Mud, rain & riding in shorts...must be winter in the UK!

This time last year, I was out guiding in Tenerife, basking in a pleasant climate where it was possible to still wear shorts when riding each day. This year, for the last month, it's been so mild I've been doing the same! Admittedly it's been a little bit colder than it was there, but at least I've saved money on sun-cream?

December has flown by in a haze of some expensive work on my poor van (it has worked quite hard this year!), maintenance jobs on my house in Sheffield (keep the tenants happy etc. etc), and continued slow but steady sorting of mine and Gareth's kit and accumulated paperwork from many years. Those have been the hard jobs, but fortunately, I've been able to balance them out with some awesome riding with lots of friends, old and new, and visits to catch up with people I haven't seen for over a year.

Mid December, I made the trip down to the Surrey Hills for a weekend to catch-up and ride with a few friends. I have to admit to being slightly sceptical about the quality of riding to expect...I mean, are there actually any hills in the South? And surely there can't be any riding to talk of when you compare it to the hills of the Peak, Lakes, North of England, or Scotland?

Anyway, I'd been promised good riding, and by people who I knew would give an honest appraisal of it, so I drove down early one Saturday morning with an open mind, eager to sample the best that southern riding had to offer!

I met up with Chloe, Jim, Andy, James, Susan, Sam and Toby, and a whole load of other people I didn't know but who vaguely knew some of the others, in the car park at Peaslake, and we headed off to shred some trails. For the rest of the day, I had a permanent grin on my face as I followed down some ridiculously fun trails. With names like "Curly Wurly", "Cat's Tail", "Yoghurt pots", "The Deer Run", "Barry knows best", and many others, pretty much every trail that we rode left me giggling with delight. I have no idea of the route we took, that's the benefit of riding with locals who know the trails like the back of their hand, but I do know that I absolutely loved every single bit of the riding. It was completely different from local trails in the Peak, or the riding in general in the North, where rocky, rubbly, natural trails make up the majority of the riding. These were flowing, fast, swoopy, bermed, jumpy, rooty, loamy singletrack paths, that have been well thought out, built and maintained by riders. Kind of like a natural trail centre, but way better. Even on Sunday when it poured with rain and the trails became muddy and slippery, they were still great fun, you just had to ride them a bit differently. With a bike shop, pub, village store selling mugs of tea and cheese straws to refuel mid-ride (a local speciality I'm told!), Peaslake is the perfect base for riding the Surrey Hills. We rode for hours on both Saturday and Sunday, and all the time on different trails, I have no doubt there are many more I still haven't ridden...but that's just a good excuse to go back. And I will definitely be going back for more :) It was an awesome weekend, thanks guys!

Watch Sam's self edit for a sample of Surrey Hills riding here!

Next riding destination was back in sunny Sheffield, but a new trail to me...

Parkwood Springs has been open for almost a couple of years now, but having not been in the country much, and when I have been, not always spending a lot of time in Sheffield, I'd never got around to visiting until a couple of weeks ago. It's a short, purpose built trail, right within the city, in fact only a couple of km from where Gareth and I lived. The area that it's been built on is not really the nicest part of Sheffield, and I was wondering if it'd have been taken over by threatening looking youths in hoodies, ready to mug you and nick your bike, or littered with broken glass bottles and used syringes...but thankfully it appears not! It's a great little loop, with a nice climb, complete with some optional step ups and rock skinny sections for skills practise on the side of the trail, and then a fun, bermed descent which can all be steadily rolled for less confident riders, or jumped and whooped down by those happy to carry more speed. Esther and I spent a couple of hours riding laps of the trail on a sunny afternoon, with only a couple of other people around, so it felt like we had the place to ourselves. It's pretty novel to be riding a trail centre on a hill above a city, with urban views instead of fields!

Sheffield's Urban Trail Centre

 Next up was Coed Llandegla, a trail centre near Wrexham, North Wales, and two trips within the space of a few days. First, a catch up with Fay and Lee, an awesome couple who I was lucky enough to meet at the TransProvence race. They both love biking as much as me, and are the kind of people it's just easy to chat to and have fun with. We had a wicked day chasing each other around the swoopy Llandegla trails, followed by mugs of tea in the cafe and more nattering about bikes, trips, races, all sorts...a great day out.

