People often talk about seeing ghosts or as though they feel like they have. I am not always convinced. Don't get me wrong, I have had my share of odd things happen. But for the most part there was a very much more feasible explanation as to what happened. Sometimes there isn't. But mostly there is. For me. The one that I don't know about too much (mostly because I was very young at the time) is what I will share with you now.
I was very young. I think about 2 and 3/4s. My brother had been born just a couple of months before. We were over at my Nans (my Mums Mum) for Easter. Being a rather independent young person I was allowed into the garden to find my Easter eggs by myself. It was deemed to be safe as the whole garden was enclosed, with house on one side, garage on another, 10ft high wall on one more and a large hedge on the final side.
Dad hid the egg and came back into the house to set me off. About 5 minutes later I reappeared in the doorway to the house with the egg. Everyone was a bit confused by this as Dad knew I had a knack for finding things and had been a bit tricky with the egg. He thought he had put it somewhere out of my reach. So they asked if I used a stick to get it down. I said no and started to open the egg. They then asked how I managed it. I said a man had helped me.
Before I could move Dad was out of the door and into the garden looking for this person. Meanwhile Mum asked me what the man looked like. I am told that I could offer no explanation, I just pointed at the picture of Grandad on the mantelpiece and said it was him. Mum and Nan were shocked. Grandad had been dead since Mum was 2.
Saturday 11 December 2010
Friday 10 December 2010
Its A Set-Up
People often try to set me up with dates. This isn’t something that I feel I need, although it isn't something I am particularly adverse to either. If I needed dates I would make myself attractive to women. I’m not stupid, most women don’t like beards. Or silly moustaches. Or the way I wear baggy shorts and worn out looking t-shirts most of the time. But that is how I feel most comfortable. No, should I be bothered about the whole thing I would have started to wear my shirts, and jackets and trimmed my hair and beard alot more. For the most part me being set up is largely pointless as I have not been fussed enough to make an effort over my appearance even for long enough to make an initial good impression. Occasionally they appreciate that I am a real person underneath it all, and we have a bit of a conversation. Normally it is around this point that I have heard enough from them to realise it won’t go anywhere as I am already bored of them.
I’m not making a good case for myself here am I? From the previous paragraph it would seem that I am not just a homeless looking man who is continually lazy and grumpy, but one also prone to rudeness towards people who are trying to be my friend. This I hasten to point out is not the whole state of affairs. I just don’t see the point in talking to you if you have nothing to say that interests me, or if I have nothing to say that interests you. Let’s be honest for a second, when was the last time you had an enjoyable conversation with your great aunt for instance? Presuming that she isn’t dead or deaf you probably have less than two things in common. And those are just that you are both living humans. So what do you have to talk about..?
I suppose I should also point out that I do like women on the whole. Their company is often appreciated, alongside their bodies (generally). They tend to offer a completely different set of interactional potentials to men. Men like to talk about beer, sport, and boobs on the whole. And tend to think in straight lines (if I can cheekily steal an idea from David Eddings with no-one noticing) and women think in circles. I mean this almost literally. For me this means they can be amongst the most unpredictable, interesting, irritating, and amusing conversationalists available.
Sometimes these set ups do go well. In one instance I actually managed a whole seven dates (I use the term “date” loosely here, sometimes they were just pre-arranged meetings with intent...) before something happened. And then it wasn’t even me who called things to a halt, which made a nice change at the same time as being rather disappointing. Nevermind.
The eventual point I am wordily rambling towards here is that I am now wondering about two things. The first – does my continued bachelorhood offend people in some way? And the second – am I really getting a bit too old to continue batting away any potential interested parties purely because I can’t be bothered with them? At some point in time a long term partner or wife would be lovely and children too. I know that as yet I am not old, but I am also (as with all of us..) doing the proverbial “not getting any younger”. So I dilemma then.
Answers on a postcard to the usual address please.
I’m not making a good case for myself here am I? From the previous paragraph it would seem that I am not just a homeless looking man who is continually lazy and grumpy, but one also prone to rudeness towards people who are trying to be my friend. This I hasten to point out is not the whole state of affairs. I just don’t see the point in talking to you if you have nothing to say that interests me, or if I have nothing to say that interests you. Let’s be honest for a second, when was the last time you had an enjoyable conversation with your great aunt for instance? Presuming that she isn’t dead or deaf you probably have less than two things in common. And those are just that you are both living humans. So what do you have to talk about..?
I suppose I should also point out that I do like women on the whole. Their company is often appreciated, alongside their bodies (generally). They tend to offer a completely different set of interactional potentials to men. Men like to talk about beer, sport, and boobs on the whole. And tend to think in straight lines (if I can cheekily steal an idea from David Eddings with no-one noticing) and women think in circles. I mean this almost literally. For me this means they can be amongst the most unpredictable, interesting, irritating, and amusing conversationalists available.
Sometimes these set ups do go well. In one instance I actually managed a whole seven dates (I use the term “date” loosely here, sometimes they were just pre-arranged meetings with intent...) before something happened. And then it wasn’t even me who called things to a halt, which made a nice change at the same time as being rather disappointing. Nevermind.
The eventual point I am wordily rambling towards here is that I am now wondering about two things. The first – does my continued bachelorhood offend people in some way? And the second – am I really getting a bit too old to continue batting away any potential interested parties purely because I can’t be bothered with them? At some point in time a long term partner or wife would be lovely and children too. I know that as yet I am not old, but I am also (as with all of us..) doing the proverbial “not getting any younger”. So I dilemma then.
Answers on a postcard to the usual address please.
Friday 5 November 2010
Fireworks
Fireworks. I like fireworks. Im told I have liked fireworks since I was about 16 months old. Since the first time I saw fireworks in my pram. Whenever I see fireworks I feel really excited, they make me feel sad and happy at one time. They make everything matter incredibly and not at all. I don't know why, but those random explosions and flashes of light make the world not a thing that I care about anymore but also something that I love infinitesimally. The other thing they do is make me feel very lonely. I have watched firework displays amongst family and freinds alike, and each time it is like I am stood by myself in a dark space below lights and loud noises. I have seen huge displays with over 5000 people watching with me, and still could have been the only person alive for miles for how I felt. I have no idea where this feeling comes from, or why, but it is there. The only thing I know for certain about it is that there are infinitely worse feelings available.
Thursday 4 November 2010
Sorry... What's going on...?
Know your place. I don't mean that you must know exactly at any given point in a room how much more or less than anyone else you earn, or how much stronger or more intelligent you are than any other party, but instead that knowing what you should do at a given point is perhaps among the most difficult things in your adult life. Or maybe that's just me...
When I worked selling newspapers from a trailer at a carboot sale I knew what I needed to do at any point. This is largely thanks to the fact that it is a perilously simple job. But, while at college at the same time, I was all at once unsure not just what I should be doing in my lessons, or what was expected of me in terms of behaviour or homework, but also in terms of social interactions. Social interactions or talking to people, and dealing with them accordingly. The term social interactions sounds quite scientific, and I think you can in fact make a few scientific leaps of faith and thought when it comes to dealing with people. Please note: I use the phrase "dealing with people" an awful lot here, and it does not necessarily mean dispatching them, or making some sort of arrangement, but simply talking, or being around, or having a part conversation. Basically any form of interaction at all. But it was while at college that I learned the first parts of small talk. This is something I now know that I can do, and for the most part choose not to do. The reason being that I can quite happily sit in silence with a perfect stranger, and would in fact rather that than make small talk. Small talk seems nothing more to me than the useless waste of good breathing air. I will either ask you a question that has meaning to me or fail to ask you anything at all. If something has had a prevalent place in my mind for the last while I may choose to share it. Based mostly on whether or not I think you will appreciate the thought. If I do not, then silence will again ensue.
I have recently started working with children, teaching them a modern version of the bike proficiency actually. This is good for me. For most of my day I am surrounded by children of around 10 who's minds have not yet been forced to conform by whatever feature of society it is that tailors us all into symbiotic followers of fashion. This is highly enjoyable. Partly because children on the whole do not understand small talk, and so don't make it, and partly because they havnt been trained into not saying "big talk" with people they little know. A typical example of this is that at every new school I visit I get asked differing questions about my beard, and my many ear rings. Some think they are "cool" and others think they are "weird" but most are just happy to speak to an adult who answers their random questions like they are normal. I also enjoy this job as it gives me chance to ride my bike a startling amount, often by myself for long periods either commuting or scouting new areas before taking the children there. I like how each child has a completely new and separate view of the world, and sees not like I do, nor like you do, but in their own unique way. The children I have met so far have been gloriously unfettered by prejudice, and willing to accept new ideas much more quickly than any adults I have ever met. This fills me with hope for the future.
