Last night was social night. My first ever with my new club. I like saying that, "my club". It gives me a proud glow of satisfaction, a sense of belonging and a feeling of commitment. I am now officially a proper cyclist not just a commuter. That's what it does for me.
So, the meet being in Warrington at 8pm I opted to drop in to my in laws who live the other side of W from the meet up point. This turned out to be a most excellent plan as my 16 year old nephew likes to bake. Apple cake to eat in and lemon drizzle to take away. Add to that a cuppa and some great company from nephew and SIL Heather and all was lovely. I had printed myself directions to get to the club and allowed 30% more time than google suggested and off I went. Discovered a lot of interesting back roads but found the sports club in the end. Went upstairs to find the bar and hadn't a clue who I was looking for. Back down the stairs and asked at reception. Followed directions and was somewhat taken aback by what I saw. Men. Nothing but men. Lots of men. Ages from maybe 30 through to potentially 70 (this could be an exaggeration). Absolutely terrifying to try to walk into that group unsure of myself. Fortunately there at the bar was Karl, the rider I'd met twice before, once on my first club run at Wildboorclough and secondly at Llandegla when nobody else turned up. Fortified with an orange juice and lemonade and with Karl by my side I advanced into the group seeking a chair. In honesty I have to say not one welcoming glance / eye contact from this group of strangers, not a warm smile. However, I have a right to be here so I plonk myself down and focus on intermittent chat with Karl and checking out my surroundings while waiting for the speakers.
Three really informative chats from club members, first one on Audaxes (these sound like the cycling geek's equivalent of heaven), second on Go Race, an initiative headed up by my own organisation I knew nothing about and third Time Trials (the traditional blazer wearer's cycling option). All in all, I warmed to the place, laughed, even spoke to a stranger and paid up my membership fee.
I am a club member.
Wednesday, 14 September 2011
Monday, 5 September 2011
Lantern Pike
Having made some somewhat rickety plans for the weekend involving Penmachno trail and camping, Friday night loomed, and the weather looked dodgy so opted to stay in Friday with a box of red wine at my side and get out Saturday somewhere local instead.
I decided to try out another of the magnificent Henry Tindell Mountain bike routes. This is his ace little book on Amazon. Outside of that, the man appears to have no fame and fortune.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mountain-Bike-Guide-North-Midlands/dp/0948153776
His books include little throwaway comments such as "requires skill and stamina", and you know damn well that if that's the case one or other will eventually fail you and you'll end up pushing the bike. But it does give a girl something to aim for. Opted for his lovely little route starting at Roman Lakes
http://www.romanlakes.co.uk/
Doesn't it look lovely? Reality is it's basic but has everything you could need. Parking, toilets and a kiosk selling tea in polystyrene cups to be drunk on the outdoor picnic tables. A darling little route took me round by Rowarth and lovely sounding places such as Lantern Pike. One day I will learn that the word "Pike" in an English place name generally means highest place around, watch out for exposure and climbing. For there was much climbing and also pushing of bike.
It was just over half way, outside this lovely place that some kind of minor disaster struck. http://www.moorfieldarms.com/ not quite a puncture but not quite manageable. On trying to pump up a slightly soggy tyre, the valve came off the inner tube in my hands. Took the wind right out of my sails. Shoulders sag, the works, even though in reality the change of tube only takes ten minutes tops, and the weather wasn't bucketing down.
Some navigational defects (oops) led me the wrong way around a golf course so I ended up sailing down steps which were very long and very many in quantity before sloughing round to some cottages and getting myself back on track. I can, however say the best fun descent of the day was coming down from Linnett Clough scout camp down a rocky muddy downwards bound bridleway and encountering scout patrol after scout patrol. Leaders had them gently scatter to either side and on sailed I. Back to the end for a nice cup of tea and a deep breath.
