Sold a car Sold a bike, 6 wheels less in the stable.
Last month was a good (or bad a month) for wheels in our house. Henry the faithful Honda HRV after a difficult few months went on to pastures new and time was also called on Kaspir the Santa Cruz Heckler 5.0.
“were showing signs of problems”
Both have shared adventures and spots on the driveways for almost the same amount of time, and both, to paraphrase my car mechanic “were showing signs of problems”.
Selling both cars and bikes as private sales can sometimes be a tricky and with bikes, long process. After all, it is a buyers market. So with your expectations realistically set, a sale shouldn’t take that long. I advertised both on Facebook and Gumtree, but it was Facebook that found both buyers. The Santa Cruz having an offer of the asking price accepted within 24 hours of being advertised.
As brilliant as they both are, the lure of the new was starting to grow. As was the niggle (with the bike at least) that I was starting to out grow the Heckler, having gotten as much as I could out of the 2001 frame design. I don’t expect to be instantly faster on modern geometry or 650b, but I expect to have a bike that is more confidence inspiring and with that, pace will come.
I will miss both of them they were brilliant and will continue to be brilliant, just for someone else.
Comrie Croft is a privately owned trail centre and campsite, with a focus on sustainability and serious green credentials, it is also the home of a surprisingly tough enduro.
The Cream O’ The Croft is a three day bike festival held over a weekend in June, the highlight being a 9 stage enduro race held on the Saturday. Muckmedden Events was the race organiser, their Fair City Enduro being such a fun event and with Comrie being two hours from me. Well, it would be rude not to race.
Arriving on site I was immediately struck by the atmosphere being more like a boutique festival than a mountain bike race. The camp site had as many families and kids running around as hardened racers and privateers. That isn’t to say that there wasn’t a stacked field in attendance, brought home to me as James Shirley’s Radon Factory Racing van parked next to me whilst getting the bike ready. This was going to be a serious day on the bikes.
Registration was a quick affair, no queues here, leaving plenty of time to take in the event village. The festival meant there was plenty of attractions for those not racing. Indoor and outdoor bouncy castles, face painting, Segways and a 60 foot slip and slide were just some of the family friendly attractions. This and the food and beer all added up to make the day a great one for little and big ones.
I was in the fourteenth wave which gave me plenty of time after the briefing to stretch off and warm up before my start time. The waves left like Swiss trains, and without delay we left the village and started up the climb to stage one.
After a social climb stage one had the usual queue, people shifting and squeezing tyres. All whilst trying not to make it obvious that they were watching every rider leaving the gate to watch for the best line
Starting from the highest point on the trails, and with a big audience watching, it was hard not to go full gas straight from the off. Large exposed slabs of rock were punctuated with water bars, loose rocks and punchy climbs. It was a long stage and the pace of the start was hard to maintain, I’m still not pacing properly on stages!
I made a few little mistakes and it wasn’t long before “RIDER” was being called from behind. Approaching a group of stationary riders and taping, I could let the acid in my legs ease as it was the end, or so I thought. The stage crossed the start of stage two, I was only half way through! Digging in I passed a few people on hardtails on the descent and made it finally to the end.
Making my way up to the start of stage two was a quick affair, were I found that I wasn’t the only one caught out by the physicality of the first stage. The banter was drowned out by people coughing loudly and producing substantial lung biscuits at regular intervals.
The second stage was the “XC Stage”, sharing much of the character of the first just with more climbs and prolonged pedaling. This stage had many man made rock gardens of the type that look like stepping stones, the kind specifically designed to rob you of momentum. Keeping light and popping over the water bars the fatigue started to build. I started relying on the bike more and more, and once more, “RIDER”. With a rabbit to chase more depth was found in the legs as I tried to keep him in view till the end of the stage, I failed but I found more speed for the last leg!
Whilst the day started overcast the clouds soon boiled off and with the mercury rising, keeping fluids up was quickly becoming a priority.
This stage was the blue trail, flowing with small drops, berms and moguls to work through. It was a fast and fun stage, bone dry and easy to wash out in the dust if you let your concentration lapse. I had a clean stage except for one thing, the start. I fumble trying to clip in and took what felt like an age to hear that reassuring click and was finally able to get the power down.
My goals for the day were to focus on body position and ride clean, aiming to land in the top 50% overall. One thing however was becoming apparent, I need to work on my starts. I was losing to much time trying to dib in and get shifting, I was struggling to clip in and wasn’t getting any power down as I was trying not to slip a pedal. Not good, and definitely room for improvement.
