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Combe Raiders Swanage Weekend

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For the second weekend in a row, I was off to Swanage for a riding trip.  To make a pleasant change, I had the short drive to get to a Combe Raiders ride – fifty-five miles instead of the normal hundred to Taunton.  Arriving early due to the afternoon off work, I quite happily passed time in the local bike discussing bike-packing & my next bike.

The ten others turned up in dribs & drabs; once settled into the dormitory/bunkhouse & John had dinner prepared we headed out for a quick ride before it got dark (after being told not to bring lights, I forgot to pack the small ones from my commuter).  Most of the trails in the area I was familiar with from the SSUK 2013 events of the previous weekend, although we did find a nice little descent off the other side of the golf course.  Up onto that ridge again, I had to walk about twenty metres as the headwind was gusty & it was just too much on a singlespeed.   The downhill off the ridge & back into town was just as good & is even better when someone has opened the gate on the blind corner halfway down.

I think this weekend away had been booked well before this was decided, but somewhere along the way it turned into a bit of a celebration of D’s fiftieth birthday – but perhaps that’s just what the guys with wives had to use as a reason to get away for a weekend of biking. Either way, there was special Combe Raider cider, whisky that I actually found palatable & a very enjoyable Friday night. Somehow I managed to avoid the rooms with the chronic snorers – snoring stories are much funnier the next morning when it’s not you that has been kept awake all night.

It would have been too much to expect two glorious weekends in a row – but Saturday was reasonably nice as we headed out to the lap that John, Rich & I had done last week (except they’d wizened up & brought bikes with gears – I was the only nutter left on a singlespeed).

Near the start of the ride – a pub we didn’t go in (well, I had the week before).

“If you’ve got time to hold gates open – get to the back & ride up with the stragglers.” Up the first climb – Isle of Wight just visible in background.

Rich standing in front of Swanage.

As this was the same ride as I’ve already detailed last week – just without the two-hundred odd singlespeeders – I’ll spare you the details, except I rode everything again. Normally, when riding around those with multitudes-more-gears-than-me I don’t mind getting off & walking if I have to; but this time I knew I could ride all of the big hills, so made myself do so – my knees weren’t so happy about that. We stopped in Corfe Castle because someone said there was a good bakery there – I had a great pasty & danish again. The climb up to Kingston was a bit easier this time around  & soon enough we were back at the Square & Compass – nice ale & I convinced myself I deserved another pasty. Back into town via Priest’s Way & time for ice cream by the seaside.

Come Sunday, we’d done most of the trails of note (or so we’d been told) & were looking for a slightly easier & shorter ride before the respective drives home. Somehow, it fell to me to cobble together a route using two photocopied OS maps; I’m not sure that was the best idea for those looking for a cruisy Sunday ride – after all I was riding a tank of a singlespeed (I still can’t believe how heavy it is – that had conveniently escaped my memory before I brought it back from NZ last year) & could not be thought of as taking it easy. Pleasingly for a group of eleven, we only had one mechanical for the weekend – & that was only a puncture on Sunday morning when we weren’t pressed for time. Coming off the Priest’s Way (this time riding up it) we found ourselves in the middle of a Wiggle sportive for roadies. For the next fifteen minutes we had a great time chasing down those ever-cheerful breed of cyclists that wouldn’t even smile or return a greeting as they whizzed past us. I don’t think one of them was overly impressed by being tailed by mountain-bikers – although the icing on the cake was when I managed to pass one up a hill.

I think this photo was taken to show the niceness of the countryside – very pleasant to ride through, if not as spectacular as some recent photos.

After we got over the hilarity at being sworn at by irate roadies that couldn’t handle knobbly tyres passing them, we found a descent we hadn’t done yet. Down the side of a ploughed field, where I was filled with my usual trepidation of riding parallel to barbed wire fencing, we were in between hedgerows and all of a sudden the trail got really rocky & absolute great fun. This was the part of the weekend I most wished I was riding the bike I had in Moab. We joined the main road back into Corfe Castle, joining up with the road contingent before stopping at the bakery again.

More new route took us north of Corfe Castle where we discovered a nicely wooded section filled with bluebells, other flowers & mostly-smooth fun trail. Up & over another ridge & we could see the village of the lunch-pub in the distance.

I had one more nasty surprise on the map – what turned out to be the steepest climb of the weekend.  Unfortunately, we could all see it coming – I was pretty sure that I would be walking up that as it looked like loose boulders at the bottom of a continually high gradient.  To get to it, we had a reasonable climb on the road where we passed more of our road friends again.  I was pleased to clear the whole climb – somehow I negotiated all the rocks before settling down to slowly push the pedals around & get to the top.  From the top of the ridge, we could see the weather closing in – there wasn’t much to see from the lookout, so what else to do but head to lunch in Kingston.

