Fanylion Mountain Bike Team
Official site of the Fanylion Mountain Bike Team. Includes mountain bike ride guides, gear reviews, bike maintenance, team reports and rider profiles of the Fanylion Racing Team.
High Street and Grizedale Forest
July 26, 2003, Lake District
Daddy
And so it was with clockwork precision that Team FanyLion assembled for the 5th official 2003 Monthly Full Team Outing at a service station somewhere North of Watford. Crude male bonding rituals dispensed with we re-fuelled cars and bodies and hit the final stretch into the Cumbrian hinterland.
As our convoy sped into the wilds, the clouds that had been merely spectators to our journey thus far threatened to become active participants. Great swathes of countryside were shrouded in deep shades of wet, grey cumulonimbus… our Team Captain may have picked the wrong weekend for this expedition.
However the descent into Kirkstone pass revealed a picture postcard landscape of scree slopes, boulders, sheep and mountains bathed in warm intermittent sunshine. “Holy shit.” I muttered. Then Steve pointed upwards: “You see that?” he said, “we’re going up that.” “Holy shit.” I muttered.
Cut to car park – chains lubed, GT85 sniffed, Camelbaks filled, we were off – 12 noon precisely. Team FanyLion hit the trail, took a wrong turn, turned back, hit the road again, checked the map, took a wrong turn, checked the map again and eventually made it on to the trail proper. Across a sheep field, right on to a rocky path for a fast fluid blast through a stream and on to the Daddy of all ascents. Rough & ready fire road started the fun, but at about a 1:4 gradient this wasn’t a cake walk. In fact it was a bit of a mind fuck having to work so hard so early when we hadn’t even warmed up. Still, what goes up must come down, right?
After a mile or so the fire road ascent ended at Hayeswater Lake, where we steeled our nerves to deal with the prospect of having to carry our steeds up the side of a mountain.
And it is with pleasure that I can report that Team FanyLion undertook this task with stiff upper lips – nay a curse nor a moan escaped anybody’s mouth, Team Starkey included, despite the chill wind, despite the sodden boggy mud, despite being comprehensively exhausted. Maybe it was because nobody could actually breathe…
Edifice
To be honest I’m not sure how long we hauled lumps of metal up that mountain but by the time we got to the top it seemed like we’d all forgotten what we’d brought our bikes for. To ride, doh ! On we get for the first time in over an hour and the pleasure of not having to walk was a bit like the relief you get after a particularly needed poo. Aaaaah.
Onwards and upwards. Team Photographer Hodgson occasionally stopping to snap his weary pride of ‘Lions grappling with nature, and to add to his dodgy photo album of men in sportswear. We assembled at a rocky outcrop to take in panoramic views over the ancient, stately, granite edifice of Britain and to ponder the meaninglessness of our tiny insignificant lives. “Fookin’ ‘ell, you can see t’M6 from ‘ere.” says someone. And indeed we can.
Horizontal
So there we are – on the roof of England on our bikes and in sunshine & T shirts when every other part of the country is being battered by gales and horizontal wind. Respect. We make our way down hill on speedy peaty singletrack, past the grumpy walkers we’d already passed 3 times or so and climb yet again in the general direction of Ullswater. This is where the ride really starts to happen. Team Pitchfork is proving his superiority of fitness and skill by carving up the full sus riders on his hardtail. Team Voodoo’s knees are letting him know he’s alive, Team G Force is warming up nicely and Shorts in Winter is coughing up lung. I think I take the honours for first spill of the day: one minute I was hacking through puddles a few inches deep when the front wheel nose-dived into the ground as it disappeared right up to the axle in wet boggy peat. I was rudely ejected over the bars and landed a blathering, gibbering mess 6ft away, only to look round and see my bike still held vertical, Titanic like, as it sank slowly into the bog.
Gay
A little more map reading was required to bring us back on course, and we blasted the first prolonged stretch of downhill. Everyone was holding the formation tight – Team Shorts in Winter jockeying for position (i.e. getting in the way of) Teams Hodgson, 10-Ton Kona & myself. Team Starkey was blowing Steve away with his amazing technique and his impressive stamina meant he no longer came from behind. Team Voodoo, suffering with painful knees took up position at the rear.