I decided to try out another of the magnificent Henry Tindell Mountain bike routes. This is his ace little book on Amazon. Outside of that, the man appears to have no fame and fortune.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mountain-Bike-Guide-North-Midlands/dp/0948153776
His books include little throwaway comments such as "requires skill and stamina", and you know damn well that if that's the case one or other will eventually fail you and you'll end up pushing the bike. But it does give a girl something to aim for. Opted for his lovely little route starting at Roman Lakes
http://www.romanlakes.co.uk/
Doesn't it look lovely? Reality is it's basic but has everything you could need. Parking, toilets and a kiosk selling tea in polystyrene cups to be drunk on the outdoor picnic tables. A darling little route took me round by Rowarth and lovely sounding places such as Lantern Pike. One day I will learn that the word "Pike" in an English place name generally means highest place around, watch out for exposure and climbing. For there was much climbing and also pushing of bike.
It was just over half way, outside this lovely place that some kind of minor disaster struck. http://www.moorfieldarms.com/ not quite a puncture but not quite manageable. On trying to pump up a slightly soggy tyre, the valve came off the inner tube in my hands. Took the wind right out of my sails. Shoulders sag, the works, even though in reality the change of tube only takes ten minutes tops, and the weather wasn't bucketing down.
Some navigational defects (oops) led me the wrong way around a golf course so I ended up sailing down steps which were very long and very many in quantity before sloughing round to some cottages and getting myself back on track. I can, however say the best fun descent of the day was coming down from Linnett Clough scout camp down a rocky muddy downwards bound bridleway and encountering scout patrol after scout patrol. Leaders had them gently scatter to either side and on sailed I. Back to the end for a nice cup of tea and a deep breath.
Monday, 29 August 2011
Club ride
So, there being a distinct shortage of people to go mountain biking with, I did some research and came up with the possibility of joining a club. Somewhat apprehensive in case they are all fit and fast and I hold the group up, I went for my first club ride with North Cheshire Clarion on Sunday. Wildboarclough, a ride billed as 20 miles long. Well, that shouldn't be a problem, thinks me. Say we set off by 10am, back to the pub for 1pm. But indeed no, it was not to be, and 5 hours duration later we got back to the pub, muddy and happy. I think.
I enjoyed it. Weirdly the club ride turned out to be the ride leader, a club member who hadn't been out for a good while and three newbies. It would have been a strangely low turnout, methinks, without the new peeps. And I think it worked, largely. Possibly not for Carl who was young, skinny and kind of fit looking and who rode away, certainly from us two girls, up the hills. Technically none of us were bad, and nobody was so weird that everyone avoided them. In fact, I'd go as far as saying it was a good group and I enjoyed the company of everyone on the outing.
My age and experience and independance does give me away though. Having looked at the route map, I'd also printed it out, highlighed it in red pen, got out a full OS map and put red crosses and dotted lines on that at key points. Well, it was a 30 year old map already held together with sellotape and I did have a second one of the same area at home so figured a little map defacing wasn't going to end the world. And indeed did kind of show up my scary independant stand alone streak when we found ourselves somewhat confused by where we were, having taken a wrongish turning somewhere. We were on the edge of the map print out, and the edge of the map the leader had. When I say on the edge, we were over the edge. The only thing to do was fess up, get out the big map and have a discussion. So then everyone knew. I was weird enough to bring map and compass, and the ability to use them. As I explained, I'm used to going out on my own or having to take responsibility for myself and I wasn't about to abscond from that responsibility on a group ride. And there was me, trying to blend in. I did a good sales job though on selling them the merits of the Nav course at Plas y Brenin.
I enjoyed it. Weirdly the club ride turned out to be the ride leader, a club member who hadn't been out for a good while and three newbies. It would have been a strangely low turnout, methinks, without the new peeps. And I think it worked, largely. Possibly not for Carl who was young, skinny and kind of fit looking and who rode away, certainly from us two girls, up the hills. Technically none of us were bad, and nobody was so weird that everyone avoided them. In fact, I'd go as far as saying it was a good group and I enjoyed the company of everyone on the outing.