But with this job, as I am for the most part left to my own devices, I regularly start to wonder if I am in the right place, or doing the right thing. Is this what I am supposed to be doing now? Should I do that today or tomorrow? Do I need to mention that or not? This in itself is a small worry for me. I know bikes, and I know roads and road users. It has been proclaimed to me before that "all car and road users need to be treated as idiots to ensure safety..." I don't think this entirely true. I think that "all road users are idiots, and most have homicidal tendencies, there is no hope for safety." but we can make ourselves better protected by various means, and some of those are what I impart to the children I work with. No, the big worry for me is when I phone people to make arrangements or bump into school teachers and other staff who try to make small talk with me. In my normal practice I would just ignore them, but now I cant. I need to say something or they will mark me as a lunatic and stop me teaching. Which I don't want.
The point I'm wandering around without really making is that most of the time I don't have a clue what is going on, where I need to be, or what I need to do. Subsequently I am amazed that I have made it this far in life. But as long as it works, keep going right...?
When I worked selling newspapers from a trailer at a carboot sale I knew what I needed to do at any point. This is largely thanks to the fact that it is a perilously simple job. But, while at college at the same time, I was all at once unsure not just what I should be doing in my lessons, or what was expected of me in terms of behaviour or homework, but also in terms of social interactions. Social interactions or talking to people, and dealing with them accordingly. The term social interactions sounds quite scientific, and I think you can in fact make a few scientific leaps of faith and thought when it comes to dealing with people. Please note: I use the phrase "dealing with people" an awful lot here, and it does not necessarily mean dispatching them, or making some sort of arrangement, but simply talking, or being around, or having a part conversation. Basically any form of interaction at all. But it was while at college that I learned the first parts of small talk. This is something I now know that I can do, and for the most part choose not to do. The reason being that I can quite happily sit in silence with a perfect stranger, and would in fact rather that than make small talk. Small talk seems nothing more to me than the useless waste of good breathing air. I will either ask you a question that has meaning to me or fail to ask you anything at all. If something has had a prevalent place in my mind for the last while I may choose to share it. Based mostly on whether or not I think you will appreciate the thought. If I do not, then silence will again ensue.
I have recently started working with children, teaching them a modern version of the bike proficiency actually. This is good for me. For most of my day I am surrounded by children of around 10 who's minds have not yet been forced to conform by whatever feature of society it is that tailors us all into symbiotic followers of fashion. This is highly enjoyable. Partly because children on the whole do not understand small talk, and so don't make it, and partly because they havnt been trained into not saying "big talk" with people they little know. A typical example of this is that at every new school I visit I get asked differing questions about my beard, and my many ear rings. Some think they are "cool" and others think they are "weird" but most are just happy to speak to an adult who answers their random questions like they are normal. I also enjoy this job as it gives me chance to ride my bike a startling amount, often by myself for long periods either commuting or scouting new areas before taking the children there. I like how each child has a completely new and separate view of the world, and sees not like I do, nor like you do, but in their own unique way. The children I have met so far have been gloriously unfettered by prejudice, and willing to accept new ideas much more quickly than any adults I have ever met. This fills me with hope for the future.
But with this job, as I am for the most part left to my own devices, I regularly start to wonder if I am in the right place, or doing the right thing. Is this what I am supposed to be doing now? Should I do that today or tomorrow? Do I need to mention that or not? This in itself is a small worry for me. I know bikes, and I know roads and road users. It has been proclaimed to me before that "all car and road users need to be treated as idiots to ensure safety..." I don't think this entirely true. I think that "all road users are idiots, and most have homicidal tendencies, there is no hope for safety." but we can make ourselves better protected by various means, and some of those are what I impart to the children I work with. No, the big worry for me is when I phone people to make arrangements or bump into school teachers and other staff who try to make small talk with me. In my normal practice I would just ignore them, but now I cant. I need to say something or they will mark me as a lunatic and stop me teaching. Which I don't want.
The point I'm wandering around without really making is that most of the time I don't have a clue what is going on, where I need to be, or what I need to do. Subsequently I am amazed that I have made it this far in life. But as long as it works, keep going right...?
Thursday 21 October 2010
Writing on and off
So I have been working on a couple of slightly longer blog posts for a little while now, and each of them seems to have gotten to a point where I can't see the end. Either end in fact. I started them both long ago and can't really remember when. But just as surely I don't really know where either of them are going. Which makes things somewhat interesting really. I know what each post is about, and I know the content roughly, I just can't figure out how to get there. How to get the random blur of images that is rushing around my head down in textual form, understandable to people who aren't me. I'm sure I will work it out at some point and get them finished.
I guess I am just writing this to let people know that I am still writing. Or at least I will be when I know where the posts are going. Maybe I should just upload the bits I have and let you guys work it out...
In the meantime, here is a picture of the view from my old flats kitchen window.
I guess I am just writing this to let people know that I am still writing. Or at least I will be when I know where the posts are going. Maybe I should just upload the bits I have and let you guys work it out...
In the meantime, here is a picture of the view from my old flats kitchen window.
Tuesday 21 September 2010
Time
Time. That's what it all comes down to. "I would do that, but I don't have the time.." well... Who does?
Time is out most valuable asset. The problem is you are always spending it. Constantly. It is a non-stop flow through the fingers like sand job. Not only does it constantly flow away from you without you really realizing, but alot of the time you waste it doing nothing. Or you inadvertently do something which will mean you spend more of it later doing something you dislike. It's funny how stuff often works out like that.
I often find myself thinking about the future and what I want to do. Sometimes I make plans. But mostly I dash those away, before they get dashed away by something else. The most full days I have had have been planned start to finish, but the best days I have had were accidental. The thing I think most about the future is that all I can do about it is let it happen. If I try to make the decision about whether to go around the world with my mates for 3 years living on £10 a day between the three of us or to stay at home and have a wife and kids I will of course make a decision but I will just as surely feel bad about it instantly. The problem is that both are great adventures. I would love to spend a year or three running around the world with not a penny to my name "winging it" with my mates jumping from border to border having the time of our lives. But I know that I would love spending time with a wife and kids, teaching the kids to cycle and taking trips to the zoo, just as much. Neither plan has come any where near fruition yet, and I don't see either on the horizon either. Unfortunately we will just have to waste some more time waiting to see what comes up.
Maybe I will get the best gift of all. Enough time to do both. And then live in the country aging slowly with my wife while the kids are grown up, and we grow our own fruit and veg...
I don't see it.
Time is out most valuable asset. The problem is you are always spending it. Constantly. It is a non-stop flow through the fingers like sand job. Not only does it constantly flow away from you without you really realizing, but alot of the time you waste it doing nothing. Or you inadvertently do something which will mean you spend more of it later doing something you dislike. It's funny how stuff often works out like that.
I often find myself thinking about the future and what I want to do. Sometimes I make plans. But mostly I dash those away, before they get dashed away by something else. The most full days I have had have been planned start to finish, but the best days I have had were accidental. The thing I think most about the future is that all I can do about it is let it happen. If I try to make the decision about whether to go around the world with my mates for 3 years living on £10 a day between the three of us or to stay at home and have a wife and kids I will of course make a decision but I will just as surely feel bad about it instantly. The problem is that both are great adventures. I would love to spend a year or three running around the world with not a penny to my name "winging it" with my mates jumping from border to border having the time of our lives. But I know that I would love spending time with a wife and kids, teaching the kids to cycle and taking trips to the zoo, just as much. Neither plan has come any where near fruition yet, and I don't see either on the horizon either. Unfortunately we will just have to waste some more time waiting to see what comes up.
Maybe I will get the best gift of all. Enough time to do both. And then live in the country aging slowly with my wife while the kids are grown up, and we grow our own fruit and veg...
I don't see it.
Thursday 16 September 2010
London at Early
How many people have been to London..? Lots right? How many people pass through there every day? Well over 1 million people live in London, so quite a few really. But, how many people have seen London at 5am? I have. And I don’t think many others have, as I only saw a couple of people at the time...
I had been to Italy for the Bianchi bike launch. And as usual the plane got back to Stansted airport at just past midnight. I had no-one to pick me up. And no way of getting out of the airport until the first train left the airport at 4.30am. So I tried to get some sleep. Good luck with that. Sleeping in an airport is an actual artform. And that is coming from a guy who has been thrown out of rock gigs for falling asleep on the speakers. The fluorescent lights don’t go off ever. The shops close for one hour between 2 and 3. And in that time the cleaners are going round on ride on floor buffers. Combine that with the fact there is only enough seating for half the people there at any one time, and some people are being greedy and sleeping across three seats and you’re in for a rough night. As it was I had been awake for almost 20 hours anyway. I found a seat on the floor and made the most of it.
As soon as the shops opened again, I got a smoothie and thought about my options. My train ticket wasn’t due to leave the airport until 7.30am, but there was very little that was enticing me to stay there. I wandered into the train station under the airport and looked at the time table. The first train out was at 4.30. I would wing it.
I got on the train and didn’t see another living soul until it hit Paddington station a half hour later. Then I just saw a tired looking girl selling porridge and an overly alert guy checking tickets. I avoided him.
Judging by the guy checking tickets, there were bound to be more people who wanted to check my ticket, so I bought a ticket for the underground and hopped on. I didn’t know where anything was in relation to anything else in London. And I figured that nothing would be open as it was still only about 5am, so I got off at a random stop and started to walk around. Remembering my route back to the station so I could get back to get my actual train later.
