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An unexpectedly sunny Sunday morning greeted the warriors on Sunday
28th September 2008 as they turned up to do battle with the elements
in the Ingram Valley near Wooler, Northumberland. Up until 09:00 it
looked as though, for the first time, potential new members would
outnumber the regulars, as no less than FIVE MidAirCrisis Virgins
arrived at Gollum's Cave at Holystone. They were met by a very
meagre representation from NMBC of Chris D, Chris K, Mick H and
Golly himself. Of course we knew Derek was waiting a few miles north
to join us but where had all the MAC men gone? Yes, we have one or
five on the injured list but hey, this looked like a great day to
sample a bit of the North's famous landscape and maybe even stay
dry. Puzzle.
Major problem today was the fact that a dozy Gollum-like bod had
"mislaid" the key for the GollyMobile®
so there had to be a different vehicular setup this time. As we
hovered around trying to work out how much transport was needed,
Steve W arrived late from his bed. He'd actually texted but Golly
hadn't heard the MACphone®
go off. And then Steve D also landed to avoid any such embarrassment
of numbers. At this point I have to say a MASSIVE "Thank You" to
everyone for offering their cars today - that included every person
who'd brought one. The way it worked out, five cars left the Cave to
be joined at Cramlington by Derek in his car, and he eventually took
the front to lead us to the ride start at Ingram where we
commandeered the car park.
Now straight away I'm going to apologise to five people I hadn't met
before, because I can't remember a single name. Those who know me
well will accept this as perfectly normal. Others may be mildly
offended, but I can assure you (whoever you are!) that it isn't
deliberate, it isn't ignorance (despite what Mrs Gollum may tell
you) and it isn't lack of consideration. It's a sh~te memory cell
trapped inside a very old, very hollow container. I will get your
names and immortalise you gents on this very page as soon as I can.
E-mail me with your details and which bike you were riding as that
will help. And identify yourselves on the odd photo here if I
captured you and let me know 3rd from left, etc. Once again, I'm
sorry. Wait a mo - Jon B had the broken gears, so he was there.
That's one.
We managed to get organised and ready to ride for 10:30 and set off
in one of our "usual" directions from just east of the village.
The long drag uphill to Ilderton Moor must have had those who hadn't
done it before guessing. Mountain biking? Crossing the moor soon
fixed that train of thought. Not very wet up here - strange. Of
course, Derek steered us to the inevitable ford, but although there
seemed to be very little water in any of the streams and rivers we'd
passed on the way, this one was way too deep and the bridge was used
instead. Time for a gate-opening and closing exercise which was to
extend over most of the ride from here. We had one early mechanical
when a gear shifter refused to pull it's cable, reducing one new
member to single speeding, but there were no dreaded punctures.
Here's Derek and Friends.
We made one or two short comfort stops as we stumbled across field
and moorland stretches of dual and singletrack, encountering a
fairly low number of squelchy bits as we went, but probably enough
to wet most of our feet up to mid-calf height. And most of the new
lads obliged in the time-honoured fashion of falling, mercifully
without damage. A couple of times these stops were mistaken for
lunch, especially as midday came and went, but no, Derek was holding
out until we reached Linhope Spout. Before we got that far, however,
there was an adventure to be had!
This came about when Mick, Steve and a few others managed to stage a
breakaway up a particularly steep climb. Now although Gollum's
dulcet tones rang out over the whole valley to stop them reaching
the top of Cat Crag, they stayed up there, looking down on the rest
of us (four, to be exact) as we tried to barge our way through 2.5
metre high ferns in order to rejoin a trail we'd managed to miss a
good way down this hillside. Not much of this was rideable and it
was a real battle, but not wishing to look like lost prats, we
continued and eventually made it down onto bridleway again.
Looking back up the hill, we could see the other eight, like ants on
the horizon as they carried then managed to scoot along the top of
the Crags way up there behind us. Eventually they found a path down
and were able to ride it all the way. Unfortunately for the handful
of valley-floor dwellers, the rest were thrilled with the descent
they were confronted by and loved it. B@ll@cks, missed out there!
Half an hour later we'd reached our planned stop.
By the time the clock struck 2:30pm or thereabouts there were an
awful lot of very tired legs, and our new lads had been subjected to
a pretty hard ride for their debuts, so well done to all five. We
finally hit the tarmac run for home all the way down the valley, and
someone's "fun" was about to start as the speeds increased by a very large
factor. Now at this point I'd like you to refresh your memory on the
contents of our Home Page, in particular the bollocks served up by
"someone" about perhaps cooling things down a bit to avoid any more
nasty pain infliction. Well, over the years the World has seen
millions of references to the phrase "poetic justice", and guess
what? Get ready for another one.
