Going off piste

I've been pondering the "rebirth of cycling" that the press keeps reporting. For me it never went away. I've always had a bike, more recently several and I love going cycling. My intention was to try to capture some of the things I love about it, having been inspired recently by a few excellent blogs.

My plan was to offer some advice and musings to stem the tide of Lycra and Dayglo that it seem compulsory for cyclists to wear these days.

But that'll have to wait as I want to talk about last Sunday morning's bike ride. I cycle alone mostly and particularly enjoy the out of the way tracks around my home in Hampshire. There's a climb of a mile or so running from a small village called Warnford to Clanfield. It's not a killer climb by any means and since it's mostly single track there isn't much traffic on it.

What I particularly enjoyed about last Sunday's ride was that there had been a hard frost and the road was still white with crisp frost. At 9.30am only a couple of cars had travelled along the road, but mine were the first bike tyre tracks to be left in the frost. It was a clear morning and though the sun was up, the frost had not melted.

When I used to swim competitively I loved being the first to dive into a calm pool (rare since we trained in the evinging after the public had finished and also because I was rarely early for training). Also the few times I went skiing, carving (I expect "ploughing" would be a better description) through virgin snow was always special.

Unfortunately for me I was overhauled by a fully Lycra'd club cyclist who proceeded to sit a few lengths in front of me weaving his full carbon Specialised through the frost. In fairness he daned to acknowledge a fellow cyclist, even one wearing "ordinary trousers" and trainers with a rack on the back.

I got to the top ahead of two more Lycra boys, despite having to pull in at a passing spot to let a van come down. I stopped at the top to admire the view and catch my breath. It's been sometime since I was riding regularly - too much work and a young family are my lame excuses. By the time I turned to cycle back down there was a veritable peleton coming up and the sun had melted the frost. Like an Andy Goldsworthy sculpture, the moment didn't last.