A Hairy Scary Halloween.

Friday night saw my phone ring and my mate Craig asking if I fancied a ride somewhere. This is always good, as without a car of my own any more (Craig in fact owns my old van) my riding range is limited. So we made loose plans to head for the Bodmin area, and to do the Camel Trail, or part of it, or maybe Cardinham Woods. We'd see how we felt when we got there.

I was encouraged initially when Craig wheeled out the Giant Hybrid (a bike I owned for a while and christened 'Lump') but, while my back was turned, he also sneaked in the 'Batbike', his battery assisted full bouncer Cube 29er. Oh joy, keeping up with that thing was going to be fun...

Warning - Northerner on board...

Craig, professional Mancunian and dispenser of wit and genial sarcasm,  at the wheel of my old van, heading towards Bodmin, which in itself is a scary prospect - they're a funny lot in Bodmin.

As it happened, we headed for the latter, Cardinham Woods, which was fine, as it is Forestry Commission land and they allow mountain biking and so forth. On arrival, the place was busy with walkers of two and four legged variety, and lots of mountain bikers. All bouncy bikes and baggy shorts, full face lids and googles. Serious stuff. Then we checked the trails. My local woods are Forestry Commission, and you just go in and ride around the paths. Here though, my bum started puckering. There were Blue and Red trails... uh oh... I'm a Bimbler. A potterer and a pootler, not a mad speed crazed adrenaline junkie, and I didn't want to be getting in anyone's way, and nor did I want to die myself to death particularly either, which could be a distinct possibility by the looks of things. I've never been on an organised 'proper' trail before with man made hazards to contend with, so I was thinking of asking for a medical helicopter and a full team of surgeons to be put on standby, or a packet of Band Aids at the very least.

The car park at Cardinham and the Batbike breaks cover.

But what the hell, I also didn't want to be a big girl's blouse over it and be a wuss in public, so I gritted my teeth, clenched my bum and prepared to get on with it.

The trails pass through some dense woodland lining the side of a steep valley so there is plenty of climbing involved, and trying to keep up with Craig on his flipping Batbike was certainly giving my legs a good pasting, but to begin with, it was all good.

Well this is easy peasy... don't know what the fuss was all about...

I must stop putting my thumbs on the ends of the bar ends like that - I'll hit a bump one day and break them or something.

Soon though, the trail pointed downwards again through the trees, and suddenly things got a little more exciting. Speed is gained cheaply on such slopes and suddenly I was arriving at sharp corners at what for me seemed terminal velocities (but for anyone else would've seemed like they'd stopped) 'Bwaaaaaahhhhh Mother!!!' Just as I thought I was going to face plant a tree instinct would kick in and I'd turn left at the critical moment and save the day, only to lead me straight over a hump and down another slope into an even tighter corner 'Whoooooaaaa Fuuuuu....' This went on and I was glad I was wearing bicycle clips as otherwise the adrenaline would've been running out of my trousers. Then there were some Pump track bits, or whatever they're called. 'Sky – Ground, Sky – Ground, Sky – Ground' all done with my stomach alternately up round my ears and down in my boots. Fuggssakes that was hairy... exciting, but hairy.

Damn those electric bikes... 

Craig is a big chap, so needs a big frame size. Add in the 29er wheels and it runs out of room quickly on tight turns, allowing me to close the gap... 

But just as I would get close, he'd straighten up again, and off he'd go up the hills, humming away like an electric golf trolley... the git!

As the ride went on, so a pattern began to establish. Grinding up hills with my heart bouncing off the rev limiter and me breathing through my backside, followed by some downhill sections where I was sure oblivion was just a slip of a wheel or unwise grab of a front brake away.

Don't know why he's sitting down, his bike was doing all the work for him... 

The left side of the Batbike. A very impressive piece of kit, but ugly as a Kebab shop fist fight. 

I did have a quick go on it up a very slight slope, and after a nano second's hesitation the battery cut in and I took off faster than a well kicked cat - this thing flies up hills. Turning circle of a bus and it's a bit of a chubber too, being quite heavy, but it makes mincemeat of hills.

I was managing to stay out of other folk's way which was good, as going as slowly as I do, they can be heard approaching from behind, and at one point I did try and latch onto the tail of one unsuspecting rider to see if I could stay with him, but he was all asses and elbows and pulling shapes and I'm a big chicken, so that plan failed and I continued on, scaring myself at times still, but also learning fast the old tricks from childhood woods hooning,  and latterly on motorcycles, of looking further ahead and picking the right lines and threading twists and turns together and so on. 

 What's this section called? Breakneck? Oh... that's nice...

There has been a lot of hard work put in  to make these trails enjoyable and the Forestry Commission are to be commended for doing it. We've had a fair old bit of rain recently, but the trails were remarkably free of mud, and safer for it. In fact the bike got far muckier on my recent trundle round the local lanes. 

It all soon became less terrifying  and more fun, lots of fun in fact, but as ever there was a penalty to be paid. My usual slow riding sees me sat on the bike most of the time, only occasionally standing over rough bits, and with my legs doing all the work. All this haring about between the trees and flying round hairpin bends (well... sort of...) meant using a lot more body language to keep things together, and that meant my back started getting stiffer and more painful. So the last mile or so was a struggle, an exercise in just making it back to the van, so I didn't have the free movement to flip the bike about, even to my modest levels. But I made it round, sweating like a glass blower's backside and with aching legs, burning lungs and a stiff, raw feeling back. But I was happy. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride, it took me right back to my childhood when my mates and I would ride our 'trackers' at maximum speed through the woods at the back of our houses. I also saw it as an achievement as on another day, with a less positive mood, I wouldn't have even tried it, and although my back was crippling me by the end and for most of the following day (yesterday), I was damn glad I went for it and got round.

I'd just struggled up the slope on the right, and was breathing harder than the Flying Scotsman, while Craig was explaining how his bike just purrs up the hills with no effort involved in the pedaling. Next time I'll let his tyres down or something...

Craig zig zagging his way down a series of switchbacks.

No choice for me - Blue! Craig opted for the red 'speed freaks and mentalists only' section.

Craig wants to go back again soon, so I'll have to weigh things up still, but probably would have another go. I just need to get some baggy shorts, and learn the lingo – 'Rad' and 'Dude' and 'Gnarlmungous' and so on.

And here he is, whooping like a child and swearing enthusiastically (whooooaaa shi.... fooooksache.... waaaahhhhhh nooooo.... wooo yabastad! etc) as he makes his way down the red 'Hell's Teeth section. It's safe to say he enjoyed that bit rather a lot.

Trick or Treaters? Pfft! They didn't scare me... Flipping narrow tracks between trees on near vertical slopes, even at my dare devil single figure speeds, now that really was a scary Halloween. Bloody good fun though.