As I said, we hit (bad phraseology) the tarmac and were pretty keen
to get back to the cars from here, with very little pedalling
required now to complete that simple task. Almost unnoticed by the
Group, Derek had taken off like a scadded cat and was almost out of
sight at the foot of the first drop. Time for action as the rest of
us began to gather pace in pursuit of the little weasel. Normally,
if someone dares to burn me off, so be it. However, if I then get a
strong inkling that whoever it was is grinning like a Cheshire Cat
behind those sky blue Iridium, Spiderman shades, it just encourages me to try
the impossible. So that's what silly old Gollum did. After allowing
the DDG to reach it's own theoretical maximum speed without turning
the pedals, he decided it could do with a bit of help. He therefore
applied all the physics he could muster from that scrawny little
carcass and had the beast absolutely hammering down the road.
Just before it levels out for a bit, and about half way to
Disappearing Derek's Derriere there's a cunningly place right
hand bend at Meggrim's Knowe, placed there by some cunning. (No, I
haven't missed a word out). This bend is covered with
cunningly placed gravel. Now then, Chris K was behind clocking about
41mph on his bike PC, but losing ground after this fierce burst of GollyPower™. That meant the DDG hit
this discrete gravel trap at something near Warp Factor Four. Jamming on the
fearsome eight inch rear Avid disc, and gently dabbing the same item
up front, resulted in Gravity and Inertia taking over control from
Golly Guidance™. The
corner had been reached and steering initiated but it soon became
evident to the chump on the saddle that the bike was making no attempt to
circumnavigate the thing. There looked only one kind of
circumsomething likely to result from this event. This ain't great, not going down well at all (more
bad phraseology). Time to get off, he thinks in double-quick time.
So he forgets about the right turn manoeuvre with the associated
square yard of gravel rash and acres of skin rubbed over the
metalled surface, and instead heads straight on
into the scenery greenery where fifty metres of lush, soft fern and
gorse bush patiently
await his imminent, unforeseen and fairly rapid arrival. As soon as
grass was touched, even the desperately skidding Michelin Cross
Country Mud tyre turned to grease. Birds sing, sheep maaeeerrr and the
breeze plays gently across the tall grasses. Boinggg! Yep, another
very real MidAirCrisis comes in to land.
The lights go out momentarily. We have touchdown. Bad spelling. We have ouchdown.
It seems like days, but it's only seconds before the Doc arrives,
Steve W, and lays healing hands upon the
Gollum's rigid, motionless shoulder, curled up in the undergrowth,
hands clasped behind his new, slightly shortened neck. "Stay down"
he advises Golly, who is in total agreement for once. "What day is
it, you mad Geordie b@st@rd?" chirps a distinctly Irish voice. "Hang
a Paddy Day" comes the bitter sweet response. "Excellent" retorts
Chris D. "You're gonna make it".
The fabulously competent Nursing Staff of MidAirCrisis are yet again
called upon to do their duty, which they carry out admirably, with
aplomb (or was it a plum?) for the fifth time in as many weeks. The
Doc puts the Gollum into the recovery position before stamping very
hard on his left wrist, probably the only working bit left intact.
Must be a reflex test. Passed with flying colours. However, this
only produced a timid "ouch" from the folded carcass and was
completely ignored by Steve. "Ok, on your feet, stupid" came the
next advisory. "How many fingers?" volunteered another. "Thirteen"
replies Golly. "And I'll take one home for the wife". "Smashin!
You're fixed" added another Chris.
The Gollum gets to his knees somehow, and sits down on the grass. On
an anthill. He quickly moves onto a rock. But it ain't a rock, it's
a concrete drain pipe a foot in diameter with a concrete lid. This
statement was to take on new relevance 24 hours or more later when
Golly spoke to Derek on the phone. Derek knows this bend well, and
also the drainage work that went on here some years ago! They left
stuff in the grass! Meantime, the Doc orders Golly's helmet to be
removed... Ok, settle. This reveals a nice knock on the forehead and
some corpuscles escaping. Inspection of the inside of Golly's ex-Met
Parachute helmet (the one with removable full-face lower section)
shows a distinct hard plastic edge which is what had buried itself
in Gollum's brain cover. Obviously the helmet now has to be binned,
but it won't be replaced with the same model. Parachutes no use for
this kind of MidAirCrisis then.
Once the lads had extracted enough putrid yellow liquid from the
situation, it was time to mount up again, carefully, and get back to
the pursuit. Luckily, this accident had been nowhere near as serious
as those to Steve B and Tim B a week and two weeks earlier, with
only a very momentary loss of sensibility as the Gollum's eyes took
a real close-up still shot of the grass at the landing spot. We got
back to the cars an hour later than guessed, around 3:30pm, due
partly to this final episode but mainly to the excursion by Derek
and Golly into no-man's land earlier. A really enjoyable ride,
around 17 miles, with almost as many laughs as any other, and a
rigorous workout for the new lads who must have thought we were a
bunch of cissies with full sussers for Northumberland's meandering
pastures! Roll on the next one, Del Boy!
Wednesday update - Gollum's head restored to it's former state, Sh@t.
OK but for a slight trickle of blood in left ear.
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