So its pouring rain and all i wanta do is get out on the mountain bike! i have sold all my bikes and thanks to Rory Mc i can borrow one of his steeds and i am off, its driving a gale as well and the rain is stinging my face, i am cold from hanging around in the car park trying to fix the big hunk of metal for that big hunk, full stop, gordon Monagahan, who is down on a riding trip and just wants to keep riding, he looks worn and tired as we start but is as keen as always. We head along the old westcork railway line (tracks long since gone!) and its greasy but fun, i am on a full susser and expect some hardtail slips but none happen, the shock is working and i am gripping, we hit a small climb and my buddy is dieing, he has done nothing in a month and seems somehow 'drained'
The suffering starts early, i decide to head back down a sweet trail that gets progressively harder to see if that wakes him up.
It does not.
Then its up and up for 20 mins, he is crawling but i know from experience will make it, i think he would make it no matter what the climb.
Determined unfit fucker.
I sprint off and do the first of 3 one minute intervals all out, not to follow some sad plan but to stay warm, its cold as hell?!
Finally we hit DNR, (how appropriate!) its a swamp, from the days rain, i think of the men who carved this sinuous path in pre famine Ireland and the complete functionality that it served for them, saving the turf was by extension saving themselves from the bitter,damp winters. no Irish man of the 18th century or indeed most centuries, in his right mind would head out on a day like today for fear of the consumption or just the sheer misery of it.
I am in pure delight, despite the water spray penetrating every stitch i have on, so,
we plough on, floating over the soggy bits and slgidin in unision round the natural and made berms at the bottom.
Gordon is awake and flying on the hard descent.
We power up a single track climb fighting for traction, then we hit the same trail as before, its steep and hard in the very slippy conditions, my friend is feeling it as he is stuck to me as wee swoop along over giant roots and ruts, not touching the breaks on the off camber slop and 'pinning it' all the ways to the end. He flew down that better than i have ever seen him ride in 4 years.
I was there with him and delighted he got on so well but mostly i was alone inn my own little world, enthralled by the fact that i felt like an excited observer of a delightful game that was being played out before me, between Body, Bike and Trail. Carving a line down through the woods like a stroke on canvas, the subtle movements, the unweighting of my body as dictated by the feed back it was receiving from the bike and ground beneath it. Ordered, served and tasted by my senses even though i had only just glanced at the menu.
Such intense moments of 3 way chemistry.
Its been a while, the best part of 6 months since the accident and in some ways it felt like my first time, so new and powerful the feelings as i thrust myself up and down. It really must be,
MTB LOVE FOREVER :)
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