It’s a widely held misconception that Eskimos have 200 different words for snow but as we've found over the past few rides the white stuff is infinitely variable in it’s ability to add to the enjoyment of the day or send us off, cold, wet and exhausted for an early cafe and home. Apart from the problems of actually reaching the start of a route without recourse to a 4x4 vehicle, assembling bikes in freezing car parks and actually finding other idiots to ride with, suddenly the tracks are filled with people enjoying themselves on sledges, plastic bags, old car bonnets or whatever, sliding down OUR downhills, whooping and grinning, as we grimly attempt to plod upwards, the penalty of gravity running concurrently with either having to force reluctant wheels through deep snow or wheel spinning on hidden ice. Fresh snow is normally okay, so long as it’s not too deep, give it a few days and you are trying to plough through the Devil’s semen. As the thawing and freezing cycle advances, we cease to advance, the ice becomes uneven and lumpy making riding in a straight line something akin to a drunken walk home after a Saturday night binge. Soon the extra effort involved becomes too much for our feeble old bodies and once again, we are taking some bikes for a walk in the picturesque, snow-covered countryside. And yet we press on, somehow thinking things will be better round the corner, or after the next gate, or, the ultimate in optimism, if we get higher. (Where the snow is always deeper. Why don’t we understand this?).
So why do we image these difficulties will be negated as soon as the track points downhill? We leap back on our bikes to begin a descent which has every possibility of serious injury; skidding, sliding and hoping against hope that the patch of snow we’ll eventually land in will be deep and soft. Our geriatric caution renders even simple downhills slower than our usual performances. Death grips on the bars and the extra core rigidityrequired just to stay upright combine to create tension in the chest muscles. Or is it? Could it be the early symptoms of that first heart attack? Not to mention snow-blindness, hypothermia, pulmonary edema (not entirely certain what that is but there’s always snow involved), frostbite. It’s only a matter of time before we get the quiet shake of the head from the stoic mountain rescue paramedic as he silently wonders what possessed an old bloke to be attempting a ride in these conditions, when all the proper cyclists are on turbo-trainers in the safety of their garages.
Thawing out in the cafe afterward do we marvel at our good fortune in staying alive and uninjured? Are road rides planned instead? The price of turbo-trainers discussed? No. Despite the evidence of our own eyes, legs and lungs, the conversation will be where are we going tomorrow and who is out. We’ll just go somewhere different, there might be less snow.
Congratulations to the Terra Trailblazers who tore themselves away from the fireside, unvelcroed themselves from the settee and showed the weather who was boss. You know who you are. Who will be the first to crack and purchase a fat bike?
After snow comes the inevitable thaw, which means only one thing - mud and a whole new world of moaning.
For anyone really interested all the routes ridden are on Garmin Connect - terratrailblazers.
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