I walked across London Bridge, and took a picture of Tower Bridge. I walked through a couple of parks with no name on, and found a tiny workmans cafe by tower bridge that sold me a large hot chocolate and a round of marmite on toast at 6am, for £2.75. I don’t care who you are, that breakfast was a friggin bargain! I couldn’t get it that cheap in Exeter let alone find anywhere that cheap in London again! And at 6am! Seriously! Bargain!
I decided to text Nathaniel as I knew he would be up early that day as he was moving to uni. He responded quickly with a list of potential things I could do in London from 7am onwards. He really knows some odd stuff. I decided that going for a wander was as good as anything else. So I did. I walked across tower bridge, and then along the Thames for a bit before turning back to find the train station again. In all this time I had only seen four or five people in the streets. Which is quite an odd feeling when you have seen London in the day time. As I came back across London bridge, there were more people around, and I started to think it was nicer before. I jumped back on the tube and shot towards Paddington to make my way home. I think I still ended up catching an earlier train....
I had been to Italy for the Bianchi bike launch. And as usual the plane got back to Stansted airport at just past midnight. I had no-one to pick me up. And no way of getting out of the airport until the first train left the airport at 4.30am. So I tried to get some sleep. Good luck with that. Sleeping in an airport is an actual artform. And that is coming from a guy who has been thrown out of rock gigs for falling asleep on the speakers. The fluorescent lights don’t go off ever. The shops close for one hour between 2 and 3. And in that time the cleaners are going round on ride on floor buffers. Combine that with the fact there is only enough seating for half the people there at any one time, and some people are being greedy and sleeping across three seats and you’re in for a rough night. As it was I had been awake for almost 20 hours anyway. I found a seat on the floor and made the most of it.
As soon as the shops opened again, I got a smoothie and thought about my options. My train ticket wasn’t due to leave the airport until 7.30am, but there was very little that was enticing me to stay there. I wandered into the train station under the airport and looked at the time table. The first train out was at 4.30. I would wing it.
I got on the train and didn’t see another living soul until it hit Paddington station a half hour later. Then I just saw a tired looking girl selling porridge and an overly alert guy checking tickets. I avoided him.
Judging by the guy checking tickets, there were bound to be more people who wanted to check my ticket, so I bought a ticket for the underground and hopped on. I didn’t know where anything was in relation to anything else in London. And I figured that nothing would be open as it was still only about 5am, so I got off at a random stop and started to walk around. Remembering my route back to the station so I could get back to get my actual train later.
I walked across London Bridge, and took a picture of Tower Bridge. I walked through a couple of parks with no name on, and found a tiny workmans cafe by tower bridge that sold me a large hot chocolate and a round of marmite on toast at 6am, for £2.75. I don’t care who you are, that breakfast was a friggin bargain! I couldn’t get it that cheap in Exeter let alone find anywhere that cheap in London again! And at 6am! Seriously! Bargain!
I decided to text Nathaniel as I knew he would be up early that day as he was moving to uni. He responded quickly with a list of potential things I could do in London from 7am onwards. He really knows some odd stuff. I decided that going for a wander was as good as anything else. So I did. I walked across tower bridge, and then along the Thames for a bit before turning back to find the train station again. In all this time I had only seen four or five people in the streets. Which is quite an odd feeling when you have seen London in the day time. As I came back across London bridge, there were more people around, and I started to think it was nicer before. I jumped back on the tube and shot towards Paddington to make my way home. I think I still ended up catching an earlier train....
Hiking In December
Hiking in December. Always a good idea...
What would you do when two of your best friends ask you to go hiking with them in December? If your answer was to scream “Hells yea!” then this post is probably for you.
It all started late one night in November at my friend Jules house. We were having a video game session, and as usual talking about camping and the fact we hadn’t been in a while. It was at that point that Bick (Jules’ brother) who was unemployed at the time, suggested going in a couple of weeks. I looked at the guys and just said simply “I’m in...”
Next time we get together I have managed to book off three consecutive days, as has Nathaniel. Bick was unemployed anyway so he was definitely in, and then there was just Regan and Jules. Unfortunately neither of them could get the time free from work. And just like that the intrepid trio was set.
Over the next week we met each night to discuss plans for routes to walk and also to check kit and make sure we are thinking the same thing. On one of the nights, once we had the route set, Jules drove us around the closest part of the route in my Jeep. We parked at a couple of the sites and got out to check camp spots and other things. Bearing in mind that we would be mostly setting up tents in the dark. As it happened this did not help us in the slightest when it came to the hike.
Ok, we had quite an ambitious plan when we first thought of it, but isn’t that always the way? The whole thing was to have our stuff packed the night before and leave early in the morning. We would be walking Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. In theory not a problem. Except that Bick is unemployed and so can’t possibly be up before twelve, and Nathaniel and I both need to pick up food before we go. So we meet at twelve, and head towards the nearest supermarket. We wandered around for half an hour and then left with some items that vaguely resembled food. From there we went more briskly to Nathaniel’s house with our kit and the food, and divided it up between us. After this it’s about three pm and we are finally ready to set off. It will be dark by four. Excellent. We all like a challenge right?! At least on the first day we only had about 4 miles to cover. We set off, heading mostly uphill, and walked for about two hours. Upon arrival to our first spot, one Danes Wood, we turn torches on and head into the woods. It has already been dark for quite a while, but being in a wood after being in a city for so long makes you crave a light even when you don’t really need it.
In the middle of the small wood was our campsite, under an immense pine tree. We work quickly, clearing the ground, and putting up my tent. Nathaniel stopped helping with the tent to start our first meal. All of us are holding torches while we work. The darkness had really set in by this point. And we were starting to realise that it was December for other reasons too. We woke in the middle of the night to discover that the temperature had dropped to a rather chilly minus 4. After putting on some long-johns we were back to sleep in no time.
When the morning came we heard some dogs outside the tent and found a few dog walkers being quite interested by the tent. Until we opened the door anyway. We didn’t hang around for very long in the woods. Just long enough for a bowl of cereal or an apple. We decided that putting up tents in the dark wasn’t the most fun ever, and so wanted to cover as much ground as possible before dark. Using our trusty OS map as a guide we set off on footpaths and roads covering the ground surprisingly quickly. The only thing we stopped for before lunch was to remove the previous night’s long-johns as the light, and movement heated us up. We did this in the field opposite the car park for the local estate. This did cause a slight stir when the coach load of elderly ladies pulled up in the car park. Strangely we decided that was time to leave.
We walked for about 6 hours with only a couple of 5 minute breaks. We covered all types of terrain in a surprisingly short distance. We crossed fields with frozen puddles in them, we hiked through woods, down streams and along train tracks. I was shocked at the amount of different terrains within such a small distance from my home. I know that the others were too.
We had no specific destination in mind when we had set off, just a couple of potential camping spots and a vague direction. So on the second day of walking, we looked at the map and decided on a couple of places we would like to go to, and worked out a route amongst them. As it stood we left Danes wood that morning, and travelled past the Killerton estate. We were headed towards Butterleigh, via Silverton. A small village between Exeter and Cullumpton. We had worked out a route to it that went down a couple of small off-road footpaths and looked interesting and challenging in terms of distance and height ranges.
We walked all day with just a couple of brief stops. We passed through the town of Silverton at one point, and stopped outside the church to eat an early lunch (it was only around 11am). We didn’t linger there long due to the cold, and moved to get some more water from the town shop. Leaving Bick outside with the bags seemed sensible so as not to cause a fuss in the store (both Nathaniel and I had full beards at the time, and Bick had long hair too) and Nathaniel and I went into the store. We bought batteries and water. When we came back out we saw an old lady give Aaron some money. He was so shocked he couldn’t actually answer as she pressed the 50p into his hand.
As we pressed on the day didn’t change at all in terms of weather. It was just overcast the whole time. We had no idea what time it was without looking at our phones. Walking across the train track then through some ones farm was the most odd thing from the trip, but there were plenty of signposts there so we knew it was the right way.
When we came into Butterleigh it was about 3pm, and we were hungry again. We had eaten an early lunch and nothing since. We sat in the church car park opposite a pub waiting for it to open. After it started to get dark at 4 we considered setting up the Trangia in the car park and cooking some rice. But then the pub opened and we went and sat in the warm. We had a pint, and even managed to convince Bick to buy us all a meal! It was bacon and brie with cranberry sauce. It was fantastic!
While in the pub we got talking to some locals, who were clearly interested by three young fellas hiking around in December. We explained where we had come from, and where we were intending to go, and they recommended we sleep on the cricket ground up on the hill that night. For two reasons, it had trees all around to keep the wind off, and being a cricket pitch it was flat. It seemed like a good idea, so we thanked them and set off.
We walked up the hill, and took the turning they had mentioned. We saw a car park kind of space come out of the dark. As we started to walk into it, I saw a car sat there. Being the kind of person who finds cars sat in a dark car park to be odd, I shone my torch in the window. Only to discover it was full of people! We ran away! That was the cricket car park.
