foller t' yeller brick

Dartmoor MUni weekend approacheth, and I lacketh fitness. So, after a
long hard day at work, the long drive up to Sherwood Forest and the
Forest Pines Car Park...

In a rare moment of observational eptitude, as I enter the car park I
notice the tiny tiny little notice saying it closes at 7:00 p.m. It is
now 6:30. To jump the substantial steel entrance/exit gate is beyond
the feeble powers of my car, so I turn round and park semi-legally on
the road verge.

Today's uni is the Pashley 26 inch MUni, with the UDC Gel saddle, 170
mm cranks and the Holy Roller 2.5" tyre. Those loooong cranks - and I
am a short-legged dwarf pigmy, used to 110s on the 700c.

This area of Sherwood Forest covers about 20 square miles or so, and is
criss crossed with wide crushed-grit and ballast roads which are mainly
yellowish, but sometimes pinkish in hue. Between them there are grassy
tracks, and between these there are muddy rutted tracks. Parts of the
forest are planted with pine; other parts are mixed woodland, and there
are some areas of old oak and chestnut forest. Almost everywhere is on
a slope. The hills are not huge, but you always seem to be going up
one or down one.

So, freemount the MUni and set off up the long tarmac drive as far as
the car park, looking for a gap into the forest. At the first
opportunity, I take a yellow ballast path, and at the first opportunity
after that, I veer onto one of the grassy tracks. Somewhere I can hear
a cuckoo, the first sign of a long-awaited spring, and possibly
nature's most irritating noise - with the possible exception of the
wood pigeon. (The wood pigeon misses out the "cuc", but makes up for
that with rather too much "koo"ing for my taste.)

A mile or so into the ride, I UPD clumsily on a fairly smooth section
of path. A couple of hundred metres later, I UPD again on some rough
ground when I venture off piste and hit some steep-sided ruts across my
intended route. I notice I am already desperately out of breath, and
my breathing sounds laboured in my full face helmet. I don't really
like the full-facer, but my open faced helmet needs repairs.

Half a mile later, I see a fox, running away from me along one of the
narrower tracks. Several times I see squirrels, sine-waving across the
path, their tails following them like oscilloscope traces. My
breathing is increasingly laboured, and as I slog up a rough and fairly
steep muddy path, I am grateful to UPD and have a rest! I sit for a
few minutes, tall pines waving gently above me. Spiders' webs sparkle
in the low sunlight, visible from 50 or 100metres away. Crows and
pigeons flit between the tree tops.

My heart-rate and breathing restored to something approaching normal, I
remount and with uncharacteristic energy, I scramble up a steep and
muddy slope, pause momentarily at the top, then swoop down, splashing
through shallow muddy puddles, the tyre sometimes squirming beneath me.
Around here, the pines are smaller, and closer together, and I am glad
to be wearing a helmet as a sideslip could be nasty. I negotiate some
really tricky dips and bumps, then UPD for no good reason. It takes
two or three more attempts to get past the "no good reason", so it must
have been a good reason after all!

There follows a long tricky section of deep slimy muddy puddles, some
concealing roots. Unexpectedly, the path spits me out onto a long and
enjoyable descent that wanders through heather with almost no tree
cover, then I think I recognise a section of yellow ballast road, and
soon I am on familiar ground at the top of the "Downhill Course -
Experienced Cyclists Only".

With a faint twinge of disappointment that there are no "experienced
cyclists" pussyfooting around at the top of the course (as there will
be in the summer), I ride straight onto the course, determined to keep
my speed up.

I UPD on the tiniest of roots (possibly the only stalk of cress growing
in the entire forest) but after that, I ride all the sections with no
UPDs, despite doing two bits that are somewhere between drops and
mudslides of about 2 vertical feet.

Prudently, (you say "coward", I say "prudent") I miss the raised
woodwork sections. I have no desire to be face down and injured, with
no way of summoning help. I was in that position once before when I
split my chin doing MUni off the main path in the snow a couple of
years back.

Dusk is starting to descend, and I am very out of breath -
disappointingly unfit after a winter of fencing, using the treadmill at
the gym, dancing and swimming. I decide to stick to the main ballast
roads. Trouble is, this is my first visit to the forest in a few
months, and I've lost my sense of direction. Everything looks
unfamiliar, and there has been some tree felling which makes things
look even more different.

I set off in what feels like the right direction, recognise a couple of
landmarks, but they don't seem to fit together in a logical way. I
have only the vaguest idea which way the car is. I start to worry,
thinking that if darkness falls, I could end up riding a very long way
before I recognise somewhere, and then a much longer way from there
back to the car - if the local kids haven't made it easier to find by
setting light to it.

Things are looking bad. Not terrible, not disastrous, but definitely
bad.

For no rational reason, I feel like I am about to shout, "Help!" I
stop myself in time. Strange TV scripts cross my mind (probably taking
a shortcut). "What's that, Skippy? Mike's stuck in the forest? And
he's on a unicycle?"

It all seems worthwhile for a moment when I have a rare sighting of a
jay of to my right in the forest. I see the pink pastel flank, then
the tell-tale white rump as it flies away from me. Nice. I'm still
lost, though.

