Thursday, 12 September 2013

Too Wet To Rain.

Last night was not for the fair weather riders like Gary, (who I believe was having his vajazzle touched up). Only the toughest and burliest of men were brave enough. Those magnificent heros were me,obviously....kind of goes without saying actually, I can't believe you asked really. Others included Wet Suit Sam, Crusty Crab Kyle, Scuba Shim and Nautical Dan.

lighting up time

The rain had started well before the strictly adhered to 7:30pm start rule but our set off was delayed by the salmon crossing The Royal's car park to get into the snug where it was a bit drier. The route was to be another jaunt into Chinley but via Roych Clough this time. 
why do we do it? I dunno

As we ascended towards South Head I put my attack plan into action. By leading the ride from the back I could dictate the pace and bide my time before an explosive finish. However, I needed a cover and also a cover as the rain really wasn't letting up. I deployed my legendary tactic of looking totally knackered and falling off the back. It worked a treat and the others were soon miles in front of me. They were playing right into my moist and clammy hands! To keep up the pretence I made all sorts of grunting sounds to add to the illusion of a rider completely out of condition. I'm a method actor like that. Visibility was at best, piss-poor and the mog and fist were so thick that Shim found it easier to aim his light backwards just to see where he'd been. 
The descent into Roych Clough was a twitchy bum affair. It's got really loose in places and slippier than an eel in a grease factory. With so much sideways-ness I stopped midway down just to check my tyres were still inflated. 
Climbing out of Roych I accidentally pulled the pin and passed Kyle and Dan who had started in front of me. I glided up the hill like a meth-fuelled mountain goat. This made Kyle maaaad and he unleashed so much torque that his chain snapped. Rather than face a long wet walk home I stopped and fixed his chain and agreed not to embarass him on any more inclines. Once gathered at the top, Dan borrowed my pump to make his wheels float better. It didn't work and we tip-toed down to the road into Chinley. Gravity favoured the foolhardy and Sam's 'muddy gully pinball technique' was as audacious as it was unintentional.

just take a moment to absorb the vista
With trench-foot now much in abundance we rode through Chinley towards Green Lane and the back breaking climb to Overhill Road. Once again I feigned a lack of fitness and mock-gasped for air as the others departed my view.

Several years later I got to the top and headed back toward Peep-O-Day Farm. It was here that my cunning plan was suspected by former roadie Dan. He contemplated a similar plan and falsified a crash by throwing himself over the bars in the biggest puddle he could find. This counterfeit stack was very convincing and I've no idea where he got the fake blood from. From here on in it would be me and Dan at the back waiting, waiting, waiting for the right time to pounce, or should that be ponce? Either way, the trail was running out and I planned in my head (for a change) the Campsite Run as my explosive finish of opulent magnificence. However, Dan's light had the final throw of the dice and packed in just before the start of the downhill. Rather than certain death, Dan opted to take the road route back to the car park. Shim, Sam and Kyle had now cottoned on to the fact that I was about to unleash a mountian bike fury of awesomeness in their faces! and that they were piss wet through. So instead, we all surrounded Dan on the road and lit him up like a 6foot plus fairy on a Christmas tree, with me heroically leading the way.

Vital stats: a snip under 11 miles, a vasectomy under 1000ft of climbing, a light trim over 2 hours
Conditions: couldn't see the conditions for all the rain.

No comments:

Post a Comment