Fat Lad Rides Again

Fat Lad Rides The Stanage Edge Stormer
Quite cool today.
Distance: 18.04 Miles
Total Distance: 103.50 Miles
Riders: Fat Lad and stAn.
Food scoffed: One slice of Malt Loaf.
Quote of the Ride: “How much travel have your forks got Al?” – stAn, this was followed by at least thirty seconds of maniacal laughter.
Current Mood: The granny ring is my friend.

stAn had earlier in the week promised a Friday ride with me. I got a text message at first promising me a Bingley Ride. This all changed with a different mysterious message I received a mere day later: “Fuck bingley got a a better ride. can you be at mine for 11ish – bring your camera it’s very scenic.” Replying with the positive and a request for location only resulted in stony silence.

I arrived at stAn’s a little earlier than the allotted time. One cup of tea, a buttered pancake and an awful lot of fussing his pooch later we loaded up and headed for our mysterious location. Speaking loudly over the complete history of punk stAn convinced himself that I’d never ridden the route before. Screaming down the M1 (speed limit obeyed all the way occifer) we were in the Peak District and I started to grin. Regardless of the route, it’s all good round here.

We skirted round Ladybower reservoir and headed up a very steep hill to our eventual destination. Out of the car stretching stiff legs stAn grinned and pointed out the crags ahead of us on the horizon. “We’re going up there kid, Stanedge” It looked an awful long way up.

Kitted up we headed out up the first ascent. To reach the century I only had to clock 14.54 miles. On home ground that wouldn’t faze me, but up here, in the hills proper. This was going to be fun. On the long drive over stAn had said to me the first climb starts steady enough but gets worse. He wasn’t kidding. Loose fire road gave way to golf ball rocks, which gave way to fist size rock, next to the football (that’s a real football to our transatlantic readers, what you call a football is actually a rugby ball.) size ones and finally bigger than I care to think about rocks. Pushing up the last bits we we’re at the summit sooner than I thought possible with such tired legs.

Barely stopping for a breather we rode past Stanedge pole. We were rewarded with some wide fast descending and turning a corner stAn neraly ended up cuddling an oncoming Motor crosser; “I could see the whites of his eyes Al…” Past the eerily empty reservoir and onto the road we climbed for a long while shooting the shit and setting the world to rights. Two blokes enjoying the amazing views and not being at work.

Peeling off the black stuff I shared my Malt Loaf with dAd and we were soon away again. Wheels pointing down the hill I just heard the man in front shout we would be back at this intersection later as he increased the distance between us. stAn chased the hill sheep out of the way on a technical yet rideable descent I pulled behind him. Back on the road the dirt and rock route over all too soon, stAn was pulling away on the road climbs and I found myself in that awkward state of gearing. One gear I was spinning and getting nowhere fast while the next gear down the cassette was to much for ride weary limbs. I chose to spin.

Back on the dirt we had a breather and climbed up for a little while spinning where required and hammering the pedals on the descents. We were we soon back at the long road climb we had under our belts on the way out and it was a blessing to roll down it and stretch out my lower back which had become as flexible a pig iron all of a sudden. stAn pulled over to one side and with a smile we hopped over to a section we really shouldn’t have. Shooting down an awesome piece of singletrack I should have been enjoying the cheeky twisty joy but I was watching the GPS with eager anticipation.
14.51
14.52
14.53
14.54

I’d done it. On a cheeky section of road in the middle of the Peak District. I’d achieved a milestone I’d never dreamed of when I started riding again all those years ago. The off-road century. The local expression goes like this:

Like a dog with two dicks

A little more tarmac, a breather and back to the deathly looking reservoir we were soon back at Stanage pole. The long steady climb out of the way we stopped for a posed shot. StAn removed his GPS for the shot placing it on the ground behind us.

We mounted up and settled in for the big descent. I’ve realised this week that even with lots of miles under my belt I’m never going to be a great descender and it was proven to me as stAn disappeared into the distance. For the third time with this bike a spoke pinged in the real wheel very closely followed by a pinch flat. A little pissed off I shouldered the bike and started to walk. Just catching the white helmet of stAn in the distance I changed my mind and took of my camelbak to get a tube out.