My age and experience and independance does give me away though. Having looked at the route map, I'd also printed it out, highlighed it in red pen, got out a full OS map and put red crosses and dotted lines on that at key points. Well, it was a 30 year old map already held together with sellotape and I did have a second one of the same area at home so figured a little map defacing wasn't going to end the world. And indeed did kind of show up my scary independant stand alone streak when we found ourselves somewhat confused by where we were, having taken a wrongish turning somewhere. We were on the edge of the map print out, and the edge of the map the leader had. When I say on the edge, we were over the edge. The only thing to do was fess up, get out the big map and have a discussion. So then everyone knew. I was weird enough to bring map and compass, and the ability to use them. As I explained, I'm used to going out on my own or having to take responsibility for myself and I wasn't about to abscond from that responsibility on a group ride. And there was me, trying to blend in. I did a good sales job though on selling them the merits of the Nav course at Plas y Brenin.
Monday, 22 August 2011
Riding pretty
Finally, the bike got dusted off, I dusted myself down and lo and behold we left the house together. Perched the bike on the rack on the back of the car and took myself off to Culcheth for a spot of sneaky parking village centre.
This was a new thing for me. Taking the hybrid out on the road, not for a journey to get to somewhere but for leisure, even for fun, if you like. Not done that before.
The thing is, I'm trying to join a cycling club. I want to belong to a club so I have people to go mountain biking with, people who will stretch me perhaps, add a social element to occasions and have good regular reliability for riding in and around my area. Also I want to know what cyclocross is and if I could do it.
My chosen club is: this one:
http://www.northcheshireclarion.co.uk/
They have sections in all kinds of cycling, regular runs, and mid week evening club meets with information. They also have club colours but I'm not sure about them. In contacting them they seem nice, welcoming, informative, they actually respond to e-mails and are not snotty about my lack of ability, just asking questions to establish information, nothing more unpleasant. I anticipate going on my first MTB ride with them next weekend.
But one thing they did was flag up that my hybrid would be welcome on their club runs. If of course the rider was up to it. I have no idea what my average speed is, and realised it needs to be 16mph on the road to be comfortable in that company. So, one way to find out, test it out. Found some maps of their club runs and gave one a lonesome test run:
http://bikeroutetoaster.com/culcheth
Actually I did kind of enjoy it. The lanes are obviously something they've selected through experience; traffic is light, gradients are manageable and the views are lovely. Never felt in danger or even threatened by fellow road users. I did wonder though if others doing similar routes go in a clockwise direction such was the volume of cyclists seen coming the other way.
I'm not at race pace for their Saturday ride though. Another club sped past me like I was stationary on the way up to Warburton Bridge, which was cool to go over, given that in the car it costs 12p a journey - it's free to go by bike!
This was a new thing for me. Taking the hybrid out on the road, not for a journey to get to somewhere but for leisure, even for fun, if you like. Not done that before.
The thing is, I'm trying to join a cycling club. I want to belong to a club so I have people to go mountain biking with, people who will stretch me perhaps, add a social element to occasions and have good regular reliability for riding in and around my area. Also I want to know what cyclocross is and if I could do it.
My chosen club is: this one:
http://www.northcheshireclarion.co.uk/
They have sections in all kinds of cycling, regular runs, and mid week evening club meets with information. They also have club colours but I'm not sure about them. In contacting them they seem nice, welcoming, informative, they actually respond to e-mails and are not snotty about my lack of ability, just asking questions to establish information, nothing more unpleasant. I anticipate going on my first MTB ride with them next weekend.
But one thing they did was flag up that my hybrid would be welcome on their club runs. If of course the rider was up to it. I have no idea what my average speed is, and realised it needs to be 16mph on the road to be comfortable in that company. So, one way to find out, test it out. Found some maps of their club runs and gave one a lonesome test run:
http://bikeroutetoaster.com/culcheth
Actually I did kind of enjoy it. The lanes are obviously something they've selected through experience; traffic is light, gradients are manageable and the views are lovely. Never felt in danger or even threatened by fellow road users. I did wonder though if others doing similar routes go in a clockwise direction such was the volume of cyclists seen coming the other way.
I'm not at race pace for their Saturday ride though. Another club sped past me like I was stationary on the way up to Warburton Bridge, which was cool to go over, given that in the car it costs 12p a journey - it's free to go by bike!