Incident
The first ‘technical’ incident of the day was to befall Team Cliff Diver, who took it upon himself to scatter his tools willy-nilly over pristine countryside so that he then had an excuse to strike up conversation with passing hikers and swap phone numbers with them. Honestly, some people. The hikers actually said they would search for Danny’s lost tools whilst he got on with the ride, then ring him on his mobile to arrange meeting later to hand them back. Thanks mate!
Anyway by now we were losing height fast over rolling, rollercoster singletrack. Team Starkey astounded all with his amazing new-found fitness. Respect. Rutted and muddy in places the track was technical enough to keep you on your toes before the final fast approach down to Ullswater.
Team Hodgson in the lead, then myself then Shorts in Winter. Rabbit poo, dust and grit kicked out from our wheels as we hurtled down this rutted grassy runway at over 30mph – Hodgson clocking 32mph, the animal. What a blast – it went on and on. I was seriously appreciating the ride of suspension & maximum stopping power of disc brakes for the first time.
Bunny
We gathered at the bottom of the slope to catch breath and set off parallel to Ullswater. Fantastic scenery all around and fast, technical in places, singletrack forging a path into the bracken ahead. Myself, Shorts in Winter & 10 Ton Kona zipped ahead, relishing the rollercoaster ups & downs of this section. When we got to the end of the track we had a bit of a wait in store as it turned out Danny had had 2 punctures, the 2nd of which when he was on his own, meaning he had to walk nearly all this section as he had no tools or spare tubes to fix anything with. Not a happy bunny.
Tadpole
A short road section lead us up over a little pass and into the next valley. A stream afforded an opportunity to re-fill Camelbaks and squirt water at each other before the final stretch into Patterdale. And what a stretch. Boulder strewn and lairy as anything I have ridden in Cham, we were again forced off our bikes to carry them down unrideable descents and up massive rocky steps. This was quite hard work and had us sitting down to rest in a weird Star Trek style landscape, Jamie seizing the opportunity to bask topless in the sun, the slag. I managed to wipe out again after nose diving off a step off a bridge and landing on my elbow. Snakebite flat fixed but sprained thumb throbbing, I was soon on my way, but it took a while to get my nerve back and start enjoying the ride again, chanting ‘Pain is temporary – glory is forever’ over and over again…
Lagoon
After one final brutal bit of carrying, the track smoothed into a sweeping farm road that took us back across the river into Patterdale. Sun glistening off sweat and mud-caked legs, bikes battered and lungs full of mountain air : we had made it. The sense of achievement palpable. And the thing is : we were in pretty good shape too. Absolute macksimum respect to Team Fanylion !
Potty
Feeding time. Tents eventually pitched on top a craggy sheep field overlooking a steep tree covered valley, (campsite No 2 as the original was fecking miles away from the pub). We made our way down to the White Hart Inn in Bouth - an oasis of beer & steak - to be waited on by feisty mountain girls, one of whom offered to stab Steve with a pen. Now that’s what I call service. The food it has to be said, rocked. Some gluttonous pigs even managed a pudding. And all for less than £25 a head, drinks included. Then Danny got a call from the hikers he met who had found his tools ! Karma ones!
And so it was under a blanket of stars that the immortal lines “Shamone Mutha Fuckkaaaaah!!!!” rang out of Danny’s tent as he stealthily conversed with ex-girlfriends, phone sex chat lines & his mum on his torch phone communicator device for all the campsite to hear.
Aah the stars, an inky intensity seldom seen Darn Sarf that blew my cockney swede off. What a great end to a ‘Swallows-&-Amazons-crossed-with-Enid-Bliton-on bikes-with-techno-&-bumming-jokes’ day. And so to bed.
