There are only so many subtleties you can employ to take the p@ss out of someone before it becomes too obvious and you offend them. I have no wish to offend anyone, so I'm using one of my available subtleties here. It's called The Ball. The Ball is used to block out something from a picture. In this case it's a head, and I'm blocking it out for a very good reason. If we were the only MTB club on earth, and everyone wanted to join, we'd have to say "No" to today's Ball carrier, because he doesn't wear a helmet. I gathered from his buddies that he NEVER does. So he goes nameless and headless in this merry tale, but rules is rules. No, never mind the rules. Chucking yourself down a rough trail without a bonce protector is like our Keith doing his job (inside a nuclear reactor) without protective kit and a few precautions.  It just doesn't add up and we'll never understand anyone that does it. Now regular readers will know this isn't the first time I've stood my ground on this particular issue, especially knowing very well what can go wrong and how nasty it can be, but I'd love it to be the last. Now where was I?

Oh aye, I was in my front garden on Sunday 11th May 2008 at 9:00 am, and there was someone outside. It was Steve W, spinning one of his wheels in the air  like some demented Roulette player. But he was just teasing, and not preparing to strip down his Stumpjumper as I had feared.  Arriving with him was Steve B, "Skippy" in Wild Boar terminology. And Jason wasn't far behind to make it a foursome. Amazingly, on this Spring morning with a fantastic weather forecast predicted, nobody else emerged from their Sunday beds to get their lungs and tubes filled with midges.

Off we went around 9:25 after a major exercise trying the bikes on the new GollyRack® and we arrived at Kielder Castle car park around 10:45. As we unclipped ourselves from the van we were approached by another rider, and it turned out to be Chris K, he of recent e-mail communications with NMBC, and his 3 buddies, also here to play for the day. It was an almost cloudless sky we stepped out under, apart from a little hill haze, and plenty warm even before we left the Castle with 23 degrees forecast.

Chris and his crew kindly waited for us to get ready and mounted, and after a quick where-why-what for we decided to tag along behind, preferring to avoid full integration because of the reason at the top of this page. There's no way on earth I'm ever going to take, or share, the responsibility for someone hatless on a MidAirCrisis or NMBC ride, so cautious semi-detachment was the name of the game.

Chris and his mate Mick A had recently taken delivery of a very nice pair of Trek Fuel EX 8s and just about had them run in before today. Chris offered me a spin, and even just around the car park it felt good, plenty of length to stretch on if you want to, and very light. Oh, and the paint job is pretty tidy aswell. When we were in Wheelbase recently I lifted a similarly priced model from all of the bigger manufacturers' ranges and the Treks were the lightest.

Anyway - off we went a bit closer to 11:00 am than anticipated. We got around the first three chunks of singletrack OK, well, apart from a slight, very low speed stumble by our Skipper! Then we were away up that first drag to Kersey Cleugh, and that's where one of our accompanying quartet's Univega susser let him down! Steep hill plus big gear plus hard push = snapped chain! That cost three of us a good 15 minutes as we attempted to stick a nine speed Powerlink in an eight speed chain (well, the dozy Gollum did!) until Chris suggested that Dave's chain was indeed a bit thicker than ours! So is Golly!!! Luckily, he had one concealed about his person and we were able to get on with the torture.

The others were getting ready for bed as we caught up with them on the start of the real stuff atop Kersey but after a short interlude it was the silly old f@rt who led off onto the rocky drop to the start of the 3 Dog Climb. We had to wait again for a while as there was a bit of a traffic jam on the gnarly bit, but regrouped again on the top fireroad. After another short regrouping stop, where the wonderfully well maintained CoilAir of the Gollum had it's Middleburn chainrings screwed back on (is that why the chain's been jamming for the last 3 or 4 rides?) we headed for the top.

Approaching our usual lunch stop at the Deadwater Gate, the Gollum got things wrong again when he dumped himself off the bike to lounge in the shade of the last few trees for his bait. Looking up, he noticed that Chris was still pedalling, and had already crossed the cattle grid. Strange, thought Golly, have they seen a woman up there? Anyway, they all continued to pedal up the tarmac after him and it wasn't long before they'd all vanished out of sight! B@stards!

So, poor old thing sat there on his own watching several other groups of riders come and go, and shared his lunchpack with the ant family. After half an hour he took up position at the gate to get some shots of the lads hurtling down from the Radio Masts high above on Deadwater peak. Just then a trio of strangers arrived and started asking Golly what was up there and was it worth doing. "Of course not" he quipped, "Why the hell do you think I'm down here and the nougats are all up there?". Anyway, before he knew it, the nougats had begun to arrive behind him! Quick, switch the camera on - aim - fire! Bollocks, missed Jason and missed most others! First man caught was Steve B, then Chris, then Steve W and I'm afraid I didn't get the whole party - sorry lads!

Here's the pix, videos to follow...

Time to get real again and hit the singletrack. Chris and his boys weren't going to do the Black but we cajoled them into it, seeing as it was ages since we saw someone mashed up on it (that would be me, I suppose). Before that, however, we had to do the first Red lumpy bit, and as is the norm, Golly whizzed down a few hundred metres to get the camera ready. Once the hordes had flown past it was his turn to complete, and also time for him to face a sizeable embarrassment at the bottom. He's in the habit of enjoying this section as hard as the old bones can go, but overcooked it on this occasion.

As soon as he skidded to a halt with the others, someone noticed a hissing sound out the back end of the Kona. Sh@t. yep, he who boasts about tubeless tyres and the virtues of Stan's No-Tubes liquid was well and truly caught with his kegs down after ripping the rear tyre in the quest for speed. It's well rocky, this place, and it showed no mercy here. What it did highlight, yet again, was the almost total lack of maintenance from the old faggot. When the bike was taken off the back of the van both brakes were seized on. At the top of 3 Dog the chainset fell apart. Now the world could see that his rear tyre had nowt left of the Stan's liquid it was desperately seeking. Tosser. Stevie B came to the rescue with a, hmm, Specialized inner tube. Golly was gutted, but wasn't carrying one himself, twit. So the beloved Kona now has a bl@@dy Specialized part on it. Crap!

Steve W had promised himself he'd ride the whole of Devil's arsehol sorry Elbow but the heat was against him this time.

 

Keep watching and if you fancy a ride out with us, drop us a line here: bailout@midaircrisis.org.uk