The usual Friday panic prohibited even a small run-ette from site yesterday and rushing around to get out on time to meet the boys (including Steve for a ride) made things worse.
The ride itself was horrible. Mud sums it up.
To be expected this time of year but it was relentless and vile. My home-made bodge mudguards were superb (even if a little impromptu lie-down following a slide on an exposed pipe did fracture the seat mounted one) and my face at least stayed clean. I put one on Steve’s bike but he had put a balloon tyre on the front (he’s had zero grip for about a month of rides now and, instead of putting mud tyres on he opted to leave the back as-was and put a balloon tyre between his forks) and it clogged and stopped him about a mile into the first mud. To be fair to the guard, I’ve a bike which boast enormous mud clearance and my swingarm clogged solid on the same bit. Still cut the guard off though. And smiled everytime I saw his muddy face. The mud was followed by mud, then mud, then mud. Then Steve also got a puncture.
It’s a shame really because the riding weather was perfect. Cool, dry and clear.
I’ll be awaiting drier times before the next outing. Or a seriously altered route. On tarmac. Or skatepark.
The biggest pain was that the ride took hours. And since I’m quickly typing this out from work before my air-test, getting home at 8.30 and then eating then emptying the car of bike and bits meant I was never going to run.
Still – I’m off the mark for target cycle outings for the year.
141, 97, 49.