This was the climb stage, it was a single track slog that led to a fire road grind. It used the climb that was the spine of the days route and I cursed myself for not paying enough attention to where the stage actually ended. This resulted in me leaving to much in the tank, with the end of the stage coming up sooner than expected. Frustrating as climbing is usually a stronger area of my riding, live and learn.
Five and seven shared a starting point, one went left the other right. The site is compact for a trail centre with it making best use of the available hill, but this compact nature meant every stage had a queue. Not necessarily a bad thing as you had plenty time to recover, as long as you kept yourself stretched out.
This was easily my best and favorite stage of the day, a sentiment echoed by many of the other riders. Starting in tight trees with narrow rooty and rocky trail with serrated rocky drops and chutes. Before breaking the treeline and opening up onto warp speed trails that scythed through the long grass the before dropping down the hillside to the shared end point with stage seven.
I finally got a good start, clipping in and getting good power down from the off. I went smooth but not full gas, as it was all to easy to clip a bar or get taken out by a sniper rock on the narrow rutted trail. Keeping momentum on the short climbs as the light started to grow, the trees thinned out and I let the bike run whilst cranking hard. The acceleration was immense, few trails combine tight technical terrain and high speed hill side, and this one was just immense.
Dibbing out, I was breathing hard and knew I’d done well (for me) and left little still on the hill, it was onwards and downwards to stage six.
This stage presented a total change of pace and a test of handling skill, a line of table tops joined a pump track. The stage was two laps of the pump track, you could pedal up to the first jump, then it was pump and jump for the two laps of the track. A 15 second time penalty for any pedaling after the first jump kept things interesting.
I (like a good number of riders) got a few laps in on the pump track before the race briefing, so I was confident that I would be able to make the two laps without penalty. Sprinting hard out the gate to get as much acceleration whilst I could, I was cleanly over the jumps and into the pump track. It went well but I lost some momentum towards the end of the second lap, still, no time penalties.
By now the sky was a deep azure, with the thick heat and sound of crickets chirping their song along every trail, you could swear we were racing on the continent. Back up the climb that was a recurring feature of the day and to decision rock.
Whilst waiting my turn in the line, word came up that someone had crashed at the first feature, a rocky chute with drops almost immediately after the start. This prompted half the queue to go for a short track walk to see what the sapling trees were hiding from us. It was a nasty rock garden with the smoothest line ending on a massive awkward stump waiting to grab your front wheel. Forewarned is forearmed, so it was back to the line to await my turn.
The stage was similar in character to stage 5, it had a big unrollable drop half way in and some sharper climbs but a similar style and mix of trail. I got a good start again and made a clean job of the first few features, they were similar to my home trails and fun to ride. I made a total mess of the first sharp climb, losing all momentum and in a totally wrong gear it was faster to get off and run. Clipping back in for another rocky chute it had cost me time, placing 17th on stage 5 and 25th on the seventh. Still making mistakes that I don’t have time to claw back time on, it was over the drop across the hillside meadow before crossing a stream and over the line.
Stage Eight and Nine
The final two stages were two laps of a duel slalom course, swapping over so you raced both lanes. Randomly joining up in the queue with a female rider with a rather serious looking Giant I knew she’d be quick.
The start was like the run up to the pump track, flowing brakeless jumps, berms and moguls before a series of flat turns on freshly cut grass. I won the first round, it is probably fair to say she won the second but it was close racing both times.
James Shirley and Mike Clyne gave a lesson in dibbing out on the final stages and posted wins in their respective categories.
The party atmosphere was building in the event village with the beer flowing and the side “races” kicking off, like the kids granny ring drag race or the adults balance bike drag race. The weather had played ball and the organizers, sponsors and local producers had covered themselves in glory, top day.
With the racing over it was back to the registration desk to get my times and see where I currently stood. I’d landed at 33rd overall when I checked out, a time I wish I could pretend would stick. In the end I was 71st out of 172 overall.
I’d achieved my goal for the day of being in the top 50% overall and had improved on my previous enduro result. My other focus for the day will still need work, but with new things learned at every race there are always things to carry forward to the next one.
An iconic Aberdeenshire hill with a wild and punishing descent, a loop of Clachnaben is nothing short of a mini epic.
We all love wild natural rides, big days on big hills with big distances. But sometimes you want the feeling of remote riding and the challenge of truly rugged terrain, but only have a few hours to spare.
