Gareth wrote about his tentative steps from road rider to mountain biker. Three months later, how is he getting on?
A Cycle Scheme
I am a fortunate soul; fortunate to live in a beautiful part of the country with access to some amazing countryside and trails, fortunate to have mountain biking mates who know these trails and who have been willing to have a Newb’ tag along, and most fortunate to have an employer with an unlimited budget Cyclescheme programme that has allowed me to buy my first e-MTB and make sure its a good ‘un.
My local bike shop gave me a ‘handover experience’ when I collected my new beast – I was incredibly impressed, they made me feel like I had taken ownership of a super car, a Lambo with two wheels. My bike was waiting for me, polished, fully charged, optional accessories (such as pedals) were presented and I was fitted to it, things I did not understand were adjusted, pumped and toggled and I left the store bewildered by the enormity of the commitment I had made – of the sheer level of technology at my disposal and the weight of the damned thing.
The First Ride
I drove directly from the shop to my mate’s house to show off my glittering prize – my mate (let’s call him Simon) was partly responsible for my choice of bike spec and, as a 30 year veteran of the off-road scene, both in it’s acoustic and recent electric varieties, I had turned to him for valuable advice. Simon’s immediate response was to ‘Let’s get on it then…’ so with the swing tags still fluttering on my new MTB baggy shorts and rain jacket and wearing a pair of old hiking boots ‘on it’ we got.
About two kilometres into my first ever off-road ride I realised I was in a whole world of trouble. The bike felt less like a super car and more like a monster truck, it felt too big, ponderous, uncontrollable the bars too wide and I was beginning to realise that the word assist (as in E-Assist MTB) was literally true – the motor was helping me but I still had work to do – work to which I was not remotely accustomed.
I’m not sure if Simon has ever taught anyone anything, but if he has he is firmly from the ‘in at the deep end’ school of pedagogy. Darwen Tower was our destination – a space rocket shaped monument up a big northern hill in Lancashire (actually named Jubilee Tower built in honour of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1898) and our path up to it was via a wickedly steep, narrow, rock-strewn track punctuated by rain run-off gullies and curbs called Donkey Brew – some of you may have had the pleasure. I turned my motor to turbo setting and, doing as I was told by a Simon who was disappearing ahead of me up the hill, ‘aimed straight at ‘em and don’t stop spinning’. I was panting and sweating and struggling – this was supposed to be easy, an adventure, fun…
I got to the Tower, after more than a few stops for breath, a total mess – I had just paid a fortune for this – what had I done? One thing I had not done was change gear – I had forgotten to use more than 3 of the 12 cogs on my chainset foolishly expecting the motor to do all the work and pushing myself into severe oxygen debt in the process – note to self – remember to use your gears…
The descent was exhilarating, even with the brakes being feathered most of the way down the rutted peaty tracks and gravel strewn trails, I enjoyed picking my lines and marvelled at how my tyres and suspension sucked it all up, totally unphased, the unwieldy bike took on an elegance and poise that exuded confidence – ‘its all good – I got this’ it seemed to say to, me, I was a passenger deciding between a menu of options with my bike hungrily devouring anything I pointed it at. Something like fear for my life mixed with adrenaline and childish glee combined in my chest – a penny dropped.
Getting Better
I pondered my ride for the rest of that week and subtly hinted to Simon that, as a raw beginner, maybe a more accessible route for next time would be advisable. You can guess what difference that made…
Three proper rides in (I don’t count my solo excursions through my local park woods – but they were helping me to get used to my rig (Editor’s note: these 100% do count. Every ride counts) ) and I found myself on a blistering hot Sunday morning up Rivington Pike (another big hill in Lancashire with a stone monument on top) with Simon and his regular eMTB mates and I was finally enjoying it all, even ‘going up’. Using gears does help a lot. And most of all I was starting to ‘look up’ – the views, the green hills, the ground nesting birds, the smell of damp peat drying in the mid-morning sun, the crackle of descending down dry gravel, choosing the forded stream crossing rather than the bridge, just, well because… just when I thought I was having the most fun one can have outdoors on a Sunday morning someone up front shouted ‘butty stop?’ Within 10 minutes and with a view of a reservoir below the peak we had just tamed I was presented with a mug of tea and a fine bacon roll (no marg, just brown sauce please) and I was in heaven…
Getting Fitter
So today I am 3 months in, 9 proper rides and starting to get the hang of it. My 7am Sunday alarm clock is becoming less of a shock, the Saturday night charge a routine. I am a few pounds lighter (bacon butties allowing) and am getting less thigh burning lactate on each ride. I am lucky to have a bike that comes with its own built in computer displaying lots of data, including the wattage I produce – I have been amazed to see that the watts I have been averaging per ride are around the same as I averaged on my road bike. So I feel less guilty these days knowing that I am working just as hard – I’m just having more fun per effort and leaving the road traffic way behind – with only ramblers and their dogs to contend with.
Its all about the bike
My bike is a marvel of modern engineering – I am in awe of its complexity, its technology, its capacity to deal with trails I would have told you two months ago were unrideable, to get me up inclines and hills I would struggle to walk up and all whilst weighing about as much as my first car. In fact the only downside so far is the struggle of loading my bike into the back of my wife’s people carrier, of holding it whilst reattaching the front wheel, it is heavy, unwieldy and hard work – it also lives in my dining room full-time because there’s no room in my locked bike shed for it – so far my wife overlooks it but I’m not sure how long I am going to get away with it.
As per the friendly welcome comments I got under my original post, everyone I have encountered on or around the MTB world so far has been great – supportive and helpful, eager to advise on techniques and new routes – I have a lot to learn and loads of improvements to make but at least I am out there – gulping in the fresh air, panting up the trails and (brake) squealing down hills with a big grin on my face.
(Gareth extends a big thanks to On Yer Bike Cycles, Burnley – incidentally, the same shop where Hannah bought her first mountain bike. And look what happened there… What does the future hold for Gareth?)
