Moors And Shores 2018

Moors And Shores 2018

CX bike ride

The Fireman, Martin T.

15th April route.

It's that time of year again and the disturbingly early start to drive to Dalby Forest for another Moors And Shores. Regular ally, The Fireman was present and correct, irregular companion, Chairman Whelan had weaseled out of the ride and passed his entry to an old friend of ours, Martin T. The usual parking area was not in use owing to the slight moistness beget by the biblical rain in the preceding weeks, so parking had to be roadside with a short ride to the registration tent. The Fireman and Martin T., were, of course, already waiting for the tardy one. Helmet stickered up, handlebars numbered (for the all important photographs), map in pocket, raring to go (well, maybe showing signs of tepid enthusiasm) we joined the start queue - the long start queue. Apparently over a thousand entrants this year. 

The route was modified a lot from previous years, again owing to the abysmal weather we’ve been suffering for the past three months, unsurfaced sectors would have been quagmire in minutes. Quite a few sections were replaced with fire road, which, although giving speedy progress, are kind of boring after a while. Plus, a lack of training on my part meant I was suffering after the first ten miles, struggling to keep up with my partners, as they ambled along, chatting as though we were riding a towpath. At one point a compulsory dismount appeared where entrants had to walk for a few hundred metres, a nuisance to some, blessed relief to others. The organisers still managed to slip in a few muddy sections, so we could end the day looking like we’d had a proper ride. The main feed station was also moved this year, to the village hall in Hackness and fairly close to the end of the ride. Cruelly, the Wrench Green ascent still featured, made even worse by a bellyful of cheese sandwiches, malt loaf, twiglets and jelly babies and legs deciding to cramp with every pedal stroke, which soon became every step. The summit of this abhorrent ascent eventually arrived, the top littered with broken wrecks of cyclists; first timers shaking their heads at the sheer incongruity of the climb; the more experienced wondering why they repeat the torture year after year. 

The end, if not exactly in sight now, is definitely in smelling distance and the weather had been kind to us, managing to stay dry and occasionally sunny. Entering a pleasant section of woodland singletrack, we find a 5km to go sign hanging from a conifer, spirits rose, energy boosted like Lance after a visit to the pharmacist. Even better, the tedious fire road drag to the finish used in 2017 had been rerouted and a more or less level ride took us back to the field and the all important finisher’s medal. 

Tucking into sustaining burgers after the ride, the pain and suffering mere memories now, we made plans for the Lakeland Monster Miles. A few more miles in the legs by October - we could even consider the long one, perhaps that was just the endorphins talking.