In an effort to offset man's detrimental effect on the planet I rode to Steenberg last night. Being a former member of Lord Robert Baden Powell's little boys club, I went prepared. My plumber used some really strong silicone, so I left the kitchen sink in situ but little else was to chance. My 30l pack was crammed with lots of things I really didn't hope I'd be needing. If you took a look inside, you'd see a fabergé egg effect, as my 15l hydration pack was also there (it has all my bike stuff ready to go). Notable forgotten stuff? Spare tube, duct tape, whiskey.
So I rock up to the parking lot a fraction past seven fifteen nicely warmed up. Jacques and Greg are kitting up and rearing to go. We almost leave, but then double check if TimB is indeed joining the recce. The expected yesno answer is instead a maybe. He can't find his wallet. I get an instant chill down my spine, as I also left mine at home, until I realise I don't need it to ride. He's on an XTR wheelset you see, which if you read in the manual duly instructs you to pack your (now empty) wallet in with the ride. He does actually appear before we have solved any of the world's problems amidst a flurry of expletives, kid bashing and O-ring tossing. (now when Niels cried out for some new and original writing, I don't think a whole paragraph on TimB tardiness was on his hitlist, so I'll move on now).
Jacques has lost his Mojo and is feeling pap on his bike (yes he's still on a Giant, I was referring to the Austen Powers context) and it's suggested he's been overtraining and should chill out for a week or two and recharge. It's later revealed he's riding less than 5 hours a week anyway and endless theories on training, nutrition and muscle tone abound all the way to the Silvermine Gate. I've got to say that the Forest has got herself in beautiful nick right now; firm and forgiving, riding her is a pleasure. Good girl.
I field tested one of my brainwaves. Builder's Whorehouse have these dynamo self powered torches next to the till and they looked really bright and a superbly focussed. Put one on your helmet and the bob bob of riding will keep it bright? The test failed because a) they just weren't bright enough and b) they actually have two little watch batteries in them for oomph and the rechargeable output is a bit of pale squib.
On the way down my battery terminal came unstuck. I'm still working on an ideal set-up, good thing Greg waited for me to avoid the search party running around the forest. You do really need to shout STOP! when you last in line. If only I had items two and three on my forgotten list I would have sorted it much quicker.
Jacques' eyes lit up on the way down. I really like to have the extra light on your helmet to see round the corners and not just follow the handlebars. He has just a bar mounted daylighter and flies at 9.8m/s/s. Been a while since i've seen someone superman at meurants.
Grumbly tummies led us to (drumroll.........)Jack's in the village. Flatbreads were not had. That's because its in the singular, and i think i overdid the chillie a bit. If you know what I mean.
Stella was there indeed. I'm just giving our tall blonde waitress the name Stella for now. She's way better than that big boned mesomorph with the sleeveless top. Who got the bill, what's her name again?
When I pulled into the palace a fraction before midnight, there was no apparent concern from still awake flatmates. No searchparty, not even a call to Mountain Men to amber light the sniffer dog team. It appears going out riding for five hours in inclement and dark weather is not considered unusual behaviour. Must be doing something right there.
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