My thrills over Christmas included another ride. I set out to hit some of the trails I used to ride years ago, taking advantage of being back in my childhood home as many other people will have been. Back in the day these bridleway routes seemed like the less appealing option in a world where I now realise I was spoiled for choice with the whole of the South West at my fingertips. However, hitting them again opened my eyes to the brilliant riding that was right there on my doorstep.
So there were superb lanes, open muddy fields to drag across, big descents and even bigger climbs just at the edge of town and within a few minutes ride to start enjoying. The ride I chose was a chance to attack one of the biggest climbs I used to enjoy hurting myself on, and challenge my over-30 self against a scrappy teenager who rode them in the past and pushed friends so hard they were sick. My memory means at times I wasn't sure if I found new trails or rode old ones I knew before, and one had been clearly improved with drainage that had now been eroded to make it unridable with huge holes, drops and exposed pipes, while other paths were a singletrack delight even as the rainwater washed along them.
Inevitably I got hailed on and spend a cold and wet few minutes sheltering under a church-yard yew tree swearing hard at the weather.
The lesson here is never to forget the local trails and to remember that there often there is more to look for than the obvious places and some fabulous riding to be had closer than you think. I actually can't wait to get out there again.
A

No comments:
Post a Comment