Singletrack Staff Blog

due to a series of events, I spent yesterday with Andy Armstrong trying to recover my lost photo’s and other info (and no I hadnt got it backed up!), the journey down was eventful ( hitting a brick on the way down there whilst in the outside lane, arrived at Andy’s to find the front bumper smashed. damage underneath the car, and the back bumper smashed) I needed a beer or two after that

Then spent the day at Andy’s trying various ways to grab the lost info until ……

I recieved a panic phone call to say the kitchen at home was flooded :-/

So I left Andy’s and got home about 9, fixed the leak, wired up the fixed PC, text’d a few friends about Sundays ride then went to bed tired

woke up at 1030, whoops thats the time I was supposed to be meeting folks, oh well they’ll get by just fine without me

and thats literally the longest sleep I’ve had for years

So, I then proceed to lounge about all day, listening to music, reading mags and cooking chilli

now feeling a little ansty as I’ve not had any exercise but also remarkably chilled, this is strange, normally on a Sunday night I’m dog tired but still wired from the days ride 

I guess this means that tomorrows commute to work will have to be faster and longer than a normal Monday morning ride to work

Sometimes its not all about bikes is it ?

I’ve just been browsing some other forums from around the globe. You see I wanted to see if they were like ours. Specifically the proportion of whingers to constructive, polite users.

Now, I’m not ‘that’ niave to think that when faced with an anonymous keyboard that the human condition doesn’t default to being at least a little bit of an arse but after my brief excursion around the world I have come to the conclusion that whingeing is a characteristically British phenomenon.

Take for example our front page story revealing our upcoming cover and contents for issue 32. Already we’ve been accused of not being terribly green and environmental in the production of this issue in the comments on that story. What in particular has perked the environmental conscience of one particular poster? is it perhaps that this will be our biggest print run ever and the associated environmental impact caused by the printing industry as a result? Or maybe the fact this issue will come in a plastic bag to keep the catalog and free calendar (and I’ll deal with the calendar whinge next..) from being left on the newsagent shelf? No. Of course not. If it was either of those issues then the poster would arguably have valid points. No.. apparently we are crossing the green line on this issue by stitching in a voting card for magazine readers to tear out and use to register their votes for our readers awards. Apparently the fact we are not using an online voting system this year is a heinous crime against the climate. I can’t help but feel that particular argument was conjured up under a pretext of posting something…anything to satisfy the posters need to be seen to have contributed to a story on our front page. I could perhaps be generous here and suggest that their subconscious made them do it and at the time they may have genuinely felt they were making some crusading moral point against the unenvironmental establishment that is Singletrack.

Then there’s the calendar. This next issue will have our annual calendar attached for free. It’s essentially an extra 28 pages of magazine as far as we are concerned. Pictures have to be sourced from contributors or in house..they have to be laid out and the pages designed. the numbers have to be put in, albeit with maybe a few ‘errors’ as is practically traditional for a Singletrack calendar.

Now it’s free to readers who buy the mag but of course it isn’t free to us. We have to pay to have it printed and since we aren’t in the business of pissing money up the wall (although it feels like it sometimes.. usually after reading some of the more scathing posts on the forum) we cover the costs by selling 1/8th of each monthly spread to advertisers. And when I say we cover our costs that’s exactly what we do. There’s nothing left over to take to the pub or heaven forbid we may actually make a profit (shhh! that’s a nasty word in Britain). We design and have it printed…we pay printer…advertisers pay us (eventually)…we provide it free to readers who buy the mag. To me that seems a perfectly mutually beneficial arrangement for everyone. Readers get a free calendar full of some of the best images we can find… Advertisers get their promotional needs satisfied, and we sell some more mags since people like free stuff. Everyone’s a winner!

So why is it that when we announce we have a free calendar to give away one of the first comments posted on the story is from someone asking if we are going to plaster it with commercial rubbish again this year? (The irony of his username, Blaggers, hasn’t escaped me either).
Don’t answer that. I’ve just realised it’s all rhetorical, and just a little bit cathartic
I’m really proud to be British quite frankly.. except when I read forums.

….and breathe…

Bottle of beer and a bag of Lamb and Mint flavoured crisps. One last fling..enjoy it while it while I can..it’s now or never.. I’ll miss it when it’s gone..

6 weeks takes us right up to Christmas.. Is that a good thing? ‘Before’ shots are being taken later this week. It’s a good job I have no shame. String vests have been mentioned FFS!

