falling off bikes since 1975

or, to those who fear acronyms, Wuthering Bikes Punk Bike Enduro 2006. Slight tautology on the ‘bike’ front there, but what the heck.

So what exactly is a Wuthering Bikes Punk Bike Enduro? Well it’s exactly what it says. Wuthering Bikes? It takes place on the moors above Haworth (of which more later), the setting for the Emily Brontes classic novel. Punk Bike? Anything goes. Enduro? A series of events for which points are awarded. The winner is the one at the end with most points. Events included traditional hillclimbs and cross country legs, even more traditional events such as beer drinking and derby, and even a trackstand contest.

Most of the participants had stayed overnight at Westfield Lodge bunk house getting well and truly lashed and so I had the advantage over most of them of not having to ride with a raging hangover. After a weekend away in Scotland I figured that I’d used up too many brownie points and leaving Kirsty to muck out three horses this weekend was too much. Soit was up at the usual hour before setting off under blue skies to the lodge. When I got there, at the appointed time for once, it was obvious that we were going to be having the traditional late start.

While everyone awoke, and blearily faffed with clothes and bikes I had a full on test ride (once round the car park) on Punkass’ Spot 29er. It looks right, and it fits, but I got the feelings of vertigo from being so high up. Looks like it’s the Kelly or nothing then ;-)

I was really pleased when DaveA same round with the competitors badges, RSPB pins for all, and he’d selected me as a Blackbird. It’s only a small thing, but it made me smile.

An hour later than planned we managed to set out for the trails. DaveA wasn’t letting anyone off lightly and had promised us DBHOTM^*. Naturally the very first event was a gert big hillclimb. Three of the keener riders DQed themselves straight away by riding straight to the top while the organiser and stragglers waved them back down. The sight of 360 coming back and ‘getting air’ on a USE fork managed to scatter the crowd, mainly to avoid flying debris.

Events included a couple of hillclimbs, some cross-country racing, a short one-lap circuit race. My personal favourites were the race to consume a full English pint of wife-beater that had been left out chilling on the moors. As temperatures had dropped to -5 degrees overnight it was ice-cream headaches all round. Extra points were awarded for bringing it back up. Somehow I managed fourth, which I regretted as soon as we started the circuit race and started setting the alcohol free from the stomach and into the blood.

I was still feeling the effects of the beer by the time we reached the Derby.

Most of my attentions were devoted to Jon who had taken me out in the trackstand contest. Eventually only Ali and Chipps were left. After they’d circled a couple times Punkass called on SteveM to “end it”. Steve duly picked up a 29er Inbred and threw it at the battling duo. Ghost bikes rule!

We finally bagged some cheek and dropped into Haworth for chips. What a place. Like Blackpool with middle class pretensions, trading on it’s reputation as the home of four girly novelists who wrote 19^th Century fiction. If ever you feel the need to top up your incense or tarot cards in a place so backward that it still boasts “All Sweets Off Rationing” Haworth is the place for you. At least with Blackpool what you see is what you get and it’s in your face cheapness is part of the charm. Haworth is Hyacinth Bucket on Mandrax full of rude middle class types who, once they get out of their middle class mid-range cars, think that they have a right to wander about the road like lost sheep impervious to oncoming bikes and vehicles. Twats.

Fortunately Haworth was rescued by the best chip butty I’ve ever had that side of the border.

Sore legs and full stomachs then only had a short sharp shock of a climb to get back to the ranch, wash bikes, change into clean clothes and await the prize giving.

After much counting of points cards the worthy Champions were declared as Punkass and SexMidget.

I look forward to next year.

More of my photos are available on flickr here.

SteveMs photos are here and Simon Barnes has a gallery here, and Cris has some here. Sadly Punkass’ pictures are currently languishing inside a sick Apple Mac.

Update 17 February: Punkass pictures are finally here.

* Death By Hills Over The Moors