Club ride

So, there being a distinct shortage of people to go mountain biking with, I did some research and came up with the possibility of joining a club.  Somewhat apprehensive in case they are all fit and fast and I hold the group up, I went for my first club ride with North Cheshire Clarion on Sunday.  Wildboarclough, a ride billed as 20 miles long.  Well, that shouldn't be a problem, thinks me. Say we set off by 10am, back to the pub for 1pm.  But indeed no, it was not to be, and 5 hours duration later we got back to the pub, muddy and happy.  I think.

I enjoyed it.  Weirdly the club ride turned out to be the ride leader, a club member who hadn't been out for a good while and three newbies.  It would have been a strangely low turnout, methinks, without the new peeps.  And I think it worked, largely.  Possibly not for Carl who was young, skinny and kind of fit looking and who rode away, certainly from us two girls, up the hills.  Technically none of us were bad, and nobody was so weird that everyone avoided them.  In fact, I'd go as far as saying it was a good group and I enjoyed the company of everyone on the outing.

My age and experience and independance does give me away though.  Having looked at the route map, I'd also printed it out, highlighed it in red pen, got out a full OS map and put red crosses and dotted lines on that at key points.  Well, it was a 30 year old map already held together with sellotape and I did have a second one of the same area at home so figured a little map defacing wasn't going to end the world.  And indeed did kind of show up my scary independant stand alone streak when we found ourselves somewhat confused by where we were, having taken a wrongish turning somewhere.  We were on the edge of the map print out, and the edge of the map the leader had.  When I say on the edge, we were over the edge.  The only thing to do was fess up, get out the big map and have a discussion.  So then everyone knew.  I was weird enough to bring map and compass, and the ability to use them.  As I explained, I'm used to going out on my own or having to take responsibility for myself and I wasn't about to abscond from that responsibility on a group ride.  And there was me, trying to blend in.  I did a good sales job though on selling them the merits of the Nav course at Plas y Brenin. 

Riding pretty

Finally, the bike got dusted off, I dusted myself down and lo and behold we left the house together.  Perched the bike on the rack on the back of the car and took myself off to Culcheth for a spot of sneaky parking village centre.

This was a new thing for me.  Taking the hybrid out on the road, not for a journey to get to somewhere but for leisure, even for fun, if you like.  Not done that before.

The thing is, I'm trying to join a cycling club.  I want to belong to a club so I have people to go mountain biking with, people who will stretch me perhaps, add a social element to occasions and have good regular reliability for riding in and around my area.  Also I want to know what cyclocross is and if I could do it.

My chosen club is: this one:
http://www.northcheshireclarion.co.uk/
They have sections in all kinds of cycling, regular runs, and mid week evening club meets with information.  They also have club colours but I'm not sure about them.  In contacting them they seem nice, welcoming, informative, they actually respond to e-mails and are not snotty about my lack of ability, just asking questions to establish information, nothing more unpleasant.  I anticipate going on my first MTB ride with them next weekend.

But one thing they did was flag up that my hybrid would be welcome on their club runs.  If of course the rider was up to it.  I have no idea what my average speed is, and realised it needs to be 16mph on the road to be comfortable in that company.  So, one way to find out, test it out.  Found some maps of their club runs and gave one a lonesome test run:

http://bikeroutetoaster.com/culcheth

Actually I did kind of enjoy it.  The lanes are obviously something they've selected through experience; traffic is light, gradients are manageable and the views are lovely.  Never felt in danger or even threatened by fellow road users.  I did wonder though if others doing similar routes go in a clockwise direction such was the volume of cyclists seen coming the other way.

I'm not at race pace for their Saturday ride though.  Another club sped past me like I was stationary on the way up to Warburton Bridge, which was cool to go over, given that in the car it costs 12p a journey - it's free to go by bike!

Last night

So, while Manchester and Salford rioted last night, this innocent old lady was out on her bike.  I had been contributing to a thread on a climbing forum (stay with me on this), and somebody very very local to me was looking for a club to get back on to his road and MTB in the future.  He stipulated easy stuff.  I made contact with him to see if he might be interested in an occasional evening MTB ride partner and bingo we're hot to trot.

