debacle
/deɪˈbɑːk(ə)l/
noun
a sudden and ignominious failure;
Just about sums up the days following the last ‘proper’ ride, during which a sudden unplanned dismount ended with me floundering like a beached whale in a shallow sea of mud and rocks. A bash to the ribs ensued but it didn’t feel too bad and being Mammy’s brave soldier, I carried on and completed the ride without too much undue discomfort. I reasoned it might smart a bit the next day and I would be taking it easy for a day or two, returning sooner rather than later to the fun and frivolity of a Terra Trailblazer’s bike ride. Which goes to illustrate the pitiful extent of my medical knowledge. Over the next few days it became apparent I'd actually had a visit from Big Baz The Boss of B Wing and his favourite toy - two pool balls in a sock. All this enjoyment culminated in a five am trip to Urgent Care with all the symptoms of a pneumothorax, something La Mujerita has experience of; a lot of stethoscope action, oxygen level monitoring and some prodding and poking later, I was kicked out again with two intact lungs and some codeine. Consequently, after resting (properly) for a few days, improvement was enough to contemplate a gentle, plod around the cycle tracks and country lanes surrounding the industrial wasteland we call home. Pedaling was pretty much okay, stopping and starting the painful bit but I figured anything which was stretching the intercostal muscles couldn’t be a bad thing - and by and large it wasn’t. By the end of The Seaton For Chips Ride, just over twenty miles of the flattest riding imaginable, every breath felt like a kick in the chest. And then I sneezed; something I’d managed to avoid lately. Now I know how them suicide bombers feel when the vest goes off. And I haven’t even got 72 virgins to look forward to. Although, in this town, the chances of even finding seventy two virgins is about as likely as a celestial paradise beyond the stratosphere. No blogging required for the local rides - have some pictures instead.
Not So gentle Rib Stretcher Ride.
The 'Seaton For Chips' Ride.
A full day’s rest later, I ventured out onto the moors for the first time in almost a fortnight, only one of my virtually zero ascent Scaling Dam rides but there are rocks, singletrack and plenty of uneven ground to contend with. And the weather, while largely dry it’s not exactly the Flaming June we might have hoped for, there is a definite chill in the wind, it could easily be a pleasant day in October. The route is a pretty straightforward curation of tracks starting with a pedal along the Scaling Reservoir dam, then, a mile of purgatory on the moor road to the Danby turn off, followed by Robin Hood’s Butts to the Sis Cross track. As has been mentioned many times before, Sis Cross is a superb singletrack, cutting down a heather-covered moor with a few muddy gullies to keep things interesting, all dried up today. Probably one of my most cautious attempts to date, even a gentle tumble into the heather would have been unthinkably painful - and no one wants to see a grown man cry. Reaching the road above Danby, I crossed over and began climbing on the Pannierman’s Causeway, gradually gaining height until I joined the Danby Beacon road, which I took to the beacon. Normally Danby Beacon is a Terra Trailblazer’s NSP (Natural Stopping Point) but the frigid wind funneled me onward in search of a more sheltered spot to take onboard calories. At the start of the Roxby Moor bridleway, the lee of a heather-clad earth bank sufficed and I was soon refreshed and ready to take on the bridleway, another classic excursion, heading across the moor, Scaling reservoir glinting in the distance, not that there was much glinting going on today with a sky the colour of a down and out’s duvet. I chanced more speed for this one and got away with it, a bit of exhilaration and a much needed endorphin boost, the perfect antidote to red tarmac cycle tracks. A roundabout route back to the car to check on the sand martin colony before I was back in the car park, surrounded by the usual crew of motorcyclists, most of whom are so old, they make me look as though I have just left school. After a mandatory cheeseburger and a coffee, I was ready for the trickiest part of the ride - getting the bike on the roof rack. Still an ordeal but only a moderately painful ordeal, so, all in all, a successful day.
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