The most wonderful time of the year

10/10/2011 by Missus Toast.

Regular readers will know that, for the past two years, I’ve spent most of the winter suffering from a recurring chest infection.  I was hoping that this winter I’d manage to avoid it, but last week I started to feel a bit iffy.  I actually had to have some time off work as I sweated, coughed and snuffled, hoping that I’d feel better by the weekend.  I didn’t.  Instead, I spent most of the weekend sleeping, with occasional breaks in my busy sleeping schedule to watch Fringe, Supernatural, and to make pathetic whimpering noises at Mr Toast.

Izzy from PR has an interesting theory.  We work in the games industry, where women make up a paltry 6% of the dev force.  This means we are surrounded by men.  The theory is this:  by such excessive exposure to men, we have become susceptible to man-flu.  And thinking about it, it’s the only possible explanation - when I was younger, I would have laughed in your face if you’d suggested I’d be taking time off work because of a cold.  A bit snuffly?  Sore throat?  Hacking cough?  Headache? Pah!  Deal with it!  Nowadays I get a cold and it feels like I’m one step away from shuffling off the mortal coil.

So, no biking this weekend.  Biked into work this morning and am currently ‘interestingly phlegmy’. Hard to believe it was only the weekend before we were biking in Wales in the glorious warmth.

In an effort to improve my health, I’m also trying to lose weight.  I’m hoping that public shame will help motivate me, so… I’m currently 11 stone 4, trying to get to sub-10 stone.  I’ve always struggled with my weight - being 5ft 2 means that I don’t have a huge margin for error, and I really, really like cake.  And cheese.  And I hate fruit.  To give you an idea of how much I hate fruit - if there’s a dessert, an ice-cream sundae, or a cheesecake, for example - and it has been soiled with fruit, I will shove the fruit off to the side, grimacing.  Rasperries?  Strawberries?  Blueberries?  Bleugh!  And why ruin a good crumble with apple?

Yes, I’m aware that my hatred of fruit and my chronic immune system may not be entirely unrelated…

And on another unrelated note, some trailbuilders in Sandwell are trying to secure funding to built some trails.  You should vote for them! The more legal trails that are about, the more people can get introduced to mountain biking, which is ace.

Posted in Whinging, Who ate all the pies?, Trail building, Mountain Biking | 3 Comments »

Map of Joy: Volume III, Update IV

05/10/2011 by Missus Toast.

Now with added Welsh Lovespoon!

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01/10/11: Missus Nanty Pants

04/10/2011 by Missus Toast.

So despite threatening to go to Coed-y-Brenin for three years, on Saturday we found ourselves with the good crew of Chase Trails over Nant-yr-Arian.  This was highly unusual, as it involved me getting out of bed before 11am on a Saturday.  Had to get up at 6am, to be exact, which is practically the middle of the night.

We sallied forth in the bleak autumny weather… oh no, wait, it was blue skies and 26 degrees.  I don’t know what’s going on with the weather, but I’m not complaining.  It was fantastic.

Approaching Nant-y-Arian a few things became clear.  One, the locals in the surrounding villages really don’t like pylons or wind turbines.  Two, despite the presence of nearby turbines, red kites clearly don’t give a crap.  Three, Red Kites are ruddy huge.  Four… the hills are also quite large.

After purchasing the obligatory souvenir for the Map of Joy (see the following post…), it was off up the Summit Trail.  There was the expected long fireroad climb at the start, then we were off down the Italian Job.  I gloriously minced down the trail.  I believe I’ve mentioned before that I’m not a morning person, so suddenly being faced with being on a large hill after getting up at six and driving for three hours and it not even being past noon was more than my tiny brain could cope with.  The trail is sturdy and not overly technical, but OMG IT’S ON A HILL!  What if I fall off the side and fall to my death?  Mr Toast can’t drive, how will he get home?  So off I hopped at the slightest obstacle, whimpering internally.  And externally.  Step up?  Do not want.  No, I don’t care if it’s only three inches high, there’s a root after it - what if I hit the root AND DIE?  Rocky steps?  No, I don’t care if they’re comparable to the steps on Tackaroo, I can do those but these ones are MADE OF ROCK!  What if I faceplant?  It’s only the first section!  I’ll spoil it for everybody!