With its distinctive tor of rock visible from as far as Aberdeen, Clachnaben is a popular hill for walkers and trail runners. It benefits from a well maintained path, with substantial water bars and when required, uneven but substantial stairs. Which comes as a welcome relief as the sustained climb hovers between 15% to over 25% gradient. Once at the top looking down, when that gradient starts being measured in the negative, it becomes one beast of a descent.
It is a modest loop when measured in kilometres, at 15.7km its not that far. But when you take into account the 582m elevation gain, it takes on a much more formidable guise.
The loop starts in the walkers carpark and rounds the shoulder of the hill. Climbing from the rear so to speak, before topping out west of the summit. Then downhill essentially all the way back to the carpark.
I was blessed with blue skies and temperatures in the 20’s, the ground was baked dry and dusty with a light (for now) wind keeping things tolerable.
Following the course of the river into Glen Dye, the first leg was a fairly sedate and fast spin on smooth fire road. Its not long before I reached the natural rest break of the Charr Bothy. Worth a visit as part of a longer trip, today it merely provided me with some shade before rallying myself for the climb.
The climb is a hard one, the sandy track giving little traction with a slow zig-zagging grind being the only option. It starts as it means to continue, with the gradient rarely straying out of the low 20%’s. Gradient isn’t usually a measurement mountain bikers concern themselves with, its a “Roadie thing”, but its something that you come to fully appreciate whilst on this trail.
The traction slipped away in little roosts of sand
The heats oppression was only slightly moderated by the wind that started to grow with the Elevation. The traction slipped away in little roosts of sand with each pedal stroke as my resolve to stay in the saddle started to slip away. My heart rate monitor (a very thoughtful gift from my wife) was not needed to tell me how hard my heart was working, I knew how hard it was working as I tried to breathe through the work.
Stalling out completely on the loose sand, I was glad of the rest and resigned myself to push the rest of the way. It was not far before a reminder (if one were needed) that the climb is a suitable challenge for even motorised vehicles.
Peering over the heather the frame of a crashed WW2 aircraft stands in equal parts of rusting steel and immaculate aluminium. The wreckage, deemed to difficult and costly to remove, has been left for time and the elements to reclaim. Crash sites from this period are a surprisingly common feature of our hillsides, but serve as a poignant reminder of past sacrifices.
The final push of the climb was a more forgiving affair, with slight undulations and short downs giving free speed for the next up. Hauling myself to the top, the view offered a suitable reward for my efforts, literally being able to see my house from here.
My first run of the day is usually a bust. Its not that I’m not warmed up physically, but it usually takes me at least one trail to both sharpen up and loosen off. Not a luxury availabile on this ride, in front of me lay a 2.2km descent that I had to get right first time.
Starting with a technical mine field of rocky steps and water bars followed by drifty sandy trails and narrow steps with genuine exposure at times. All this before entering a rooty narrow wooded section with blind turns that are usually occupied by sheep and/or ramblers.
At this point in a post you might expect to find a POV video of the descent, a short edit of the day perhaps. Due my own ham fistedness, I managed to turn my Drift camera’s lens into portrait mode, smooth. So stills it is.
Breathing deeply in and out, it was time to clip in.
Rolling in slowly the granite steps were an uneven jumble of square edged drops and awkward turns, staying as light as I dared on the brakes, the key was to keep momentum. The grip of the granite slabs became punctuated with sandy trail, the acceleration was incredible, as soon as I stopped feathering the anchors the bike just took off.
The back end let loose on the corners, the rear tyre buzzing the heather as I relied on the bike to find grip. Bunny hopping water bars and looking as far down trail as I could, I rounded the shoulder of the hill. Taking on a series of exposed narrow stairs it was slow in and fast out.
the prolonged descent had steam practically pouring from the pistons
The brakes were starting to lose their edge, the prolonged descent had steam practically pouring from the pistons as the tree line fast approached.
A robust lattice work of roots encroached on the trail, the game changed as I entered the wooded section that was more within my comfort zone. Letting completely loose the anchors I was popping over the roots and down drops, this short section was over far too soon as it has real rhythm and pace, when dry. All this fun comes to an end when you reach a deer fence, a quick hop over a stile followed by a mellow pedal for the final push back to the carpark.
A clean run, no matter how fast, on this EWS worthy trails always delivers a sense accomplishment and adrenalin that only comes from a mountain bike.
There are some things that are constant, they may evolve but can you reinvent the wheel?
