The Highlands

It was shortly after this I found myself neither here nor there. The climb in was endless, mostly carrying my bike but when I stopped to look up and see if I could trace the call of wild stags I was struck by the serenity of being absolutely in the middle of nowhere. The downhill back to what they call civilisation round these parts was awesome bar one unfortunate and rather sudden stoppage in a drainage ditch.

Gash Mechanics Tutorial #1

There are some times where smashing something with a hammer using a knife as a drift is the only way to get the job done.
Bearing destroyed and inner race seized onto the axle in a steel against alloy kind of way. There was the tiniest edge visible and I'd tried all of my flatheads to get at it but to no avail. I'd looked at the knife a coupe of times but dismissed it for being the stupidest solution. Eventually, all other avenues exhausted, the knife was fucked but the job done. Don't try this at home kids.

Bugger!

The word "bugger" typed itself across my visual memory as I saw the ground looming towards me. At first I was pleased that the front wheel of my bicycle had stopped after the huge drop off, if anything it rolled backwards a little. Unfortunately the rest of the bicycle was still in motion... with me on it. I rolled clear after breaking my fall squarely on my head and counted my lucky stars as they orbited my head punctuated by small tweeting birds. It took a while to shake the ringing noise out of my ears and count my limbs. Nothing broken thankfully. Crash helmet? Wouldn't be without it. Hot bath for sore limbs, cold beer for sore head.

The Moon

I'd love to spend my whole blog talking about music and motorbikes but the plain fact is that I do many other things besides.
A huge portion of my time is spent on a bicycle. I live in the mountains so mountain biking is a bit of a no-brainer; it keeps me fit and it's a thrill buzzing down hills at speed. Mountain bikers are also a good laugh. They're not completely obsessed with fitness and they like a drink- my kind of people.
I've just come back from a week in southern Spain in the Alpujarra mountains. Its a crazy area of winding hairpins, precipitous gorges and the best mountain-biking I have ever done. I was a bit annoyed that I had to put gears on my bike (even though I could only get 6 on) but after the first day I was glad of it... before every amazing downhill there is usually a punishing climb.
This picture was taken after a gruelling 10k road climb from a ski resort to the top of the Valetta pass. I managed it without a stop but it nearly killed me, not least because the air was quite thin at the top. The payoff was a 40k downhill from the moonscape at the top, through sweeping double-track, into rocky medieval roads and finally to fast single-track through forests, scrub and farmland. I was shaken to bits by the end of it but was high on endorphins. Cooling off in the pool with a beer was the perfect end to the ride. There were four other days of equally awesome riding and a day spent abseiling through a canyon. I would recommend it to anyone... www.ciclomontana.com.

Airshow

Went for a cycle around the beautiful sunny Lake District on the other side of Windermere from all the tourists to watch a Vulcan Bomber slowly and gracefully dance over-head.

Followed by the Red Arrows weaving their intricate lattice across the sky.


Ending up back at home firing up the home-made chiminea, drinking beer and eating meat.

Sunrise

6.30 this morning and I'm being gently prodded back to life after half a bottle of whiskey finally dispatched me to bed at 2am this same morning. I'm not a morning person at the best of times so this morning was never going to be easy. Nonetheless I got up-and-at-em with little fuss. I fought to put on the muddy, wet gear from the fast, loose and muddy ride to the remote hostel and put on what dry gear I brought with me while trying to defend myself against daggers from people who don't think they snore- I myself heard snoring in the bunk room before I found what little sleep I was going to get so I can't be totally to blame. The cold, dark morning was quite a contrast to last nights rain followed by mist followed by dense cloud followed by lashing rain and the onward ride, for once, was mostly downhill- a payoff for last nights hellish climb. Lights lit and we push off into what was shortly to become a fine sunrise; the four of us all had to be at work despite the previous nights partying. My bike cut through the trail like a dagger with only the distant clicking of the freewheel and scuffing of the singletrack coming through the din of the wind rushing past my ears. Thankfully I found the culprit of the maddening front brake squeek that was torturing me over the weekend; brand new brake pads dragging their leading edge against the front disk. I chamfered the edges like you have to do on old Harley drum brakes, problem solved and sanity saved. Slabs of jagged rock and freshly swollen rivers punctuate the flowing trail as the rhythm gets faster til i'm going as fast as I dare down the last death-or-glory descent. Once again I didn't die and once again the glory is purely personal. People just don't get it unless they themselves do it so there's little point in trying to regale them with the stories. I'm content; the meal we went there for was nothing short of a miracle, the company was excellent and I got five minutes of peace this morning for the zen hosing down of the bike. One day I'll try to explain why I ride a single-speed in the mountains but I'll have to figure that out for myself first.