Singletrack

Essential fuel for any aspiring quest seeker.
Pedalling into the blue.
The landlocked island.
Ignored by motorways, and one of the least populous areas in
England, there is a feeling of glorious isolation to Shropshire.
Of quiet, benevolent claustrophobia. Once you’re nestled
within the bosom of all those rolling hills, it’s easy to feel that
you’re a million miles away from anywhere else – and perhaps
this is ingrained in the local populace. Simon tells me that in
his youth everyone was obsessed with anything two-wheeled.
The big kids would all mess about with motorbikes – an
activity they’d all learned from their elders – and everyone
would rush outside when they heard the braaaap of a twostroke
engine cutting through the countryside. And Jim’s dad
is restoring an old grasstrack racer in his shed – two wheels
and dirt seem to be part of the local psyche. It’s no wonder
there are so many great places to ride: the riders appeared first
and made them, which makes new and better riders. It’s a
glorious spiral.
In Shropshire, mountain biking found a collective psyche
perhaps more attuned to its delights than elsewhere. And with
plenty of remote, hilly places to ride, it’s no wonder there
are so many good riders. If you ride bikes in Shropshire, it’s
almost hard not to be.
This feature is dedicated to Simon ‘Peanut’ Pearson (1969-2017) -
damn good friend, husband, father, nutter, general enthusiast about
everything, bon-viveur and demon blues guitarist. RIP, buddy.
96