American Hot with extra pepperoni and garlic… Mmm… (washed down with a Fraoch Heather ale too)…

Final pizza? Well, for a few weeks at least I reckon… Dave Smith, our magazine ‘coaching guru’ will have us on a six week training programme from Monday onwards. Matt, Mark, Sim, Jo K. and myself will all be on it in an attempt to get fit (and obviously to make a ‘laugh at us’ magazine article…)

Dave reckons it won’t be hard, but I don’t believe him. Especially after he mentioned doing squats while on a balance board. Oh well…
Can’t say my motivation is at a peak though - dark winter nights seem to do that though. But the best training aid of all is to tell everyone you know that you’re going to get fit, so I figure that telling tens of thousands of Singletrack readers should count for something. We’ll just have to see what he has in store for us on Monday… eeek!

I spent a decadent evening last night fiddling with bikes, drinking red wine, eating cheese and watching a couple of movies that have come into the office recently, namely ‘New World Disorder 7′ and ‘CKD’.

I don’t know if you’ve watched any of the recent crop of bike movies, but they seem to have got quite ‘big’ recently. Jumps that a year ago would have been seen as huge are now merely a filler jump to link up to something even bigger. It’s hard not to be impressed.

What is also impressive is the riders’ ability to crash really hard, get back up, and have another stab at ‘3ing’ off a 30 foot vert into sick tranny. So why do they do it? I think it comes down to them wanting to do something that they, or indeed any one else, previously couldn’t do. I think it’s called progression.

It’s easy to dismiss these freeride dudes as mentalists who don’t know when to quit, but when they do nail that trick or move, then that’s another thing that’s possible on a mountain bike. And that’s got to be a good thing.

Now I’m not saying for one minute that we should all get out there and start building Slopestyle courses everywhere, but maybe their efforts will inspire people to try something that they previously didn’t think was possible like a rooty trail, set of steps or tight switchback, and progress their riding.

If you need a bit of inspiration check out the DVD section of the Singletrack Shop.

Sometimes rides don’t seem to work right to me. You slog a lot and then you’re back where you started. You don’t recall any sense of elation or pinging down singletrack. You remember up, cold, sloggy trails and the only feeling you have at the end is the one of relief.

Last night’s ride has a beginning just like that. It’s a well known Big Hill in Lancashire. From the pub car park to the top is relentlessly up. Redline madness (my heart feels like an old Vtecâ„¢), sitting on the tip of the saddle and winching my way up. It’s actually quite noisy with the sound of the blood in your ears and the gasping for breath. All you can think about is keeping the wheels turning over. Loose rocks or slippery grass? Take your  pick. Don’t expect any favours from the gradient - which you just can’t settle down to.

Then all of a sudden it’s over. You’re at a trig point and you’re slipping on a windproof. Your chest isn’t on fire and your calves stretch back out a little. There’s no more climbing to be done and you know it’s all down from here.

A few minutes are spent t rying to find the path down - peat hagging and falling over - ’til Ben finally spots it. A silver snail trail of stone slabs winding down top of this hill.

And we’re off! Fast, slightly broken slabs with just the light from your bars to follow. There are little drop-downs and corners that are quicker than you are and invisible horrors that hide in the shadow from your light. You can hear the wind now and little grunts followed by giggles as you get away once again with another badly taken corner.

Before I know it we’re at the bottom gate. After a quick pinch flat repair (it wasn’t my fault honest) we’re off again.

Singletrack now. Proper singletrack that demands perfect pedal placement but enough momentum to keep the bike rolling through occasional rocks and the little stream crossings. I’m sure something is following us at the bottom of the ravine, and there is something: a large moon is shining light down on to the river below which seems to keep perfect pace with the traverse along the top of this little valley.

I’ve do a good impression of turtle stuck on his back for few minutes before I’m righted and it reminds how far you could fall here. Rather than it taking away from the ride, this ‘knowledge of peril’ adds to it. It makes you more alert, more careful of pedal placement as you try and strain your eyes further than the light will go just to have the extra edge in to the next section. We reunite at the bottom of the valley, giggly and quite buzzed.

We finish our ride along the edge of a reservoir and a fast broken road, chatting about where we’ve just been and how we don’t come this way often enough. I feel good. My legs have that dull ache and my brain feels equally as well exercised. I know were off for a beer and we’re going to do what all men do post-adventure: bullshit each other a bit

You know at the start of this I said I don’t always feel elated after a ride? This wasn’t one of those times.

