Hampshire ride 28/10/12

Hampshire ride 28/10/12

This was a ride that I really wasn’t happy with myself about doing. I have recently lost the drive to ride off road. For the last 18 months I have enjoyed this type of riding, but recently there hasn’t been any enjoyment in it for me. I had however prepared the bike ready for today so it was going to happen. I was going to give myself a kick up the arse to get me back into the saddle.

At 6am the alarm woke me up. It was cold and I really wanted to stay in my bed. As I lay there, I argued in my head that I had swapped working this weekend to go to Hampshire to ride, so that was what I was going to do. I got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, looking out onto the garden I saw the sheds and lawn were white with frost, my heart sank. I was forcing myself to go whilst secretly inside trying to find an excuse not to go. I was making a chore of everything even choosing the clothes I would wear on an initially cold day that would then become warm and then turn to rain. The only thing I could find that was positive about this morning was the fact that the clocks had gone back and I’d manage to grab an extra hour in bed.

By 7.30am I was kitted up and on my way to the Chiswell Green service station to fuel up and rendezvous with Dave and the other lads due to ride. We loaded the bikes into the vans and by 8am we were on our way to Hampshire. On the way down Dave briefed us of the ride ahead, saying that we’d ride some nice technical lanes but there were get outs and easier routes to ride if things got too hard. By 9am we had arrived at our start point. I was feeling a little better about the ride now but this only lasted until we opened the back of the van to unload the bikes. I noticed that there was water all over the floor of the van, where it came from we never did find out. We unloaded the van and I found that both my armour and jersey were soaked. Great I thought, a f**king freezing day and I’ve got to ride in wet gear. I got dressed and quickly got my jacket on to keep warm.

So far everything about this trip today had been negative, I was now here so what was I going to do make the day a drag or start to enjoy it.

By 9.30am we were on the roads to the first lane, I had now accepted the fact that I was here and that I was going to make the most of it and enjoy the day. I had placed myself near the back of the pack so I could ride at my own pace and not worry about holding anyone up. I hadn’t ridden for a while and wanted to settle in to it, in my own time. About 200 yards up the first lane I had an early wakeup call and a reminder of what off road riding was all about. I found myself flying through air and then being firmly planted on my arse. The bike had just spun out from underneath me. I was ok, which is more than that can be said for the bike. The bush/hand guards were askew and the handle bars were out of alignment. I rode the bike a short way up the lane to where we met the others. A little bit of spannering saw the handlebars and guards back in place. So what has caused this off? I could simply blame the wet algae covered smooth polished chalk which as anyone knows is like riding on ice. But I think it also comes down to the fact I wasn’t giving it 100% of my attention.

This time of year makes the countryside a wonderful place to be, the vibrant golden yellows, reds, burnt orange and rusty browns of the autumn leaves, and as the leaves fall they open up the views. However the autumn coloured carpet of leaves can make the lanes look calm a serine. Like the freshly fallen snow that lies even and flat, once settled it hides what lies beneath. Today would see an array of surfaces to ride on, chalk, clay, gravel and flint with a good old helping of mud and wet slippery water filled ruts.

Some of the memorable lanes we rode were lanes such as Watery lane; the water was constantly running down it, it was like riding up a brook. The base of which was in places loose rock and stone and in other places large slabs of what I believe is green stone. The back of the bike was stepping out and this required a 100% of your concentration and skill to keep the line straight. About half way up this lane is a step up which again made it exciting.

 The next was Wheatham Hill in Oakshott near to Butser Hill. The bottom of the hill although chalky was quite rideable but as it twisted around and ascended it became more of a challenge. The surface became trickier and more taxing. Once again we were riding on wet chalk, not good in any situation and a certain amount of skill was required. Deep water ruts, logs, fallen branches and loose chalk rocks up to the size of rugby balls littered the lane this added with a mixture of exposed roots and step ups made for one of the most challenging rides. So much so that only two of the group made it to the top. As I sat at my view point, I watched as the riders came to a halt about 30yards ahead of me, blocking the lane making any attempt of passing them impossible. Once momentum was lost, wheels spun in a hopeless attempt of regaining traction. Some tried to man handle their bikes over the obstacles to try to gain an advantage but to no avail. They also tried coming back down to get a better run up, but all was in vain. As I watched on, knowing my mind set at the beginning of the day and my own abilities I decided to give this one a miss. It was in fact quite nice to have a rest and watch the on-going entertainment. As the time passed one by one either through frustration, exhaustion or both the others came to join me. It wasn’t long before they had all given up and our journey continued.

Butser Hill was the next lane, and we were going to go up it, we all decided that is would be a waste of good riding time and effort to try and ride. Once again this is a steep chalk hill with a large rain wash rut running down the middle of it. I have ridden this going down and once the wheels had slipped into the rut it was (for my ability) useless trying to get the bike out. Going up in the wet would just be futile. Although, I would like to give it a go in the summer when it’s dry. The two lads that made Wheatham Hill headed off to tackle the climb, while the rest of us took another route and met them at the top.

Many of the lanes deserved to be mention but I can’t remember all their names, one had a water splash, it looked like just any other large puddle and if we didn’t know we would have ridden straight into it. Luckily we had previous knowledge of this and took a detour if we hadn’t we would have ended up handle bar deep into muddy cold water.

One of the lanes was a very steep descent down a severally rain washed and rutted chalky hill. In some places you’d hit a rock or something that would throw you forward over the handle bars, which is not good when you’re going downhill. I had made it about half way down and nearly come off several times when I decided to stop the bike recompose myself and start again. Unfortunately the stop wasn’t that controlled and in the words of Tony who was following me, it looked like I’d just given up and simply fell off the bike, which is in fact really pretty much what happened.

Another of the lanes hadn’t been ridden for a while; you could tell this as there were no signs of tyre marks in the mud and no disturb fallen leaves. At the beginning of the trail the mud was flat and smooth. In fact it was a little bit too smooth. As the first rider enter the lane the front wheel of his bike disappeared passed its hub into the mud, the rear wheel quickly pushed its way off the tarmac and sank into the gloop. Then a large roost of mud covered all directly behind him. Sometimes it’s good to be a nearer the back.

One other lane that has particular good memories is one that has very deep ruts from beginning to end. If you pick the wrong line it’s almost impossible to get out off or change your line. As I was reminded of as Dave shot past. Hidden under the water filled ruts were high roots these could easily send you over the bars or spit you off. You didn’t have to fall off to get wet either all you needed to do was stop then let your mate go past covering you in that lovely smelly water. The ruts were that deep that it was very hard to keep your feet on the pegs as one side or the other would get knocked off, and riding with your legs up just hurt.

By the end of the day my stamina was waning so I slowed my pace, better arrive late then not arrive at all. Although I’d not been riding for a while and being unfit I really enjoyed the day. Dave had planned a cracking route, and the lads were great too. Hopefully now I’ll get back into riding on the dirt. Great Day.