I have been curious to try oval chain rings ever since reading an excellent article about them a while back on James Wilson’s site. Now, thanks to my support from absoluteBLACK I have one of their oval chain rings to find out for myself.
Off round chain rings are not a new idea, back in the late 80’s Shimano championed their Biopace system. Seriously flawed, users complained of knee and joint pain. Time has thankfully moved on, and the oval chain ring is not the oval ring of the past. AbsoluteBLACK’s offers gains and benefits over conventional round rings.
“Absolute Black oval chainrings deliver power more smoothly to your rear wheel. This means you are better able to generate and maintain, constant cadence. Because oval chainrings reduce the peak loads on knee joints, riders using them get less stress on the joints (knees) and therefore are able to keep certain level of effort for longer. This results in higher average speed.” (source absoluteBLACK.cc)
With the timing and shape being completely different to that of the Biopace rings, comparisons between them are less apples and oranges and more like apples and tuna.
Out of the package it was immediately obvious these were not your average narrow wide chain rings. The oval shape was subtle, but enough to make you look twice if you didn’t know it was not a round chain ring. The asymmetric tooth profile is superbly detailed and shaped to hold the chain and move dirt and oil off of the tooth’s face.
AbsoluteBLACK offer a 30 day trail period, if oval is not for you they will swap it for a round one; as a brand ambassador I was still more than ready to make use of this trial period.
Assymetric tooth profile.
Impeccable CNC machining.
Fitting the ring was a straightforward affair with the 32 tooth ring having built in threads, once on and with a fresh new chain it certainly scored in the good looks department. One thing to note is if you are running a top guide, make sure to adjust and check the height of it to avoid it hitting on the high point of the oval!
It was time to hit the trails and to see how the theory applied to reality. The initial test ride would be on some newly cut trails that were steep and loamy, hitting them blind would mean drive train worries would need to be the last thing on my mind.
Clipping in I was expecting to feel something very pronounced through the pedals, a pulsing in the torque. Being completely honest, it felt natural, very quickly it didn’t feel strange at all and most importantly I noticed I was losing my fellow riders on the fire road climbs.
It encouraged a smooth, even pedal stroke, but it still felt good even at lower cadences, one thing I was concerned about was that it would have a “sweet spot” in terms of cadence, but it just doesn’t.
When the terrain turned steep it again performed flawlessly, we have all gotten used to not dropping chains thanks to 1X and narrow wide chain rings, in this regard the oval ring performs perfectly and inspires confidence in your drive train. On more pedally trails the extra gains in power and torque led to faster acceleration and less fatigue in the legs.
My initial feelings are that I will not be needing the 30 day trial offer, the additional power in the strong part of the pedal stroke provides a noticeable enhancement to performance and encourages a smooth pedal technique. Long term durability is not a concern as the build quality is just so good, with the grinding paste of Scottish dirt doing nothing to take the shine off of the teeth’s anodizing.
I’ll no doubt be returning with some long term assessments once I have a few months of turning oval under the belt, but for now I can certainly recommend them.
The rains have eased, the waters may have subsided, but the trails are still saturated.
The heavy sodden ground can be a blessing and a curse, the falling mercury freezing the ground hard and fast rolling. As the thaw creeps in and the ground softens, traction is easy to find, but too far into the melt and a mud bath ensues – you can’t have it all.
It was a month of regular rides and of building pace, revisiting old trails, riding them in a way that only served as a reminder of lost speed and gains to be made.
I ride bikes to test myself, make a measure of where I am and to go inside.
To lose myself in the work, the trail, the flow, repeating the rites that make up the routine of riding bikes. Routine it may sometimes be but the anticipation for the ceremony can begin days in advance, the thoughts and lessons from the last observance repeated in my mind.
On the day of the ride wearing clean kit with bottles filled and bags packed I perform the rituals, I check the bike, the tyre pressures, the brakes, some bolts but not all. Turning the cranks I pass the chain rosary like through my hands, applying oil one last time before I depart.
leaving early the dawn yet to fully break around me I enter the woodland, the early light slowly working through the canopy, mature trees buttressing high above the trail-head. The cold has worked into my fingers but my core is warm with the effort of the climb, it is never long before my hands have acclimatized and I become unmoved by the cold.
The climb is fast as winter has frozen the long autumns worth of water and rain in the ground, giving cold sure grip. Breathing slow and deep I take in the woodland, drinking deep from the ever changing yet familiar trails, time disappears as vertical metres are gained.