I hear distant voices. (Joan of Arc's got nothin' on me!) I reason
that most people don't walk far, so if I head towards the voices, I
will end up near to the car park. (Forgetting, of course, that the car
park closed nearly an hour ago, so these people must have come from
somewhere else!)

I ride down a grassy track until I meet a portly young man with his
portly young woman, his child, and his dog - the perfect East Midlands
family unit! And great: they're stoutly built, so they won't have
walked far.

I stop some distance away to give the dog chance to get used to me. I
idle, and realise I have now sort of committed myself to not
dismounting without looking silly. So here I am, lost in the forest,
wearing a bright red full-face helmet, idling a unicycle on a rough
grassy track, trying not to get savaged by a dog, and asking for
directions to a car park that is closed.

The man has no idea about the car park.

So I mention the café,

"Ah! T' Limes Caffy," he says, and begins to point me in the right
direction.

No, not the Limes Café. That is nowhere near the cafe that I have in
mind. Miles away. I point this out, and give him a better description
of the one I mean.

"Blimey, yewth. You're miles away."

I was sort of expecting that.

"Goo back up hill..."

I was expecting that too.

"Then foller t' yeller brick to right, then ton left and foller t'
yeller brick to t' end."

T' yeller brick? Ah! That will be the yellow crushed ballast forest
road. I had momentarily missed the literary allusion.

Thanking him, I turn 180 on the spot and set off at high speed up t'
hill and ton right onto t' yeller brick. It is a point of honour to
ride fast and smooth, and not UPD, because I am going to be a story
this man tells in the pub on Friday, and I don't want the story to
involve me falling flat on my face in t' mud.

He was right: it was miles. However, on a smoothish surface, the hills
are less of a problem, and I make good time without crippling myself.
As I get nearer to the car park, I divert from t' yeller brick and cut
along some of the narrower paths for variety. I pass the café, which
is closed, and then I'm in the car park.

And here is an unforeseen dilemma: I usually leave the car park in the
car, and distance is not an issue. Which is the shortest way to the
main exit? I know that the exit road zigzags and isn't the shortest
way.

Tired and confused, I end up going the wrong way. Everything looks
confusing, and darkness is falling. How can I get lost in a car park?
I feverishly recall my Cub Scout Training: moss always grows on the
north side of a tree; the sun sets in the west; cows lie down if they
are tired; right over left, left over right; none of this helps. Ah,
yes! I remember: signs with "Exit" written on them usually point to
the way out. I look for one of those.

I follow the zig zag road. the pines to my left are close-packed, and
the setting sun flashes pinkly between them as I approach the exit
gate. The gate is comprehensively closed, but I find a way past
without having to get off, ride the short section of road to the car,
cross the road, and ceremoniously touch the car with my hand before
dismounting. I made it from asking for directions to reaching the car
in one go without a dismount, and I'm quite pleased with that, all
things considered.


--
Mikefule

Last night another soldier, last night another child
No one seems to worry, no one sees his mother cry
They're just facts and figures on your TV screen
Another child and another soldier, is peace just a dream?
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GOSH that was long! i liked the story.

and by the way.... i couldnt find one flaw in your grammar....hmmm


--
manon1wheel

Quote:
Originally Posted by GizmoDuck
I yanked on my foot and straigtened it and stuck the bone back into the
skin.
Gild:
This is going to be in someone's signature before too very long.
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Great story, I really enjoyed it. Next time that you should happen to
get lost, “Close you eyes and tap your heels together three times. And
think to yourself, there's no place like home.”


--
One on one

Amazing. YOU'RE a waffler too!! And we BOTH unicycle! We're just the
same! That's why I like you, Greg!
-BillyTheMountain

You ARE me, you silly goose.
-Greg Harper
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manon1wheel wrote:


and by the way.... i couldnt find one flaw in your grammar....hmmm



i found one


Mike Fule wrote:
I follow the zig zag road. *the* pines to my left are close-packed



anywho.. its great to have good ole mike fule stories again..

Chase


--
Unitik908

All hail the exhaulted Sigpoose, for he is forever king...
R.I.P Unibiker
R.I.P Gazzaloddi
R.I.P Paul Hester
R.I.P James Doohan
R.I.P Mitch Hedberg
R.I.P Peter Jennings
R.I.P Pope John Paul II
R.I.P James_Potters_Cat
YAMS

-last edited by the dave and sigpoose on 2005-09-05 at 08:56 pm -
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remindes me of my grandpas stories... MikeFule, will you be my grandpa?


--
manon1wheel

Quote:
Originally Posted by GizmoDuck
I yanked on my foot and straigtened it and stuck the bone back into the
skin.
Gild:
This is going to be in someone's signature before too very long.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
manon1wheel's Profile: http://www.unicyclist.com/profile/9972
View this thread: http://www.unicyclist.com/thread/48881

manon1wheel wrote:
GOSH that was long! i liked the story.

and by the way.... i couldnt find one flaw in your grammar....hmmm




First sentence, paragraph 5: the verb has no subject. What is this, an
exam? By the way, an elipsis has only three dots. (I assume you
deliberately used the lower case -i -as homage to e e cummings.)


--
Mikefule

Last night another soldier, last night another child
No one seems to worry, no one sees his mother cry
They're just facts and figures on your TV screen
Another child and another soldier, is peace just a dream?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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