Yes, it probably is as dodgy as it sounds
It's been a funny season. There was the utter inability at the beginning, the attempts at running, the damaged knee to go with the damaged ankle. The damaged psyche to go with everything else. One job, no job, 3 jobs, no job, day work, night work, evenings, weekends. House, no house, back to the parents, back to Leeds, sofa, sub-let room. I guess it's part of life, but looking back at it now it was a complete pain in the jacksy.
So, now things seem relatively stable. Nice house shared with another kayaker/climber (Alison) and a young lad (Johnathon). Decent, although not spectacular, 9-to-5 job, evenings and weekends free to kayak/bike and... ah yes, the title of the post... Team Dogger.
Team Dogger consists of myself and Laurent, the hairy Frenchman who is, essentially, the duracell bunny in a drysuit, plus sundry hangers-on/students/victims. No points for guessing where the name comes from, but paddlers should recognise the symbolics of the logo above. And we're becoming infamous...
It started with someone explaining the curious phenomenon of 'dogging' to Mr Laurent. (well, he is French...) . This became a minor obsession, and came to represent anything physical between any 2 people in any location anytime... Methinks he missed the point.
I'm coming back from injury and attempting to put in as much mileage as I'm able on the bike. Which means riding in all conditions, all weathers, and at all times of day. Including the night. So, I tell a few of the canoe club guys who bike with me occasionally that "I'm off for a night ride, anyone fancy joining me?" and the French accent pipes up "yeah". True to form, a week later, 7:30 in the evening, a Ford Focus estate pulls up at my house and a bike is duly unloaded, lights strapped on and we're set.
The Meanwood is our regular ride anyway - it's convenient, fun, and just far enough from civilization to feel like a good break from the city. In the day it's a nice, fairly swift technical blast, about 1:30 for the main loop, 2:00 for the full works. We decide to take it easy and do an even shorter version of the short loop - about an hour, we reckon. Out of the house with the little LED lights on, down the street and into the woods at the rear of the house, halogens onto full beam. Drop through the woods a little faster than is actually safe, misty breath clouding up the headlight beam. Across the road and onto the little cut-through path, wheelying, hopping and swerving to avoid the little brown squishy landmines the local canine poulation has left for us. Out through the old mill path (hey, it's Yorkshire) and round by the allotments into the park. Over the little humpback bridge (slow slow slow turn hoist jab on the pedals and try not to fall into the stream again) and up the bank and we're at the base of the Meanwood Bombhole. Decide that the low-level paths probably the better one so it's off along the swoopy wide trail to the End of the Line and up the hill to the Horse Path. Gravel Bank climb, swoopy bit, round the Corner and it's the long drag of Horse Climb (horrible at this time of year as it's muddy and cut-up. Great muscle training but a complete pain). Down to the ring road and across and into the Second Bombhole. It's been changed by the local scrotes, who've dug out one of the best jumps to make a longer run-in to a really bad one. Oh well. Tonight isn't the time to be testing it out, I guess, so we head into my favourite part of the trail - Speeder Chase. I normally rail through this 500 yard stretch at something approaching warp speed (well, that's how it feels) but tonight it's slow, ponderous. In the day I know every corner, every line, every rock. Tonight it's all wierd and spooky and strange, like I'm a first timer fumbling around in the dark. I guess I am in a way.
Out to 7 Arches bridge, via some impromptu bughwhacking (the trail's vague at the best of times. Dark evenings are not the best of times...) and through the twists, turns and climbs to Joe's Nose, then along the bottom trail to Adel jumps and the Golf Course Road. Along the road and into the Reservoir Trail with it's accompanying double drop-off - the line was good, the landing a little on the sketchy side: it's difficult when your landing spot is outside of the 10m dribble of light and has a tree either side of it. Must try narrower bars. Then out to the Hotel and into Golden Acre...
Golden Acre park has a couple of reputations. 1) it's a lovely place to go walk of a Sunday afternoon (if you can avoid getting mown down by errant MTBers) and 2) it's a lovely place to go at night if you're after a bit of illicit extra-marital how's-yer-father. Shame I didn't know about the second part. I guess the number of parked cars with interior lights on should have given it away. That and the naked pair of buttocks at the front seat of the car nearest the road (honestly, some people...) I can't imagine what
they thought when they were minding their own business, having a wee spot of nookie in a bush, when 2 lycra and gore-tex clad idiots on bikes go flashing past with headlamps on full blaze (and eyes half shut - they would have been fully shut if I hadn't wanted to see the trail.). What I thought was "funny, lots of cars. Oh look, naked people. Oh dear.
Pedal pedal pedal pedal don't laugh just pedal" The end of the ride came after we'd hammered round the last 2 miles of trail so fast you'd have thought it was daylight. And THEN we burst out laughing.
So. Team Dogger is well and truly in business, although we've not been past Golden Acre since. Anytime anyone's passing Leeds with a bike, we'd be more than happy to show you the ropes...
Take it easy folks, see you at an event soon
Pyro
