There are two deliberate mistakes in here. They are of a general
knowledge type, and should be reasonably obvious even if you are not a
unicyclist, and this is your first visit to the forum. If you spot
them, please PM me. I will post the answers and the winners in a
couple of days. Please don't refer to the answers in a reply to the
thread as it might spoil it for someone else. Thanks.🙂
The sun is out, the sky is fairly clear, but there is a chill wind. I
am feeling lethargic after a very late night, and it takes all my
determination to get changed into my clingy Lycra shorts, skimpy T
shirt and cycling shoes, and pack the KH24 MUni into the car. It is
only habit that forces me - I'd rather be sitting down and reading, but
I know that at this time of year, there is plenty of time to read, and
precious little time to ride.
On the way, I stop for fuel. The young woman in front of me at the
pump has a car about the size of a shopping trolley which must have a
concealed expedition fuel tank because it's taking her a very long time
to fill it. Come on, Mrs., it'll soon be dark, and I've got a unicylce
ride to do! One thing she isn't concealing is the cleft between her
buttocks. She is wearing the lowest low slung jeans I've ever seen,
without even the sop to dignity of a cheap thong, and looks like a
podgy pink cycle parking facility. Why do people do that?
I park in a layby on the A614, and find my way through a gap in the
hedge to the woods beyond. The path is narrow and winding, and my
enthusiasm is low, so I walk to a straighter easier bit a few metres
further on and mount.
After only 50 metres of riding, I come to a grassy incline. It's wide
enough for a Land Rover, although the grass is fairly long. There is a
strip of trodden single track up one side and I use that. To my right
is mixed woodland; to my left, a hedge, then fields.
The ride up the slope is just right. It's technically easy, as long as
I concentrate; it's steep enough to be a challenge, but not so steep
that it's a struggle; I'm gaining height fairly rapidly and feeling
pretty hardcore - or at least, mezzocore. It's the sort of path where
witnesses would be welcome, if you know what I mean.
Near the top, I have a choice of a narrow winding path or a broader
forest road that follows the contour. I choose that, but a hundred
metres further on, turn about 120 degrees back to the left over ruts
and bumps (small cry of "Yes!" through gritted teeth as I make it) then
I wind between undergrowth and saplings until I come to a fence. On
the far side of the fence is what I believe to be grassed over spoil
from the former Calverton colliery, although I'm not sure. It's
certainly artifical landscaping anyway.
I turn to follow the line of the fence, ducking and twisting between
young birch trees. There are still a few fly agarics around: red
toadstools with white spots, as featured in a child's fairy story book
near you. I avoid squashing them - too many people deliberately
trample fungi because they can. We're not a nice species.
As I come out from under the birches, the path becomes more undulating
and winding. There are nettles and some briars close by. With care, I
suffer only minor scratches and no stings. Then I drop down a short
muddy slope onto a path that runs down a field boundary. The main road
is some distance below me to my left, traffic buzzing past, the drivers
probably not even noticing the woods, fields and wildlife a few metres
from them.
At the bottom of the field, I wiggle though a gap next to a rotten
stile. I can hear "Clack! Clack!" noises somewhere, almost but not
quite like someone is shooting. There must be few sights as tempting
as a unicyclist riding past a clay pigeon shoot, and I make a mental
note to be cautious. However, a few metres later, the source of the
sound is identified. I come to an old disused railway, and there are
two bored youths there. One has a small plank and is picking up pieces
of ballast and using the plank to bat them as far as possible. He does
a double take as I cross the railway line carrying my unicycle.
I climb over a stile. The path beyond it is dead straight, with a
barbed wire fence to the left, and a bushy hedge to the right. The
ground is slippery mud. I duck and wiggle my way down to the bottom
without a fall, then climb over the next stile, and cross the road.
Over the road is a wide track across farmland, and the riding is easy
and pleasant. I pass a disused tumbledown farm building to my right.
I stopped to examine it once on an earlier ride. It's full of both
satanic and Christian graffiti. Weird. Say what you like about Jesus,
but I doubt he intended that 2,000 years later, people would be using
aerosol paint to deface disused buildings with his name.
The track bends to the right, and there is a maize field to my left,
the crop looking very sorry for itself. The next field is full of
sheep, feeding on exposed root crops. One ewe tries to mount another.
That's how you tell the difference between the sexes in mammals.
Females will mount each other now and again; males will mount anything
that stands still long enough. To my right is a pond surrounded by
trees and thick undergrowth. My attention is attracted by something
fluttering in one of the branches. A Jay? No, I just catch the
distinctive wing markings and crest of a lieutenant pigeon.
I turn to the left again, and approach the next set of woods: a pine
forest. The track angles steeply up in a straight line through the
pines. There has been no attempt to dig the track into the hillside,
so there is about a 20 degree slope from right to left. Pine forests
are usually a quiet place to ride, with little in the way of wildlife,
and with soft needles under the unicycle's tyre, and I cruise up the
hill surrounded by tranquility.
At the top, the path levels off and becomes more gravelly and rough as
it leads across open farmland to a road. I pop out of the end of the
track and find that the road is a dual carriageway. There is little
traffic and I ride across, then follow the continuation of the track
though more farm land. In the distance is a higher hill with more
woodland, and I have a vague idea that the track will carry me there.
However, I am disappointed, as I soon reach a small village, and what
looks like the continuation of the track turns out to be a private
domestic drive. I turn right onto the main road into Oxton village,
then left to continue in the general direction I want to go. I'm not
really used to riding the KH24 on the road - it's far slower than the
Coker or the Bacon Slicer - but it feels pretty smooth, and the road
isn't busy.
The road undulates a little, gradually gaining height until I reach a T
junction with a somewhat wider road. It's not exactly some larger way
where many paths and errands meet, but it would be fair to say,
"Whither then, I cannot say." I randomly decide to turn to the right,
hoping to find a path or track to my left leading towards the tempting
hills and woods I can see inthat direction. However, a few hundred
metres on, I lose confidence. The late afternoon sun is not that warm
on a damp autumn day, there is now some cloud cover, and it is just
starting to look like it will be dark in an hour or so.
--
Mikefule
If there's one thing I've learned, it's that most people don't.
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