Obviously everyone else was fine, with most of the boys throwing themselves over an optional feature for filming pleasure.  Sadly our little point and click camera struggles with the sheer majesty of Gnar, so most of the action shots came out blurry.

Nant-yr-Arian is very pretty.  Lots of nice views, and quite a variety too - woodland, moorland, hills, lakes.  Why, just look at this attractive group of folk enjoying the scenery.

I generally forget that Mr Toast is quite tall.  Photos like this remind me.

There’s quite a lot of fireroad from one section of singletrack to another, the one leading to Mark of Zorro being quite loose and Peak Districty.  I’m never comfortable with these kinds of trails as I don’t feel even remotely happy going down them with any speed, but the slower you go the more shaky it feels.  Plus there are distractions.  Not to sound too Welsh, but there are really pretty sheep around here - perfectly white and fluffy, very posh looking.  However, they do also look a bit Black Metal.  Let’s look at the evidence.

Deathly pallor?  Black eyes and mouth? Yes, there’s no doubt about it.  Nanty sheep are proper grim and frostbitten, and liable to start singing about Satan any minute now.

Moving swiftly on (or not so swiftly, it was a bit hilly) we hit the Mark of Zorro.  This section was a huge amount of fun - I perhaps enjoyed it so much as I was finally getting into the swing of things, plus going through the woods meant that everything was under a nice carpet of friendly pine needles.  Emerged with a huge grin on my face… until we hit The Leg Burner.  The Leg Burner isn’t steep, and it’s in a straight line…but, by Zeus, does it outstay its welcome. There’s a brief but ultimately pointless respite in the form of Emmanuelle, which most of the locals dismissed as being not worth the diversion.    On the plus side, when you get to the top there’s a viewpoint with a nice mosiac that says how humans ‘burrowed for silver and lead’.   I did take some pictures, but they don’t really do it justice.

Eventually you end up at Drunken Druid, which has its moments of joy but also a horrible incline that I nearly made it up but ultimately failed. The end of it has a few rock gardens that I rode quite happily… well, I didn’t die… which left me pondering if I could manage the three on the Monkey.  I’ve done the second one once, really need to get around to riding the Monkey again…

High as a Kite winds through the trees back to the Forestry centre, and I rode it relatively speedily, albeit with a few squeals.  Roots, you see.

After a ham sandwich and a cup of tea, it was time for round two, this time tackling the Pendam trail.  Pendam takes in some of the Summit sections, adds a few of its own but misses out on The Leg Burner and is generally a bit shorter and less demanding.  By this time I was fairly comfortable with the notion of hilly death, and rode all of The Italian Job (with the exception of the crap step up).  I realised that my comrades were filming my efforts, so I took comfort in the fact that even if I messed it up and faceplanted, at least Chase Trails could get £250 from You’ve Been Framed.  Fortunately (or not for Chase Trails) I didn’t mess up - my weight was a bit far forward so I didn’t exactly ride it gracefully, but I never felt unbalanced or like I was going to come off.  Which was nice.

The main diversion of Pendam was by the lake, where it goes its own way from The Summit Trail to Hippity Hop, The Spine and The Camel’s Hump.  Passing the lake was thoroghly entertaining, as by this time a group of enterprising young lads had strapped various buoyant items to cheap bikes and were proceeding to launch themselves into the lake off a ramp.  As one of our group remarked, Jackass has a lot to answer for.  Hippity Hop was good fun, lots of jumps (as you’d expect from the name), as was The Spine.  Wasn’t quite as keen on the Camel’s Hump as it was a bit looser, and I’m a massive lamer. There was the tail end of the climb back up to Drunken Druid, and the end was the same as the Summit Trail.

Knees played up slightly on the climbs, but my biggest issue was the descents.   After a short while, I had the same burning sensation in my left leg that I had at Glentress.  I don’t know whether it’s a matter of bad positioning (the pain varies between being right above my knee to being further up my thigh depending on where I have my weight), or whether they just need building up.

I really enjoyed Nanty, and felt it was well worth the drive.  Not too technical, but enough to keep it interesting, particularly if you’re going fast.  There’s a lot of fireroad and bridleway, but I think that with the Chase we’re massively spoilt in that respect - there’s really not a lot of non-singletrack stuff on FtD.  Normally if there’s a lot of climbing or fireroad sections I get a bit stroppy and feel like it wasn’t really worth it (hello Mabie), but Nanty’s singletrack sections were thoroughly good fun.  Everyone was very friendly too, even the guy who’d managed to snap a crank (not a euphemism) was still smiling.

