog, drizzle and blustery conditions for an assault on Leith and Holmbury Hills which once again turned out to be action packed and fun filled. Now as I'm sure many of you are aware, the Addiscombe annual dinner was on Saturday night, and a number of us carried on the drinking and partying back at my house until 4:30 am, so when I woke at 8:15 to feed the cats, make the coffees, get my bike ready and wake up a comatose Mr Cushtie (James, before you think I'm being pervy), I didn't feel the healthiest I've ever felt. Still, nothing gets rid of a hangover like plugging through mud on a 37lb bike with a single chainring so I sorted myself out, sent Mr Cushtie on his way and got myself round to Pete's for a lift down to meet the others. When we got there, I really expected to see Joe and nobody else there and was amazed to see just how many were there.

We set off across Wolvens Lane towards Coldharbour. For those of you who haven't been to Leith Hill yet, Wolvens Lane is a trail which runs the full length of the hill, is very sandy, climbs gradually nearly all the way and has puddles so large you could go fishing in them, something Warren and myself found out when we chose to ride through one rather than round it; at one point, both our feet were completely submerged and we were still riding into deeper water. By now, I was suffering more than I have in a good long while and had I been a lesser man, I'd probably have given up and gone home in a sulk but they breed us tough in Cumbria and I knew I'd be laughed at for ever if I did. From Coldharbour, we climbed up (and up and up), cut behind the bizarrely located cricket pitch and into the first downhill of the day; a rock and tree stump strewn steep descent that hurtles you down the hillside through gullies and over drop-offs at an alarming rate before spitting you out over a bridge and into the singletrack climb to the tower.

There is a section on the singletrack which climbs steeply up through the trees on a muddy, slippy track and every time we get to it, we always have a go at riding it without stopping although it hasn't been cleared to date. That is until super-fit Kiwi Jono came out with us. Without any provocation or even idea that it was a challenge, he blasted straight up it like he was riding on a flat tarmacced road! Even before the sound of applause ceased echoing through the wintry scene, the gauntlet had been thrown down and the challenge was on. First up was Sylvain, who got off to a cracking start, looked like he was going to make it.... and slipped to the side to come crashing back down the banking. not one to give up, he tried again numerous times but never quite cracked it. Next was Joe, who made a valiant attempt but blamed his tyres as his downfall. A few more plucky adventurers attempted the climb but Jono title of the King of the Hill was not to be stripped away from him. From here, we continued up the singletrack before reaching the infamous Laughing Downhill, so called because the first time we rode it, none of us could stop laughing for ages afterwards. Today was to be no exception, especially after Martin's recounting of just how many trees he'd ridden into on the way down. From here, we headed to the caff for a cuppa, some mulled wine and to meet Mr Cushtie, who said he'd try and be there for 1pm. There was no sign of Mr Cushtie, but Spencer did turn up looking bedraggled and worn out, but nothing that a ciggie couldn't put right (I use the same recovery method myself).

Once we were fuelled up again, we set off to the drop-offs via another network of singletrack trails which flow over steep drops, through narrow gaps and twisty corners. With a larger crowd in presence, we didn't spend too much time at the drops, especially after witnessing a couple of crashes which had us all wincing (no harm done, luckily). Instead, we decided to ride over to Holmbury Hill, home of the famous Widowmaker. The trail to Holmbury Hill from Leith Hill consists of a downhill which must be over a mile in length and that can be ridden at great speed, as one unlucky warden found out as we shot past him. He even tried to slow a couple of people down by standing in the middle of the trail which was not a good idea, as you'll find out in a moment. Once we'd climbed out of the bottom of the valley and to the start of the long haul onto Holmbury Hill, people started to report that they were getting a tad worried about their brakes. Pete's levers were back to his bars, my back brake was getting decidedly dodgy and poor Casper had no brakes AT ALL!! We thought what to do about this for about one hot second before deciding that brakes were a luxury that we could do without and carried on up to the trig point on Holmbury.

