back to Travels page

One of my previous outflowings of tripe mentioned the fact that we hadn't yet tried Dalbeattie in the wet. Today we did. For only the second time this summer the core trio of Jason, John and Terry were back out together for a rare treat - a visit to the seven Stanes. Not long ago it was fairly normal for us to visit one or other of the Scottish Border MTB Centres of Excellence. However, with so much going on, or perhaps not going on at all, over the summer break we've been missing out on those happy blasts. Time to put that right now.

It was drizzly when we left Newcastle around 9.25am and as we were unloading the bikes at Dalbeattie the Rain Gods struck. Not to be put off, we stuck our rain gear on and headed onto the Red Trail. The heavy rain didn't last but it came and went several times throughout our casual three hour trek.

As it had been so long since we did this, the Gollum suggested he would shoot ahead and find a decent position from which to capture, for your delectation, still and moving images of the MAC men in action. There was a lot of standing water on most of the trails, but they were still plenty rideable, perhaps with a bit more care and slightly less reckless abandon than normal. Amazingly, we didn't see a single biker during those three hours.

We covered the ground at a decent rate, but took plenty of time out for nattering along the way which was nice, especially in these conditions. Jason had the mother of all hangovers but coped with it pretty well, and it proved useful in allowing Terry to keep pace with him. John was his usual powerful self but our lack of rides did have him walking a few times where he'd normally climb like a squirrel. Speaking of which we saw a red one march pretty casually across the fireroad in front of us about half way round. This is the life, getting close to nature. Soon we'd get even closer.

Golly's first excursion away in front produced the following unexpected result:  5MB .wmv video Yes, it's 5 megs, but you'll be glad you watched it.

That looked like it really hurt - more later. With John suitably mocked by the other two, he brushed aside his little tumble (!) and we continued on our merry way. Another mile or so up the road, headed for Jacob's Ladder, John had another altercation with a wet tree root, and his casual-looking sidways fall onto an upward-sloping rock face didn't look too irksome. However, this was the one that almost snapped his thigh, as we discovered on Monday night back home!

There seemed to be more fireroad than singletrack on this trip - can't say I've noticed before, but I did this time. Probably because there's more fireroad than singletrack. John couldn't grasp Golly's proclamation that there was less climbing here than at the other Stanes trails. A peep at the profiles page should confirm that. A bit further on, we stopped just short of the fabled Slab for a lunch break. It managed to stop raining for a while.

Just two minutes up the road it started lashing down again, and we arrived at The Qualifier with rivers flowing down its' shiny slabs of rock. That didn't stop the Fearless One, Jason, from chucking himself straight over the edge, slithering down but staying on his wheels. So Terry duly followed, quivering with fear but somehow also making it down safely, but the old heart rate monitor alarm was wailing madly at the foot of the drop. On then to the top of a sodden, greasy-looking Slab itself. John took one look and decided today wasn't the day he'd christen himself on the big bad granite slice, carefully carrying the Barracuda down the treacherous surface to the foot of the Slab. Jason had a quick look, decided where to start his run, and rode over the lip. I've never seen anyone descend the Slab this fast - it was totally manic and his brakes did very little to retard his acceleration as he headed towards a certain accident at the bottom. Somehow he got away with it but the Coiler took some stopping when he levelled out on the landing strip.

So that left Terry at the top, contemplating what he'd just witnessed with terror in his heart. A few seconds later there'd be the end of yet another busted rib sticking in it aswell. Yes, the silly old fool refused to look "silly" by NOT following Jason down, so he did. All was well until he hit flat ground at the rock's base. Jason reckoned his handlebars had twisted. The Gollum reckoned he'd hit a small stone or just hit that evil Avid Juicy Seven 8 inch front disc. Whatever, it wiped him out - here's the aftermath thanks to some quick thinking by an anonymous photo snapper:

So that left only one MidAirCrisis to come, and we were looking for alcohol poisoning to entice Jay into a trap, but he just sailed through the rest of the ride giggling under his poisonous breath at the two battle scarred tossers riding with him. Lucky so-and-so.

We got back to the car around 3.15pm with 15.4 miles on John's computer and 15.5 on Terry's, max 26mph, average 7mph. here's the other vid 1.5MB .wmv. When John managed to get his riding pants off we could see why he was hobbling. It looked like his thigh bone was trying to get out the side of his leg, and there was a hell of a bump there which was growing visibly as we watched it. He'll feel great when he gets up for work at 5.00am tomorrow morning! Terry's problem was that when he got home he'd grown a right breast. The stabbing sensation in his chest had now become familiar, this being the third time in two years that he'd broken a rib. Half was sticking out and the other half sticking in, making deep inhaling and laughing a very painful experience. We're sure to outdo these injuries in the future so if you enjoy blood and gore keep watching.