I can’t help but embarass my kids. And now here I am with a busted rib… again…

It happened a week last Sunday. I was heading out for a solo ride early afternoon and like you do, I was just riding around on my bike to check that everything was stuck together properly and nothing needed tweaking before setting off. So, there in front of the house..in full view of the neighbors I decide to pull a wheelie.

Now I’m not a total numpty when it comes to stuff like this. I had a BMX. A long time ago. I swear it wasn’t my inability to actually perform said trick that had me off. You see I had these new XTR spd pedals on and I like my pedals loose so I can step out easily. Out of the box these pedals were somewhat tighter than I’m used to and consequently when I went back a little too far and my brain said ‘OK, step off the back and gracefully land on both feet with the bike held cleverly on it’s back wheel.’ what actually happend was I froze, glued in to the pedals and like a rigid, wooden sculpture of a middle aged man on a bike, I flopped back and hit the ground with enough force to blow every molecule of air out of my lungs and to crack the same rib I cracked only a few months ago that kept off the bike for 3 weeks.
But it didn’t end there. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stand up straight. The coincidence of both of these effects lead me to stagger accross the lawn towards the house making a noise not dissimilar to a drain being cleared, trying to call out for Rachel. In the end I collapsed by the bin (almost Freudian like, as if my subconscious mind was guiding me to where I belonged) only to be helped by my own kids and wife. The pain was nothing compared to the shame I felt. You see, in that brief and resigned moment of freefall when I knew i was lost and was about to hit the ground hard I saw the neighbors opposite standing in their window looking out at this stupid thirty something bloke (..who doesn’t have a proper job..I mean how can he.. he just plays on bikes…) ,riding around in circles in front of his house, dressed like a small child in shorts and and stupidly coloured jersey.

As my breath returned and the stars cleared, I looked over at the neighbors window again. They were still stood there looking out at me. Bastards!

Now here I am. Sitting at home while everyone else is going out riding one of my favourite trails. I can’t take a full breath without a stab of pain in my ribs and I’ve eaten my way through 3 packets of Ibuprofen tablets in the last 9 days. The neighbors look at me funny now, even more so than they did before. But bollocks to them. I ride bikes. I fall off and it hurts more now than it used to. But I still ride bikes and in another few days I’ll be back out on my bike and they’ll be off to their dull day jobs with nothing more exciting in their lives than looking forward to standing by their window tuitting at the Dad next door who still hasn’t grown up.

Bikes are great. Even when it hurts.

And suddenly it’s winter. Our Thursday night ride last night was very cold, but clear and crisp. And given the number of stupid, steep hills we went up, we were soon warm through. It was good to get out, though, and apart from a snapped chain, my ride was nothing but fun…

Just off shortly to the Lakes, where I’ll be taking pictures of our pal Ali, who’s doing an Advanced Mountain Leader kind of thing with the OTC. It’s a four day course and day three (tomorrow) starts around 9am and ends at 10pm… That’s a long day in the hills…

Kona Jake The Snake
Price: £1100
Weight: 22lbs
From: http://www.konaworld.uk.com/

Another day, another long termer and another perspective.

Like Ben I reckon to have most needs covered in the bike department and space in the shed is tight so every bike has to be justified. However, there was a noticeable gap when it came to commuting. Fat tyres and tarmac do not a happy rider make. But - like many mountain bikers I suspect - I just couldn’t bring myself to own a road bike. Luckily, help was at hand. Enter the Jake.

The Jake the Snake offers the best compromise for what I’m after; extra riding time, fast on the road, versatile enough for muddy diversions, and not strictly speaking a “dark side” bike. It’s going to be interesting to have a new perspective on well known trails. The initial outing on my local loop was, erm, ‘interesting’.

Out of the box, the colour hits you first and foremost. It’s bright, very bright. But I’m happy that I may get some extra protection and lessen the threat of “sorry mate, I didn’t see you”.

Kit-wise it’s impeccable; Shimano 105 shifters, derailleurs and rear hub, Easton Carbon forks and finishing kit. The only things I’ve changed are the saddle to an SDG Bel Air and a pair of Shimano 540 pedals.

I’m looking forward to getting some miles in, reclaiming commuting time for something more worthwhile, getting fitter and I may even dip a toe into the lactic hell that is ‘Cross racing. I mean, how hard can it be?