The best 1x1xFar. (With quiz)

The return of the Mikefule quiz! You will find various deliberate
mistakes in here. They are mistakes of "general knowledge" that I
would expect all or most of you to have a chance to spot. The quiz
requires no special unicycling knowledge, and no knowledge of my
previous wride ups. The answers are nothing to do with spelling,
grammar or vocabulary, and there are no hidden distance or direction
puzzles. It's just simple general knowledge, although with a bit of a
bias towards British readers, I suppose.

You will find 4 parts of the wride up where there are deliberate
errors. Three of the errors are single "facts". In the fourth and
last, there is a cluster of "mistakes", one of which will only appeal
to pedants of a certain age.

-_ANSWERS_BY_PM,_NOT_IN_THE_THREAD,_THANKS._-

So here we go:

Another free Saturday. Luxury!

I arrive at the car park at around midday. It is bright, slightly
chilly, with a stiff breeze and with a threat of light rain. I am
feeling unfit and stiff, and I certainly need to ride, but it has taken
some effort to persuade myself to do so.

I set off along my traditional route, which starts on a wide, hard but
unmade track between tall pines. There is a surge and a roar of wind
in the treetops which sounds like the sea breaking on a shingle beach.
The pines have tall, almost bare trunks, with all the green growth
confined to the top, and when I glance up, I can see waves of motion
passing through the treetops.

As usual, I turn off at the first opportunity, and follow an undulating
packed earth track that zigzags between the trees until it meets a
slightly wider track. This is an ideal warm up for my balance skills:
nothing difficult, but just enough for me to engage my concentration.

I turn left at the T junction and ride up a gentle slope through mixed
woodland before turning right onto a wide hard track. This track is
wide enough for Land Rovers or forestry trucks to pass each other,
although I have never yet seen a vehicle on it. Today, it is deeply
carpeted with crisp autumn leaves which crunch beneath my tyre like
discarded Pringles. (The tasty snacks, not the sweaters, stupid!)
Occasionally, a dry twig snaps beneath the wheel, the report echoing
from the tree trunks to each side.

Here I pass a family who are riding mountain bikes in the opposite
direction. Most of them pass friendly comment. The little girl
shouts, "You're the coolest thing I've seen."

Hmmm. If only she knew I was a 44 year old office worker who only owns
straight-leg jeans, and who enjoys Morris dancing and folk song. Or
perhaps that's the new definition of cool. Or maybe she's led a
sheltered life, hasn't seen much, and so far I really am the
coolest...

Left again, and up a slight incline, a narrow single track with
brambles snatching at my bare legs. Soon I turn right and the riding
is easier, slightly down hill, and with a little bit more variety.
There are birch trees, with their small, almost disc-like golden leaves
scattered beneath them like fairy gold.

Soon I meet the main track again, and cross it. As I do so, I notice a
family group of cyclists to my left, all on pseudo mountain bikes, and
with halogen (or bright LED) lights on, in broad daylight. I draw your
attention to my comments about risk perception and risk management on
Kris Holm's thread elsewhere. I hear one of the cyclist shout
something to the others.

Now I am riding in mixed woodland (although I later checked, and the
map shows it all as evergreen plantation) and there are oak, birch,
sweet chestnut and beech trees between the conifers. I know this
section well, and I take some favourite diversions along narrower more
interesting tracks that run parallel.

At the end of this section, I have to drop down a fairly steep slope of
long unmown grass, with no obvious path. The grass is long enough and
thick enough to hide obstacles, and the slope is steep enough that I
need to put a lot of back pressure on the pedals. I reach the bottom,
and now I have a couple of options. This is the place where I cracked
a rib a year or so ago, landing badly with my chest on the palm of my
wrist guard in a low speed fall. Pride determines that I go the
difficult way, up a slight slope across tussocky grass with hidden mole
hills and the occasional fallen branch.

Out of breath now, after 15 minutes tough riding without a stop, I take
the easy route for a bit, uphill, but on a hard-surfaced track. Then I
turn right along a straight and easy path that is almost level. Within
a couple of minutes I pass a turn to the left, and, on a whim, I do a U
turn and then take this side route. It is between dense conifers, and
is dark and almost silent, only the sound of my breathing, and the
occasional creak of the trees in the breeze.

The path is blocked by a fallen tree, apparently deliberately dragged
there, but there is a new path around the obstacle, and soon I'm back
out on a main route. Time again for some easy riding and to get my
breath back.

To my right is some open waste ground, a sort of clearing, which has
been colonised by bracken and gorse. The gorse is still in flower,
it's bright yellow blooms adding a cheerful air to an otherwise
desolate scene. Most of the bracken has turned rusty red as winter
approaches.

In the distance, I see the distinctive black and white flash of a
magpie rising, and then flying in it's distinctive "too much like hard
work" style, carrying its slightly too long tail behind it. Something
brown flashes across the clearing and into the trees to my left, bigger
than a finch, too small for a game bird. I keep an eye out as I
approach and it comes out of the trees again, constantly reappearing
from the cover then darting ahead of me to a safe distance and then
perching. Eventually it becomes complacent and ignores my approach and
as I ride past, I see the distinctive black and red chest bars of a
spatchcock.

Left again, then right, and down a steep hill, where I see my route is
blocked by soft dry sand. I have never been sure whether these "sand
drifts" are a natural feature, or the sand is brought there by the
forestry people. What I do know is it's either a challenge or a
nuisance, depending on my mood and stamina. Today, I hit it rather
carelessly, ride for a few metres, and then I feel the familiar slide
and sink of the wheel hitting a deep patch and I UPD. 25 minutes of
cross country riding, probably 3 miles or more, and my first stop.

I remount and soon reach a junction with what I always remember as the
path where I saw my first jay.

This path has two parallel single tracks separated by a narrow ridge of
green growth. One path is smooth but sandy, the other is rougher but
firmer. The choice is made more difficult by the low branches that
intrude onto the firmer right hand track, but that's the one I take.

And then, the distinctive sound of the Ran-dells singing "The Martian
Hop": my controversial ring tone on my mobile! I dismount and answer
it, only to find it's a wrong number - someone who wants me to lay a
laminate floor for him!

I don't usually stop on this section, but I have stopped to answer the
phone at a junction with a previously unnoticed path. It dips down
then climbs up onto what looks like a manmade embankment. I decide to
go with it, so I walk to the top (it's far too steep to ride) and then
walk down the other side. (Some of you would ride it, but I live alone
and have no one to nurse me if I injure myself.)

This opens up a previously unknown section of the forest, which is
mainly a clearing with a mess of packed earth tracks around it. I am
riding more or less parallel to the embankment, which stands a few
metres high on my right, and seems to have a bit of a ditch in front of
it, although the whole thing is overgrown, in some places with mature
trees.

There are about four reasons for earthworks: flood defences, transport
(road and railways), mining or quarrying, and military defence. The
first three can be excluded because of the location, which suggests
that what I can see is some sort of fortification. A later check of
the map reveals nothing, so whether it is an old iron age rampart or
something from military training in the last hundred years or so is a
mystery. Or perhaps its a left over from one of the battles in the
Napoleonic war. There is a military camp nearby, and there are other
similar embankments in the forest. The fact that it's not mapped
suggests it isn't an ancient site.


--
Mikefule

I'd try cynicism, but what's in it for me?
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Back into the forest, and familiar routes take me through mixed woodland
to the foot bridge over the railway cutting, and towards the "desert".
The entrance to the footbridge is blocked with a couple of large
boulders to keep 4 wheel drives out. Some muppet has ripped up some of
the planks of the bridge deck to make a ramp over the boulders, so as I
ride across the bridge I can see a long way down just to the left of my
wheel!

There's a short walk now through deep soft and wheel-rutted sand, then
a stiff climb up to a railway embankment that leads towards a nearby
sand quarry. I remount at the top and ride along the track bed, which
is badly subsided into a series of bumps and hollows. This used to be
the height of my riding ability, but is now just a pleasant series of
swoops, until eventually it becomes mildly irritating.

Soon I reach a formidable obstacle of piled earth, with jeep tracks
over it. The constant battle between the quarry owners and the
off-roaders is simply a series of small victories by the off-roaders. I
don't know why the quarry people bother - it's presumably because of
fear of litigation if they don't and someone is injured.

After this bank is a wasteland of black rutted spoil which is no fun to
ride. The wind is now biting, and I could do with some shelter.
However, my route takes me to the foot of a further embankment, and I
ride, fall and walk up to the top of that before riding along the top,
and then down the steep shifting sand and gravel slope at the far end.
I love riding down sandy slopes, as the wheel skips and slips and there
are moments when you have almost no control. It feels like it ought to
look dramatic and daring.

More sand, gravel and slopes, and the wind is starting to become
intrusive (I should chew my food better) and I'm thinking of turning
back towards the car, which is a good half hour or more away. To my
left is the "desert", a wide area of sand, gravel and scrub, where
local heroes ride motorbikes or drive jeeps (and stolen cars). Today
it is empty, although I can hear motorbikes somewhere.

And now, one of the trickiest sections I've ever ridden: it is only
short, but involves a transition from gravel and sand, to hard rutted
clay, and then a short patch of deep sand, and finally a climb up onto
a narrow path, with overhanging bushes to my left, and a steep and
potentially injurious drop to my right. Kris Holm rides 4 inches from
a 2,000 drop. I am a foot from a 5 foot drop, but believe me, he is
more confident of success than I am!

But I make it, and pop out onto a familiar track. The track here is
wide, but very deeply rutted and badly subsided in places.

Almost immediately, I see a big 4 wheel drive truck which is labouring
along the track, the driver carefully choosing his route to avoid
either beaching, or getting cross-axled. I ride up behind him, and he
must see me in his mirror because he stops to let me overtake him! As
I ride past, I hear his passenger laughing: £20,000 or more of big
shiny 4 wheel drive truck giving way to a man on a unicycle.

The next 50 metres is sandy, gravelly, and deeply rutted, but
fortunately, I make it around the corner before I UPD. Pride and
posing demand no less.

More or less immediately, I turn back. If the truth be known, I had
only turned this way to challenge the truck. Point made, I ride back,
passing him as he turns off to drive over an earth bank and into the
desert. He winds down his window and smiles good-naturedly as I pass
him.

Next is the area I used to call the "black lagoon", but it has now been
filled in with sand, and is just a sandy area. I stop here for a rest
and take the opportunity to ring my brother to make plans for a family
birthday tomorrow. He's busy shopping with his new bride, whom he
married in Bangkok, Singapore, only a month or two back, so we can't
talk for long. As I end the call, a couple of youths arrive on moto-x
bikes and roar around noisily for a while. Well, I suppose you can't
roar around quietly, otherwise it wouldn't be roaring, would it?

I cheat a little (I'm tired) and I walk across an area of soft sand
before remounting. Soft sand late in a ride is the slow death, that
leeches the life from a unicyclist's legs, and the determination from
his soul.

When I remount, I am faced with one of the most challenging climbs on
my regular routes. It is along grind up a deeply rutted track,
climbing maybe ten metres in a couple of hundred metres. The firmest
and smoothest part is the bit where the jeeps can't go, and they can't
go there because of the overhanging bushes and trees to the left. So
I'm committed to riding a narrow ledge with a cross slope on it, bushes
in my face (stop it!), and a drop of a couple of feet into a rut if I
get it wrong...

But I don't. I make it to the top, and now I'm back on the undulating
trackbed. Then there's the stomp-and-slide down the sandy slope at the
end and I'm back at the footbridge. I rest here (I'm about on my last
legs now) and I wait as a couple of motorcyclists roar past and back
into the forest.

Back over the bridge, and I opt for generally easy routes with minimal
climbing. I end up riding though a wide clearing left by the forestry
people after the January storm brought down hundreds of trees. It's
not pretty, but it is the place where I catch a brief glimpse, and hear
the distinctive call, of a startled buzzcock as it rises from the
bracken almost under my wheel. It's a fairly rare bird, beautifully
marked, and apparently quite an aggressive fighter during the mating
season, which is why Pete Wolstonecraft Shelley named his band The
Buzzcocks in the late 1970s.

And shortly after, I do something I haven't done for a long time: I
dismount and walk. Determination fatigue has set in. There is nothing
on the route that I can't ride, but the climbing and constant series of
small obstacles makes it seem too much like hard work.

Instead, I enjoy the peace of the forest, noticing how the sunlight
forms bright shafts between the tall pines, illuminating one side of
the trunk harshly, and leaving the other in almost perfect shadow, a
little like objects on the moon, where the light mainly only comes from
one direction, with no atmosphere to diffuse it.