Got back home at nine in the evening, had a bath and a bowl of Shreddies, then promptly passed out for 12 hours.  Awoke on Sunday with my knees, thighs, arms and back killing me.  Would I do it again?  Definitely!

Ride: Nant yr Arian

Trail: The Summit (morning), Pendam (afternoon)

Highlights:  Not dying after The Leg Burner, doing the Italian Job properly 2nd time around

Bad bits:  Leg pain. Inability to do hairpin corners.

Post ride food snaffled: Ham sandwich, crisps, salad, tea (between trails)

Good dogs seen: Junior German Shepherd, some fluffy giant Pomeranian…thing.

Posted in Mountain Biking | No Comments »

Vote!

20/09/2011 by Missus Toast.

I thought I’d already posted this, but evidently not!

Chase Trails are through to the final of the National Lottery Awards, and need YOUR vote!  These brave, noble, not to mention attractive volunteers give their time to build and maintain the official trails over the Chase that we know and love, that are enjoyed by the young and the old, the gnar and the… er, not so gnar.  Your vote will help them get the resources to make the trails EVEN BETTER!

VOTE HERE!

Other ways of helping with the trails include joining Chase Trails, helping with the Sunday trail building which meets at Swinnertons 10am every Sunday (or even stopping for a bit to help out if you pass them on your ride), and obeying any diversions and signage that may be up on the trail.  Cake also helps.

Posted in Trail building | No Comments »

18/09/11: Oh hello, Professor

18/09/2011 by Missus Toast.

Poor, poor, Professor. It’s been nearly a month since we’ve been to the Chase due to a fairly life changing event - we’re buying a house! This is awesome, but quite time consuming, so our weekends have been filled with house viewing, form filling, and efforts to destroy the weeds that are triffiding over the garden of our current house.

So today was our first ride in ages. I actually felt a bit queasy and nervous going out, as if either Follow the Dog had gotten harder in our absence, or as if I’d forgotten how to ride a bike. I needn’t have worried though - I actually felt really comfortable and confident, and despite the Chase Trails pixies having been busy the planned spike-filled death pit hasn’t been built yet. I think having a break has actually done my legs some good, I didn’t have any knee or muscle pain and could easily get out of the saddle throughout the ride.

It was good to see a lot of beginners and families out on the trail. It was particularly impressive to see tiny children quite happily tackling the Stegosaur with aplomb. I have to admit, I was also impressed by a dad and his little lad doing section ten. Not only was the tiny lad doing a decent pace, but his dad managed to do pretty much the entire section whilst talking on his mobile phone. I suppose I should have been appalled by his lack of consideration for health and safety, but… he rode the entire section one-handed, whilst holding a conversation on his phone. Like I said… impressive.

Only sour note of the ride was going into the berms just before Werewolf. A rider came barrelling behind me and yelled, “MOVE”. I pulled over just before the last couple of turns before the drop, and the rider went past without so much as a “Thank you”… then proceeded to hop off his bike at Werewolf and walk down. Sir, you are a terrible human being.

Anyhoo, course of action for the next few weeks:

Move house!

But keep riding!

Get my ass out of bed before 11am on a Sunday and help with trail building, particularly now there are Chicken Runs under construction!

Vote for Chase Trails in the lottery awards

But for now, I’m watching The Day After Tomorrow. It kind of sucks.

Posted in Mountain Biking | 1 Comment »

Map of Joy: Volume III, Update III

18/09/2011 by Missus Toast.

…aaand post-Sleepless!

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Map of Joy: Volume III, Update II

18/09/2011 by Missus Toast.

Retroactive update ahoy!  From post-Scotland…

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Sleepless in the Saddle: Hit the lights

16/08/2011 by Missus Toast.

This year saw my first ever mountain bike race. It also saw my second - as previously mentioned, in a fit of madness, I’d volunteered my services for Sleepless in the Saddle.Sleepless is a little different from Mountain Mayhem. For a start, the maximum team size is five, rather than ten. It also a bit smaller, and quite a bit less hilly. I loved it.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Mayhem, and fully intend to do it again next year, but I found the course was there to be endured rather than enjoyed. Sleepless’ course was swift, swoopy, and bloody good fun! It started well with me actually sleeping on the Friday. My teammates commented on the marked difference between my cheery disposition on the Saturday morning, compared to my surly and possibly nearly murderous demeanour on the first day of Mountain Mayhem.