Then a couple of days later I was back there with a huuuuge group of people for a Christmas social ride organised by JJ, someone Gareth and I met in Whistler, who now runs his own coaching company A-Line Coaching. There were a few others I knew from Sheffield too, and a chance to meet and chat to some more people whilst enjoying the climbs, and during post-descent regrouping stops!

A-Line Christmas social (photo; A-Line Coaching Facebook page!)

 In amongst other rides, and many cups of tea at friends' houses, in a final effort to avoid the fact that Christmas was approaching, I've been out on some solo exploratory rides near my mum and dad's house. Despite the fact that Cheshire is pretty flat, I was inspired after visiting Surrey, and realising you don't need a lot of elevation to make a good trail...there HAD to be some good riding somewhere nearby! I grabbed the local OS map and headed off exploring, finding some cracking little paths that I doubt many people use either on bike or foot, as well as some fun singletrack through the woods that judging by the tyre tracks, someone else nearby has found before me ;) Not the kind of trails you'd make a big journey to get to, but fun in their own way, and sometimes it's just nice to get out on your own and explore, for a different sense of adventure than you get just following the same trails you always ride.

Since my last big riding day, it's been Christmas...  

Christmas tree full of 30 years worth of homemade childhood decorations...

 Christmas is not an easy time of year when you’re not in a relationship, and even more so when you have lost someone very close to you. You are surrounded by TV and radio adverts, billboard signs, song lyrics, shop banners, that seem to bombard you with the message of how it’s the time of year to celebrate with your loved ones, buy presents to show them how much you care for them, snuggle up through cold dark winter nights…it makes you feel incredibly alone, because if you believe the marketing hype, that’s what everyone else in the world except you is doing. It’s even harder when you can remember feeling excited, happy, and full of that festive cheer in years past, but no longer do now.

I’d been trying to avoid the “Christmas spirit” if I’m honest…it was easy last year in Tenerife as I was busy working during the days leading up to Christmas, had no TV on which to witness the deluge of cheesy adverts, and because I was living near the beach, it didn’t feel like Christmas at all. Christmas day was inevitably hard, but I spent the day running, sunbathing, eating pizza and generally glad I was on my own and could take the time to take myself off and think of Gareth, cry a little, and remember good times together.

This year, I managed to avoid it until the last minute by keeping busy, travelling to see friends, riding my bike, and the fact that I don’t watch TV, listen to radio, and hate shopping so never go into town! But there's only so long you can avoid the fact that it's Christmas...

Two years on from losing Gareth, I still can’t get used to waking up alone, and on Christmas day, this feels really hard, when it feels like everyone else is waking up next to the one they love, and celebrating happiness, love, and being together, it only reminds me how alone and lost I feel without Gareth.

I felt the most down that I have for ages when I woke up on Christmas morning, it took a couple of hours after waking up before I could stop myself from crying and head downstairs to see my family. It was hard as I wanted to make an effort to feel happy and cheerful for their sake, because they all support me so much, and I am so grateful and thankful for the fact I have such a wonderful loving family, but I just didn’t feel like I know I should have. I was on the edge of tears all day as I constantly thought of Gareth and Christmases spent together, and what he’d be saying or doing if he was still here. It’s just so empty and quiet without him at family occasions such as that, and I feel like part of me is missing too. I was thoroughly spoilt with some lovely presents from my family, my mum and sisters cooked a delicious meal with one of my dad’s home grown Turkeys, we had a nice walk to the pub, and I had so many reasons to be cheerful, surrounded by them all….but I just felt empty and numb, the opposite of all the things everyone tells you you should be feeling at Christmas.

As soon as the day was over, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders…I didn't have to try and be overly happy and festive, and as hard as it was, I’d survived another Christmas day without Gareth.

I know as soon as the presents and Christmas dinner were over he’d have been thinking about plans for New Year activities, we always used to go biking, skiing or climbing up in Scotland for a week together over New Year. This year I’m doing the same....turning my thoughts to my next plans. Tomorrow I’m setting off for the long drive out to the Alps, where I’ll have a week of fun around La Grave with Jake and Lucy and friends, and then a month in Chamonix for as many winter adventures as I can pack in J To say I am excited would be a gross understatement….!

