Death and Taxes

Where has thou bin since I saw thee?  Have you missed me?  Sorry!  Some folk were asking what had happened to the blog?

Well if you are reading this poo you are part of a rather tight knit community of folk who seem to take some interest in the machinations that occur in my shell like.  Don't know why.  I can't figure out why the ramblings of a fat fifty summat bloke on a bike (who will turn 60 in November!) is of interest to anyone other than folk who are desperate to read something a little less funny than the news.

I'm sorry.  I've been busy.  Working on a megathon of a video of the John O Groats to Lands End ride in June this year.   I'm only half way down the country but I've enjoyed pulling this together.  One-and-a half-hours long!  You've been warned!  3 men in a boat it is not but I like what I've done.  I hope you find some enjoyment in it too watching a gaggle of old men fighting their way down the country through Scotland.  Part 2 covering the rest of the ride plus a highlights version (so will be much much shorter) to follow later this year.

June?  Wow!  Where has the time gone?  Almost time to start to think about next year's plan!

Oh dear though.  The price of energy nowadays.  I'm currently sat in a cool house listening to the rain lashing against the window.  Being that I am a typical Yorkshireman, so gripping my wallet harder than I do my sphincter on a forty plus MPH steep downhill run on my bike; well it's gonna take an ice age to make me turn my central heating back on.  Prices go up tonight don't they?  In effect they double isn't it?  

'OH FECK!', said my pet wallet moth the day that our new chancellor - Kami-Kwasi (or is his name Harry-Kiri?  Or Poo-Tin?  You know - that thing in Moscow that everyone wants to take a dump on?) announced his tactical nuclear interim budget just before flopping faint like back into his leathery cell (no, my moth - not Kwasi).   So today I'm walking funny cos I'm extra grippy with the things that are the most important to me - and that includes my testicles!

Yes, I've been busy.  That includes a bit more cycling with me and Brad the Lad attempting to ride the Calder Divide Trail.  A two day off road / on road mad idea in the hills to the west of Huddersfield.  But also away on an emergency mission to 'rescue' my ex - Kathryn - from Spain.  I won't go into detail of the why's and wherefores but we got safely back to the UK the other week and she's now on the mend.  Emotionally, intellectually and financially the first two and a bit weeks in September were hard for me.  Thank God I’ve got thick skin :-)

Anyway the Calder Divide Trail was attempted by me and Brad the Lad the weekend I got back. Whilst the young one was probably happy to push on the old fat one (yes, ME!) decided that the mad sections of the ride were totally unrideable and would have resulted in a broken bloke / broken bits in the most inaccessible of places if we had pressed on.  Got to the top of one climb and I was raking so hard for breath that if there ever was to be a day this year that I would have dropped dead then that was the place.  Beautiful countryside though so as I've suggested to London Alan I've now told Brad the Lad that if ever I did expire then to just dig a hole and bury me where I lay.  Just make sure that I'm not face down with my arse stuck out of the ground as I don't really fancy ending up as a bike rack for other dying cyclists.  

This is the map of the route and what we planned (the blue line) and did (the red line).

Some comparisons.  The planned route was 95 miles - we did 73.  The planned ascent was 10,500ft - we did 9,300ft.  We started late so it was impossible anyway to complete the planned event but we finished safely.

The route back may have cut off a lot of the totally unrideable stuff in the Pennines but it was still bloody hard work as we traversed the east / west running valleys.  We hit 1000ft several times on this ride out as we dropped into and rode back out of every steep sided valley.  All I can say is thank God we had JOGLE trained legs else I recon we’d still be stuck in the hills today.  It was an organised event for charity but, nah.  Made for proper mountain bikers for sure.  That's people with go down steep sided fecking hills with fast genes in their bodies riding full suspension bikes sans testicles and that included the men folk.

Thinking back I should have taken some photos to show how rough in places.  I was gonna do vid but my camera has now died along with the crap nav so I know what my Christmas presents to myself will be this year.  Nonetheless, we enjoyed riding the rocky gnarly roads and tracks but hated (well I hated) the across the moor sections with poorly defined paths and huge wheel bending / body breaking crevasses.  There was one wheel puncture (Brad) - er no, thinking about it - several punctures - here’s the collection of holes in my Rhino skin...

You know - down stroke foot slips off the pedal on a really steep bit which causes the mountain bike pedal - resplendent in pointy grippy things to whizz back into one’s shins (ouch!) A beautiful curve of small puncture wounds don't you think :-(

The organisers asked for feedback as they want to encourage more folk to do it so I gave them a quick shot across the bows and I will write to them later.  Simply having routes determined by distance ridden is wrong.  They should have defined them based on capability as might be done on ski slopes and being that me and the lad hadn’t done this kind of thing before a novice friendly route - still off road though - should have been an option.  Also to ensure people really know what bikes could be used and which could not.  I could go on.  But not now.  I'm looking forward to crafting a rather delicious email to them later.  :-)

Nonetheless, we had a great 2 days out.   My right knee is currently soaking in an Ibuprofen bath - I’ll fish it out later.

And we learn’t an important lesson about staying in Dewsbury town centre. DON’T! If you’ve ever watched a Guy Richie gangsta film like the one we watched (Snatch) whilst locked in the pub’s iron doored bedroom on Saturday night and living on take aways cos even MacDonalds have left the town (yeah that bad really); then the characters in the film who all have Saaaf Landaaan accents you CANT (and I do not mean you cannot) and talk about chopping folk up into pieces then feeding the remains to pigs - well that’s just prep school stuff for folk living in Dewsbury.  AVOID!   Bikes were locked in the pub’s cellar and I still really thought they’d be gone overnight.

So as I settle down after a successful riding season the War in Ukraine does not.  In the UK the CLOWN has moved out of number 10 and the IDIOTS have moved in.  Nothing to laugh at any more.  Not a custard pie fight to be seen.  I suspect it's gonna get gruesome over the coming months here in the UK and the Ukraine not forgetting Europe and the World.  Too many people paying above the odds.  Let's reduce tax on the wealthy folk say the new idiots in Number 10 and 11.  Yes that's a plan for success isn't it!   There's nothing as sure in this life as death and taxes - and that IDIOTS will always find a way via our political system into Number 10.

I now go to the shop and watch staff running about changing pricing labels 3 times per day just to keep up with the escalating costs.  And witness the problems of supermarket freezers going empty cos of 'order problems'.  I've not taken to buying up all of the toilet rolls just yet as for one I don't like the taste of them irrespective of the amount of salt / pepper and garlic I add to the pan.  Nor have I seen any of the COVID idiots again descend on the household isles cos I suspect they've still got sh1t loads of the sh1t rolls stuck in their lofts adding extra insulation.  Which I guess was not done because of some fantastical foresight that they had back in 2020!  

The only entertainment I can find in all of it is watching just how fast the ratings for the Conservative party have fallen off a cliff edge.  I'm positively glued to the screen like I'm watching a PooTube short waiting for the explosive end.  

Rant over.  Sorry for that.  But perhaps the prophecies of the end of the World in 2012 had used some old inaccurate Roman calendar and so were out by 10 years or so...

2022.  Are the end of days upon us?  I hope not!  

I plan to do even more riding on my bike next year!

Ciao for now..