We carried on up the road a little way to be away from the people in the car, and came to a forest track. One of the other locals had mentioned a track, and said there would be somewhere dry under the trees. As we walked along it, it was clear that we were walking around a wood we were unfamiliar with in the dark. and that the floor was very wet. We stopped and got the compass and map. After much huffing we picked a direction that should take us to a field with a corner we could hide in. And it did. We were right at the top of a hill, with the wood to our backs, and farmland/small clusters of houses to our front. We set up the tent very quickly as it was getting very cold having been dark for over 4 hours now. That night we went straight to sleep.
When we woke up in the morning, none of us wanted to linger in the field, fearing being caught by an angry farmer (why he would care really, we hadn’t broken anything to get there and were out of the way in what appeared to be a fallow field anyway..). Nathaniel quickly set about making breakfast, some nice porridge, while Bick packed his sleeping gear away. He was always slightly slower than us. I set off to find somewhere to have a wee, and followed a deer trail about 100 yards from the tent. I started to pee against a small tree and out of no-where a dog walked past. While slightly startled I still noticed it wasn’t in a hurry, and it did have a collar on. Its owner would be past in just a few seconds. I had more than a few seconds worth of pee left. Making a snap decision I turned around mid-flow and started to walk towards the campsite carefully. As soon as I had made it three steps I heard someone behind me. I couldn’t do anything but keep walking and peeing and hope for the best!
We ate the porridge quickly, and I took down the tent while the others cleaned the pans. After quickly checking the packs we looked at the map. Today we thought we might be able to make it to a small trading estate just outside of Cullumpton called Willand. And from there we would either get a bus, or walk into Cullumpton where we would get a bus. The start of the day went through the woods and then spat us out onto a busy fast moving road. We walked along there for about 3 miles before turning into a small village that had a permissive footpath through a farm. We followed that footpath, although it looked like no-one had in years. It just looked like a farm, without a real path across it and I became increasingly nervous. But in the end we got right across it, about 2 miles worth without seeing a living soul. Which was odd.
As the footpath put us back onto tarmac we took another look at the map to decide the next step. We had a lot of lanes to walk to get to Willand, alot of twisting back and forth. We would pass through three or four hamlets, and see some strange places that day. At one point we had someone walking the other way stop and ask us for directions. They said they had been walking for hours and not seen anyone. To be fair, so had we. We were starting to tell stories along the lines of 28 days later, and it was just us and a couple of others left un-harmed. Puts you in an odd frame of mind.
We arrived in Willand at about 2.30pm. We found a corner shop and got some food that we could eat straight away. Pasties and the like. We sat outside and ate them. Then some school kids turned up and we decided to find a bus stop. We found one just round the corner oddly enough. It told us which busses went there, but strangely not how often. We used a phone to call the “bus hotline” where we were on hold till after the next bus arrived (bit special really). We got on the bus which occasioned many odd looks from other travellers and the bus driver himself. Especially as Nathaniel was the only one amongst us who understands public transport... We sat down with our packs, and I actually fell asleep on the journey back. Even though it was only about 20 mins long. It was just the warmth of the bus, combined with having an actual seat to sit on, and having a full stomach. We hopped of the bus outside the church on Polsloe road, only to watch it stop 3 more times ahead of us, all before Bicks house where we were headed. Typical!
Getting back to Bicks house, stepping off the warm bus into the cold December air, and having to shoulder the packs again was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Even for just that half mile or so. But, getting back to Bicks house and having a beer while talking with Jules and Regan was awesome. Definately 3 days well spent!
What would you do when two of your best friends ask you to go hiking with them in December? If your answer was to scream “Hells yea!” then this post is probably for you.
It all started late one night in November at my friend Jules house. We were having a video game session, and as usual talking about camping and the fact we hadn’t been in a while. It was at that point that Bick (Jules’ brother) who was unemployed at the time, suggested going in a couple of weeks. I looked at the guys and just said simply “I’m in...”
Next time we get together I have managed to book off three consecutive days, as has Nathaniel. Bick was unemployed anyway so he was definitely in, and then there was just Regan and Jules. Unfortunately neither of them could get the time free from work. And just like that the intrepid trio was set.
Over the next week we met each night to discuss plans for routes to walk and also to check kit and make sure we are thinking the same thing. On one of the nights, once we had the route set, Jules drove us around the closest part of the route in my Jeep. We parked at a couple of the sites and got out to check camp spots and other things. Bearing in mind that we would be mostly setting up tents in the dark. As it happened this did not help us in the slightest when it came to the hike.
Ok, we had quite an ambitious plan when we first thought of it, but isn’t that always the way? The whole thing was to have our stuff packed the night before and leave early in the morning. We would be walking Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. In theory not a problem. Except that Bick is unemployed and so can’t possibly be up before twelve, and Nathaniel and I both need to pick up food before we go. So we meet at twelve, and head towards the nearest supermarket. We wandered around for half an hour and then left with some items that vaguely resembled food. From there we went more briskly to Nathaniel’s house with our kit and the food, and divided it up between us. After this it’s about three pm and we are finally ready to set off. It will be dark by four. Excellent. We all like a challenge right?! At least on the first day we only had about 4 miles to cover. We set off, heading mostly uphill, and walked for about two hours. Upon arrival to our first spot, one Danes Wood, we turn torches on and head into the woods. It has already been dark for quite a while, but being in a wood after being in a city for so long makes you crave a light even when you don’t really need it.
In the middle of the small wood was our campsite, under an immense pine tree. We work quickly, clearing the ground, and putting up my tent. Nathaniel stopped helping with the tent to start our first meal. All of us are holding torches while we work. The darkness had really set in by this point. And we were starting to realise that it was December for other reasons too. We woke in the middle of the night to discover that the temperature had dropped to a rather chilly minus 4. After putting on some long-johns we were back to sleep in no time.
When the morning came we heard some dogs outside the tent and found a few dog walkers being quite interested by the tent. Until we opened the door anyway. We didn’t hang around for very long in the woods. Just long enough for a bowl of cereal or an apple. We decided that putting up tents in the dark wasn’t the most fun ever, and so wanted to cover as much ground as possible before dark. Using our trusty OS map as a guide we set off on footpaths and roads covering the ground surprisingly quickly. The only thing we stopped for before lunch was to remove the previous night’s long-johns as the light, and movement heated us up. We did this in the field opposite the car park for the local estate. This did cause a slight stir when the coach load of elderly ladies pulled up in the car park. Strangely we decided that was time to leave.
We walked for about 6 hours with only a couple of 5 minute breaks. We covered all types of terrain in a surprisingly short distance. We crossed fields with frozen puddles in them, we hiked through woods, down streams and along train tracks. I was shocked at the amount of different terrains within such a small distance from my home. I know that the others were too.
We had no specific destination in mind when we had set off, just a couple of potential camping spots and a vague direction. So on the second day of walking, we looked at the map and decided on a couple of places we would like to go to, and worked out a route amongst them. As it stood we left Danes wood that morning, and travelled past the Killerton estate. We were headed towards Butterleigh, via Silverton. A small village between Exeter and Cullumpton. We had worked out a route to it that went down a couple of small off-road footpaths and looked interesting and challenging in terms of distance and height ranges.
We walked all day with just a couple of brief stops. We passed through the town of Silverton at one point, and stopped outside the church to eat an early lunch (it was only around 11am). We didn’t linger there long due to the cold, and moved to get some more water from the town shop. Leaving Bick outside with the bags seemed sensible so as not to cause a fuss in the store (both Nathaniel and I had full beards at the time, and Bick had long hair too) and Nathaniel and I went into the store. We bought batteries and water. When we came back out we saw an old lady give Aaron some money. He was so shocked he couldn’t actually answer as she pressed the 50p into his hand.
As we pressed on the day didn’t change at all in terms of weather. It was just overcast the whole time. We had no idea what time it was without looking at our phones. Walking across the train track then through some ones farm was the most odd thing from the trip, but there were plenty of signposts there so we knew it was the right way.
When we came into Butterleigh it was about 3pm, and we were hungry again. We had eaten an early lunch and nothing since. We sat in the church car park opposite a pub waiting for it to open. After it started to get dark at 4 we considered setting up the Trangia in the car park and cooking some rice. But then the pub opened and we went and sat in the warm. We had a pint, and even managed to convince Bick to buy us all a meal! It was bacon and brie with cranberry sauce. It was fantastic!
While in the pub we got talking to some locals, who were clearly interested by three young fellas hiking around in December. We explained where we had come from, and where we were intending to go, and they recommended we sleep on the cricket ground up on the hill that night. For two reasons, it had trees all around to keep the wind off, and being a cricket pitch it was flat. It seemed like a good idea, so we thanked them and set off.
We walked up the hill, and took the turning they had mentioned. We saw a car park kind of space come out of the dark. As we started to walk into it, I saw a car sat there. Being the kind of person who finds cars sat in a dark car park to be odd, I shone my torch in the window. Only to discover it was full of people! We ran away! That was the cricket car park.