I selected my partner well.  Recovering from serious injury (actually still carrying the prolapsed disc injury), aged 52 and not been on a bike for 6 months.  I was gambling that there would be a chance I could stay up.  We agreed a time and meeting place just down the road from me and agreed easy stuff, no technical, just off road made up pathways.  He advised he normally did about an hour.

This is where I went marginally wrong.  I should have a) asked how far he went in an hour and b) established that it was an hour out and an hour back.  So I meet the somewhat pleasant chap as planned, almost immediately realising I haven't told a soul where I'm going or who with and in fact could have placed myself in a highly risky situation.  But sometimes trust is all you have, and I'm willing to accept my fellow man for being only good.

Off we go, and we set a snappy kind of a pace, although do-able.  We hit an uphill road section and I'm in front.  By the time we get to the top I'm some way in front.  Back on the pathways and as soon as we hit tarmaced paths, he puts the hammer down and I'm not even able to get on his wheel.  I'm trying everything at this point as far as both cadence and gearing / power are concerned and no, simply can't do it.  Turns out to be a great two hour ride though as he doesn't always put the hammer down, quite often we're a really similar pace, and I don't always leave him on the hills.  Combination works out well.

He punctured on his rear wheel and urged me to leave him and simply follow the path home. Naturally I refuse, I mean, us girls just don't do that kind of thing, abandoning a friend (albeit someone who's not a friend quite yet but could be).  So I wait.  Turns out I do more than wait.  Turns out I loan my tyre levers out, I am the one who gets the inner tube in the right way (seriously he was trying to put the valve in from the spoke side), I assist with getting the tyre back on the rim and indeed I'm the one who gets the chain on correctly.  I think he may have been delayed a little if I'd left. 

It was a lovely two hours and he's mailed to thank me for my mechanical assistance.  And then I returned to the reality and horror of rioting in the streets just a couple of miles down the road from me.

Tomorrow ... SkyRide

So tomorrow I do something different.  I join an organised activity.  Lots of people, even ... brrrr ... entertainment en route.  Sometimes free water bottles, sometimes music,  kids racing, clowns on unicycles, families out having fun, children with their stabilisers on.

For yes, tomorrow, the roads of Manchester are closed (on a selected and carefully planned and stewarded route) and tomorrow, we Sky Ride.  I have no idea why I am going.  I seriously don't think I'm the target audience because I have no real major fear of roads with cars, so carless isn't really too much of a draw for me.  Also it's a family event, there's no dashing about, there's a lot of waiting patiently behind six year olds who can't get up a lot of speed on their bitty little kiddy bikes.  But it is fun, it is a lot of fun.  And there's that feeling of smugness and pride at being part of something bigger, in showing you stand up for something bigger than you, something you care about passionately.

Tomorrow Manchester Sky Rides.

I digress

I digress.  Oh yes I do.  For I have been away, and lord forgive me for I have sinned; I did not take the bike.  I totally digress.  I have been to a music festival.  I went, in fact, to Kendal Calling, apparently 2010 small festival of the year or some such voted title that it was proud of.  And 2011 Kendal Calling gets my vote.  Except for the toilets, they are wayyyyy down the pecking order.

Having discovered on my last random biking, driving and kayaking holiday the unexpected joys and pleasures of taking a solo holiday and actually enjoying the hell out of it, it was with some trepidation I headed off to a festival.  Not a new experience for me.  You only have to take a look at me and your mind will go, hmm, I bet she's been to a festival or two in her time.  And you would not be wrong.  This, however was the first middle aged lonesome expedition to a festival.  And I had concerns.  I worried I would spend three entire days with the only words I spoke being please could I have a pint of XYZ.  And thank you.  For manners are important.  I worried people would be bad to me and my tent when they realised I was alone and defenceless.  I worried about meanness of youth. 

In reality, all was good.  More than good.  It was excellent.  I could chose which stage I wanted to go to and when.  When I got there if I listened to a track or two and wasn't entirely convinced I didn't have to spend any polite time with friends hinting at the fact I thought they were shit - I could just move on.  I ate what and when I wanted, likewise drink, likewise bed time and rising time.  Couldn't have had a better time.  And I did speak to people.  People queuing for toilets, people queuing for water, people sharing my tortilla chips.

Marvellous time.  But not a cycling related post for which I do apologise.  I will get right on it.