I should never doubt the gods of the trail for they reward all those who put the miles in. As i looked over my shoulder the sky was on fire.

With what will sty with me for the rest of my life the valley around me was bathed in red majestic light. Had I been the descender I want to be. I’d have missed this soul lifting moment of natural regality.

stAn came climbing back up to find me and I reached him soon enough. He asked me to ride on a bit and take a picture of him descending a particularly rocky section and I obliged willingly. His moment in digital celluloid captured a glum realisation awashed stAn’s face. “I’ve left my GPS at the pole…” After much deliberation he set off back for it while I my knackered wheel and legs headed back to the car. Merely moments behind me with a sudden change of heart he rolled up. “Only cost me £20 on ebay, it’s karma mate someone’s going to get a free GPS”

It was then back to casa stAn to pick up my car with more Punk tunes blasting in our ears. Another superb ride to add to the weekly tally and as promised it was a scenic ride that will roll with me forever.
Day Six Route

Fat Lad

Fat Lad Races The Sunset
Mild, mostly dry trails.
Distance: 11.68 Miles
Total Distance: 70.59 Miles
Riders: Women want to be with him, Men want to be him. The one, the only: Fat Lad
Food scoffed: Nowt, like a daft get I didn’t stop long enough for sweeties 🙁
Quote of the Ride: “…this is the real world, I’m not a little girl, I know exactly who I am” – Fat Lad singing very badly in a thick Leeds accent to one of his guilty pleasure tracks.
Current Mood: Freewheeling the descents

Out on my own, the rest of the club earning a crust, I stick the Ipod on shuffle, and go for it.

1 QOTSA – Go With The Flow: Pottering round the house getting ready.
2 The Rolling Stones – Ruby Tuesday: I’m on the tarmac heading past Pete’s (stuck at work) house.
3 The View – Same Jeans: The Final bit of road before it’s time for the dirt.

4 Maroon Five – This Love: Hurtling down the field and something doesn’t feel quite right with the forks.
5 White Stripes – Blue Orchid: Storming up the steep bit into the copse and my legs are screaming at me.
6 Snow Patrol – Spitting games: Through the copse and down the next field
7 Portishead – Roads: Beth Ortons haunting vocals ease me through a dense sea of leaves down tight twisty singletrack.
8 The Fray – How To Save A Life: Head down pedalling the fire road through Birkby Brow wood.
9 For The Girl – The Fratellis: Crossing the main artery into Batley under railway bridge, it’s a superb bouncy track and I can’t help but sing badly and loudly along.
10 Teenage Kicks – The Undertones: Splash through the stream and conquer the other side.
11 God Put A Smile Upon Your Face – Mark Ronson: I start the climb to the ruins
12 You and Me – The Delays: Still climbing granny ring on this climb for first time in a long time.
13 Brianstorm – Artic Monkeys: The near vomit inducing climb out of the way I’m romping across the field rythm of the cranks matching the tempo of the song.
14 Life on Mars – David Bowie: Squeezing down the track only rideable a 1/3 of the year I ignore the adjacent quarry and it’s “Blasting 10-4” sign.
15 Real Girl – Mutya Buena: Through the church yard and up the long grass climb
16 Our Velocity – Maximo Park: Passing the school run at Westerton I’m disappointed the track doesn’t follow on to “books and boxes” the next track on a phenomenal album.
17 Cannonball – Damien Rice: I skip the swoopy bit of Haigh wood, it turns out to be a good choice as family walks their dog below. I exit out on the grass climb.
18 Mr Brightside – The Killers: Briefly on the tarmac and on for a lap of the reservoir.
19 I Write Sins Not Tragedies – Panic! At The Disco: I stop briefly to chat to some old fellas at the side of the water. I’m glad really, it’s a fucking awful song and I’ve no idea why I put it on my player.

