A
Andy Chequer
Guest
8am this morning and my bed was like a womb. Rob's already up and about getting ready to go but this
magnetic bed syndrome just won't quit.
So anyway, we're running late. Typical fashion really. We load my car up with the necessaries and
head north - Rob's driving because he doesn't mind driving at 100mph in broad daylight, so we're
likely to be less late than we might be. Suffice it to say the uprated brakes and suspension I
fitted a couple of weeks ago is thoroughly tested and comes up smelling of roses. Bwahahahaa.
We're bound for Winchcombe, near Cheltenham, to attend this
http://www.cc-cc.co.uk/hotnc.asp
And we arrive about half nine and head off. There's a choice of 50 or 100km routes, and we decide to
go for the fifty as seven months of winter and van driving has left me out of shape. I can tell Rob
wants to do the 100, but he's very nice about it. Bless. A good proportion of the route is in fact
tarmac roads, albeit knobbly, back lane Cotswold type roads. However, there's plenty enough off road
to give it a nice mix.
An altercation with a tree in Ashton Woods last week has really mangled Binkie's rear mech and
hanger, so I've decided to use my current hack bike, My rigid Orange Clockwork. It's a very early
one (about 1989 I think) and its old school geomety of slack head and short fork make for a very
rideable beast in this terrain. It's got slick tyres on it but I figure that they'll work better for
today than my knobbies, which I couldn't be bothered to nick off the crocked Binkie anyway. Rob is
also old-schooling it today, riding his old (94ish) IBOC Mongoose carbon.
Turns out the slicks were a tidy choice (er, mostly....) and the first sections of climbing sees me
making steady progress with little rolling resistance and I'm beginning to feel good. We pass some
people on really shiney SC and Specialized (they must advertise in FHM or something) and I feel a
twinge of inner smugness on my 14 year old steel Clockwork. I've got a positive mindset about me and
these hills will be mine.
The route is not waymarked per se, but the directions cards are quite helpful and generally
navigation goes well. There are some vintage motorcyclists bimbling about too, which was interesting
- being overtaken on the trails by a man with a Biggles 'tash on a 70 year old motorcycle is a new
one on me.
What next? I dunno. I think I got the mid-ride mesmer thing going on. The Cotwolds is a really
pretty place to spend time, and I've not been here before to see it in such detail. There's hazy
sunshine afoot as miles tick by, keeping those pedals spinning.
We're descending a hillside towards the midway point and suddenly there's cyclists everywhere. Loads
of the buggers. I think what happened was that we'd rejoined the route for the 100km stage and we've
got a load of the fastest riders from that stage at the midway point where nice people have put out
buns and tea for smelly cycling types. There's an interesting array of machinery here - people are
generally riding this event on hardtail MTBs, though there are cyclocross machines and even an
elderly Holdsworth road bike.
Anyways, more riding, and I'm begginning to realise what a cunning idea these suspension forks are.
There's some really quite knobbly downhills to contend with and I'm feeling every inch of it. I find
that with a rigid fork over really rough terrain, you need to keep a grip on the bars that is loose
enough to avoid getting Vibration White Finger, but tight enough so the bars don't jump out of your
hand when you hit larger rocks. I'm trying to Zen my way down but by the end of a lot of the
descents I'm begginning to feel pain (I spent most of yesterday demolishing a stone fireplace so my
forearms were still burning from that). But I get a reprieve as the tarmac sections come to my
rescue and I can ride no-hands and try and get some sensation back.
Homeward bound now and a brief section that traverses a golf course and there are some MXers at this
point. I really don't think that they were supposed to be there - there are kids walking around and
stuff - struck me as very stupid behaviour.
More of that forearm inferno and suddenly there's a bloke with a camera. I'm really not ready to
have my picture taken, as I've really lost the plot big time on the descent (which is in a steep
vee shaped trench) and I'm really kinda plummetting out of control on my geriatric MTB as I
rattle past the
and generally anticipating hitting the ground with my face.
But the whole thing made me feel good. Kind of why it's nice to ride yer bike, after all, think of
all those repeats you're missing on the TV.
In summary,
- I like rigid forks.
- I like suspension forks more.
- Decent canti's stop just as well as V's. And boy does the Orange need some.
- I like the Cotswolds.
- I like non-competitive events, but not races.
- I am still fit enough to ride a bicycle a decent distance.
- I like ladies in Lycra.
- I like Bananas, but fig rolls have greater impact toughness.
- I like hazy sunshine rides that don't let you get too hot or cold.
Enough typing already. Coming soon, Chequer rides a Polaris and wields a digging implement in the
name of trail building.
