M
Mikefule
Guest
Keen to test the new Fule face helmet, I took the 28 down to
the riverbank tonight.
Hmmm. So how do I fit my head torch to a full face helmet
with a peak? I try dangling the head torch round my neck,
holding it in my hand, strapping it to my wrist... and then
decide to ride in Braile. The uni has front and rear LEDS to
be seen with, so I'll rely on incidental light to see by.
It's a cold blustery night. Britain has been beset by
faintly disappointing storms over the last few days. It's
been unpleasant without being exciting. I find myself riding
down river and down wind, and it is almost silent. The Fule
face helmet covers my ears; the tyre is hard; the trail is
smooth... all I can hear is the gentle slopping of the water
in my Camelbak. Occasionally, a shout drifts across from a
sports field in the distance. The odd duck splashes or
quacks - sometimes both.
I reach the sailing club. The light from the front LED
throws a faint dancing light on the trail, and I can barely
make out the familiar shapes of the low concrete ridges. I
ride over them carefully and soon I'm on the short and
gravelly footpath that cuts through to the road. Frankly, I
can see very little. I rely on the feel of the uni - I have
my hand lightly on the seat handle, and I'm standing on the
pedals, proceeding slowly. So far so... bad. I UPD gently.
Never one to waste the opportunities that life throws in my
path, I decide to shed weight and excess body heat by having
a pee. Then it's the challenge of remounting a 28 with 110s
and pinned pedals, in the dark, on a narrow gravelly track,
with an LED on the frame that dazzles me if I look down to
check the position of the pedal. No problem!
Out onto the road, I avoid the surprised motorists, and ride
to the Water Sports Centre, where I take the ziggy zaggy
stony track up the hill and down onto the tarmac circuit of
the big lake. Riding this ziggy zaggy track used to be the
height of my ambition on the 26/150. Now I'm taking it in my
stride on a 700c road tyre and 110mm cranks in the dark.
I'll be getting fan mail from Kris Holm at this rate... ;0)
Three quarters of the way round the big lake, I'm battling
head down into a blustery cold wind when for no adequately
explored reason I UPD. There go my vague notions of doing 20
km without a UPD. I remount and continue.
Back near the canoe slalom course, I see a man standing on
the bridge transfixed. My gaze is drawn to a heron on top of
the floodbank, almost exactly at my eye level. The heron is
illuminated by the soft amber glow of the floodlights and
safety lights of the slalom course.
As I approach, the heron turns to face me (I am now riding
down wind) and it spreads its wings and stretches its neck,
looking like a phoenix rising, the undersides of its wings
glowing gold in the reflected light. Silently, it rises
vertically into the darkness. I slow down without even
thinking about the uni, and watch the heron ghost out over
the lake, turn and glide back in. I've seen hundreds, but
this special image was worth the whole ride.
I complete another lap of the lake, so I know I've done at
least 5 km, and probably nearer 6, without a UPD. Then I cut
across to the river bank, and find myself stranded in
deepish sand and gravel which has been raked or harrowed
into narrow ridges and furrows. The UPD, when it comes, is
not entirely unexpected.
Then I ride up the river bank, past the rugby club, where a
few keen souls are still training for their bizarre
minority sport. Next is the sailing club, with its soggy
apron of tyre-rutted grass, where the variable resistance
and lack of illumination conspire to trip me for the fourth
time in the ride.
The last mile or so is easy, although by now I'm starting to
feel tired
- the ride follows an hour long fencing lesson, and I
haven't eaten for about 7 hours. It starts to rain, but
not heavily. I feel vaguely hardy and tough for unicycling
in the dark AND the rain. It sort of justifies the rather
OTT looking helmet.
Back at the car, I discover my computer hasn't been
recording the whole ride. Bizarrely, it shows me
having covered 1.95 miles in 26 minutes at a maximum
speed of 10mph.
--
Mikefule - Roland Hope School of Unicycling
Sometimes I ride like a demon, sometimes like a lemon. It's an L of a
difference.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mikefule's Profile: http://www.unicyclist.com/profile/879
View this thread: http://www.unicyclist.com/thread/29904
the riverbank tonight.
