# Up the mountain ... down the mountain



## lulubel (23 Nov 2012)

After all the discussion over on the mountain bike board about my new interest (and new MTB), I thought it was time to go for a nice ride in the mountains and take my camera with me. Sadly, the weather decided to be quite un-Spanish, so the photos haven't come out as well as I hoped, but here it is.

I planned to do a big loop today - 20 minutes out along the road, then a long climb up fire roads in various states of disrepair, and back down via a very rocky, unmaintained trail that eventually comes out in the woods above town. The whole ride should have taken a couple of hours or so riding time, plus photo and face-filling stops.

It was cold - for Spain, in November - so I "wrapped up warm" in a base layer, lightweight jersey and similarly lightweight, windproof jacket, and headed out along the road to what would be the start of my off-road ride. The forecast had said partly cloudy, but I hadn't expected to see the mountains wreathed in thick white. I wondered what it would be like when I got up there.

The upper and lower mountains are separated by electric cables and the pylons supporting them, and I've had a phobia of pylons for as long as I can remember, so it's testament to how much I wanted to take up MTBing that I manage to go up the mountains at all. I stopped and took a photo. I used zoom, so I'm not as close as it looks, but the trail does go quite close to the foot of it - I just keep moving and keep my eyes in front of me at that point!







I carried on climbing for over an hour, according to my Garmin, and took a few more photos on the way up.

10 minutes ago, I was down there ...






It wasn't actually raining, but still not typically Spanish weather ...






After about 25 minutes of climbing, I started to feel dizzy and faint, and zig zagged across the trail a bit (fortunately I went towards the rock wall on my left rather than the sheer drop on my right!) This was quite weird because it's never happened to me before, and my pre-ride nutrition and hydration was exactly the same as usual. I wondered if I'd have to cut the ride short, but after I'd stopped for a couple of minutes, the feeling went away and didn't return. My OH suggested it could be because of the changes in air pressure as I climbed, and I can't think of any other possible explanation.

Pylons (and clouds) far below me ...






Time for a refill. I didn't need any because I was carrying a Camelbak, but this is where thirsty cyclists can fill up their bottles. There are a few of them dotted around the popular routes round here, and I've never known any of them to dry up. This one slowed to a trickle at the end of summer (the hottest and driest summer in a long time), but it was still running.






Road closed in 450 metres. Now, what self-respecting MTBer pays attention to a sign like that?






I rode past the road closed sign, as you do, and the trail continues on and up a bit more. At one point, half of it was missing where the rains of the last few weeks have washed it away (it was closed before then), but I couldn't stop to take a photo because it was very steep and stony, and I wasn't sure if I'd get going again.

At just over 800 metres up, I rode into a wall of thick cloud, and the temperature, which had been steadily dropping as I climbed, immediately fell another few degrees. I wasn't dressed for these conditions, and the sweat that had soaked my clothes on the early part of the climb was now making me cold and clammy. I had to make a decision.

I could either carry on, knowing I could be in cloud for the whole slow descent back to town, or I could turn back the way I had come, avoid the cloud, and do the easy descent on the fire roads. I was already feeling chilled, and I knew it would probably get worse if I carried on, so I decided to turn back.

I'd always descended the fire roads fairly cautiously before, afraid of losing control on the loose stone, or of not being able to slow down if I came across walkers and dogs. When other MTBers passed me, I watched them with a mixture of admiration and disapproval. How were they brave enough/stupid enough to ride that fast? Did they know how easily they could crash and hurt themselves or someone else?

Today, I found my answer. By the time I got back to the road, I was shivering and the windchill had numbed my fingers, but I had a big, stupid grin on my face. I looked back wistfully, wishing I had time to go back up and do it again. I had never descended those trails so fast. And I had never felt so totally safe, confident and in control. I had obviously been riding the wrong bike.

Until now.

My beautiful Cube ...






Here it is on Strava. And one new QOM/PB. I'll have to try and do the rest of it without stopping next time and see if I can get a few more!


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## GrumpyGregry (23 Nov 2012)

Nice write up and snaps. Well done you.

don't understand you here "knowing I could be in cloud for the whole slow descent back to town"

Why is that way slow and how come the cloud base is lower that side?


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## lulubel (23 Nov 2012)

Thanks.

I'd seen the cloud on my way out along the road. It usually tends to move around a bit, but there was no wind today, and I went into it about where I would have expected it to be if it hadn't moved. So, I assumed the bulk of it would still be above town, where I'd last seen it. I didn't know for certain, though.

Slow was a bit of an assumption. It would definitely have been slower than the route I did take back down, but probably a lot faster than on my old MTB. (Today was my first chance to do a long descent on the Cube, and it's done so much for my confidence.) The descent above town is more tricky because there are a lot of big, loose rocks to negotiate. Last time I did it, I had to ride through a narrow gap between 2 rocks at one point, and take it slowly enough that I could move the pedals around so they both cleared them. I wanted to go that way so I could take some photos of that as well, but I know I lose my concentration when I'm cold, so I decided not to risk it. I'm starting to get used to not falling off all the time!

I also can't believe I posted a photo of a pylon in my thread. It gives me the creeps every time I see it!


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## Banjo (24 Nov 2012)

Interesting read and looks like a great bike.

Is it the pylons that cause you stress or the wires? I hate riding under high tension cables but the actual pylons dont bother me.


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## lulubel (24 Nov 2012)

Banjo said:


> Is it the pylons that cause you stress or the wires? I hate riding under high tension cables but the actual pylons dont bother me.


 
Cable and pylons - I'm not into discrimination 

The pylons bother me more because they look looming and threatening (to me), but I don't like riding under - or near - the cables either. There aren't any really big, high voltage ones round here. The pylons only carry a single cable on each "arm", not 2 or 4 like you get in the UK, which I think is the reason I can cope with them as much as I do. They only buzz in summer when the humidity's high, and that's when I find them most threatening. You can hear you're close to them even if you avoid looking at them. I'm also better when I'm on the road than when I'm on the trails, probably because I'm going faster and there are more distractions. Overcoming this fear as much as I have has been a huge thing for me, and there are still some trails I won't ride because they run directly under the wires and close to the pylons.


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## Banjo (24 Nov 2012)

I have heard of people getting a shock off the bike riding under HT wires. Despite having some to go under on my regular route I havent ever experienced a shock or any sensation at all.

I still feel mildly stressed being under them and feel a sense of relief after . Completely illogical but real.

Well done overcoming your fear and doing the ride.


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## Browser (12 Apr 2013)

lulubel said:


> Cable and pylons - I'm not into discrimination
> 
> The pylons bother me more because they look looming and threatening (to me), but I don't like riding under - or near - the cables either. There aren't any really big, high voltage ones round here. The pylons only carry a single cable on each "arm", not 2 or 4 like you get in the UK, which I think is the reason I can cope with them as much as I do. They only buzz in summer when the humidity's high, and that's when I find them most threatening. You can hear you're close to them even if you avoid looking at them. I'm also better when I'm on the road than when I'm on the trails, probably because I'm going faster and there are more distractions. Overcoming this fear as much as I have has been a huge thing for me, and there are still some trails I won't ride because they run directly under the wires and close to the pylons.


 
When you walk past a 400,000 volt transformer and you can see discharge arcs crackling around the insulators on the surge arrestors because it peeing down with rain and giving the electricity an excellent path to run on, that's when to get worried


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