I run through the little motions that precede descending, clipping in I begin to build momentum, I ease around turns with the bike telling me what the ground feels like beneath its tyres, he lets me know when it is safe to attack and when to be prudent. The silent song of the trail plays loud in my ears, the satisfying silence of a well prepped bike broken only by the whirring click of the freehub and the buzz from tyres compressing through turns.
Breaking through the tree line and back onto the fire road that punctuates the landscape, it marks the end of the single track. Carving to a stop I lean heavy on the bars and breath deep, I pause and let it soak into me.
The fire starting to recede in my legs I clip back in and crank it back up the hill to earn another descent, I climb then descend, climb then descend.
I climb then descend, climb then descend.
The light is growing now as we enter the golden hour, shafts of light break through the canopy creating pools of rippling gold in the under story either side of the trail. The sounds to have started to change, as melt water drips heavy from the boughs above, disturbed by the birds flitting from tree to tree.
Time has again disappeared and the day is starting to dawn for those back indoors, its time to thread a path through fire road and trail back to home. The route possibilities running through my mind I quickly decide on the best use of time and height to return home on singletrack, I clip in once more.
The Fair City Enduro offered a change of race discipline in a low pressure race to test myself again.
I haven’t raced this year, not properly, more important family matters where at the front of my mind with the arrival of my son. Once bitten by racing though its a tough itch to scratch, so a one day enduro an hour 30 from my house provided the right opportunity and hard to resist.
Having made it through the spring and summer with less riding and gym work than previous years, my fitness was a slight concern. I hadn’t gained weight but my base level was down on what I was used too so training would have to be tougher and concentrated to get me race ready.
This, thankfully, was enduro, so a new approach to training was on the cards anyway. With my weekends happily occupied by the wee man it was the gym at work, so short and regular sessions focusing on strength training and sprint intervals on the spin bike. Gone were long training rides at 3/4 gas in were brutal visits to the pain cave pushing 100%, why does everyday feel like leg day? reminding myself that it wasn’t meant to get easier I was meant to get better.
I was however, very aware that my pace would be down, I had been at skills coaching sessions at the start of the year and felt that my pace was up in the spring, but time off the bike I knew had dulled that edge, by how much we would find out. The night before the race brought on rain of biblical proportions, so as I loaded the bike up in the dark and dreich I like many of the riders was unsure of what conditions would await us on the hill.
Jonathan McConnell and myself waiting for our starting wave.
as I loaded the bike up in the dark and dreich I like many of the riders was unsure of what conditions would await us on the hill.
The event was organised by Muckmedden Events, they put on a fun easy going race with an encouraged fancy dress dress code, apart from the usual bottle neck on the first lap/stage you always have with races with 300 + riders the event was well run and supported. With only the occasional issue with taping on transitions causing some pilot error on my part inbetween stages, I enjoyed cutting the tape and “enduro lines” that this race format can be infamous for being on the transitions rather than the stages.
The first stage had the usual nerves but I shook them off as there was long sight lines and the dibber was manned by a marshal so it was fast out the blocks. It was flat cornered and loose but not particularly steep, having been told this race hadn’t had much tech in past years I was expecting this sort of terrain. all was going well when on a soft going sprint section boosh, I slipped a pedal. Struggling to keep momentum and clip back in at the same time I cursed at forgetting to adjust the spring tension on my new SPD’s and battered on to the finish. My prep had let me down showing how easy it is to loose significant time on a short stage due to the tiniest of things.
The climb up to stage two was a sociable affair which is probably why I didn’t notice how much height we had gained. Lulled into a false sense of security by stage one I dibbed in and sprinted hard out the start gate, keeping light on the bike and off the brakes hopping over roots and building speed when suddenly the trail flew into a tight left and into a steep loose chute, I was not expecting this.
If this were horse racing I believe the term is refusing the jump
I slipped out and essentially half tripod half slid down the chute, clipping back in I was well aware that this stage was done for me (as was the race) but I was determined not to be overtaken by the rider 30secs behind me. My expectations well and truly adjusted for the days trails I dropped into a bike park section with some berms and tabletops before drifting to the end of the stage.
That was fun but my race brain was still not thinking for Enduro, I reminded myself this was not a lapped course; this was not a point to point raced over hours and there simply was not the scope to gain back lost time, with this in mind I moved onto the next stage.