We carried on up the road a little way to be away from the people in the car, and came to a forest track. One of the other locals had mentioned a track, and said there would be somewhere dry under the trees. As we walked along it, it was clear that we were walking around a wood we were unfamiliar with in the dark. and that the floor was very wet. We stopped and got the compass and map. After much huffing we picked a direction that should take us to a field with a corner we could hide in. And it did. We were right at the top of a hill, with the wood to our backs, and farmland/small clusters of houses to our front. We set up the tent very quickly as it was getting very cold having been dark for over 4 hours now. That night we went straight to sleep.
When we woke up in the morning, none of us wanted to linger in the field, fearing being caught by an angry farmer (why he would care really, we hadn’t broken anything to get there and were out of the way in what appeared to be a fallow field anyway..). Nathaniel quickly set about making breakfast, some nice porridge, while Bick packed his sleeping gear away. He was always slightly slower than us. I set off to find somewhere to have a wee, and followed a deer trail about 100 yards from the tent. I started to pee against a small tree and out of no-where a dog walked past. While slightly startled I still noticed it wasn’t in a hurry, and it did have a collar on. Its owner would be past in just a few seconds. I had more than a few seconds worth of pee left. Making a snap decision I turned around mid-flow and started to walk towards the campsite carefully. As soon as I had made it three steps I heard someone behind me. I couldn’t do anything but keep walking and peeing and hope for the best!
We ate the porridge quickly, and I took down the tent while the others cleaned the pans. After quickly checking the packs we looked at the map. Today we thought we might be able to make it to a small trading estate just outside of Cullumpton called Willand. And from there we would either get a bus, or walk into Cullumpton where we would get a bus. The start of the day went through the woods and then spat us out onto a busy fast moving road. We walked along there for about 3 miles before turning into a small village that had a permissive footpath through a farm. We followed that footpath, although it looked like no-one had in years. It just looked like a farm, without a real path across it and I became increasingly nervous. But in the end we got right across it, about 2 miles worth without seeing a living soul. Which was odd.
As the footpath put us back onto tarmac we took another look at the map to decide the next step. We had a lot of lanes to walk to get to Willand, alot of twisting back and forth. We would pass through three or four hamlets, and see some strange places that day. At one point we had someone walking the other way stop and ask us for directions. They said they had been walking for hours and not seen anyone. To be fair, so had we. We were starting to tell stories along the lines of 28 days later, and it was just us and a couple of others left un-harmed. Puts you in an odd frame of mind.
We arrived in Willand at about 2.30pm. We found a corner shop and got some food that we could eat straight away. Pasties and the like. We sat outside and ate them. Then some school kids turned up and we decided to find a bus stop. We found one just round the corner oddly enough. It told us which busses went there, but strangely not how often. We used a phone to call the “bus hotline” where we were on hold till after the next bus arrived (bit special really). We got on the bus which occasioned many odd looks from other travellers and the bus driver himself. Especially as Nathaniel was the only one amongst us who understands public transport... We sat down with our packs, and I actually fell asleep on the journey back. Even though it was only about 20 mins long. It was just the warmth of the bus, combined with having an actual seat to sit on, and having a full stomach. We hopped of the bus outside the church on Polsloe road, only to watch it stop 3 more times ahead of us, all before Bicks house where we were headed. Typical!
Getting back to Bicks house, stepping off the warm bus into the cold December air, and having to shoulder the packs again was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Even for just that half mile or so. But, getting back to Bicks house and having a beer while talking with Jules and Regan was awesome. Definately 3 days well spent!
Monday 5 July 2010
Just a couple of thoughts
Sun beats down,
Pedals turn,
Sweat drips down,
Time to earn,
Water quenches thirst,
The race ends,
Who was first?
Doesn't matter......
Mondays ride conquers a rock face,
Tuesdays ride is full of grace,
Wednesdays ride is awful slow,
Thursdays ride is far to go,
Fridays ride is not forgiving,
Saturdays ride reminds you of living,
And the ride that is on the Sabbath day,
Is epic in every possible way!
Pedals turn,
Sweat drips down,
Time to earn,
Water quenches thirst,
The race ends,
Who was first?
Doesn't matter......
Mondays ride conquers a rock face,
Tuesdays ride is full of grace,
Wednesdays ride is awful slow,
Thursdays ride is far to go,
Fridays ride is not forgiving,
Saturdays ride reminds you of living,
And the ride that is on the Sabbath day,
Is epic in every possible way!
Monday 10 May 2010
She will never know!
Before I type this properly, I would like to point out that this is in no way based on something I have done.
In the woods,
Rain and mud,
Time to wash,
Remove the crud,
Bike in the shower,
She will never know!
Water falls now,
Glistens like snow,
Mud and oil,
Sweat and blood,
From the days toil,
The singing fails,
She is home early!
Hide behind the rails!
Too late,
Your tracks spotted,
You silly man,
Mud and oil dotted,
Across the rug,
Hide the bike!
Not there you mug!
The door burst,
She stands with fury,
Time for the worst....
Its not based on anything that anyone I know has done either....
In the woods,
Rain and mud,
Time to wash,
Remove the crud,
Bike in the shower,
She will never know!
Water falls now,
Glistens like snow,
Mud and oil,
Sweat and blood,
From the days toil,
The singing fails,
She is home early!
Hide behind the rails!
Too late,
Your tracks spotted,
You silly man,
Mud and oil dotted,
Across the rug,
Hide the bike!
Not there you mug!
The door burst,
She stands with fury,
Time for the worst....
Its not based on anything that anyone I know has done either....
Friday 16 April 2010
Road Trips
Road trips are amazing. Everyone loves a road trip. Except my Nan. But you know... She is old and stuff... And people love road trips with good reason! They speak of change, they give the feeling of times past, and times to come. Things said and done, somehow are remembered and then fade into insignificance as the road rushes past.
For me road trips are about time spent with freinds. I have so many memories of time spent in a car, watching the world go by, with the jokes and comments of my freinds near. All this combined with the ridiculous and off-key singing to things like Tenacious D and we come away with a bunch of stuff to talk about each time the wheels turn.
Turn the wheel
And turn the corner
Tarmac flows ahead
Behind the day lies
Tyres grip and
Steel surges forward
Feel the acceleration
Feel the stillness.
For me road trips are about time spent with freinds. I have so many memories of time spent in a car, watching the world go by, with the jokes and comments of my freinds near. All this combined with the ridiculous and off-key singing to things like Tenacious D and we come away with a bunch of stuff to talk about each time the wheels turn.
Turn the wheel
And turn the corner
Tarmac flows ahead
Behind the day lies
Tyres grip and
Steel surges forward
Feel the acceleration
Feel the stillness.
Friday 12 March 2010
The Plan Was Set
The plan was set. The date and time loosely arranged. Reg was going to pick up Frank from Chagford, then come into Exeter and get me and Dave. Together we would go to Haldon forest and have a mountain bike ride. Simple right? Except my idea was to do this before work. Purely because we never actually go for a ride after work because we feel too tired. A simple plan that actually came off really well.
I got the first message from Frank at 4.58am, which just said that Reg was on his way to Chagford already. We were all slightly surprised by this as he is normally quite useless with this kind of thing. Shortly after I received that message my alarm went off. Good timing I guess. I got out of bed and after the usual morning things started to don my riding gear. By this time it is 5.35am, I text Frank to see what time they will be arriving with me. I have 20 minutes. I grabbed some breakfast and put my pre-packed Camelbak on before going to the garage to get my bike out. Within minutes the car pulls up and I see Reg, Frank, and Dave already inside, looking like it is too early to be awake. There are two bikes on the back and one in the boot. We are actually going riding!
The short road trip to the forest goes quickly while listening to early morning radio. As we pull up Frank finds his key to the forest car park and we go in. After quickly unloading in the dark we do a short spin round the car park to make sure everything works, and then hit the trails. It is still dark, and mist is in the air. It feels like it could rain at any point. It already had rained over night. The new trail is fast in the dry, and is supposed to be weatherproof. We shall soon see. As we round a corner we come across an amazing view of the city below us, its twinkling lights enshrouded by darkness.
We start the first descent, the trail made of clay that has been turned slick by the night’s heavy rain. I fight for grip, while Reg and Frank get to grips with the new trail. Dave seems the only one to be riding easily at this point. Dave and I hung back for a while, giving Reg and Frank time to get ahead so we could go a little faster trying to catch them up. The light levels kept changing as we zipped through the trees. The whole trail is cut into the side of the hill, so the rain water flows across the trail and on down the hill. In places the trail has had little rock-gardens designed to allow the water to flow down the hill without damaging the trail. These little rock-gardens make the trail interesting. As we were flying down the trail we would suddenly come on them and splash through the quickly running water. It was hard to say which was moving faster, us or the water. The splashes soaked our legs and dripped into our shoes. It felt freezing cold, and great.
