Inspired by this thread and some of the other threads [on Singletrack] where MTBers got frankly depressing and right-wing about access rights I’m going to relate my experiences of my local RoW access model. It’s a long one and I apologise now for grammar and spelling errors. I invoke Muphrys Law on any spelling grammar pedants up front. I will probably repeat myself.

Disclaimer: I ride bikes and horses, used to ride a trail bike. I can’t be arsed to walk anywhere because the scenery changes too slowly and since the dog died I have no compelling reason to bother.

I have horses stabled in a valley which contains a single bridleway and lots of footpaths. There are lots of bridleways outside the valley on which I ride my bike, and occasionally ride the horse. The bridleway in the valley is OK for horseriding, but for cycling it’s of no interest except as a means to get to other, better (from a biking PoV) bridleways. There are BOATS at each end of the valley, so the bridleway is also popular with trail riders linking them. The trail riders also have a cheeky play spot at the end of the valley on wasteland, but that’s mostly used by local yoof on minibikes. (I live next door to one of the yoof and he’s a nice lad. So I’m not trying to be derogatory with that term, but it is the one that best describes them).

The bridleway is too narrow for the 4x4s who use the road through the valley instead. The trail riders could use this road too, but a they don’t I’m guessing the bridleway is more fun. I’d have ridden it on my XR250. It’s fun on horseback because it’s open enough to canter and gallop – think DH speeds – and I suspect that when no-one else is around the trail riders enjoy a bit of speed too. As it’s not really fun on a bike I can’t get bothered about hoofprints because I know that I’m only using it to get somewhere more interesting on two wheels.

Seeing as I’m not the only horse at the stable an arrangement has been reached between the stable owner and the local landowners that all the horse-riders can ride round any headland in the valley, on condition that we each pin a unique identifier to our saddles so that anyone being obviously stupid or riding on the crops can be caught and dealt with. Some of these headlands are shared with the footpaths.

On a bike Some of these footpaths are more interesting than the bridleway for reaching farther destinations, so I ride them too.

Most of the walkers in the valley are dog-walkers, not ramblers (I’ll recount a rambler incident later.) There are no livestock in the valley so a dog on a lead is a rarity.

So there are horses and bicycles and walkers and loose dogs on the footpaths.

There are horses and bicycles and walkers and loose dogs and trail riders on the bridleways.

There are no legitimate vehicle rights of way in the valley, but there are at each end.

Yet it all works smoothly. Reading this forum you’d expect a bloodbath of dog bites and trail rage.

Here’s a typical day. In the morning my wife and I rode our horses up the bridleway for a gallop. Before we got to the fast bit we met some trail riders coming the other way. They slowed down and we all passed each other with polite head nods. Then we had a canter before meeting a bloke walking his dog, off it’s lead. We slowed to walk. He got hold of his dog. We had a chat in a good-natured way. Then we had more cantering and a gallop and finally rode back on the field headlands, basically on a footpath.

That afternoon I rode my bike round the valley and met more trail riders going to the play spot. Again, no bother. Then I rode a cheeky footpath and encountered at least four dog walkers, with not a single dog on a lead. No-one bothered to get hold of their dog (compare earlier when I was on horseback), but I was never in danger of being bitten and no-one went “ooh he doesn’t like bikes” or “you shouldn’t be here’.

On the last leg I met a horse being broken to trap (basically someone walking along behind it using long reins) on a footpath at the asme time as there was a dog walker. On the last cheeky footpath I met a woman walking a pony atop which sat a young child. Smiles and polite hello’s.

So the general atmosphere in the valley is nice and relaxed. There’s been no involvement of officialdom, just informal arrangements. “The Law” is being broken by just about everyone, but everyone else just turns a blind eye to it rather than getting stressed rather than feel the need to get all angry and apoplectic and write on internet forums.

There’s almost an “after you”, “no, after you” politeness to it all that is quaint, but not in the least bit stressful. In the valley, if you have a problem with someone you really have to ask yourself “is it them or is it me?”

Why can’t everywhere be like this? I think it’s because of the “they (i.e. anyone doing something that we’re not) shouldn’t be here attitude”

Here’s my rambler incident. I rode out of the valley and was riding on a legitimate bridleway that’s at least three Land Rovers wide, and has a pair of tractor ruts down the middle. Coming the other way was a bunch of at least thirty “proper” ramblers. Hking boots and gaiters and more goretex and rucksacks than a Himalay expedition merely to wander around the wild terrain near Woburn Abbey. As I approached the first group – riding uphill so not exactly caning it – I moved out of the ruts on which the ramblers were rambling and started to ride through the grass on the side. As I approached the middle group of ramblers the lead rambler -and I mention lead so that it’s clear he could see me – deliberately walked out of his rut and into my path. “Is it them, or is it me?” In this case, I think we can safely say it was him. I ignored this until the last minute when I moved sharply out of his way and said “mind your back”. As I passed the last group I said out loud, but with a smile (and I like to think a cheeky glint in my eye) “There’s always one”. In that case it was me.

Do we as a group want to turn into that wanker, being awkward for the sake of it?

In the valley by turning a blind eye to RoW rule violations and letting everyone use the trails, responsibly, there are less conflict issues than if you tried to restrict people based solely on their mode of transport and create honeypots. Isn’t “mode of transport” a silly way to segregate people? I’m not suggesting it’s up there with race or gender or sexual preference but at the end of the day it’s all just people.

tl:dr – IME letting everyone ride what they like where they like works better than restricting access. YMMV

I was a bit premature to write off January.

