Singletrack

Hangover remedy: A single dose of speed, once daily.
Descenders Assemble!
Jim Burley is an old mate, a bike mechanic’s bike mechanic,
comedian, artist, musician and bon viveur. He also happens
to be a consummate rider of many years standing, and a born
Salopian (someone from Shropshire) who’s recently moved
back to his homeland. In fact, the perfect guide. And Jim then
introduced me to Simon Pearson, successful businessman,
unfeasibly competent guitarist and a former downhill
champion who also clearly knows a thing or two about riding
a bike.
We decided that the thing to do would be to ride a few of
the best-loved trails in the area, and try to work out precisely
what it is that puts steam in Shropshire rider’s strides.
Morning has broken…
The cross-country flavoured appeal of our first ride, Clee Hill,
would’ve perhaps been better managed without the sort of
decadence the previous evening provided. People in their 40s
really should know better, but my inner 19-year-old shouts
more loudly than the rest of me – especially after a couple
(ahem) of Babychams.
Steve Chapman from Ludlow-based Islabikes has kindly
offered to meet up with us to show us some of his favourite
trails in and around Clee Hill. Steve is lithe and fit looking,
alert of eye and bushy of beard, and he’s sporting a very fine
looking singlespeed hardtail rig. Pretty much all of this is in
stark contrast to the rest of us, who are feeling the effects of
some profound 2am over-indulgence in booze and guitars.
My enfeebled limbs won’t help, either – my personal mantra
excluding as it does such words as ‘training’. And ‘diet’. Oh
dear.
So Steve leads Jim, Simon and me swiftly upwards and
we grind past disused quarries that would give steampunk
aficionados conniptions, with disturbing golf-ball shaped
radar installations glinting ominously in the distance.
Any upward misery is nicely counterpointed though by
the following gravity-enhanced hurtlings. On every climb
Simon and Jim manfully try to keep Gazelleboy Steve in sight
while I doggedly bring up the rear, and every descent is a
chance to catch my breath and stuff my lungs back down into
my chest. Yes, the descending is glorious; it’s hugely exposed
in places, enclosed in others, rocky trails alternating with
grass and mud mean it’s somewhat demanding in technique
and riding those hills back up again mean the place is pretty
demanding in fitness.
But as fun as it is, there’s plenty of stuff like this elsewhere
in the country. There has to be more to the birth of Salopian
prodigies than challenging loops such as these. And so indeed
it proves. Onward, knights! To Hopton!
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