Dave and I had been riding recently and had even ridden this trail in the last couple of weeks so we had no trouble with it. Reg and Frank however were a different story. Frank hadn’t been on a bike in a while and for whatever reason had decided to ride a single speed bike, so was struggling to keep up in places. Reg was managing admirably well, seemingly just from the boundless energies of youth. But both of them were complaining about the trail, and how it didn’t have flow. To be fair, there were rocks on either side of the trail put in place to slow riders and keep them on the trail. But Reg and Frank were looking at these obstacles with regards to them being in the way, not that they are making you flow a different way. Dave and I seem to be slightly more adaptable, we are hitting the trail fast. Maybe it’s because we are both riding tight handling cross country bikes where Frank and Reg are on more laid back all-mountain bikes. They are still keeping up on the open stretches but in the tight turns and the narrow switchbacks Dave and I are shooting ahead. We all seem to be spurred on as the light starts to creep between the trees burning away the early mist.
We make a brief stop to allow everyone to catch up and the heart rate to slow, but just slightly. As soon as we have touched our feet down, and our breathing has slowed enough to ask “Ready..?” we are off again. This time forcing the bikes uphill, the trail still dropping away on one side to reveal a whole lot of steep drop. On the other side it is mostly steep climb, both up and down scattered with trees. This whole environment is exceptionally exciting for me, even before the addition of a bike and high speeds. The climb isn’t long. No more than a single kilometre. After we have made the climb we cross a fire road and begin a blast along a flat piece of trail, where we mostly seem to be getting faster and faster. It begins to undulate and then crosses a fire road before hitting three switch backs on loose ground. On the second one of these I lost my front wheel. But a quick dab with an SPD garbed toe and I’m speeding away again, hot on Dave’s heels.
At this point the trail begins to descend in earnest. We are accelerating two fold now thanks to the furious pedalling and the gravitational bonus. Hitting each obstacle faster than the last. The braking bumps are coming quicker and quicker and I don’t think any of us were anywhere near our brakes. I was shifting up through the gears at this point trying to catch Dave before the trail kicked us out on the fire road for the climb back up. I find that the back of the bike starts to skip around as I am pedalling as much as I can and leaning forward for the photo-finish. Then just as suddenly we hit the fire road and all have to brake hard to prevent punching into one another.
At this point no-one wanted to waste too much time before the climb, so after checking that everything is still attached, we have a quick drink combined with the nervous laughter of someone who has just done something very silly in the company of other people also doing that silly thing and where almost all of them had come pretty close to the edge of their abilities. (Only people who participate in dangerous sports or activities such as “Living” will appreciate the last sentence.) So without much time or adrenalin wasted we start on the longish slog back up the hill on the wide fire road. By this time we can pretty much switch our lights off. I did. Then I fell in a big puddle so I switched it back on. The climb up the fire road is one that I am used to. Probably slightly under one kilometre but a lot steeper than the last one. It always has a beautiful view available to those fit enough to look to the left while pedalling uphill... Thankfully on this day I was one of those. The mist between the hill and the city is slowly disappearing as the morning light burns it away. This simply serves to make the view of the city better as you can see the whole thing start to move. Like a cat stretching after a nap the city begins to move. Cars start to roll along the major roads, just like blood pumping along the veins when the animal starts moving. All I can think of is how many people these days never see anything like this. This is the stuff that makes life more. (And I left out an adjective there as there didn’t seem to be one that fitted better than simply “more”.) As Dave and I reach the top of the climb we have plenty of time to enjoy the view and its changing appearance as Reg and Frank continue the slog up to us. It is just as breath-taking stood still.
As Frank and Reg approach us we are playing silly people by seeing how far we can wheelie without falling over. Not very far apparently. But also seeing how tight and fast we can do figure 8’s without falling over. Much more difficult. We continue to be silly to give the other two a chance to catch their breath. Then we are back on the trail, Dave reminiscing about when we rode this part the last time with Parviz in the dark and my light battery had run out. Then I had Parv in front of me and Dave in behind, so I am trying to remember where Parv was on the trail so I can be there too, but then I have got Dave screaming in my ear about me almost destroying myself on a root or a rock or “THE MASSIVE LOG YOU SOMEHOW JUST RODE OVER WITHOUT DYING!”. This was brilliant fun. But on this ride we have all switched our lights off and there is still plenty to see by. It is a short climb back to the main road where we cross over.
On the other side the first thing that happens is the trail goes left and down then right and up in a big sweeping motion. All around this there is a drop on the right hand side that varies in height all the way around. Frank is leading, pushing hard on his single speed to make the most of momentum up the tight slope. He makes it clear. Dave was too close to his back wheel though and has had to slow down too much. His tyres weave left to right trying to keep him upright. At one point I get an amazing view of from the other side of the pit, Dave’s front wheel gets so close to the edge of the drop that it sends a little shower of dirt and gravel over the side. It’s a daunting reminder that we are still close to the edge, even at this slow speed. We weave through the trees and over manmade jumps till we get to the gate and the road behind it. We rush across the road and onto the last stretch of trail before the car park. It is only short but ALL I can see is peat flavoured puddles. We decide as one that the only way to deal with this is to go flat out and hope for the best. They weren’t too bad. Except the one that came up over my axels. That wasn’t much fun.
Before we know we are back to the car and the bikes loaded. We shoot back to town and into the shop for a shower and to start work. All still buzzing like crazy people.
I got the first message from Frank at 4.58am, which just said that Reg was on his way to Chagford already. We were all slightly surprised by this as he is normally quite useless with this kind of thing. Shortly after I received that message my alarm went off. Good timing I guess. I got out of bed and after the usual morning things started to don my riding gear. By this time it is 5.35am, I text Frank to see what time they will be arriving with me. I have 20 minutes. I grabbed some breakfast and put my pre-packed Camelbak on before going to the garage to get my bike out. Within minutes the car pulls up and I see Reg, Frank, and Dave already inside, looking like it is too early to be awake. There are two bikes on the back and one in the boot. We are actually going riding!
The short road trip to the forest goes quickly while listening to early morning radio. As we pull up Frank finds his key to the forest car park and we go in. After quickly unloading in the dark we do a short spin round the car park to make sure everything works, and then hit the trails. It is still dark, and mist is in the air. It feels like it could rain at any point. It already had rained over night. The new trail is fast in the dry, and is supposed to be weatherproof. We shall soon see. As we round a corner we come across an amazing view of the city below us, its twinkling lights enshrouded by darkness.
We start the first descent, the trail made of clay that has been turned slick by the night’s heavy rain. I fight for grip, while Reg and Frank get to grips with the new trail. Dave seems the only one to be riding easily at this point. Dave and I hung back for a while, giving Reg and Frank time to get ahead so we could go a little faster trying to catch them up. The light levels kept changing as we zipped through the trees. The whole trail is cut into the side of the hill, so the rain water flows across the trail and on down the hill. In places the trail has had little rock-gardens designed to allow the water to flow down the hill without damaging the trail. These little rock-gardens make the trail interesting. As we were flying down the trail we would suddenly come on them and splash through the quickly running water. It was hard to say which was moving faster, us or the water. The splashes soaked our legs and dripped into our shoes. It felt freezing cold, and great.
Dave and I had been riding recently and had even ridden this trail in the last couple of weeks so we had no trouble with it. Reg and Frank however were a different story. Frank hadn’t been on a bike in a while and for whatever reason had decided to ride a single speed bike, so was struggling to keep up in places. Reg was managing admirably well, seemingly just from the boundless energies of youth. But both of them were complaining about the trail, and how it didn’t have flow. To be fair, there were rocks on either side of the trail put in place to slow riders and keep them on the trail. But Reg and Frank were looking at these obstacles with regards to them being in the way, not that they are making you flow a different way. Dave and I seem to be slightly more adaptable, we are hitting the trail fast. Maybe it’s because we are both riding tight handling cross country bikes where Frank and Reg are on more laid back all-mountain bikes. They are still keeping up on the open stretches but in the tight turns and the narrow switchbacks Dave and I are shooting ahead. We all seem to be spurred on as the light starts to creep between the trees burning away the early mist.
We make a brief stop to allow everyone to catch up and the heart rate to slow, but just slightly. As soon as we have touched our feet down, and our breathing has slowed enough to ask “Ready..?” we are off again. This time forcing the bikes uphill, the trail still dropping away on one side to reveal a whole lot of steep drop. On the other side it is mostly steep climb, both up and down scattered with trees. This whole environment is exceptionally exciting for me, even before the addition of a bike and high speeds. The climb isn’t long. No more than a single kilometre. After we have made the climb we cross a fire road and begin a blast along a flat piece of trail, where we mostly seem to be getting faster and faster. It begins to undulate and then crosses a fire road before hitting three switch backs on loose ground. On the second one of these I lost my front wheel. But a quick dab with an SPD garbed toe and I’m speeding away again, hot on Dave’s heels.
At this point the trail begins to descend in earnest. We are accelerating two fold now thanks to the furious pedalling and the gravitational bonus. Hitting each obstacle faster than the last. The braking bumps are coming quicker and quicker and I don’t think any of us were anywhere near our brakes. I was shifting up through the gears at this point trying to catch Dave before the trail kicked us out on the fire road for the climb back up. I find that the back of the bike starts to skip around as I am pedalling as much as I can and leaning forward for the photo-finish. Then just as suddenly we hit the fire road and all have to brake hard to prevent punching into one another.