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Last night
So, while Manchester and Salford rioted last night, this innocent old lady was out on her bike. I had been contributing to a thread on a climbing forum (stay with me on this), and somebody very very local to me was looking for a club to get back on to his road and MTB in the future. He stipulated easy stuff. I made contact with him to see if he might be interested in an occasional evening MTB ride partner and bingo we're hot to trot.
I selected my partner well. Recovering from serious injury (actually still carrying the prolapsed disc injury), aged 52 and not been on a bike for 6 months. I was gambling that there would be a chance I could stay up. We agreed a time and meeting place just down the road from me and agreed easy stuff, no technical, just off road made up pathways. He advised he normally did about an hour.
This is where I went marginally wrong. I should have a) asked how far he went in an hour and b) established that it was an hour out and an hour back. So I meet the somewhat pleasant chap as planned, almost immediately realising I haven't told a soul where I'm going or who with and in fact could have placed myself in a highly risky situation. But sometimes trust is all you have, and I'm willing to accept my fellow man for being only good.
Off we go, and we set a snappy kind of a pace, although do-able. We hit an uphill road section and I'm in front. By the time we get to the top I'm some way in front. Back on the pathways and as soon as we hit tarmaced paths, he puts the hammer down and I'm not even able to get on his wheel. I'm trying everything at this point as far as both cadence and gearing / power are concerned and no, simply can't do it. Turns out to be a great two hour ride though as he doesn't always put the hammer down, quite often we're a really similar pace, and I don't always leave him on the hills. Combination works out well.
He punctured on his rear wheel and urged me to leave him and simply follow the path home. Naturally I refuse, I mean, us girls just don't do that kind of thing, abandoning a friend (albeit someone who's not a friend quite yet but could be). So I wait. Turns out I do more than wait. Turns out I loan my tyre levers out, I am the one who gets the inner tube in the right way (seriously he was trying to put the valve in from the spoke side), I assist with getting the tyre back on the rim and indeed I'm the one who gets the chain on correctly. I think he may have been delayed a little if I'd left.
It was a lovely two hours and he's mailed to thank me for my mechanical assistance. And then I returned to the reality and horror of rioting in the streets just a couple of miles down the road from me.
I selected my partner well. Recovering from serious injury (actually still carrying the prolapsed disc injury), aged 52 and not been on a bike for 6 months. I was gambling that there would be a chance I could stay up. We agreed a time and meeting place just down the road from me and agreed easy stuff, no technical, just off road made up pathways. He advised he normally did about an hour.
This is where I went marginally wrong. I should have a) asked how far he went in an hour and b) established that it was an hour out and an hour back. So I meet the somewhat pleasant chap as planned, almost immediately realising I haven't told a soul where I'm going or who with and in fact could have placed myself in a highly risky situation. But sometimes trust is all you have, and I'm willing to accept my fellow man for being only good.
Off we go, and we set a snappy kind of a pace, although do-able. We hit an uphill road section and I'm in front. By the time we get to the top I'm some way in front. Back on the pathways and as soon as we hit tarmaced paths, he puts the hammer down and I'm not even able to get on his wheel. I'm trying everything at this point as far as both cadence and gearing / power are concerned and no, simply can't do it. Turns out to be a great two hour ride though as he doesn't always put the hammer down, quite often we're a really similar pace, and I don't always leave him on the hills. Combination works out well.
He punctured on his rear wheel and urged me to leave him and simply follow the path home. Naturally I refuse, I mean, us girls just don't do that kind of thing, abandoning a friend (albeit someone who's not a friend quite yet but could be). So I wait. Turns out I do more than wait. Turns out I loan my tyre levers out, I am the one who gets the inner tube in the right way (seriously he was trying to put the valve in from the spoke side), I assist with getting the tyre back on the rim and indeed I'm the one who gets the chain on correctly. I think he may have been delayed a little if I'd left.
It was a lovely two hours and he's mailed to thank me for my mechanical assistance. And then I returned to the reality and horror of rioting in the streets just a couple of miles down the road from me.