Stage three shared the same start point as stage two it was just the other side of the hill, spinning hard off the start popping over roots and working the bike to keep momentum I now knew if I couldn’t see the exit of the turn it was probably a drop and it was. Prepared for it this time I dropped in and down seeing a climb immediately after I smashed through the gears and kept my speed up the climb. I closed on the rider in front of me and made it past them during the climb, swooping into the downs again a marshal shouted “rider down”, I knew they were ahead of me but I didn’t know where.
Checking my speed but not wanting to lose too much when it was going so well, I kept on the gas feeling the acid build in my legs as the trails turned bone dry and dusty. I passed the downed rider on a flat sprint before dropping back into tight trails drifting the last few pine needle covered turns before dibbing out.
I was absolutely beat breathing hard with fire in my legs it had been an incredible stage, I was the last rider down before they closed the stage to clear to injured rider which gave me ample time to recover whilst waiting for my riding buddies.
The transition to stages four five and six was the longest and most scenic with the weather having a dramatic change of heart over the course of the day, with glorious sunshine breaking through the technicolour forest canopy, it was a great day to be on the bikes.
The top of stage four was open ground with some rock slabs before the tree line, the marshal said that there was a corner just as you entered the trees, it was flat, grassy and wet and everyone was sliding out on it so watch yourself. The open start gave lots of free speed which continued into the trees With the crash corner ahead I scrubbed my speed, swung my hips and carved perfectly round the turn. Letting loose the anchors I cranked hard enjoying the playful feel of this trail, as I braapped through a speed section before approaching another flat turn.
Scrub, Swing, Sideways, slide on my arse, the marshal hadn’t told me about this corner, but why should he this was blind racing after all! What had been perfect before led to me sliding out and tangling my foot in my chain. Starting from zero on a wet sprint I made it to the end without further incident.
Back up for stage 5 and to bit of a queue who were having a pow wow about how best to start this trail, on the right there was a smooth line to the right with zero tech, not particularly fast and a good bit longer than the main line. To the left was a greasy steep rock chute with plenty of scope to grab a wheel, this set up straight into a sweet speed section before you disappeared into the trees.
A number of riders wrote it off and went right thinking better of the slick rock, to be honest it wasn’t a particularly techy section and was very similar to parts of my favorite home trails.
I spotted my line clipped in hollered “ALLEZ” and with a few crank turns the rear wheel buzzing my shorts I was down and whooping through the trees. This was a fast trail with slick muddy grass everywhere, the flat turns of stage 4 fresh in my mind I scrubbed speed and drifted turns trying to not get too rowdy. At the bottom with a clean run I was happy but knew there was still one last stage and it was going to be a long one.
On the climb up to stage 6 I wound my Fox Talas down from 160 too 120 and powered my way up, the queue at the start was short so I started eyeing down the trail before it was my turn to drop in. Sprinting into the broom that flanked the narrow trail as it ran along the cliff Tops, with flashes of exposure to my left weaving through the trees the trail was fast, grippy and absolutely prime.
The first steep chute had a sweet catch berm at the bottom, getting over the back wheel flowing into the drop the front end was twitchy and vague as I wrestled the bike through the turn. The handling felt very odd just then but shaking it off as just loose dirt I cranked it as the trail started to climb and contour the cliffs. Another steep chute with a drop to pop off approached, pre-loading the bike the front end wandered understeering over the drop, this was getting strange.
My confidence in my usually unshakable steed well and truly shook I took the remaining trail with less commitment than was needed and less speed than previous stages, frustrating as the trail was amazing and the dirt prime.
Dibbing out I hung my head leaning over the bars, looking down I saw the cause of all my woes, my Talas was still set to 120mm. If the head angle was any steeper my bike would of fallen over, never mind robbing the fork of any hard charging abilities severe school boy error.
Severe school boy error.
Rolling back into town the bonus stage awaited us, stage seven consisted of a flat sprint course with wooden rollers and berms as obstacles, it was in the event village so the spectators where out in force as was the heckling from the commentator. Falling over the finish line in a surprising amount of oxygen dept I handed over my dibber to be given my stage times and a flapjack, I don’t even think I saw the flapjack it was eaten so quickly.
It had been a great day of racing but it had been a school day, I knew exactly where my pace was compared with myself earlier in the year, comparatively this was probably my worst placing within my category. But I knew a change of discipline would be a hard one to manage, with a few years of lapped and long races worth of training and strategy wired into the legs and mind the days results where always going to weaker than previous races. With a few key repeat offenders on my events to do list for 2016 I think there will be at least one enduro joining them.