At this point no-one wanted to waste too much time before the climb, so after checking that everything is still attached, we have a quick drink combined with the nervous laughter of someone who has just done something very silly in the company of other people also doing that silly thing and where almost all of them had come pretty close to the edge of their abilities. (Only people who participate in dangerous sports or activities such as “Living” will appreciate the last sentence.) So without much time or adrenalin wasted we start on the longish slog back up the hill on the wide fire road. By this time we can pretty much switch our lights off. I did. Then I fell in a big puddle so I switched it back on. The climb up the fire road is one that I am used to. Probably slightly under one kilometre but a lot steeper than the last one. It always has a beautiful view available to those fit enough to look to the left while pedalling uphill... Thankfully on this day I was one of those. The mist between the hill and the city is slowly disappearing as the morning light burns it away. This simply serves to make the view of the city better as you can see the whole thing start to move. Like a cat stretching after a nap the city begins to move. Cars start to roll along the major roads, just like blood pumping along the veins when the animal starts moving. All I can think of is how many people these days never see anything like this. This is the stuff that makes life more. (And I left out an adjective there as there didn’t seem to be one that fitted better than simply “more”.) As Dave and I reach the top of the climb we have plenty of time to enjoy the view and its changing appearance as Reg and Frank continue the slog up to us. It is just as breath-taking stood still.
As Frank and Reg approach us we are playing silly people by seeing how far we can wheelie without falling over. Not very far apparently. But also seeing how tight and fast we can do figure 8’s without falling over. Much more difficult. We continue to be silly to give the other two a chance to catch their breath. Then we are back on the trail, Dave reminiscing about when we rode this part the last time with Parviz in the dark and my light battery had run out. Then I had Parv in front of me and Dave in behind, so I am trying to remember where Parv was on the trail so I can be there too, but then I have got Dave screaming in my ear about me almost destroying myself on a root or a rock or “THE MASSIVE LOG YOU SOMEHOW JUST RODE OVER WITHOUT DYING!”. This was brilliant fun. But on this ride we have all switched our lights off and there is still plenty to see by. It is a short climb back to the main road where we cross over.
On the other side the first thing that happens is the trail goes left and down then right and up in a big sweeping motion. All around this there is a drop on the right hand side that varies in height all the way around. Frank is leading, pushing hard on his single speed to make the most of momentum up the tight slope. He makes it clear. Dave was too close to his back wheel though and has had to slow down too much. His tyres weave left to right trying to keep him upright. At one point I get an amazing view of from the other side of the pit, Dave’s front wheel gets so close to the edge of the drop that it sends a little shower of dirt and gravel over the side. It’s a daunting reminder that we are still close to the edge, even at this slow speed. We weave through the trees and over manmade jumps till we get to the gate and the road behind it. We rush across the road and onto the last stretch of trail before the car park. It is only short but ALL I can see is peat flavoured puddles. We decide as one that the only way to deal with this is to go flat out and hope for the best. They weren’t too bad. Except the one that came up over my axels. That wasn’t much fun.
Before we know we are back to the car and the bikes loaded. We shoot back to town and into the shop for a shower and to start work. All still buzzing like crazy people.
Thursday 4 February 2010
Train rides
Train rides are something I enjoy. Probably because I didn't do them much as a child. But watching scenery rush past is quite an unusual feeling while sitting still. I have spent alot of time in cars and on bicycles flying through areas, but the views from a train are something to behold. You see all sorts of things from cliffs to sea floors, from rooftops to garden flowers. Trains give you a brilliant insight into the hidden side of peoples lives as you blast over their back gardens, looking at a tiny snapshot of their lives for a few seconds.
What makes this special for me is that each of these is completely unique. I have made the train journey to Axminster to see my man Regan so many times, and each time I have seen different things at every turn. Each new scene marks a fresh part of my brain. I see things and know that no-one else will see that. It's quite a special thing. I find this in many places, but this is one place that it is easy for many other people to see it too. Like I see things like this every time I ride my bike, and everytime I go for a walk. But the fact that people can see these things each time they grab a train to work.. Or go to visit someone. It is an incredibly exciting thought.
What makes this special for me is that each of these is completely unique. I have made the train journey to Axminster to see my man Regan so many times, and each time I have seen different things at every turn. Each new scene marks a fresh part of my brain. I see things and know that no-one else will see that. It's quite a special thing. I find this in many places, but this is one place that it is easy for many other people to see it too. Like I see things like this every time I ride my bike, and everytime I go for a walk. But the fact that people can see these things each time they grab a train to work.. Or go to visit someone. It is an incredibly exciting thought.
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Gig after time
My whole body drips pain, and my mouth drips blood. I look up, Seeing far off lights flicker past the window. My head pounds, but not from the music that is playing. A lump on the side of my face pulses. I can feel my knee stiffen from being contorted into the back of the car. On my left arm Lori breathes the slow breath of sleep, her hello kitty pillow the only thing between her face and my aching arm. I see the reflection of the speedo in the window in front of me, it is more in focus than most other things. My right eye socket feels tight and my eye spasms. As it subsides I get a shooting pain in my right calf.. I guess I got trodden on. How I managed it I don't know. I managed the whole gig unharmed until the last 30 seconds of the last track from the last band. How did I get elbowed in the face, pushed to the floor, headbutted in the mouth and trodden on all in 30 seconds?! My lip is swelling nicely now. We are on the way home. The motorway is near to lifeless, a feat rarely seen. Even at this time of day. It is strange, blasting along at such a pace with the only light from your own
headlamps before sudden glimpses of other people, and other cars. It forces the night to seem that much closer, that much more like it is closing in. I pull my sweat riddled t-shirt from my back. It must have been stuck there a while. It leaves a large cold patch up my back, which in turn makes me shiver. The interior of the car drifts in and out of focus as I drift in and out of consciousness. Even with my body bruised and broken, with my face bleeding, with the level of exhaustion creeping unseen through my bones, I feel great.
headlamps before sudden glimpses of other people, and other cars. It forces the night to seem that much closer, that much more like it is closing in. I pull my sweat riddled t-shirt from my back. It must have been stuck there a while. It leaves a large cold patch up my back, which in turn makes me shiver. The interior of the car drifts in and out of focus as I drift in and out of consciousness. Even with my body bruised and broken, with my face bleeding, with the level of exhaustion creeping unseen through my bones, I feel great.
Sunday 31 January 2010
Tired..?
Once again my arch nemesis Sleep has come knocking at the door.... "Who invited you?!" I scream from my place on the sofa, only to hear the haunting reply "Me?! Why, I'm your plus one...."
I seem to need sleep alot more than other people I know.. I always find myself asleep hours before they finish the party, or failing to get to their meeting they want because I have slept through my multitude of alarms.
Could it be because I work alot, or because I work weekends, so my body knows that it will be leaving for work in a couple of hours so it automatically shuts down when I am at parties? But then, I used to find this when I was younger too, before work. The other one I am famous for is falling asleep in the car on the way back from a ride. Luckily I never drive to a ride, so it is in the passenger seat this happens. Even if it is only 6pm, or if we have only done a short ride, I will inevitably fall asleep as soon as we hit the road.
The other part of this that I have only discovered upon moving out into a flat with a mate is that I sleep through things. Like everything. When he was having issues with his previous girlfreind, she would come and ring our doorbell incessantly until someone answered it, at anytime between 12 (midnight) and about 6 am. I never once heard her ring the bell, or the ensuing arguments that followed. Why..? Who knows! I go to bed early and could happily get up late almost every day. I move around a fair amount, cycling to work, and going for runs in the evening, but they don't leave me feeling particularly drained.
Anybody know whats going on?!
I seem to need sleep alot more than other people I know.. I always find myself asleep hours before they finish the party, or failing to get to their meeting they want because I have slept through my multitude of alarms.
Could it be because I work alot, or because I work weekends, so my body knows that it will be leaving for work in a couple of hours so it automatically shuts down when I am at parties? But then, I used to find this when I was younger too, before work. The other one I am famous for is falling asleep in the car on the way back from a ride. Luckily I never drive to a ride, so it is in the passenger seat this happens. Even if it is only 6pm, or if we have only done a short ride, I will inevitably fall asleep as soon as we hit the road.
The other part of this that I have only discovered upon moving out into a flat with a mate is that I sleep through things. Like everything. When he was having issues with his previous girlfreind, she would come and ring our doorbell incessantly until someone answered it, at anytime between 12 (midnight) and about 6 am. I never once heard her ring the bell, or the ensuing arguments that followed. Why..? Who knows! I go to bed early and could happily get up late almost every day. I move around a fair amount, cycling to work, and going for runs in the evening, but they don't leave me feeling particularly drained.
Anybody know whats going on?!
Wednesday 27 January 2010
Traditions
My group of friends has a few kind of "traditions" that they (and I) have to adhere to. Probably the most monitored, and most laughed at by people who don't know us is on Boxing day each year (we even had a group of complete strangers video us for youtube one year!).
Locally each year there is a group of people who run into the sea on Christmas day. Unfortunately all of my friend group has better things to be doing on Christmas day. But, strangely we all seem to have Boxing day free each year and so we do it then instead.