Saturday, 6 August 2011
Tomorrow ... SkyRide
So tomorrow I do something different. I join an organised activity. Lots of people, even ... brrrr ... entertainment en route. Sometimes free water bottles, sometimes music, kids racing, clowns on unicycles, families out having fun, children with their stabilisers on.
For yes, tomorrow, the roads of Manchester are closed (on a selected and carefully planned and stewarded route) and tomorrow, we Sky Ride. I have no idea why I am going. I seriously don't think I'm the target audience because I have no real major fear of roads with cars, so carless isn't really too much of a draw for me. Also it's a family event, there's no dashing about, there's a lot of waiting patiently behind six year olds who can't get up a lot of speed on their bitty little kiddy bikes. But it is fun, it is a lot of fun. And there's that feeling of smugness and pride at being part of something bigger, in showing you stand up for something bigger than you, something you care about passionately.
Tomorrow Manchester Sky Rides.
For yes, tomorrow, the roads of Manchester are closed (on a selected and carefully planned and stewarded route) and tomorrow, we Sky Ride. I have no idea why I am going. I seriously don't think I'm the target audience because I have no real major fear of roads with cars, so carless isn't really too much of a draw for me. Also it's a family event, there's no dashing about, there's a lot of waiting patiently behind six year olds who can't get up a lot of speed on their bitty little kiddy bikes. But it is fun, it is a lot of fun. And there's that feeling of smugness and pride at being part of something bigger, in showing you stand up for something bigger than you, something you care about passionately.
Tomorrow Manchester Sky Rides.
Thursday, 4 August 2011
I digress
I digress. Oh yes I do. For I have been away, and lord forgive me for I have sinned; I did not take the bike. I totally digress. I have been to a music festival. I went, in fact, to Kendal Calling, apparently 2010 small festival of the year or some such voted title that it was proud of. And 2011 Kendal Calling gets my vote. Except for the toilets, they are wayyyyy down the pecking order.
Having discovered on my last random biking, driving and kayaking holiday the unexpected joys and pleasures of taking a solo holiday and actually enjoying the hell out of it, it was with some trepidation I headed off to a festival. Not a new experience for me. You only have to take a look at me and your mind will go, hmm, I bet she's been to a festival or two in her time. And you would not be wrong. This, however was the first middle aged lonesome expedition to a festival. And I had concerns. I worried I would spend three entire days with the only words I spoke being please could I have a pint of XYZ. And thank you. For manners are important. I worried people would be bad to me and my tent when they realised I was alone and defenceless. I worried about meanness of youth.
In reality, all was good. More than good. It was excellent. I could chose which stage I wanted to go to and when. When I got there if I listened to a track or two and wasn't entirely convinced I didn't have to spend any polite time with friends hinting at the fact I thought they were shit - I could just move on. I ate what and when I wanted, likewise drink, likewise bed time and rising time. Couldn't have had a better time. And I did speak to people. People queuing for toilets, people queuing for water, people sharing my tortilla chips.
Marvellous time. But not a cycling related post for which I do apologise. I will get right on it.
Having discovered on my last random biking, driving and kayaking holiday the unexpected joys and pleasures of taking a solo holiday and actually enjoying the hell out of it, it was with some trepidation I headed off to a festival. Not a new experience for me. You only have to take a look at me and your mind will go, hmm, I bet she's been to a festival or two in her time. And you would not be wrong. This, however was the first middle aged lonesome expedition to a festival. And I had concerns. I worried I would spend three entire days with the only words I spoke being please could I have a pint of XYZ. And thank you. For manners are important. I worried people would be bad to me and my tent when they realised I was alone and defenceless. I worried about meanness of youth.
In reality, all was good. More than good. It was excellent. I could chose which stage I wanted to go to and when. When I got there if I listened to a track or two and wasn't entirely convinced I didn't have to spend any polite time with friends hinting at the fact I thought they were shit - I could just move on. I ate what and when I wanted, likewise drink, likewise bed time and rising time. Couldn't have had a better time. And I did speak to people. People queuing for toilets, people queuing for water, people sharing my tortilla chips.
Marvellous time. But not a cycling related post for which I do apologise. I will get right on it.
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