So, once more we were headed out for a wetting, according to the latest forecast this Sunday, 4th May 2008. Gathering at Gollum's were Keith, Mick, Steve B, Steve W and Tim. Must be a better set of organisers, this lot, as we got away not too many minutes after the scheduled 7:00 am kickoff with two in Keith's Freelander and four in the GollyMobile®.

Keith's shot of the guards on duty at Grizedale's new Visitor centre

We drove through a bit of dampness on the way over, but it was inconsistent, and the sky overhead when we arrived at Grizedale Visitor centre at 9:45 was broken in places with the odd sliver of blue visible through the crack. Could we get away with it? Off we trolled up the first dual climb which is pretty short and delivers you to the foot of the first proper one. However, most of this is nice singletrack with enough traps to keep you amused as you gain height. Steve W adopted this ride immediately and took off upwards like a scadded cat - whoosh! We didn't see him again until we reached the first fireroad. Somewhere behind him were the others, with both Keith and Golly struggling due to the absence of rear braking effort, but for different physical reasons - read on.

Regardless, we bombed on over a few more eases uphill until the first treat presented itself. The trail was wet but still good enough to ride fast, and the rocky nature of it, much like Dalby, kept everyone alert. Two stages later, and for the second stage in a row with Steve B pressing Gollum up front reasonably hard, the blithering old idiot made a pig's ear of a low double and gracefully clattered off the side of the DDG into the lovely soft landing patch nearby. Once he stood up, however, the truth bit hard - ribs gone again! Oh God, I'm getting way too old for this lark. Now, one more time, who was the lunatic trying to set the pace FROM BEHIND? You BASTARD STEVE! He was, however, right on my arse, so saw everything, and was the first to utter those immortal words "Are you OK?". Cheers, feel better already.

Here's the Stupid One cuddling his ribs at the back as Keith takes the photo and they all take the hiss.

Once the others had caught up, and passed as Golly dragged himself back onto the trail, we regrouped while they all had a good laugh. One was too sore to laugh properly, and still is sitting here a day later at home. Anyway, Gollums have to pretend to be as hard as anyone else, and as anyone else would soldier on, he had no choice. So the six soldiered on, looking for more thrills on the very rocky ground. It was also covered with stretches of soaking, bare timber boardwalk, and these were terrifying in their new, naked form since the English Forestry Commission removed the safe chicken wire covers from their surface. Madness, and there was plenty of mashing visible from sliding chainrings as people had slithered off the edges. Somehow, even at our incredible cross country speed (heh, heh), we got away with it. Well, most of it, Mick!

You can't really see it here, but the disc rotor edge is way below the outer edge of the pads!

At 11.15 precisely, we stopped to investigate Keith's lack of rear brake, only to be amazed at what we found - the wrong size calliper mounting bracket fitted to the back of the , er, somewhat pricey E-120! We made use of the stoppage time to indulge in a quick snack before moving on into the undergrowth again. We came to a halt again  just before noon at Moor Top car park for our lunch break and Tim was the only one brave enough to strip almost to the bone as the temperature climbed, and the odd bits of drizzle and shower proved most welcome in helping keep the heat down. Most of us, however, retained our waterproof coats to keep the puddle spray off but suffered internal wetness. On we zoomed over the rocky, rooty singletracks, actually more stony than I remembered from last trip here. Luckily there were no more injuries and no punctures, and the weather was more fair than wet.

Keith's misfortune with the quite disgracefully zero-quality-controlled Whyte E-120 meant we decided, sensibly to take advantage of our proximity to Stavely where he bought it two weeks ago at a bike shop. Can't say which one, that wouldn't be right, but it's a bike shop at Stavely. That's Stavely near Kendal in Cumbria. So we all went in there, Keith carrying the frame and Mick the rear wheel, all looking butch and up for it. We came out ten minutes later with the same kit, coz we're too nice. But at least the b@st@rds have promised him they'll get in touch with "the manufacturers" on Tuesday, which I would assume is Whyte. Or maybe, at a stretch of the imagination, the Stavely bike shop wasn't guilty, and it's a proper Factory cock-up. Whyte, making production bloopers like this? Surely not? Now what do you say about British engineering, Jason?

Brakes apart, the otherwise cushty Whyte E-120

The plan had been to add on a loop that Steve W had mapped out to the north of the North Face Trail, but time constraints for Tim meant we didn't have time, so we finished pretty early. Mick's bike PC claimed just over 10 miles and we were back at the Visitor Centre about 12:30pm, so we spent a good half hour in it's back garden talking tactics and machinery while indulging in tea and coffee provided kindly by Steve W. Plenty of laughs as usual but Golly paid for it every time, and pleaded for seriousness while that rib was penetrating his right lung. However, the insensitive sods continued their wisecracks just to see his twisted little face in agony.

As Tim was in a bit of a rush to get back home, and Golly had promised him as much, so when Keith told us to follow him as he knew a "short cut to the motorway", we did. Only the motorway he led us to was the A1M, not the M6 which would have sliced 30 minutes off the trip. Not only that, but we drove over the bl@@dy thing at Tebay, although Keith masterfully avoided it.

Dismounting from the truck back at home, dopey old Gollum had difficulty extracting himself from the back seat, in pretty much agony from the wound, but every friggin cloud has a different colour lining. The previous day, Saturday, good old Golly had been doing his bit for matrimonial harmony by plastering one of the walls in the Cave's master bedroom. That left three to do the day after this ride - Bank Holiday Monday. Now, however, I have that unexpectedly tricky double kick in the trail at Grizedale to thank for allowing me to avoid any further plastering activity for about 6 or 7 weeks. Super!.

 

Thanks to Steve W for driving us back, allowing the broken Gollum to take it easy in the back. It was a nice drive once he discovered the GollyMobile® had five gears, not just three (typical rev-hungry mechanic type!).

And here, as punishment for pushing me to my fourth stretch of two months rib healing (or otherwise) in the last 3 years, is Our Skipper Steve in action on the way home!

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