We finally got rained on, for the first time of the weekend (not bad going), sitting in the beer garden waiting for a delicious lunch.  The bonus of the beer garden was we (well, D – he who got sworn at) could boo every roadie that went past.  Then the road got slick & they started crashing on the corner in the village & it would have been funny if they had not needed medical attention.  With the rain set in, we took the easy fast route back to our cars in town.

So a great weekend, where the company was the highlight, the riding was good, the food & drink plentiful and I didn’t blow my knees apart – well organised John.

bikes, friends, GPS, MTB, USA

Last Moab day – Slickrock & Klondike again

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It was with some (OK, great) sadness that I ate my last bowl of camp porridge and had my last mug of Egyptian tea for breakfast – for Friday was our last day in Moab.  I still hadn’t put in a fast lap of the Slickrock Trail – something I was keen to do to see how my fitness & riding had improved over the ten days.  Alex & I headed out while it was still cool & the trail was pretty much deserted.  I was quietly pleased to rattle out the trail in seventy-five minutes – about fifteen minutes faster than two other best times.

With camp packed up, there was nothing left to do but leave our little home (and go and hit the brewpub and drown our sorrows). Actually there was, I posted postcards and we finally visited Sweet Cravings, a cafe (serving breakfast, lunch and plenty of baked goodies) that we’d had the eyes of our stomachs on for some time. Megan promptly declared her lunch as the best sandwich she had ever had – my Thai chicken wrap was also worth of similar levels of praise.

There had been some discussion of what would be our final ride – Megan & I were keen for Captain Ahab again as it was so damn good, but that was hardly family-friendly. We settled on heading out Klondike Bluffs again to do a bit of riding with the Tout, before Megan & I could address our unfinished business with the singletrack that we didn’t get to ride on the mud-scapade . This worked out OK as there was still much tiredness around due to the second (& as far as I know, last) instalment of Finn’s night-terrors. We had a pleasant little ride together on Dino-Flow – rocky, but not too technical – before Alex & Finn left us to the more tricky stuff.

We rode a bit of EKG, which proved slow, rocky & reasonable technical; Megan wasn’t having a ball as she struggled to stay awake, but we made it up to UFO and that trail flowed a lot better and was a lot more enjoyable in our not-quite-peak state. Taking the easy, but fun, way down Baby Steps that we knew was there and onto the last part of EKG & then that, as they say, was it. All over red rover; I’m not sure I’ve gotten over that yet.

I had to head back to town to return my trusty steed & took the chance to grab a shower. I was pleased that I wasn’t charged for the few minor scratches, but especially because I was pretty convinced I’d blown the seal in the shock.

We rolled out of Moab faced with the four-hour drive back to Salt Lake City. As the weather closed in, I was well relieved to get a message from Jeremy saying that we could stay in their basement while they were away – not camp on the back lawn as was originally planned. That saved us much hassle & time in not pitching & taking-down camp in the rain and cold.

As I tend to do, that long solitary drive back to Salt Lake gave plenty of time to reflect on a fantastic biking holiday. I can’t even put the variable weather down as the only negative – it wasn’t always brilliant, but that was all part of the trip & gave some interesting snow scenery & riding. As for all the positives – excellent trails, spectacular scenery, great friends making for superb riding buddies, a very good bike, my riding & fitness improving significantly and some very tasty meals & beer – I’m not sure what to name the highlight, although one does tend to lean towards the riding, as it was a riding trip after all. Definitely the best holiday I’ve had in a long time (probably since the last USA riding trip in 2011) & that’s saying a lot as I’ve had plenty of trips all around the place in the intervening time. Maybe it’s because there’s not usually many photos of me on my, mostly, solo travels – but seldom have I seen so many photos of me grinning maniacally; that’s probably a good indicator of the quality of the trip.

Up sort of early Saturday morning as the others faced a 1500 km/almost 1000 mile drive back up north, we sorted everything out and then made a rather tortuous trip (due to being trapped within the SLC marathon course & new tires being bought for the others’ car) to the last of Jeremy’s recommendations – WAFFLES! It’s not often that I sink fifty dollars on breakfast, but every last cent was worth it – delicious. Then it was goodbye time in the rain, which at least made it mercifully brief & to the point – but then I wouldn’t expect much else from us lot.