Get up at 5.30. Do horses. Work. Run an errand for someone — though I get a sushi lunch out of it. Back to work. Finish at 6.30. Go and do horses, again. Finally home by 9. This day is not atypical. But tonight the skies are clear, the weather is freezing, and I need some headspace. 15 minutes later I am hitting the frozen trails.

10 watts of raw power

Things I discovered last night. There’s something worse than frozen tractor ruts. An interference pattern of frozen tractor ruts. Buzzkill. That the ruts were only just wider than my feet made it interesting.

Another odd fact. Skylarks nest in hoofprints.

Once finished I called at the 24 hour Tesco for a snack. Quite scary how easy it is to eat 2/3 of your daily calorie tolal on snacks. A couple of pork pies, a bag of nuts and a Coke. Eat less, Do more is easy once you see which bits you need to eat less of. Lard isn’t far off the point.

For a few days we’ll be using an out of the box theme while I tinker behind the scenes with stylesheets.

One immediate change is the addition of reCaptcha on the comments form and relaxing of some of my commenting restrictions.

I can’t be arsed setting myself targets and totals for a year or a month. WHich is a good thing too as January has been a pitiful month from a riding point of view. Any intentions of getting out this weekend – and I had scheduled other items to make sure I had riding time – were scuppered by illness of emetic proportions.

Still, there’s always next weekend, and some local cheek worth exploring.

I suppose I also ought to decide whether to enter the 24 Hours of Exposure.

Rather frighteningly this shopping experience dates the bar ends currently on Kirsty’s Spot as they were the first upgrade. Closely followed by SPDs. Shamefully copying Jason Shackleton I painted them to match the frame. Next came Onza Racing Porcupines, and then three months without beer to save up for the big upgrade…

Early adopter

Look at the SPDs. Actually, don’t

Yep, those are Hope mechanical disc brakes. Batch two. Freshly fitted at the factory, which was still at Hope Mill on Skelton Street in Colne, and full of odd parts like custom mini gearboxes.

It didn’t stop there and I ended up with Pro Circuit front forks, Flite saddle and a Royce titanium bottom bracket (which still runs smoothly today in my Dave Yates) to try and make up for all the weight I was adding. Rapidfire pods gave way to thumbshifters running cack-handed under the bars, that one was Brants fault, before finally settling on Gripshift. To whom I have stayed loyal since; at least where gears are concerned.

Potteries Classic, Trentham, 1993*

By 1994 I fooled myself that I was good enough to go custom and I bought a Dave Yates and the GT languished before eventually being donated to a student to take to college.

Warlands cycles closed down in 2009. It was no longer my LBS, and many of the forumtards these days are only after the cheapest deal they can get from an online retailer. Thank you Mr Warland for starting me on a cycling journey that I am still travelling.

* Even not so young readers may remember this as the original venue of SITS. Damn those monkeys.

Then, while reading an article on Chinese cyberwarfare in the Washington Time I spotted an article in their sidebar on Steroids in Hollywood. Really?

The article went on to discuss a new phenomenon suffered by teenage and growing lads in the States, called bigorexia. I can see why. Pictures of Zac Effron skateboarding with his top off in magazines like Heat probably don’t help these impressionable youth. But I, fat boy that I am, am immune. I don’t get hung up about these steroid and workout freaks. Because have you seen Zac Effrons legs?. He’s got the physique of a lollipop. He might have a six pack where I have a Watneys Party Seven, but his scrawny stick thin legs look out of all proportion. The man is a spindly legged freak. Bigorexia? Take a look at the malformed proportions of these so-called hunks and get over it boys.

Suck it in fat boy

As it happens it turns out I have the BMI of a hollywood star, just distributed rather differently.

As I alluded to previously i plan to make my way to SSUK 2011 under my own power. That, plus some public transport to get me across London.

I’ve already had a ride out with all my kit, but tonight I got a chance to ride out and stay out.

No spork

Turns out I had almost all my kit, but it’s OK. You can eat pasta with a Leatherman.

I only got an hour and a half away from home because I had to be back early to help my sister-in-law schooling a horse at MK EC. I got a great nights sleep, overslept, and had to ride back full tilt with no breakfast to meet her this morning.

I’ve dug out my spork, and made sure it’s now in the Viscacha.

After a night in the woods on minimal rations, then a missed breakfast, I was pretty hungry this evening. My sister-in-law needed a break from cooking while she recovered from the riding lesson, and my (future) brother-in-law has been hard at work. With so many appetites on the go it seemed right to try dR j0ns Seafood and pork Étoufée for everyone as supper tonight.

It was a palpable hit.

Driving home from a trip to Duxford the other day we saw a car stopped by the side of the road with hazards on. We stopped to help. It turns out that he’d seen a feret crossing the road and sure enough there she was, looking up at us all. She let herself be caught and that’s when we realised why. She was pitifuly thin and covered in ticks.

I’ve always enjoyed seeing the deer on my rides, but I was reminded by this poor little blighter of the dangers they pose.

That evening, using medical tweezers, I removed over thirty ticks from the little ferrets head. Sadly it was too little too late, and she died, probably from blood loss, on the way to the vets.

That night I ordered an O’Tom Tick Twister from BADA-UK to carry in my rash kit.