I was up fourth for our team, the noble Chase Trails Pixies. We had wings and everything.

It was about 5-ish when I started my first lap, I think, and although it had been sunny all day it was starting to cloud over. With some warnings about loose corners fresh in my mind, I set off into the unknown. Generally I got on very well with the course - the climbs were relatively short, the descents not too gnarly, and the singletrack tight and fluid. There were a few rooty corners that caused me a bit off grief, and I nearly had a comedy moment on a sharp turn after a descent, but otherwise I could ride it quite merrily.The only other issues I had on the first lap were a couple of Elite Riders barging past me,the one forcing his way in front just as I approached the triple down, causing me to brake right on the edge. I stood at the edge, rolled back a little, then rolled down. It was a slope, really nowhere near as harsh as the ones at Mayhem. Yay!

The other issue was the weather - I was a good way around and on one of the later climbs up a field when the heavens opened. I muttered darkly, wondering what I’d done to upset the god of 24 hour racing. The last woody section was a bit slimy and began to remind me of Mountain Mayhem.  I approached the end soaking and a little bit narked, failing to get around the uppy downy hairpin bit - given it was a bit slidey I was worried about bombing down the slopes to catapault myself up the next.  Truth be told, I’ve been slightly worried about these sorts of things ever since my spectacular off last year under similar circumstances, so I tend to take them more cautiously, and not quite make it up the other side as a result.  Small children mocked my inability to reach the top.  “Mommy, mommy, why did she stop?”

As I rolled over the line to complete my first lap, I began to feel slightly anxious about my impending night lap.  This unease wasn’t helped by both Liam (my Pixie successor) and Mr Toast (racing his second lap for the Chase Trail Trolls) posting mammoth times - the mud had turned severely claggy, and was blocking forks, mechs, chainstays, and was generally a pain in the arse.

After setting up my lights, I grabbed a couple of hours sleep, and woke at midnight to Mr Toast having a mild rant about me misplacing lights. Suddenly the cold, harsh reality that I was about to do my first ever night ride, on an unfamiliar course, and probably a massive mud bath. I took it with my usual stoicism, and promptly started weeping quietly in our tent.

I was cheered slightly by the reassurances that it had dried up a lot, and was actually riding quite nicely. I also have to give massive thanks to the Clan Pearson, who had the foresight to bring spare gloves - mine still hadn’t dried from my first lap!Abby came in, and off I went. I wiggled the lights around, trying to get the optimum coverage. I had my one and only off of the race on one of the earlier woody sections, as I swooped into it and promptly fell sideways after hitting a root. As I rode, I realised that night riding didn’t mean imminent death. It wasn’t only doable. It was actually… Fun!

Riders seemed to be a bit more aggressive and surly at night, and I spent even more time than usual pulled over letting people past - I was being a bit more cautious on that front. However, when I was riding it felt as if I was going faster, and I felt a bit more confident as I knew what to expect from the first lap. I did have to strip a few layers, which was a decidedly surreal experience: It’s one in the morning, I’m riding my bike in a race, I’m on the top of a hill, I’ve got a light strapped to my head, I’m taking off a couple of tops, and other riders are passing comment on my wings.I passed the baton to Liam, grinning and telling him how awesome the course was riding - my dreaded night lap had actually been far more entertaining than my first lap, down to being drier and knowing what the course actually involved. And then it was off to bed, trying not shine the torch in the face of the snoozing Mr Toast.

I awoke later in the morning to blue skies and sun, ready for porridge and my third lap. Given that we were all getting a bit knackered by this point, we were instructed to take our time getting around, so the earlier riders wouldn’t be forced into doing additional laps. So although I went as speedily as I could through the singletrack sections, I did my team proud by doing the climbs very… very… slowly. And stopping on hills, admiring the view. It was a tough job, but somehow I managed it. I still came in faster than I expected - I honestly thought I’d taken at least two hours - it was my longest lap though.