Before I knew it, I’d returned the rental car, flown back to Heathrow (two planes, Mama!), tubed, trained, taxied, picked up my car and made it home – winning the not-race home as the return to Canmore was slowed by snow & ice in Alberta – and was back at work.

bikes, friends, GPS, MTB, USA

A Snowy Porcupine

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I was adamant that Jackie should ride Porcupine Rim before leaving us as I had just as much fun, if not more, on it as we had had on Amasa Back & Captain Ahab the previous day.  This of course was more than convenient as I was extra keen to ride it again.  Alex was of course keen as well, which was also convenient as Megan was probably the most exhausted of all of us as Finn had suddenly developed night terrors (as opposed to the normal restlessness & noise-making in the  middle of the night) and kept all of us awake for quite some time absolutely inconsolable.  It was a beautifully clear morning, therefore freezing at camp; as we drove up to the trailhead the temperature dropped further to -4ºC and I was starting to regret the decision to wear shorts.

Considering the cold, we spent quite a bit of time horsing around at the car organising ourselves and then pretending to stab people with icicles for the camera – I await those photos, Jackie.  I knew there was a good two kilometre climb to start with, so that may have been part of it; at least that got us warmed up as Megan carried on to the sealed La Sal Mountain Loop Rd and the easier drive (when you’re half asleep especially).

On the climb, it wasn’t particularly snowy (but definitely much more so than the week before); but as we got into UPS & LPS it got snowier & icier.  It was good fun breaking through all the icy puddles that had appeared in the intervening time, but the riding was a little slower – it was also a little difficult to see the trail through the snow when moving.  I was pleased that I got to see the trail and surrounds dusted with snow, it made the ride interesting – even if I didn’t ride any of the downhill sections as fast as I had the previous week.  There’s little point describing the ride for the third time, so here’s a few snowy pictures & some others.

Snow cactus

I ended up riding just as many of the larger drops as I had the week before and decided I wanted some photos – so made Alex take some as I sessioned this two-foot drop.  Of course, the first time I rode it as part of the trail was the best – alas, no camera waiting; it took a bit of trial & error to get a decent photo & find the best approach.

A good one of my bike & my puny legs – at least, I’ve been told repeatedly that they are

Almost got all of me

Not a great landing – but at least I’m completely in the air & in the frame

I rattled through the last piece of singletrack, but the lack of sleep started to wear a bit thin; it was with some surprise I hurtled around a corner near the bottom of the trail & found the source of the lack of sleep running towards me.  Megan & Finn had made their way up the trail from the parking lot to meet us; but I had trail to finish, so I took off back to the car.

Every time we drove up to Sand Flats to get back to camp we passed Milt’s Stop ‘n Eat – a diner that has been sitting on what was once Main St since 1954.  It looked like a classic American diner, so after a chilly start & a good ride it was most definitely lunch time & a good opportunity to try out the advertised milkshakes.  That’s a double (I should have got the single) chilli burger below & it was fantastic, even if it doesn’t look the sharpest; the butterscotch shake was also well worth it.  I can’t think why I struggled to finish a large bowl of four-cheese pasta that night – maybe it was because I went on only one ride that day.

Sometime earlier in the week in a rare moment in Moab of committing to anything other than riding (in fact committing to not riding!) I had agreed that I’d watch Finn while Alex & Megan went for, what I imagine is, a very rare ride together without towing an increasingly heavy toddler.  It was time to collect for all the organising, driving, gear supply and general awesomeness that Megan & Alex have shown me – which also worked well as I was rather tired and had a very full stomach.  Jackie was having none of this child-minding business, so packed up her tent & left for more rock-climbing while Alex & Megan hit Slickrock.

Finn passed the time watching a Thomas the Tank Engine film, again, until the tablet gave up the ghost due to abuse at the hands of a two-year old while I wrote postcards.  Then we climbed rocks a lot, played in the sand & I generally contemplated the fast-approaching end of an excellent holiday, life and how I live on the completely wrong continent to regularly get a suitable mountain-biking-in-big-open-spaces fix.

Toddler throwing sand & being told off while I try not to crack up just out of shot

bikes, friends, GPS, MTB, national park, snow, USA

Snow, Arches & Captain Ahab

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Waking up Wednesday morning, well before dawn it was pretty apparent it was a lot colder and the tent was sitting a little heavy. Sure enough, when the light came around there was a fair layer of snow on most things except the ground – from which it melted pretty quickly. Not overly keen to ride in the cold & snow, we finally got to Arches NP – not that I was overly fussed as I’d had a good visit there two years ago (I still haven’t got a better camera, oops) & the weather was warmer & sunnier.  I thought the others should at least see a little bit of it, so wasn’t too put out to be wandering around in the cool of the morning. Still we briefly enjoyed seeing the desert with a bit of snow on it, once we drove high enough, and wandering around a bit in the spring chill under various arches.