Hmmm. So how do I fit my head torch to a full face helmet
with a peak? I try dangling the head torch round my neck,
holding it in my hand, strapping it to my wrist... and then
decide to ride in Braile. The uni has front and rear LEDS to
be seen with, so I'll rely on incidental light to see by.
It's a cold blustery night. Britain has been beset by
faintly disappointing storms over the last few days. It's
been unpleasant without being exciting. I find myself riding
down river and down wind, and it is almost silent. The Fule
face helmet covers my ears; the tyre is hard; the trail is
smooth... all I can hear is the gentle slopping of the water
in my Camelbak. Occasionally, a shout drifts across from a
sports field in the distance. The odd duck splashes or
quacks - sometimes both.
I reach the sailing club. The light from the front LED
throws a faint dancing light on the trail, and I can barely
make out the familiar shapes of the low concrete ridges. I
ride over them carefully and soon I'm on the short and
gravelly footpath that cuts through to the road. Frankly, I
can see very little. I rely on the feel of the uni - I have
my hand lightly on the seat handle, and I'm standing on the
pedals, proceeding slowly. So far so... bad. I UPD gently.
Never one to waste the opportunities that life throws in my
path, I decide to shed weight and excess body heat by having
a pee. Then it's the challenge of remounting a 28 with 110s
and pinned pedals, in the dark, on a narrow gravelly track,
with an LED on the frame that dazzles me if I look down to
check the position of the pedal. No problem!
Out onto the road, I avoid the surprised motorists, and ride
to the Water Sports Centre, where I take the ziggy zaggy
stony track up the hill and down onto the tarmac circuit of
the big lake. Riding this ziggy zaggy track used to be the
height of my ambition on the 26/150. Now I'm taking it in my
stride on a 700c road tyre and 110mm cranks in the dark.
I'll be getting fan mail from Kris Holm at this rate... ;0)
Three quarters of the way round the big lake, I'm battling
head down into a blustery cold wind when for no adequately
explored reason I UPD. There go my vague notions of doing 20
km without a UPD. I remount and continue.
Back near the canoe slalom course, I see a man standing on
the bridge transfixed. My gaze is drawn to a heron on top of
the floodbank, almost exactly at my eye level. The heron is
illuminated by the soft amber glow of the floodlights and
safety lights of the slalom course.
As I approach, the heron turns to face me (I am now riding
down wind) and it spreads its wings and stretches its neck,
looking like a phoenix rising, the undersides of its wings
glowing gold in the reflected light. Silently, it rises
vertically into the darkness. I slow down without even
thinking about the uni, and watch the heron ghost out over
the lake, turn and glide back in. I've seen hundreds, but
this special image was worth the whole ride.
I complete another lap of the lake, so I know I've done at
least 5 km, and probably nearer 6, without a UPD. Then I cut
across to the river bank, and find myself stranded in
deepish sand and gravel which has been raked or harrowed
into narrow ridges and furrows. The UPD, when it comes, is
not entirely unexpected.
Then I ride up the river bank, past the rugby club, where a
few keen souls are still training for their bizarre
minority sport. Next is the sailing club, with its soggy
apron of tyre-rutted grass, where the variable resistance
and lack of illumination conspire to trip me for the fourth
time in the ride.
The last mile or so is easy, although by now I'm starting to
feel tired
- the ride follows an hour long fencing lesson, and I
haven't eaten for about 7 hours. It starts to rain, but
not heavily. I feel vaguely hardy and tough for unicycling
in the dark AND the rain. It sort of justifies the rather
OTT looking helmet.
Back at the car, I discover my computer hasn't been
recording the whole ride. Bizarrely, it shows me
having covered 1.95 miles in 26 minutes at a maximum
speed of 10mph.
--
Mikefule - Roland Hope School of Unicycling
Sometimes I ride like a demon, sometimes like a lemon. It's an L of a
difference.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mikefule's Profile: http://www.unicyclist.com/profile/879
View this thread: http://www.unicyclist.com/thread/29904