I finished my lap and then had the best.  Shower.  Ever.  I’d take this opportunity to post a picture of me riding triumphantly, but, as with Mountain Mayhem, I managed to avoid every single race photographer.  So, here’s the Professor:

All in all a huge amount of fun though - a great atmosphere with most people being patient, encouraging and friendly (and the wings got a lot of comments), and obviously awesome teammates.  Good to see some of the other teams there too, including the Grimey Limeys and the Swinnertons.  Also, lots of awesome dogs - the sausage dogs being a particular favourite.  I’m hoping that next year I’ll be a bit fitter and better at climbs, and generally faster.  Best start training!

Posted in Sleepless in the Saddle, Mountain Biking | 1 Comment »

Three Years!

11/08/2011 by Missus Toast.

Yes, a horribly late update again, I know!

Last month for our anniversary we went, as always, to Scotland.  Every year is good fun, but this year was particularly entertaining as my fitness is the highest it’s ever been.  It really does make a huge difference, and this time around we ended up riding every day.  I was quite chuffed because I rode a lot of stuff at Glentress I’ve normally chickened out of on previous years – mainly the rocky obstacles and some of the skinnies on the climb up and… er, the red route.  I’m pleased to report that this year I didn’t fall off once – although I was very cautious on Pennel’s Vennel this time around!

The first two days had fairly atrocious weather, and both bikes and riders got absolutely filthy.  I stuck to the blue route these first two days, which is still ridiculously fast and grippy in the wet.  I was chuffed to see the Trail Fairies have replaced the downhill fireroad to the Buzzard’s Nest car park with a new section – Berm Baby Berm.  Or ‘Berm Bermy Berm’, as I misheard Mr Toast call it, and thus it was renamed.  Berm Bermy Berm is very bermy.  You know that bit in Spaceballs, where they talk about going ‘ludicrous speed’, and the star field turns to tartan?  It was a bit like that.  We also spent a bit of time on the skills course, which unlike the rest of the trails at Glentress actually seems to be losing features – the bumpy northshore section is gone, along with the rock spanning skinnies.  Still, I actually rode down the rocks on the skills course that have freaked me out in previous years, so that was nice.  

After flying around the blue for the first two days I decided to have another crack at the red.  Long time readers (assuming I have any) will know that I last rode the full red two years ago.  Last year’s attempt, the first time I’d tried it in the wet, ended in disaster on the first section.  This time I was a lot more confident, managing to tackle stuff quite easily and never feeling like I was out of control.  I was also more cautious, however – if there was anything I didn’t fancy, I’d walk it.  For me it’s a much better approach than riding it and falling off – I’d prefer to be able to ride again.  Being over 300 miles from home and the only driver always weighs a bit on my mind, as does the fact that my offs last year left me a bit battered and struggling to ride comfortably for the rest of the holiday.

The red at Glentress is interesting, because again for the most part it’s all about speed.  There’s a few climbs, but for the most part the main thing you take away from it is the blazing descents.  Unfortunately I did still have a few knee problems on holiday, most of which could be ignored or cancelled out by copious amounts of ibuprofen.  More of a problem this time around was a recurring burning pain in my left thigh, I think in the Vastus lateralis muscle.  It was fine when I was in the saddle, but boy did it smart if I spent any time out of the saddle – needless to say, this made some of the downhill sections quite interesting, particularly Spooky Wood!  I don’t know whether it was just strain from doing so much biking compared to what I normally do, or whether my saddle was at a slightly iffy height, but it doesn’t seem to be a problem at the moment so… meh!

Despite the slight inability to ride with 100% correct positioning, Spooky Wood was bloody good fun, and I avoided the chicken runs for the most part and flew off the features… mainly because I was going too fast to actually think about it.  I admit I walked down what we dubbed ‘Handstand Hill’, due to the fact I’d… well, gone headfirst over the bars and ended up walking on my hands two years earlier.  Whilst most of Glentress red looked friendlier and less terrifying than I remembered, Handstand Hill actually looked worse.   I felt awesome on some of the later sections as I manoeuvred around roots and tighter turns, which reminded me a bit more of Cannock Chase.  I came out of the bottom of the red and said, “Oh, it that it?”, which made Toast chuckle – when I’d done the red two years previously I was pretty much dead halfway round. 