SUNDAY – Grizedale Forest
The weather gods were obviously at a loose end and wanted to see some quality mountainbiking from Team Fanylion as we were granted another fine summers day to cavort wantonly about Cumbria. On bikes, like.
But first, breakfast. A return to the White Hart Inn where we had dined so well the previous night. We were all hoping for another encounter with the sweet, young and very feisty waitress who had served us with such panache the night before. We were disappointed. But breakfast was a pleasing enough encounter anyway – More meat! More cholesterol! One could get used to this lifestyle.
So we packed up in good time for the short hop across to the forest. About an hour and several wrong turns later I skilfully guided the team convoy into the dark heart of Grizedale. What should have taken about 15mins took nearly an hour. For god’s sake don’t let me near a map if we ever do Dartmoor!
Once there we were under way pretty sharp – although Dave decided that his knees weren’t up to it and opted instead to spend his time leering at girls in the Visitors Centre. We made our way on to ascending fire road and after ½ a mile or so turned left onto a steeper more gnarly track and up onto a sweeping fire road junction. Shack’s instructions were consulted at length to the next junction – a steep descent through forest that gave way to hard pack single track. Not exactly wild ‘n’ natural like the previous day – but fast. A quick regroup midway, and a charge down to a gate, tunnel vision through a wall of bracken. I hoped any walkers we met would have the reflexes to leap out of the way sharpish. Myself, Team Hodgson, 10-Ton Kona and a little later Shorts in Winter (slight braking issue, nearly took his knuckles off on the gate post) convened here for a convivial dissection of the trail so far.
Eventually everyone came scudding down the trail. However Team G Force was ashen faced, having had a bit of a wipe out. At 33mph. Most of the skin on the right side of his body had taken a severe battering, along with his nerve. Some wipe out! Visibly shaken he gritted his teeth and soldiered on. But somehow we’d come out onto a road, not exactly as per Shack’s instructions. Never mind – we decided to take the road for a couple of miles and hook up with the trail further on.
A few minutes later we were back climbing fire road for what seemed like eternity. When we finally made it to the highest point it was crunch time for many of the Team as commitments like girlfriends & Monday morning loomed on the horizon. To this end Teams 10-Ton Kona, G Force (body & mind battered by Lake District granite), and Shorts in Winter split to car park leaving Teams Starkey, Pitchfork, Cliff Diver & myself to finish off the loop. It was a real shame that many of the team had to duck out at this point as the best riding was yet to come.
Rollercoaster
We turned off the fire road a little way after leaving the others and onto rocky singletrack. This rollercoastered down and up to open out into a spectacular panoramic view of Coniston Water and the Old Man of Coniston. This was more like it! After a sweeping rocky descent past an abandoned farm we struck left for the last climb of the day. From here it would be downhill all the way to the main road back to visitor centre – and after all the fire road we felt that we deserved it. In fact it was possible to go from just past the farm right down to the road in one go, trail blasting over three fire roads before ending at the road. However it was necessary to stop at each junction just to take it all in. This descent had everything – rocks, mud, huge ruts, puddles, slightly more technical bits and best of all a boulder strewn rocky touch & go finale to the road. This was one that ought to be ridden again – once you had the lines worked out you could really rip this trail – seriously good fun. Unfortunately, time being what it is we had to call it a day and make our way back to the Visitors Centre.
A quick hose down & then a feed before making our various ways home. Again we were completely taken aback with the quality of food on offer – almost worth coming on this trip for the feed alone!
October
By this time it was pushing 4 o’clock. Reluctantly we bade farewells until – Coed Y Brenin – in October !!! That’s it folks – summer’s over! I have to say that it was a bit of a comedown leaving with that thought in mind. With a train leaving Leeds at 6:30 Steve did an amazing job of getting me to the station on time – made it by the skin of my teeth. And back to the fetid air of London. Bummer.
Team Sambo, out.
Riders present
Team Shorts in Winter
Team 10 Ton Kona
Team Starkey
Team Ra
Team Hodgson
Team Voodoo
Team Cliff Diver
Team G Force
Team Sambo
Enjoyment level
Amazing