Bike: Hunter
Distance: not as far as I wanted
Playlist: QOTSA

i have to say that Bedfordshire is much better signposted for bridleways and footpaths than my home county. Not only that, but you can leave your map at home for large portions as 1:25,000 scale maps of the immediate area are often pinned to the finger posts. Very RoW friendly.

Today though I obviously rode across the land of someone who wasn’t so keen on people crossing his land. Gates that were chained shut – unusual round here were most of them are capable of being opened from horseback. It was the first path I’ve seen which had been deliberately ploughed across. Seeing as they were going to be so awkward I took great pleasure in ignoring the headland and sticking to the actual path. And riding through the herd of bullocks.

I couldn’t stay mildly annoyed for long though as I have finally discovered some wooded swoopiness. So good I rode it twice. With all the exploring I did I didn’t quite get to ride as far in a straight line as I intended, but my legs still felt fresh after two and a half hours singlespeeding. Only another twenty-one and a half hours life to put in them.

I can’t believe that only two weeks ago I needed mud tyres, yet since then my bike has been coming back covered in a fine layer of dust. Long may it continue.

Bike: Hunter
Distance: one hour
Playlist: Unplayed this year

Found some local cheek, which has been helpfully blocked off with a nice new fence rights across the end of a footbridge. Not sure how legit that is. Fortunately others similarly unimpressed by the efforts of those who don’t want us to use the paths have forced their way around.

From there up onto the ridgeline, discovering the local bombhole on the way. Plenty of fun to be had there when I’ve more time. Something more jumpy than the Hunter may be required, but even so I did manage to leave the ground. The ribbon of trail at the top of the ridge looked like it might be more fun than my planned ride back home. Much as I hate out-and-back rides rather than loops I turned round and followed it back down the way. It was worth it.

Last weekends trips out in lycra also revealed the inadequacies in my legs. I’m going to come clean and confess that since then I’ve had to resort to chemical enhancement. The finest products to come out of French laboratories. I’ve noticed the difference already. I need to be careful not to overdo it though or it will be obvious to others.

Yes, thanks to L’Oreal my legs are no longer glaring white, but a “sun-kissed tan”. Must be careful I don’t end up looking like the only way is Essex though.

Bike: Hunter
Distance: don’t know, don’t care
Playlist: New Wave*

The next time someone claims on a forum that Mountain Mayhem is “just riding round a muddy field” and doesn’t represent British mountain biking I’m gong to send them to Bedfordshire for a week.

Exploring the local trails heading east today. Another hours lollipop shaped ride with minimal tarmac duly noted. Found the first climb that’s defeated the singlespeed. Not long, but steep enough to cause issues of traction. Possibly the strangest thing I saw today was a dead hare led on top of 6 foot high hedge. Certainly didn’t get there itself and no birds of prey to be seen.

I can’t get used to arriving back from a ride with completely clean tyres so early in the year. Still, it’s already shorts and short sleeve shirt weather. Or maybe that’s because I’m a Northerner. Southern roadies are still resolutely dressed up in full tights and even the odd thick jacket.

* there’s just something about the electronic beats that suits my riding tempo. Now to put together a TR-808 themed playlist @ 120 bpm

Bike: Hunter
Distance: don’t know, don’t care
Playlist: Live from King Georges Hall*

More local exploring of the off-road network. A previously unridden (for me) permissive bridleway alongside the M1 cuts out a couple of miles of roadwork, meaning that I now have an almost entirely off-road evening loop, and an off-road method of getting there. Kind of a lollipop shape if you draw it on the map.

It’s only last week I was wishing I had Mud Mads, but tonight my tyres were clean and dusty. Another week and it’ll be semi-slicks. If it wants to stay this dry now for a while, I’ll be happy.

* Think early 80′s disco for school kids. At some point during playing my wife will normally ask if I’m going to apologise for the 80s. Hell, no. Not this playlist.

Bike: Hunter
Distance: don’t know, don’t care
Playlist: DJ Moule, Big Black to finish

A quick ride round what could well become the evening blast loop. Up to Greensands RIdge in Bedfordshire. No hills to speak of, but plenty of short sharp climbs to get the legs working. As it takes just over an hour I can happily go out carrying minimal kit; think allen keys, tube, CO2 canister. Better for the back, and no toolpack clanking about under the seat. It’ll be good until I get a repeat of last week.

Bike: Hunter
Distance: don’t know, don’t care
Playlist: Unplayed this year

Buckinghamshire is definitely sandier than Bedfordshire. The boundary appears to be the M1. Plenty of short sharp climbs to get me fit for Mayhem discovered and noted.

Bike: Hunter
Distance: don’t know, don’t care
Playlist: Metal*
Punctures: more than puncture-boy at SSUK 2008

While I’ve been staying down in Bedfordshire for a year now my only rides down here have been road. Sorry to disappoint the locals who refer to “hills” there is nothing much more than 5 minutes of climbing around here, certainly not the thirty minutes plus that I’m used to. It is, at best, merely rolling.

This week has been my first opportunity to ride off-road. First of all let me just put forward a theory about the origins of Bedfordshire. See how a puddle slowly dries out and leaves a dead flat, but soft bit in the bottom, possibly with a firm crust. Well, that’s Bedfordshire. In between the rolling bits it is so flat that streams sometimes struggle to decide which way to flow, and instead settle on “stagnate”. After weeks of dryness there is a thin crust on top of horribly claggy clay. Of the sort that makes me regret leaving my Mud Mads two hundred miles away. Climbing, such as there is round here, is futile as the clay is claggy enough to turn any tread into a slick and any pressure on the pedals merely spins the rear wheel. Still, it’ll be good practice for the mud-fest that will be Mountain Mayhem.

Anyway, I set off today for a bit of an explore. Five minutes worth of AC/DC gets me to the top of the ridge which I then plan to traverse. Twenty minutes into the ride I discover the school of Bedfordshire farmer that ploughs over the rights of way at the edges of his fields. Make mental note to explore the cheek on this chaps land.

Thirty minutes into the ride I stop to fix my first puncture. I find the hole easily, patch it, and pull out an inch long thorn from the tyre. I continue feeling round the tyre and find another thorn. A quick check of the tube and yes, a matching puncture. I let myself feel smug that I caught it before I put the bike back together. Quick fix, put it back together and decide to practice using the CO2 cartridges I plan on carrying for races this year. Inflated in seconds, and on my way.

By the top of the next ‘roll’ the rear tyre is feeling distinctly squishy. Now, I’ve always found that tyres inflated with CO2 deflate slowly, but this is a bit faster than normal. Stop, check tube, find nothing. Double check tyre. Find nothing. I replace the tube and get to work with the minipump. It stays up.

Setting off I discover the school of bastard farmer who trims his edges by flaying them to death, no doubt hoping to kill them (and the wildlife they contain) off, and replace them with some nice barbed wire shit. I think I’ve got away with it.

But no. Ten minutes later it’s obvious that the front tyre snagged something. I use a handy bus shelter by the side of the road to remove four thorns form the tyre and fix two punctures. I only took two patch kits with me – not deliberately, they both just happened to be kept in my Camelbak. Put everything back together again and back on the trail.

Only to stop literally half a mile up the road to repeat the exercise. At this rate two patch kits isn’t going to be enough!

Fortunately I made it back without further deflation, but so far Bedfordshire and me are not getting on. Next time I’m going to cross the M1 and head into Buckinghamshire.

It’s alleged that they have sand.

* or is it heavy Rock

Postscript

After inflating the tyres to bastard hard last night one of them a was bastard soft this morning. Found and fixed another two punctures in the front tyre (one of which was a cluster of three holes). Madness.