Due to the leg pain I’d been having around the red route, we decided to have a day off riding.  We went to Kailzie Gardens (go see the Chicken Village there, it’s great, especially the goth chickens), then I dragged Mr Toast to see X-Men First Class (which I’d been wanting to see for weeks but we’d not got around to it – great film which makes surprisingly good use of Azazel, given he was created for the universally loathed Chuck Austen Uncanny X-Men run).  We came out of the cinema and the sun was blazing again – our first sunny day of the holiday.  Well, it would have been rude not to have an evening ride, wouldn’t you agree?  We spent a few hours on the freeride park, appreciating the ability to be gnar in the dry.

 

The following day we decided to try one of the other Stanes.  The original plan was to go to Kirroughtree, but given the distance, the cost of petrol and our lack of money we elected to try Mabie instead. 

Mabie wasn’t too bad – the skills course and freeride is a bit sparse, and the trail is fairly bland and has a lot of climbing.  It does have some really good fun sections though, it’s just a shame they all seem to be in the first third of the trail.  It may have been because my legs were distinctly tender by this point in the week, but Mabie didn’t really make me want to return any time soon – it just seemed like a lot of long climbs with unsatisfying descents. It did have a nice Stane though:

I think Mabie has a lot of ‘off-piste’ stuff though, so it’d probably be worth an explore or getting someone with local knowledge to act as a guide.  It also has a field of cows that stare at you accusingly as you eat Shed Burgers. 

I’m hoping we get to go to Kirroughtree next year, hopefully it won’t be too far above my skill level.

Posted in Mountain Biking, Uncategorized | No Comments »

Mountain Mudhem

28/06/2011 by Missus Toast.

So, this month saw my race debut.  In short, it was awesome.  In long…

Things didn’t start out too well.  I’d managed to miss the important travel news on the Mountain Mayhem website concerning the M50, so we set off blissfully oblivious, guided by the GPS.  We were supposed t0 get off at junction 2, but junction 2 was closed.  Instead we had a 15 mile diversion as we headed to junction 3, then had to loop back down the M50.  This, combined with the grim skies ,made me somewhat cranky.

We found the Chase Trails camp, waited for the rain to stop, and set up our home away from home.

 

 

 

Confession time: I’m not a huge fan of camping.  And as we settled down in our freezing tent (yes, it was freezing in June), my slight apathy towards camping turned into full blown loathing.  I didn’t actually sleep that night.  That’s not an exaggeration - I literally couldn’t sleep as I was so cold. Fortunately I managed to get a couple of hours of sleep on the Saturday morning once the sun had risen and Toast gave me his sleeping bag to go over my own.  I woke up still sleep deprived, aching, and soon added ’screaming’ to that as I found an earwig in my sportsbra.  No, camping wasn’t growing on me.

It was hard to be too grumpy though - the atmosphere at Mountain Mayhem is fantastic, and anybody complaining about the toilets or the catering really needs to go to a music festival.  I once paid £4.80 for an ice-cream at Donington one year… and not recently either.   We pottered about for a bit, then went to cheer on Andrew, who would be starting the 24 hour race for our team.  Rather cruelly, Mountain Mayhem starts with a rather long run before the competitors can get on their bikes.  Fortunately it’s just the first riders in the teams that have to do this, so once Andrew had finished his (rather respectable) lap, it was Petra’s turn.  The weather turned a bit iffy, and she was treated to a few downpours.  Meanwhile, I grabbed something to eat and waited for my turn.

I started to feel faintly nauseous.  I had that weird, cold hollow feeling you get from not having slept properly, but more concerning were the PA announcements.  Apparently Oliver wouldn’t be returning to the course, because he’d been hospitalised.. People were going too fast and having accidents, so could people please slow down…  There’d been a broken collarbone and a broken ankle.

This was less than four hours into the race!

Petra came in slightly worse for wear, and I was off like a speeding gudgeon!  To celebrate my race debut, the heavens promptly opened and started pissing it down. I was in the timed Kenda Climb, where I did a mighty 1 minute 24 seconds - not the slowest, I checked.  And I would have been at least a second faster if I hadn’t have slowed down to high five those meddling kids!  By this point I was soaked through, with my sodden 3/4 clinging to my knees and making movement even harder.

The course was… awkward.  10.3 miles long, with 1400ft of climbing.  What made it hard was a combination of the mud and other riders.  The first bit of singletrack was fairly short and easy, and I smugly dropped over a rooty step with ease as other riders dismounted or tried ridiculously convoluted lines around it.  It was still fairly hairy though just for the sheer pressure of other riders shouting that they were passing.  The next singletrack section had a particularly slimey descent - I’d say the majority of riders I saw here dismounted.  A few rode it, one not entirely successfully, but, I along with the majority, gingerly minced our way down, slipping and sliding, holding the trees for support.

So it carried on - the subsequent sections of singletrack were quite a bit easier, and it was here I felt most comfortable and confident.  I still got overtaken on occasion, but generally could keep up with people.  Unfortunately that left the rest of the course - long climbs and straight, rutted descents.  Some of the climbs were an absolute nightmare - again, because of the mud.  It was like walking the wrong way up a escalator - soft, sludgy and plasticine-like mud took away a lot of grip and sapped my energy.  And the descents… let’s just say I walked a couple, went down one dabbing my foot on the side, and rode 90% before practicing some ‘EXTREME RESTING’ on the side of the track, accompanied by my now obligatory yelp.  It’s kind of a cross between a Wilhelm Scream and the cry of a startled guinea pig.  I’ve gotten quite good at falling off, however, and my first reaction was to pull the Professor off the track before checking to see if we were both OK.  One rider asked me if I was OK, and sped onwards after he surmised that I wasn’t dead.  The next rider, seeing myself in the popular EXTREME RESTING pose of ‘upside down in some ferns and brambles’ said, “Get up, love” - which may have been cheery encouragement, but sounded like sneering condescension.  Admittedly, it’s a bit hard to tell when you’ve got a face full of bracken.

I stood up, located a source of bleeding (one small scratch on my elbow), decided that it had been a splendid adventure and it was now time to continue.  As I checked the Professor, I heard and saw two more riders fall on the same descent (not near my, I was totally off the course at that point!).  Looking through Rob Crayton’s photographs revealed more comedy dismounts on the same hill.  In hindsight, it made me feel a lot better.

At the time though, I was starting to feel decidedly stroppy.  I was soaked through, my back wheel was sliding through mud like a crazed weasel (note to self:  when husband says, “We should put a mud tyre on the back”, listen to him), I’d fallen off, I’d run out of water, and to add insult to injury, I thought I’d unexpectedly finished far sooner than I’d thought, when in fact the major climb was still to come.

As I passed through the arena again I passed some of my teammates, who shouted encouragement at me.  This spurred me on, and I decided I wouldn’t have a breather… where they could see me.  I carried on up the hill, went around the corner and prepared to stop… and a random spectator shouted more cheery encouragement at me.  Bugger!  Will have to carry on!

The climb up to the obelisk has some amazing views, and by this point the sun had finally decided to make an appearance.  I promptly stopped along with the other people faking mechanicals to take a breather.

“My saddle!  Yes, it’s a saddle.  It’s got a quick release lever… yes, it still works.  Oooh, I can make my saddle go up and down.  If I look really intense, people will never know that I’m skiving!”

“I’ll turn my bike upside down, no-one will question me!”

My fake mechanical was poking the small island’s worth of mud and grass that had accumulated around my mechs. I mastered the art of looking stern and professional whilst discreetly admiring the view and waiting for my legs to stop screaming.  I feel this might be an important lesson to learn.

My lap was nearly over.  I’d been overtaken by singlespeeding charity racers in sumo suits and, the ultimate insult… by a unicyclist.

 

As I rode through the stadium again, random strangers shouting encouragment and asking for high fives (hello again, kids!), I suddenly switched from “Gah, this is the worst idea ever, I’m never doing this again!” to “THIS IS AWESOME LOOK AT MY RIDE TO GLOOOORRRRY!”  I spotted Mr Toast and Jez, who were cheering me on (I think, they could have been saying anything at this point), so I sped up, overtook a couple of riders and handed the baton onto Julien.  My lap was done, and it was time for water, flapjacks and rocky roads.

 

I’m not entirely sure what I did at that point, but I know I was there to cheer Julien in and cheer Mr Toast out.  Well, I say ‘cheer Julien in’, what I actually mean is he shouted, “I’m never riding a bike again”, to which I yelled, “LE PETIT ESCARGOT!”, which I learned from Charlotte and Jessica.  Toast went out, and I escorted Julien back to the camp.

 

I think I managed to get a shower during Mr Toast’s lap. Mountain Mayhem has many fine points, including the abundant supply of free shower gel:

The showers, however, were rubbish. Allow me to  demonstrate the showers with this handy timeline and the use of emoticons.

0 seconds:  Button pressed.  Dribble of water falls out of the showerhead -_-

4 seconds:  Dribble of water turns into a full strength blast of water.  Cold water. O_O

7 seconds: The water is still cold. Q_Q

9 seconds:  Wait… is it getting warmer? :/

13 seconds:  It’s warm!

15 seconds: It’s stopped.  Press the button again. Repeat. -_-

It was remarkably like being in a Skinner Box, as I tried to uncover what behaviour would give me access to more than 2 seconds of hot water.  Press the button repeatedly?  No, that just leaves it in the dribble state.  Leave it for a bit before pressing it?  No.  No wonder the showers had sizable queues!

It was now pretty much dark as Jez and I made our way to the arena to cheer in Mr Toast.  Unfortunately Mr Toast had got in ten minutes earlier and was grumpily waiting as he was heckled by fellow riders for being a billy-no-mates.  Jez yelled, “I’M COMING, AL!”, and the passover was completed, with Al taking comfort that at least the ten minutes had been added onto the start of Jez’s time rather than the end of his own.  Not that he’s competitive or owt, you understand.

It was now the turn of the mentalist night riding contingent, and time for me to get some sleep. I’d learned some lessons from the previous night - before we had been lying directly on the groundsheet, but we did actually have a sleeping mat.  That came out, and the spare towels were used as a pillow.  I also wore an Iron Maiden t-shirt and hoodie in addition to my thermal baselayer, socks and tracksuit bottoms combo.  I slept like a rock, and when I awoke to a sunny Sunday morning I decided camping really wasn’t that bad after all.  In fact, I think I could do a second lap!

Toast woke up bleary eyed and de-hydrated, and was nominated to do the next lap after Liam.  After riding up to the arena in my jeans and feeling decidedly creaky, I surmised that perhaps that second lap of mine wasn’t such a good idea.  Eating rocky roads and a bacon sandwich though… that’s a GREAT idea!

After Mr Toast plucky youngster Mini-Bave(TM) went out and rode our fastest laptime - 1 hour 8 minutes.  Yes, he did it in less than half the time it took me to get around.  D’oh.  Ian was nearly our last rider, but after it was communicated to him that Dave wanted to do another lap, he raced over the line and passed the baton with 3 minutes to spare.  And off Dave went!

There was unintentional hilarity after the announcer started the end of race countdown a minute early, with many racers speeding up, thinking that they’d be passing the line just after the 24.  The mistake was realised and the announcer was yelling at the racers that he’d cocked up, and they slowed t0 a snail’s pace (or in some cases stopped completely).  Once the clock hit 24 hours, Pat Adams started shaking the hands of each finishing racer as they passed the line.

We watched the time and tried to calculate when Dave would be passing certain spots to offer him encouragement.  We missed him going up through the arena, but got him on the way down.  As he passed by, he shouted, “I CAN’T STRAIGHTEN MY LEGS, CRAMP!” and continued speeding down the hill.

All there was left to do was to collect our medals and watch Jessica as she ‘acquired’ some Mountain Mayhem banners.

 

I’m very pleased with my medal.  As a child, I loved the Olympics.  OK, I mainly loved it because they’d show the Animalympics cartoon, but I loved the idea of people doing well and getting medals.  Sadly I was a spectacularly inept child when it came to sports - timid, lacking in confidence, and never really getting involved.   I never even got participation medals, although I did get merit points for being the only girl in Clive house in my year who would a) do the 15oom run, and b) the front crawl in the Swimming Medley.   But it’s not the same as having a medal.  It’s made of metal and everything!

Fortunately I managed to resist the urge to wear it constantly for the following week.

So, a very memorable and enjoyable weekend (not the bit with the earwig though).  I raced the same course as Liam Killeen and Guy Martin (”By ‘eck, chief!”), I didn’t break anything, and I wasn’t the slowest.  I decided that I would definitely do Mountain Mayhem next year.

And Sleepless in the Saddle this August.

EEK!

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