More interesting for the little bushes dusted with snow than catching Finn mid-step

There I am

The rest of the structure towering above me – I’m just visible

With a bit more driving & a little stroll, we saw Delicate Arch from the reverse angle to my last visit

Jackie had opted for the comforts of town over wandering around rocks – after a cafe lunch, stocking up on delicious gooey raspberry brownie (that proved a fantastic post-ride item earlier in the week – maybe after the mud ride), a quick trip back to camp to load bikes into my car, Megan & I were off to meet Jackie to ride Amasa Back & Captain Ahab in the still overcast, but slowly warming, afternoon.

Jeremy had been raving about Captain Ahab since well before I even got to Utah – & it was this recommendation that saw him reach the highest levels of our esteem.  Amasa Back is in the same area & is a Moab classic ride apparently (I’d never heard of it), so we decided to combine the two – which is completely achievable.  With a nice rocky downhill straight off the road, we crossed the only creek of the week (it was tiny) and were hit by a nice climb with, I think, some nice challenging step-ups even if the gradient wasn’t too steep.  I stalled on one particularly optimistic attempt – couldn’t move forward & close to losing balancing over backwards; a charitable push got me going again.

It should now be obvious why the new trail is named so

Even the climbs are enjoyable in this place

We continued along the wide rocky track past the beginning of Ahab & soon we were skirting around the top of Jackson Hole.  With large cliffs dropping all the way down to said hole, there was plenty to think about even if the trail wasn’t particularly hard – having said that, there was one really nasty rocky drop/descent that we all walked for quite a few metres.

That’s me & Jackie carefully riding around, & not into, Jackson Hole

That’s Jackson Butte sitting in Jackson Hole

It was a bit more climbing up to the lookout, which once again had us on top of a massive cliff overlooking the Colorado River valley.  We were all lying on the edge of the cliff looking down an awful long way – that was, until Jackie started talking about undercut cliff edges cut a little close to the bone & various fears of plummeting to doom.  I’m not sure what happened, perhaps a whole week’s worth of excitement reached some sort of zenith as we took in the vast views, cliffs, rocks and celebrated so much excellent riding; whatever it was, general frivolity & hilarity ensued as we had much to be excited about (apparently Bieber can speak French).

A summit shot for the bikes (Moab is just behind that ridge)

and the bikers

For such incredible views and vastness, I have disappointingly few photos – there’s the Colorado yet again

Not knowing much about it, except it was there, we decided there was enough time to head out on the Pothole Arch singletrack to close to the end of the mesa (or whatever it was).  Unfortunately, it was perhaps the worst marked trail we’d seen all week – eventually we found the faint red line to follow.  The riding was fun, even if we were going down too much & would need to climb back to the main trail – but the red line just sort of stopped and we weren’t too sure if we even found Pothole Arch.  But there was enough time to tape (the most use my first aid kit had all week, mercifully) up Jackie’s brake hose away from the rear spoke, again, and turn to head back to Ahab.

When Jeremy first mentioned Ahab, I looked it up online & thought it was a bit big for me – I’m not one to wear body armour or go on trails that need such excesses.  This sign didn’t really help, but Jeremy had assured it us that it was no harder than Porcupine Rim.  There was a fair bit of riding around the top of more exposed cliffs, and maybe more climbing than we expected – but we were well used to all that by that stage of the trip, so it wasn’t too bad.

There were some nice little drops to ride

In the sun – we spent a fair bit of the ride wondering if the dark clouds to the east & the west were going to rain, or even snow, on our merry ride

Every so often one feels obliged to stop & look at the view/rest.

The whole trail was most fun and is extremely well designed & built.  I can’t remember too many details, but there were some steep little descents and pinch climbs – all the descents were rollable, I think, one just had to have the confidence (& skill I suppose, as the sign suggests) to do so.  I remember only one obstacle that I couldn’t clear –  a series of three consecutive ~foot-high step-ups, on which Jackie tried her best to acquaint herself with her steerer tube & then saw stars briefly.

For the final mile to two kilometres of the trail before it rejoined the main track back down, there was a sudden & marked change in the riding.  Most importantly, from a self-preservation side of things – we were back right on the top of a very large cliff; the difference this time being that we were riding downhill and therefore much faster, if anything should go pear-shaped it would be a very large pear-shaped thing indeed.  Also, the trail got quite a bit smoother and was just good fun – even if the sign warning that precise bike skills were needed on one really exposed corner was a little worrying.

Yes, that’s a fall to certain extinction a metre to Jackie’s right

All too soon, we were barrelling down the big wide trail back to the stream, grunting up the last little bit to the road and celebrating  with beers & brownie a successful ride (on a day that started so snowy too) that easily ranked as high as the blast I’d had on Porcupine Rim a few days prior for best ride of the trip.  Somehow we managed to persuade ourselves that we deserved a second large Mexican meal in as many dinners – I think we were right.

This is worth watching if you’re interested in trail-building or just riding: