More tales of the riverbank

Rides on consecutive days! Just like old times!

It has been a long and lousy day at work, and I get home late, hot and
frazzled. I eat every junk calorie I can find, then chuck the 28 in the
back of the car and go in search of adventure.

For a change, I head down river, parking the car about 3 miles from home
on a quiet lane near Stoke Bardolph - famed for its sewage farm. (Who
was it who said they wished they could ride somewhere as nice sounding
as where I ride?)

The first section is a dead straight road with the river on my right.
With a slight following wind, my progress is almost silent, just the
slight thrumming of the tyre on the tarmac. the river is almost smooth,
and the sun reflects off each tiny ripple up onto the sandy bank
opposite. Swans drift lazily by.

Then I turn off the road onto the tarmac track across the Stoke Bardolph
Estate. Black and white cows munch contentedly in the long meadow grass
between me and the river. I make good speed, not rushing, but not
dallying. The uni is smoother today than it was yesterday. My legs are
remembering the moves. (They've been remembering all day actually - I
fence two nights a week and dance one night a week, but the muscles I
used in yesterday's ride are sore.)

The first obstacle of note: a cattle grid. I used to ride across this
without a second thought, until once I slipped and nearly put my foot
between the bars - that would have been a broken ankle for sure. I'm
more cautious now, but I know the problem is mainly in my head, so I
line up good and straight, and ride smoothly across. I remember my
tandeming days: hit the cattle grids as fast as possible and you don't
feel them... well I'm not crazy enough to do that on a 700c unicycle!

From here, I have a choice: take the smooth tarmac, for which my 32 mm
high pressure tyre is admirably suited, or take the rough and bumpy
track. Well, what would you do? Text your votes: 07900... sod it, I'll
go the bumpy way. It was never in doubt.

I overtake a couple of startled walkers, then turn down a cart track,
shaded by overhanging trees. Last time I rode down here, it was muddy
and slippery, and I needed the Coker. Now, the ground is hard baked,
and as long as I'm careful, it's a fairly easy ride. On a 28, the fun
is in choosing your route. Even a small patch of rough ground is a
maze. You need concentration rather than momentum and nerve.

Down this section, there are countless winged insects, and I start to
wish I'd brought my sunglasses. To be fair, some of the less fortunate
insects agree, as they become embedded in my eyeballs.

From here, I have another choice: the bumpy way, or the bumpier way. Of
course, the bumpier way wins, and I'm quite proud of myself for making
it up the little rough slope with the left turn at the top. It's the
smallest of obstacles, but with long tussocky grass, an uneven incline
and a sharp turn, it's tripped me many times on a more suitable wheel.

Then I find myself scooting merrily along the river bank, following hard
baked single track only a few inches wide, with rough grass to each
side. Two years ago, this was a challenge on the MUni. Now, it merely
requires caution on the road wheel.

And not overconfidence... we know where this is going, don't we? Bang!
UPD, a brief flurry of bad language... a rueful grin... and I do what I
haven't done for months: I push the uni back five metres before the
difficult section and make a point of riding it cleanly.

I reach the small bridge. Nothing difficult here except broken and
uneven concrete. A moment's inattention and we have a rider/machine
divergence situation again.

The next section's really fun. It's more single track, with the river
very close on one side, and a hedge on the other, and the grass and
undergrowth is so long that it obscures my view of the track. I have to
ride by feel, standing on the pedals, holding the handle lightly with my
finger tips, and sensing my way forwards with the feedback from the
handle, and from the sides of the seat brushing my inner thighs.

All too soon I pop out on a wide area of rough ground, then dive down a
short slope to pass under the arch of Gunthorpe Bridge and ultimately to
emerge into the pub car park. There is much merriment from the
assembled poseurs with their shiny chrome cruiser motorcycles and soft
top cars. I ignore them and ride across the mown grass as far as the
moorings, carry up the steep slope, then ride past the café (sadly
closed) and the locks.

I now face a choice between retracing my steps or carrying on along the
river bank. It's warm, it's sunny, it's virtually mid summer, so it'll
be light until late. I ride on until I come to a farmer's irrigation
pump and trip over the metal hose cover, almost dinging my wheel rim as
I do so. Then soon I leave the people far behind me and I'm sailing
across close grazed grass, cattle to my left, the river to my right, and
three horses wading chest deep in the river, to keep cool. I toy
briefly with the idea of going for a swim, but I have no towel, and it
isn't that warm!

There are a couple of UPDs on this section. Tussocky grass is a strange
surface: easy to ride , right up until the very moment when you fall
off!

I stop part way along to recover my breath, and admire the evening sun
bringing out the orange and red tints of the sandstone cliffs across the
river, and the red sand undercut river bank. Hah! An undercut river
bank opposite... so I must be on a slip off slope. My O Level geography
comes back to me. What nonsense! I must have ridden along this section
of the river a hundred times and not once have I seen a single ox bow
lake. I think they made it all up to keep us off the streets.

Half a mile later, I reach a gate that leads onto the road. Here an old
chap ("I'm 77 you know!") tells me how he's always wanted to build a
unicycle. He asks a few technical questions, but conspicuously fails to
listen to my answers. I think he just wants to be able to say he had a
nice chat with a unicyclist. Well, good luck to him. Nice bloke. I
also chat to a proper bicyclist (narrow wheels, dropepd handle bars,
remember those days?) who rides with me along the lane as far as The
Black Horse at Caythorpe - one of the nicest pubs in the world. But
shut for the evening!

The next pub isn't so nice: The Old Volunteer, populated by young men
"in drink". No one ever shouts comments as you approach them. So, as I
reach the mid point of the crowd, I start counting on my fingers. As I
get to ten, a youth shouts, "You've lost a wheel mate!" I shout, "Ten
seconds!" and carry on.

The following section is unglamorous - just a wide country lane with a
few posh houses. Well, posher than I can afford! Then it gets really
unglamorous - a section of cycle path next to a main road. I keep my
arms in and ride smoothly, enjoying the sensation of spinning along, but
wishing that the seat had just a bit more padding.

Then I follow a gritty track between hedgerows, the low sun flashing
through the spiky top of the hedge like a strobe light. It's quite
offputting. I'm glad when this section's over, and there's tarmac and a
lower hedge. To my left is a field of corn, the heads plump but not yet
ripe. In the middle of the field are metal standpipes with valves. The
Stoke Bardolph Estate takes advantage of the proximity of the Stoke
Bardolph Sewage Farm to er... provide directly pumped nutrients for the
crops. Think about that next time you have a sandwich!

Back over the cattle grid, with less trepidation this time, then a short
section of tarmac before I decide to veer across the meadow towards the
river. Crossing this meadow used to be a real challenge on the MUni...
I now make it easily on the 28... all but the last revolution, when I
hit a sudden discontinuity in the ground and UPD. I'm tired now, and
another UPD soon follows.

The path takes me along the river bank with the river to my left. I
pass a young couple sitting slightly bored on a bench. She is very
pretty, but with that slightly dim look that girls who try too hard to
look pretty often have. He looks like he's thinking, "OK, so I've got
the girl. Now what? Oh Gawd, she wants me to be interested and respect
her, and all that." I fancy I see a look of envy flash across his face
as I ride past.

A hundred metres later, I UPD. I turn to pick up the uni and see the
couple walking away in a half-hearted embrace, his hand hovering but not
quite daring to touch her bum. Oh, young love! In 20 years, they'll be
bored grandparents.

Do I sound cynical?

A quick burst along the tarmac and I'm back at the car, where I practise
a bit of idling before packing up and driving home. That's about two
hours' riding, and about 10 miles (16 km) or so.


--
Mikefule - The first cuckoo of unicycling

Sumer is icomen in, loud sing Mikefule!
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"Mikefule" wrote in
message cyclist.com...

Rides on consecutive days! Just like old times!


Nice write up. Nothing like a Mikefule essay to restore the enthusiasm.
So I shall brave the dreadful heat and go for it.


Thanks


Nao

Thanks for that, Mike. Another piece of pure unicycling writing.

You know, I'm sure you enjoy the write up just as much as the ride
itself.

"tussocky grass" - what a superb expression.

And "Tales of the Riverbank", ahhh- pure TV nostalgia!

Keep 'em coming, Mike!


--
s7ev0 - Here comes the summer!


We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there
were no lawsuits from these accidents. They were accidents. No one was
to blame but us. Remember accidents? ~ GILD
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