Just had a weekend away with my Missus in Dartmoor.
Lying around in a tent, reading a Complete Saturday Guardian, beer, wine, barbecue, mild sunstroke, the usual stuff that makes a break. Plus a great ride on Sunday. My main reason for returning to Dartmoor was after doing the route guide in issue 49, stupendous trails as techy as you like but if approached at little less speed quite rideable by most people. We were actually repeating the route that we’d done for the magazine as it is kind of a figure of 8, so can be shortened if tiredness dictated or the pub called or we just didn’t feel like doing it all, holidays are holidays and flexibility seems to be the main beneifit of them, something I don’t get in every day life!
On arriving at the carpark I realised we’d had a very lucky escape with the bikes. They were attached to a Pendle rear wheel rack via a Cable lock and D lock and whilst not impossible to steal, I though it pretty safe in the small campsite we were staying at. In fact, a theif had been millimeteres away from stealing our bike judging by the cable and had either given up in the last second or had been scared off by someone, so first thanks first is to Donna at Kryptonite!! Without you we’d have no bikes by now. I’m sure that the time he took hacksawing through was enough for him to get frightened or nearly rumbled and that’s why we have bikes today. I was determined not to let the fact that people aren’t always good ruin the day. We had a ride to do, which starts with a fairly gentle warm up and finishes the first climb with a massive kick.
Now my girlfreind has a terrible love hate thing going on with riding, she doesn’t ride enough and hasn’t rode for that long so finds climbing particularly gauling (I’ve done nothing to discourage from this idea either. I want her to be an entirley descent based reward junky with a healthy dislike for people who have built bikes “that are good for climbing”).
She loves going down stuff but again hasn’t rode for long so can’t clear everything first time, which equally annoys her. To put this in context she can ride pretty hard stuff, rock steps, slippery roots and steeps (She’s a *Valley girl for god sake!). However if she can’t manage it …. She goes back up, repeats, fails, gets more worked up, she goes back up, repeats, fails, gets more worked up, you get the picture.
Telling her that half of the Mountain bikers I see riding wouldn’t even attempt it is no comfort at all in the red rage. Actually reading that, she sounds just like me!
Apart from this it’s a perfect couples riding day – Sun, sandwiches, cakes, no rush and no need to chase anyone down.
4 sweaty hours later we’re back at the car soaked with sweat and quite pleased with ourselves. Dartmoor is such beautiful country to travel through, living in W Yorkshire the land is strangely recogniseable but much softer and the Tors standing out above the Moor give it a look all of it’s own.
Feeling like we deserve a beer, we pack the car and head back to the campsite, it’s only once were there do I realise we’ve left my hydaration pack back at the carpark twenty five miles away from where were staying. I race back but no luck, it’s gone, the tubes etc I can miss but my Iphone is in the bag, excepting defeat I feel sure I’ll never see either the bag or the phone again.
Monday see’s me ring local police station etc but no joy, at the last moment I ring work because I need to get my phone cancelled and I can’t . A very kind Gentleman has found my phone and my bag and has left it in a pub… Faith restored and a weekend over, today at work I rang the guy who found the bag who said it was no problem . I asked for his address (to send him some T shirts and bits and bobs ) and he eventually acquiesces to give me his address on the understanding I’m not to send anything silly. Isn’t that nice??
Donna and Nigel thanks for making our weekend.
Posted on: August 11, 2009 by singletrackmatt