Now for those of you who haven't heard of the Widowmaker, it is a truly evil trail which drops straight off the side of Holmbury Hill. It is incredibly steep, loose, most of it is in a two foot deep gully, there are numerous drop-offs and to my knowledge hasn't been cleared perfectly by anyone in the club apart from Tim, and we don't see much of Tim these days (hint hint, get yourself out again mate). A number of us walked over to the start of the trail to show Widowmaker virgins what all the hype was about, although we figured that it may be a bit slippy to attempt. Next second, Sylvain is bombing down at top speed, looking to be on the edge of what is generally known as control; something which proved to be the correct diagnosis as he bailed at the first corner and rolled into a bush. After seeing the plucky Frenchman having a go, Adam, Jono and I ran back to get our bikes and have an attempt ourselves. The weird thing about the Widowmaker is that when it is a bit wet, it is much easier to ride than when it's dry. I barrelled down the first section turned the first corner and managed to keep it under control. Next section over the drops and I'm still on the bike and haven't dabbed. Round the last corner, over the last drop and I can't believe it, I've ridden it cleanly for the first time ever; no dabs or anything. Whilst I'm still congratulating myself, Adam comes round the corner with a huge grin on his face; he's cleaned it as well. We're both celebrating when Jono comes round the corner - he's down without a dab as well; this is too good to be true!! We started the long climb back up to be met by Will, who sadly reports that he's had numerous tumbles on the way down but is smiling like the Cheshire cat. We carried on up to see Martin sliding sideways down towards us; we jumped out of the way just as he dropped the bike and carried on down the hill doing a comedy run, the kind when you can't stop and are picking up speed without wanting to. On our way back up, we come across Joe, who abandoned his attempt after coming off in the top section.

Off to the side of the trig point is an extremely evil drop-off which has a nasty run in, a steep, loose section and then a near vertical six foot drop down a rock face. I have seen Tim ride it once and was gob-smacked as to how he'd got down it in one piece. I always show people the drop whenever we go up and the verdict is usually 'That's mad'. so it was with great surprise that I found Adam lining up to attempt it. With my usual daftness, I said that if he rode it then I would. With that, he set off, skittered sideways down the first section looking like he was about to fall off any second, fell sideways off the rock face and somehow managed to land the bike, one footed and seemingly out of control and then just manage to ride it out to thunderous applause and laughter. I, at this point was thinking that I wish I'd never agreed to do it if he had, especially after seeing how close to immense pain he was. With a lot of jeering from the others, I lined up and set off. All I was thinking all the way down was 'ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod, this is going to hurt' but to my amazement, I managed to ride the whole thing quite smoothly and lived to see another day. It was without a doubt the nastiest thing I've ever been down and I won't be doing it again for quite a while, I can tell you.

From here, it was time to ride the BMX track, so called because it is a downhill trail that consists of nothing but big drops, berms and jumps pretty much all the way down the hill. In summer, it is a blast to ride and the jumps throw you skywards at an alarming rate before you hit the berms and are thrown into the next set of jumps. In winter, the pits between the jumps and berms are full of mud and deep water which whilst slowing you down, do make it a really fun trail to ride, although I doubt that Dr Pete will agree with me here as the poor sod fell of and was submerged in the icy cold muddy water!

At this point, Casper realised that he had left his over gloves at the place where we'd noticed that our brakes had ceased to function (which my back one had just done as well) so we set off back down to the junction, some of us very carefully as the lack of brakes on big hills is quiet worrying to say the least!! Pete the Plumber, one of the no-brake brigade, decided at this point that rather than ride on the muddy trail, he'd ride along the banking and drop back onto the trail at the end of a particularly muddy section. All was going well until he attempted the drop, went over the bars and landed unceremoniously on the ground in front of fourteen people who laughed their heads off. We found the gloves, rode one of the fastest, swoopiest downhills of the day and then began the long climb back up the mile long downhill (uphill now) to Leith Hill. A fair few of us were feeling pretty tired by now and by the time we'd reached the tower again, we decided to split into two groups; one who rode straight to Dorking station and the other who wanted to ride the last of the trails before we lost the light; I was in the latter. The next section of singletrack we rode is one which was only found by us two weeks ago and sets off from behind the tower and into the valley below down a steep hillside through trees and undergrowth. It is a riot to ride usually but with only a front brake remaining, it turned out to be extremely scary; every time I touched the front brake, the wheel slid out to the side and I'd be out of control, legs flailing, before crashing into the undergrowth to slow down. Somehow we all got down unscathed and turned onto a fast doubletrack trail which continues downhill for about a mile before the last climb of the day back onto Wolvens Lane. Unfortunately, after a full day of no mechanicals (I don't count no brakes as a mechanical as you can still ride), Spencer got a puncture. I left most of the group there and carried on with Warren, who didn't know the way and had to be back to interview a Finnish girl for a room in his flat. Once the others caught me up, it was getting decidedly dark, making the last downhill, through the trees on an extremely slippy surface with malfunctioning brakes, an interesting one to say the least. From here, it was back to the cars and then off home.

As you can tell, we had a brilliant ride once again, helped in no small part by the sheer number of souls who turned out in awful conditions to take part in what was not an easy ride. Next week sees a return to the Croydon based trails, and hopefully we'll have a good turnout again. For all of you who have a mountain bike but have left it in the shed recently, now is the time to blow the cobwebs off it and reintroduce yourself to the delights of MTB Sundays. I hope to see a great many of you at the station next week!!!

Jason.