I remount on the next flat bit, and somewhat reinvigorated, I follow
familiar paths back to the car park.

That's about two hours' riding, and maybe 8 or 10 miles, on a KH24.


--
Mikefule

I'd try cynicism, but what's in it for me?
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Great wride up. thanks Mike.


--
cathwood

Cathy
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Bump.

So far, not a single entry to the quiz. What on Earth do they teach
you young people these days?


--
Mikefule

I'd try cynicism, but what's in it for me?
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Mikefule wrote:
Bump.

So far, not a single entry to the quiz. What on Earth do they teach
you young people these days?


Well when i was in high school. I learned.....

*1) *The sky was blue and it turned greyish when it rained.
*2)* Grass was green and turned a brown/green colour when cutting the
grass with a lawnmower that was too close to the ground.
*3) *The cafeteria lady wouldn't help you with your homework.
*4)* Listening to the teacher was No1 and going to sleeping while they
talked was not an option.

*and

**5) *Lunchtime and recess were not subjects.


--
Hazmat

I'M 1 WEIRD AND UNUSUAL GREEK
CYPRIOT AUSTRALIAN WHO
IS DESTINED TO BE DIFFERENT AND I WON'T STOP TILL I AM.


'*Hazmat's What people think of me???'
(http://tinyurl.com/ytyaau)*

ivan wrote:
Its a wild ride, grabs me by the shoe-lace, and doesn't let go till I do
a face-plant.
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Well, we have a clear winner. Six entries so far, and some of you may
still want to enter, so I will post the answers in my next post on this
thread. If you don't want to know yet, don't read it yet!

Thanks to everyone who entered or replied.


--
Mikefule

I'd try cynicism, but what's in it for me?
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So, here we go:

"*Spatchcock*". There is no such bird as a "spatchcock". "Spatchcock"
is a way of preparing chicken. It's something gory about slicing it
open and taking out the spine, then laying it flat to cook it.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spatchcock

*Battles of the Napoleonic war. * There really is an earthwork in the
forest, and it probably is something military. I honestly don't know,
but that's my best guess. However, the Napoleonic war did not involve
any battles in Britain, and certainly not in Sherwood Forest. It was
fought at sea and in mainland Europe. Therefore the earthwork cannot
be a relic from a Napoleonic battle.

(As someone pointed out, a "manmade embankment" is tautology, but that
wasn't part of the quiz.)

*Bangkok* is the capital of Thailand, and is not in Singapore.
Singapore is a completely different country.

*Buzzcock. * This was the complicated one. Firstly, there is no bird
called a buzzcock.

There was (and still is) a punk band that started in the late 1970s,
called Buzzcocks. (Not *-_The__-*Buzzcocks - that was the one for
pedants of a certain age!)

Their name has been explained in several ways. "Cock" is a Manchester
expression meaning "young lad". "Buzzcock" is either a slang
expression for a cocksure young lad, or a combination of "buzz" (as in
thrill) and "cock" as in "young lad".

The singer was Pete Shelley, but not Pete *Wolstonecraft *Shelley. The
Wolstonecraft was an allusion to Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, the
writer of Frankenstein. (And yes, I missed out an L, but that was my
ignorance, not part of the quiz!)

And the only person to get all four main answers right was...

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Mikefule wrote:
And the only person to get all four main answers right was...

Putting lines in a message comprising just a full stop seems to cause
problems with the gateway. This is the second post you've made
recently where the bottom of the post (including the "view this thread"
link) hasn't made it through to usenet. Both of them seem to be where
you've done several lines with just a dot on each line.

Can you try a different character next time, please?


--
Danny Colyer

'http://www.redpedals.co.uk' (http://www.colyer.plus.com/danny/)
"He who dares not offend cannot be honest." - Thomas Paine
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Danny Colyer wrote:


Can you try a different character next time, please?



You want me to post as Hercules Grytpype-Thynne?


--
Mikefule

I'd try cynicism, but what's in it for me?
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On 12/11/2007 07:21, Mikefule wrote:
You want me to post as Hercules Grytpype-Thynne?

BG
That would be an option.

--
Danny Colyer http://www.redpedals.co.uk
Reply address is valid, but that on my website is checked more often
"The plural of anecdote is not data" - Frank Kotsonis