20 Babylon – David Gray: I lift the bike over the stile and fly in and out of the bombhole.
21 Learn to Fly – Foo Fighters: Heading out to the tarmac a big grin is plastered across my face, it’s an awesome track and so damn appropriate for this week.
22 Somebody Told Me – The Killers: Heading down Thorpe Lane and it’s 7 degrees according to learner’s car internal display who’s bumper I’m shadowing.
23 Hoppipolla – Sigur Ross: A beautiful piece of music for not a particularly scenic part of the ride. I head of the waste ground and cross the very busy road.
24 Breakfast In America – Supertramp: I fall over riding up a flight of very shallow steps.

25 Muse – Knights of Cydonia: I get home, stash the bike in the Bat Cave and sit down to let the post ride endorphins die down.

Through the slats of the blind in our living room I can just see the sun disappearing over the horizon.

I’ve beaten the dark.

Day Four Route

Fat Lad

Fat Lad Rides Sunset Over Sharlston
Fecking cold, bone dry trails.
Distance: 17.54 Miles
Total Distance: 44.23 Miles
Riders: Mick, Carol, Chip and Fat Lad.
Food scoffed: Slice of coconut sponge back at Chip’s gaff. OK, two slices.
Quote of the Ride: “Stop riding in your thong then” – Carol, in response to Fat Lad moaning of his saddle sore.
Current Mood: Hungry…

With the cry from the forum answered I was son in the car making my through Wakefield to ride with Chip. Arriving at his house we waited on Mick and Carol who had finished early to join us for our little jaunt. They arrived, unpacked and were ready to go before I was too.

Out of the estate and onto the trails Chip asked how far I fancied. “Dunno, 10 or 12 miles to spin out my legs” I replied with hope. “17 it is then” he replied with a maniacal grin. We rode from daylight, smashing through twilight, pedalling through evening and finishing in cold Autumn night.

It was a superb ride, the legs only started to hurt 15 miles in. Chip rode remarkably well for a man who has had five weeks off. The trails were bone dry with the only sketchy moments forced upon us by the deep leaf cover carpeting the dirt.

Day Two Route

Fat Lad

Sometimes I wonder what I let myself in for…..

Hello my loyal and loving readers. All ten of you. This week I have been unshackled from my desk and told by my boss to get and get some sunlight before I get rickets.

So with this in mind and my devoted yet slightly deranged readership too I’ve decided to ride everyday for seven days starting tomorrow. I’m going to post the day after each ride to document the process.

So wish me luck, I’m going to need it.

As a small footnote, I shall recall a true tale from earlier in the week. In the consultants office I was answering the very nice chaps questions, building up a picture of my wellbeing and health he asked if I exercised. “I Mountain Bike three times a week doc..” I answered with pride. Prodding, poking and examining over he asked what bike I had and we discussed the merits of his own steed; a Whyte 46.

Leaving the office Mrs Fat Lad (for I am a coward and wont got the hospital on my own) muttered under her breath: “You bloody Mountain Bikers get everywhere”

Fat Lad

EDIT: Googlevideo is shite, not only did it take fucking hours to turn up on the site when it said it was live, it has optimised the video to such a ridiculosly low resolution that you can’t see the whole fecking point of the file! On the unedited version (i’ll stick a link up later) the effect of the glow sticks is ace!

I’m not one for Christmas (although Mrs Fat Lad is slowly bringing me round) and to me birthdays are just another reminder I’m another year older. Halloween however, I love it. Maybe it’s the repressed goth in me. Maybe I just haven’t grown up yet.

Anyways, every year I throw the horns on the lid, light up the bike like a cheap Christmas tree and the pootlers hit the trail to frighten the locals.

Right photo time (my apologies to those on feed aggregates):

That’s right, Phil made me a “Bat Signal” for my HID. Best. Bike. Gift. Ever.

Fat Lad, always horny.

Glow sticks on wheels; check. Mini Halloween pumpkins; check. Rider with modicum of ability…. I’ll get back to you.

How cool does that look!

My apologies for Phil’s sweariness for those with sound.

Happy Halloween All

Fat Lad