Fear

Mouth dry, heart pumping and all non-vital body functions shut down as I got to a certain point beyond which I knew I couldn't climb back down. The only way onwards was upwards. I fought the mountain, the snow and myself and eventually got up to where everyone was waiting for me. I had done it and conquered my fears. Planning the short route left to the summit I nonchalantly ask which way we will descend- back down the gully that just now nearly broke my will. It turned out easier than I thought but then again I thought it was impossible. It was good to feel the fear and push through it, it was good to get the non-vital body function back.

Spring

Sun shining and dry roads lured my anaemic 45 out of her winter slumber and set us cutting through all of the quietest roads I could find beneath the bare mountain shaped like a chair- also known as Saddleback. I had planned a much longer ride but pissed about too long getting together all the things you take on a ride but never need til you don't take them. It was, of course, biting cold and the cold cut straight through my jeans and well into my knees, staying there long since. It's not like this is the first time this year I've been out on a bike; I've ploughed through some pretty mean weather. But this ride was different. This ride was the beginning of spring.

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.

Mountain

Couldn't go to the Hotrod Hayride for one reason or another so spent the day doing some wholesome stuff. Climbed Blencathra. It was one that I had said for a long time I needed to walk but so far have only been up it on my bicycle. It's a different beast when you walk it. We didn't take the scariest ridge but it's always a challenge to scramble these ridge-lines. The descent pumped my thighs til my kneecaps nearly exploded but left me feeling nicely worked out. Who needs hotrods, booze and rock and roll when you have mountains? Don't answer that.

Holiday Snaps

I can't quite believe that in just 10 days we took about 500 photos; ah the joy of digital photography. Every once in a while it does the soul good to immerse oneself in the great outdoors and do wholesome activities rather than just music and motorbikes. Don't get me wrong- I took a guitar and was pining for a motorbike the whole time. Beyond that we climbed mountains, cycled over big hills, scrambled up and down avalanches (for want of a better word) and finally barbecued on beautiful white sandy beaches while smoking big cigars and drinking fine whiskey. Sure we had midges, a force 11 gail and some rain but I kid you not, the rest of the time was almost tropical. I also came back with some of the finast Harris Tweed known to man to satisfy my cloth fetish.

The End of the Road

I'd been watching far too much TV and I had plenty to get on with, but I also had a very sore head on a very nice day. I had to blast the cobwebs out and get some place, any place... I let the bike take me somewhere- I just shut my brain down and let her ride. The road got narrower and then ran out completeley, turning to the mud left by melted snow. I was cold to the bone with the sun heating up the waxed cotton as I stood still. Five or so paces from the bike I dropped my helmet to the ground, turned and shot from the hip.......