RSF - The Off Road Cycling Club

The Adventure Starts Here

2011

“As a kid I had a dream — I wanted to own my own bicycle. When I got the bike I must have been the happiest boy in Liverpool, maybe the world. I lived for that bike. Most kids left their bike in the backyard at night. Not me. I insisted on taking mine indoors and the first night I even kept it in my bed.” — John Lennon, British musician

 

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Just off the B6265 York to Boroughbridge road, lie the two villages of Little Ousebum and Great Ouseburn. (Landranger sheet 99 452-612) In between, on a bend in the road and set back in a field, is the rather attractive setting of a church. By the side of the church gate, against the fence, is a park bench where cyclists are wont to sit on sunny days to eat their sandwiches, drink their flask of coffee, whilst contemplating life in general. Invariably any passing cyclist stops to natter for five minutes, and put the world to right
Many people believe the mountain bike was invented in Marin County, California, in the 1970’s. Whilst carrying out research recently I came across an article in a CTC Gazette (July 1930) by Vernon Blake (1875 to 1930) about a machine he had built, which I think fits the criteria for an ATB, ie wide tyres, low gears, cantilever brakes Blake described it as a cycle which after a lifetime of experimenting he felt best suited the type of riding he did in the south of France. The gear was what was known as a floating chain, no mechanism a single freewheel on the rear and a triple chainring. Gear changes made by hand!!! The wheel reversed to give six gears in total
your feet can stay dry today. This is the Mounth Road and the route up to the flank of Mount Keen is obvious, but that doesn’t make it any easier. The lower half is steep and loose in places; the upper half is steep and not so loose. Keep smiling! The purist, of course, will continue up to the summit and at 939m this is a Munro. We are less than pure, though, and are not too proud to take the easier path that contours around the hillside. We don’t stop long because there’s zero breeze and the midges are out.
In mid January, my wife Sheila and myself visited the small island of La Gomera, a short ferry ride from the larger island of Tenerife, in the Canary Islands. A short break during in which I took the opportunity to spend a day cycling on the island with a organised group run by a young German, Walter, who rents out MTBs and also takes groups on day tours of the island, which has a mountainous centre (highest peak 1487m). Beautiful unspoilt scenery including a rain forest with cycling tracks within it,
With the ferry to Mull out of action a Plan B was needed: the bothy at Resourie in Gleann Hurich or the Independent Hostel in Strontian? Hot showers and soft warm beds won out - got to pamper old bodies sometimes and for £12.00 per night we got fresh linen and towels too. The road to Kilchoan above the shores of Loch Sunart is a narrow, winding road through ancient oakwoods. Slow is the only pace, with blind bends and passing places to negotiate, but with glorious views through the trees. Beyond the inn at Kilchoan, where the Norse invaders held sway for many centuries,
We’ll all recall last December I’m sure. When the snow fell to a depth of 5-6 inches or so my road bike was frustratingly confined to barracks but the mountain bike offered some prospect of freedom and so it was that, wrapped up against not only the considerable cold (down to -10°c on our outside thermometer) and, perhaps, against the risk of a fall, I embarked on a memorable series of truly wintry rides into the countryside surrounding my West Lancashire home.

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