This last year, on Boxing day, we jumped into Jules' car and blasted to the local beach. Where there was no parking, so we went to the next beach, where there was some parking. We got out of the car and started to strip off. My Dad and his girlfriend had come to take pictures of us being silly (a habit I feel sure they will get over soon) and then we ran into the sea.
It was really chuffin cold! We have done this for a couple of years now, and this was the coldest by quite a way! It made my feet feel like all my toes were broken (thankfully they were not). And the waves! The waves were immense! And so cold. We could only stay in for about 5 minutes, where we managed almost 35 last year. I hope we last a bit longer next year.
I guess its quite odd how these kind of things get started, I think this happened as a bit of a joke dare that then ended up with the old "I will if you will", and as most people will tell you, when you get that between two men of any age, you know they both will. Just to try and outdo the other. I wonder if that is how all traditions get started....
Thursday 21 January 2010
Riding bikes
The grind of gears,
Music to my ears,
Time in the wood,
Its all good,
Pushing pedals,
Or winning medals,
Riding the bike,
Is what we like.
Music to my ears,
Time in the wood,
Its all good,
Pushing pedals,
Or winning medals,
Riding the bike,
Is what we like.
Wednesday 20 January 2010
Rules Of The Road
You may or may not have noticed that I am a cyclist. I am in fact such a cyclist that I sold my car. As such I use my bicycles to carry myself and sometimes other things to and from places. I cycle on the road and on cycle paths. On shared use paths and bridleways. I do not cycle on footpaths or skip red lights. I use lights when I ride at night, and wear a bright item of clothing if it is dark or foggy. Personally I think of these things as the standard things a cyclist should be doing. Every day I see people riding without lights, and skipping red lights and riding down the pavement, and it makes me more than a little angry. The thing is, the cyclists that do that then stare in wonder and amazement when it causes a problem. Car drivers are (generally) quite aggressive towards cyclists. I think this needs change on both parts, not just the car drivers. The car drivers need to know that in fact they don't pay road tax just like cyclists (it is in fact paid for out of your council tax), and that what they actually pay is motor vehicle tax. For their motor vehicle (anyone else seeing a link here?). But cyclists too need to buck up their ideas and realise that motorists will never take us seriously until we play by their rules. So no hopping red lights, no riding on the pavement (ok, thats a gripe from pedestrians but we shant worry about that), and no riding at night without lights. If we do this and so much more there can be change, but like so many things, it does need a small amount of pride swallowed on both sides.
Monday 18 January 2010
Tats
In my flat there is a tattoo machine. I am assuming that not everyone has a tattoo machine in their house, but there you go. I cannot draw, and for that very reason I would advise you not to let me anywhere near your body with a tattoo machine. However, my friend Lori is a very good artist, with a passion for tattooing. And although I have no tattoos, my flatmate Luke does. And he now has some by Lori. I have even been lucky enough to see tattooing while it happens. This is very interesting. I tried to take some pictures of it, because I enjoy taking pictures of things you don’t see every day. And even with a tattoo machine in my flat I don’t see that every day. The lighting was odd as it was dark outside, and we had all the lamps on in our front room. Luke pulled some fantastic faces while being tattooed. You could really see the pain in his eyes, and the scrunch of his face as Lori scratched the ink into his back. She was working to the pump of the Foo Fighters while he was holding his breath and grunting in pain with equal measure. If you shut your eyes it was almost like the noise of a rock concert where the entire crowd is unsure whether to stand in awe, or grunt and headbang, and yet they manage to all match each other in time perfectly. Lori worked quickly, punching the ink into Luke’s back with the humming tattoo machine. After a short time the purple anodised grip of the tattoo gun became tainted with both red blood and black ink. As the picture took shape on his back, the pictures I wasn’t supposed to be taking with my camera took shape too. I decided to use a long exposure to allow for the low light of the flat, and see what happened. A side effect of that that I am very happy with is that you can see how fast Lori was working, as she is a blur in the frame where Luke is a solid figure. This is one of my favourite pictures I have ever taken. Because it shows something unusual, because it has a subtle range of colour, because it shows two good friends, and mostly, because it was nothing like I imagined before I pressed the shutter.
Sunday 17 January 2010
Snow
In my childhood (0-18) I only remember it snowing properly once. You know the type of thing, when the snow settles..? That’s properly snowing in my book. I only remember this happening once. It was before I started school. I think my brother was born, so between the age of 2 and 4. Let’s say 3. It was a magnificent time. It was around Christmas, I remember watching the snow fall from inside our front room, with the Christmas tree next to me. And the log fire burning in the hearth. I remember our dog too. Sharna. A large Alsatian. She watched it with me.
I remember my Mam taking me into the back garden and letting me walk in the snow while she held my hand. She had to hold my hand because there was a wall and a drop on one side of the garden. Not that Sharna would let me fall. She always walked between me and the wall anyway. Mam was just paranoid. I was wearing an all in one, in baby blue. Slightly faded. I wasn’t the original owner. And a pair of wellies with a drawstring top and sheepskin inside. Very warm. With wool socks my Great Grandmother had knitted for me. They were red and blue. I remember leaving footprints in the snow in the garden, and then the snow falling so quickly that they are gone by the time that I have done a lap of the garden and looked at the shed with Mam. I remember Sharna walking around with us, and not letting me move more than two steps from Mam at any point. She knew my sense of adventure then and wouldn’t let me push my luck too far. She knew...
Thursday 14 January 2010
Winter Rides
Wet and mud,
Sweat and blood,
All part of the winter ride,
That place filled with macho pride
Sweat and blood,
All part of the winter ride,
That place filled with macho pride
Wednesday 13 January 2010
Pain hurts, but sometimes it a good thing..?
“Are you afraid of a little pain..?” I was asked one day while pondering whether or not to do something stupid.
“Of course I’m afraid of pain. Pain hurts!”
This caused a slightly confused laugh at the time, but now I realise that is not technically true. Well, not to me at least...
You see, to me pain is sometimes a useful tool. I use it to remember, to draw away from the anger of the day, and to give me the energy to push forward. For instance, I have several piercings. I got each one to remind me of something different from parts of my life. If I have a bad day, I will jump on my bike, or go for a run, and push myself so hard it hurts. And after it feels better. And from that I get the energy to push forward.
What I am trying to say is that sometimes you need the pain there to remind you that you are real. Not all the time, I’m not some sort of sadist weirdy. Just enough to make the lack of pain seem nicer. Just enough to remind you that the normal “aches and pains” are in-fact not painful at all, just a sign you need to move more. After a bit of pain, everything seems nicer for a short while, doesn’t it? I’m sure it does. Next time you are out for a ride, just push that little bit harder and see what happens.
“Of course I’m afraid of pain. Pain hurts!”
This caused a slightly confused laugh at the time, but now I realise that is not technically true. Well, not to me at least...
You see, to me pain is sometimes a useful tool. I use it to remember, to draw away from the anger of the day, and to give me the energy to push forward. For instance, I have several piercings. I got each one to remind me of something different from parts of my life. If I have a bad day, I will jump on my bike, or go for a run, and push myself so hard it hurts. And after it feels better. And from that I get the energy to push forward.
What I am trying to say is that sometimes you need the pain there to remind you that you are real. Not all the time, I’m not some sort of sadist weirdy. Just enough to make the lack of pain seem nicer. Just enough to remind you that the normal “aches and pains” are in-fact not painful at all, just a sign you need to move more. After a bit of pain, everything seems nicer for a short while, doesn’t it? I’m sure it does. Next time you are out for a ride, just push that little bit harder and see what happens.
Tuesday 12 January 2010
Winter Is here
The winter is here, and its all getting cold.
Better stay in, especially the old.
Snow white, fluffy and soft.
Reminds you of times spent in the hay loft.
Grip under tyres, there is scant chance.
Pedalling in winter, a jolly cold dance!
Monday 11 January 2010
The Pedal To Sainsburies in -8 degrees C.
The Night air quickly closes in, it knows my warmth and wants it for itself. I pedal faster, nearly to the beat of drums ringing in my now burning ears. Soon my eyes sting, and my toes and fingers feel the creep of the Nights silvery breath. I take my turn. Pulling my buff over my face. I breath deeply, warming my nose and lips. But too soon condensation forms and the the misery finds a subtle way in again. Under street lights I zoom, until the road runs out and the toepath is all that remains. Without the streetlights the world seems weird. Strangely the canal is offering no reflection. Suddenly my cold slowed mind clicks into gear and I realize it is frozen. At the same time I realize that my body isn't quite recovered from the weeks illness. Frost starts to form on my beard under my buff. This is getting serious. The moon is full and offers a smooth beauty under a mask of horror. With the surprising grip I dig deeper and push harder. The dull ache in my feet breaking into a sharp needle like jab everytime I push. At last streetlights. I'm almost there. I scrunch up my hands and feet, trying too late to work life into them. I arrive, dismount, and head in search of heat.
What a lovely night for a ride!
What a lovely night for a ride!
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