Andy Chequer.
magnetic bed syndrome just won't quit.
So anyway, we're running late. Typical fashion really. We load my car up with the necessaries and
head north - Rob's driving because he doesn't mind driving at 100mph in broad daylight, so we're
likely to be less late than we might be. Suffice it to say the uprated brakes and suspension I
fitted a couple of weeks ago is thoroughly tested and comes up smelling of roses. Bwahahahaa.
We're bound for Winchcombe, near Cheltenham, to attend this
http://www.cc-cc.co.uk/hotnc.asp
And we arrive about half nine and head off. There's a choice of 50 or 100km routes, and we decide to
go for the fifty as seven months of winter and van driving has left me out of shape. I can tell Rob
wants to do the 100, but he's very nice about it. Bless. A good proportion of the route is in fact
tarmac roads, albeit knobbly, back lane Cotswold type roads. However, there's plenty enough off road
to give it a nice mix.
An altercation with a tree in Ashton Woods last week has really mangled Binkie's rear mech and
hanger, so I've decided to use my current hack bike, My rigid Orange Clockwork. It's a very early
one (about 1989 I think) and its old school geomety of slack head and short fork make for a very
rideable beast in this terrain. It's got slick tyres on it but I figure that they'll work better for
today than my knobbies, which I couldn't be bothered to nick off the crocked Binkie anyway. Rob is
also old-schooling it today, riding his old (94ish) IBOC Mongoose carbon.
Turns out the slicks were a tidy choice (er, mostly....) and the first sections of climbing sees me
making steady progress with little rolling resistance and I'm beginning to feel good. We pass some
people on really shiney SC and Specialized (they must advertise in FHM or something) and I feel a
twinge of inner smugness on my 14 year old steel Clockwork. I've got a positive mindset about me and
these hills will be mine.
The route is not waymarked per se, but the directions cards are quite helpful and generally
navigation goes well. There are some vintage motorcyclists bimbling about too, which was interesting
- being overtaken on the trails by a man with a Biggles 'tash on a 70 year old motorcycle is a new
one on me.
What next? I dunno. I think I got the mid-ride mesmer thing going on. The Cotwolds is a really
pretty place to spend time, and I've not been here before to see it in such detail. There's hazy
sunshine afoot as miles tick by, keeping those pedals spinning.
We're descending a hillside towards the midway point and suddenly there's cyclists everywhere. Loads
of the buggers. I think what happened was that we'd rejoined the route for the 100km stage and we've
got a load of the fastest riders from that stage at the midway point where nice people have put out
buns and tea for smelly cycling types. There's an interesting array of machinery here - people are
generally riding this event on hardtail MTBs, though there are cyclocross machines and even an
elderly Holdsworth road bike.
Anyways, more riding, and I'm begginning to realise what a cunning idea these suspension forks are.
There's some really quite knobbly downhills to contend with and I'm feeling every inch of it. I find
that with a rigid fork over really rough terrain, you need to keep a grip on the bars that is loose
enough to avoid getting Vibration White Finger, but tight enough so the bars don't jump out of your
hand when you hit larger rocks. I'm trying to Zen my way down but by the end of a lot of the
descents I'm begginning to feel pain (I spent most of yesterday demolishing a stone fireplace so my
forearms were still burning from that). But I get a reprieve as the tarmac sections come to my
rescue and I can ride no-hands and try and get some sensation back.
Homeward bound now and a brief section that traverses a golf course and there are some MXers at this
point. I really don't think that they were supposed to be there - there are kids walking around and
stuff - struck me as very stupid behaviour.
More of that forearm inferno and suddenly there's a bloke with a camera. I'm really not ready to
have my picture taken, as I've really lost the plot big time on the descent (which is in a steep
vee shaped trench) and I'm really kinda plummetting out of control on my geriatric MTB as I
rattle past the
and generally anticipating hitting the ground with my face.
But the whole thing made me feel good. Kind of why it's nice to ride yer bike, after all, think of
all those repeats you're missing on the TV.
In summary,
- I like rigid forks.
- I like suspension forks more.
- Decent canti's stop just as well as V's. And boy does the Orange need some.
- I like the Cotswolds.
- I like non-competitive events, but not races.
- I am still fit enough to ride a bicycle a decent distance.
- I like ladies in Lycra.
- I like Bananas, but fig rolls have greater impact toughness.
- I like hazy sunshine rides that don't let you get too hot or cold.
Enough typing already. Coming soon, Chequer rides a Polaris and wields a digging implement in the
name of trail building.
Andy Chequer.
