For the benefit of Shaun who couldn't make it, and anyone else interested in reading a poorly
constructed RR here's a summary of last Sundays ride shenanigans.
Setting off from Cilcain (near Mold) our route guide suggested parking in the village car-park,
however a friendly sign stated that 'This car-park is for users of the village hall only and the
gates may be locked at any time without warning'. Not wanting to meet the wrath of Welsh jumble
salers and tea morningers' we opted to park on the road. The route started with a steep road climb
so naturally we parked at the top of this. After several false-starts involving a field, a horse and
a farmer we set off in the opposite direction down a nice rough track, ominously peering at the
foggy hills around us and crunching through ice-filled puddles. A bit of climbing was followed by a
fast descent which soon disintergrated into a muddy track, then gave up all pretence and turned into
a river. A swift road descent was then followed by a not-quite-swift climb back up, re-joining the
path we had headed down. Startling us out of our crawl uphill a low flying bird buzzed by, a
large(ish) bird of prey, I was treated to watching it circling nearby for a minute before it perched
on a dead tree. I'll say it was a Hen Harrier at the moment although Red Kites are sometimes seen in
this area.
Carrying on up we headed onto a rooty muddy path which divided, one route heading down and one up. A
quick discussion later we headed down, following another couple of riders. The path was covered in
leaves so it was impossible to see what was beneath, which somehow made it easier to ride fast and
ping off the hidden rocks and roots. A fun descent indeed. We stopped for a sandwich overlooking the
valley and as the day had brightened up we could see for miles. Apparently you can see as far as
Snowdon from this point, but as we couldn't even decide which mountain was Snowdon when we were
riding up it last month we resorted to pointing at the highest mountain we could see.
We continued riding around the side of the mountain, deep mud in places made the going slow but fun.
Eventually we came to a car park at the top of a forest, the route guide suggested taking the left
hand path through the forest and down to the road below, but I knew we could do better. Passing by
several vans full of armour clad DH'ers fettling their monster bikes my brother gave me a few
nervous glances as I told him I knew a good little path which wound its way down the forest
hillside. A short but familiar climb led to the entrance of a path running off, twisting down the
hill out of sight. For some reason at this point I managed to get a flat tyre. While I was changing
it the riders we had seen at the car park arrived at the top and pulled on their full-face helmets
and goggles, looking at us in bemusement. My brother was looking distictly worried. The scousers
track at Nannerch is infamous in the UK and is used by many DH'ers as a training run, its route
littered with jumps and steep drop-offs. 10 minutes later words such as 'bonkers', 'absoloutely
stupid' and 'how do more people not die here?' were uttered, but I reckon on being the first peson
to make it down on a rigid bike with a map-holder on the bars.
Arms pumped we picked up a track off the road at the bottom which soon had us back to normality. The
track narrowed to singletrack which would have been excellent if the trails were a little drier, but
still provided much enjoyment. Rejoining the traill we set-off on we sped back over the rocky track
flinging mud as we went, racing the sun as it neared the horizon.
Steve.