A Christmas Eve detour in the pouring rain found me at the Forest of Dean for round 1. Lucking out as the rain in a sodden Gloucestershire eased for me I hit the easy blue loop, entirely for the final downhill and a chance to blast round as hard as a body suffering from drinking through a cold in the last week of work would allow.
It went well. I got covered in mud and quite wet but the rain held off and I attacked the last lumpy section and downhill with all the enthusiasm it deserved before heading off.
As ever you can enjoy gloating at how much faster you are than me here.
Christmas morning dawned predictably showery and I popped across the bridge to play with Cwm Carn. The road gates were closed but it was still possible to roll in after a moment of wondering if the Vito Sport also parked there belonged to anyone I might have heard of.
This ride was one of those that never quite went well. I felt less than fit, and the wet roots combined with a lack of concentration and apparent skill meant wheels slipping out all over the place and growing frustration. I fought on up the hill and had to make a first stop as it became clear my rear brake pads were shot and the spring clip (which I’ve written about before) was getting all “up in my rotor”. I bashed it a bit and just decided to ride on regardless, hacking up the last of my cold.
Things went ok over the top then on an early drop followed by a rise allowed the toe next to the little one on one foot to meet a precisely placed and very pointy root. With agony cutting through my cold toes and grading my toe as 70% likely to be broken, I rode on. Downhills rattled it. Uphills let blood flow into it. Neither was pleasant and I blocked out thoughts of the carnage I might find when I took off the shoe.
I pressed on with less braking, but more noise when I did and hit the last drops.
On trend for the ride I punctured and the Sports Tracker crashed so you can’t even see the entire ride here.
You get the idea anyway.
Tube replaced, and not pumped to the pressure I would have liked, I slammed down the last bit (which, thanks to lack of evidence, you may assume featured riding on the level of a top World Cup downhiller).
The last roll along the road to the car was cold, but a brilliant rainbow across the stream almost made up for it.
While it sounds bad, the ride was entirely worth it and still managed to make me smile. Although I am desperate now for a ride when I don’t get wet.
For the worriers amongst you, I downgraded the chance of my toe being broken to 30% by the 27th. Although it’s still sore.
And no bike shop in Bristol has a stock of the right pads for a Hayes Stroker Ryde, so that was the end of my riding over the Christmas break.
A
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