Started running again this morning cos I’m just not getting out on the bike as much as I’d like to. My first run for several weeks, in fact. I need to do this for the fitness it provides, but that’s not to say I enjoy it too much.

GGRRRRRRRRRR! Try replacing a pair of pivot bearings on an Orange Patriot when you’ve not a lot of time and you’re blessed with a fuse as short as mine. One of the bastard things just won’t budge from the pivot. I’m sure I’m going to be cussin’ and swearin’ when I come to “lightly tap into place the new bearing”, but for now I’m trying in vain to smash the existing bearing to atoms with a large hammer and a chisel. Don’t worry. It’s only a frame that cost me more than a year’s food shopping. I’ll have another go in the week. Then I’m into “borrow Dremel from Warren” territory. Whatever happens, I’m NOT TAKING IT TO A SHOP.

John the Kiwi takes his family and his bikes back to NZ in a couple of weeks, so a load of us, mainly people I hadn’t met (Stockport Clarion roadie types) went over to Coed Y Brenin to ride the 38K Beast route.

Meeting Phil, Jaqs and the others Saturday morning was easy enough, but then had to wait around for ages for the others to turn up. A family dog had apparently eaten a quantity of condoms and had to be vetted. It’s not clear if the condoms were of the flavoured variety.

I’d heard and read a lot of stuff about the new trails at CYB recently and not much of it has been positive. All the possibile preconceptions had disappeared by the end of the first coupld of singletrack sections…I thought it was bloody brilliant. Big climbs, but loads and loads of very technical singletrack and twisty turny stuff. A bit of a relief too, as we arrived a few minutes earlier to a full car park. Think Saturday pm Tescos. I felt like a cycling sheep. I was expecting congestion, in fact.

Phil had texted me the previous night to tell me that his frame was cracked, so I’d also brought the big bad Patriot for him to get a beasting on. I think he might have noticed some of the bigger rocks at least.

Big up to the Stockport rigid singlespeeders, and the caff halfway round the trail! Carrot cake was amazing, but after a ride like that any old shite tastes good.

Only a short ride through the local woods, just checking the Patriot’s tickety-boo for this weekend’s trip to CYB. Along the old railway, climbed up the cheeky path to Giant’s Seat where I was chased by a dog and almost hit by a golf ball…then dropped down through the woods.

I’m no fan of MX’ers, but some of the trails they’ve built using pure wheelspin are a joy to ride. Little jump at the top, followed by big rooty section, hold the line between the 2 trees, lean back to cross the rut then lean it over left then right. Emerge heroically in front of dog walking family. In hindsight, a reet northern, “Howdo” might have spoilt the overall “freeride god” effect.

I didn’t think about new cars for the whole time I was riding.

Remembered camera J

I’d heard that this was tough, but I didn’t expect it to look quite as tough as that. We took up our position near the foot of Pen Y Ghent at a suitably interesting rocky bit.

The riders started to appear as they commenced their final ascent of the race. Some of those lead riders were really caning it.

Simon pops up a lot earlier than I was expecting and grunted as I heckled.

Then the riders started to come down the mountain whilst there were other riders still doing the climb. This looked about as dangerous as it gets. A line of very tired riders climbing up in the face of a load of riders flying down the rocky slope with little in the way of brakes. Add in a few walkers and dogs and you’ve got a proper spectator sport, I tell thee.

If I’m lucky and I get the entry form in promptly, I’m hoping to have a do at this myself next year. Deb’s overjoyed 😉