It won't be as green as this but I'll be seeing you soon Chamonix :)

 Here's to 2014, to a New Year of adventures, fun, health and happiness to all my friends and family, and massive thanks as always for your continued love and support.

And as always, here's to Gareth, who wherever he is, inspires me everyday, gives me strength and courage when I need it, and reminds me that everyday should be lived like there's no tomorrow...x

Gareth ski touring in the Cairngorms

Julia's First Enduro!

Despite guiding all summer on one of the most well-known Enduro format races, and spending May to October in an area famous for being the birthplace of Enduro racing, with races nearby almost every other week, I’d never actually raced myself until late November this year.

Photo/Banner: Gordon Mackintosh

I’d seen and heard about the Dudes of Hazzard enduro race up in Scotland from a few friends who’d raced last year, and I liked the sound of the relaxed social atmosphere, and the chance to ride some more trails around Kinlochleven. I passed through here on the West Highland Way when I rode from Lands End to John O groats last year, and the descent down to the little town nestled at the foot of the Mamore hills and the head of the loch, was one of the best of the trip, so I was keen to see what else the area had in store.

I’d been wanting to enter an Enduro race for a while, just never had chance, most of the races are throughout the summer when I’ve been working. As a bit of a “Jack of all trades, master of none” I thought Enduro racing might suit me quite well…I’m reasonably fit, good at pedalling, and have a good amount of endurance, and I can ride most stuff technically ok, with a reasonable amount of speed. I’m no Cross Country whippet, or Downhill machine, but I’m ok at both. Plus, I like the opportunity to push myself in different ways, and racing every so often is always a good way to do that! Most of all, they just sounded like great fun!

Stage start and finish signs - Dudes of Hazzard style!

The format was 3 timed predominantly downhill special stages, linked by 3 rideable climbs as liaisons. Overall the distance was only about 25km, but with over 1000m climbing, and punishing, technical descents, that was a deceptive distance. Saturday was open practice day on the three trails, and Sunday race day, so effectively, most people, including me, did the full route twice, as there were no short cuts to reach the top of the stages…you had to pedal the full route to get to them, meaning you were only like to ride each one once.

I decided to get out early on Saturday, as the weather looked set to worsen during the day. The great thing about this race format, is you get to meet and chat to people during the practice day, and on the liaisons, as there’s no time pressure, and I was soon pedalling alongside a group of guys from Wick, chatting about bikes, trails, bike holidays, the weather, all sorts, as we headed up to the start of one of the stages.

That stage, (number 2, the furthest away so I wanted to practice it first) was called “The Kennels”, no idea why, and was the longest of the 3 timed sections, but definitely my favourite. It started off straightforward enough, rocky, a few drops, nice corners, couple of drainage ditches to hop over, but soon became increasingly difficult, with multiple deep, rutted, rubbly lines, front-wheel-sinking boggy drops, slimy rock slabs covered in greasy off-camber tree roots..it was brilliant J To end with, there were some muddy, slippery switchbacks…such a good trail. There was no point in trying to remember specific lines…it was too long and there were too many options to remember for the race run, so I just enjoyed the run down, feeling like I was riding pretty smoothly.

Slippy-slidey rocks on stage 2! Photo: Alba In Focus

Stage 3, Sook’s Pipes was next, and it couldn’t have been more different! I witnessed about 3 people go swan-diving over their bars within 10 m of the start, and I’m sure many more followed. The reason was a deceptively deep patch of moss covered bog, lurking at the bottom of a steep roll-in, ready to catch out anyone who hadn’t thrown their weight off the back of the bike to prevent the front wheel from nose diving. I silently thanked those 3 poor riders in front of me for alerting me to the fact it was there! The first half of the stage was all like this…boggy, super-slippery, sketchy riding, with tight turns around trees ready to grab your handlebars if the mud sent you skidding slightly off your line. It was carnage…there were people lying in piles of mud and heather all the way down! I managed to stay on my bike for most of it, and then the bottom half had a flat-out pedally section, into some nice smooth-ish gravel trail. I finished and immediately predicted I would spend more time falling off my bike in the race during that stage than on it!

No expense spared on the race signage ;) Photo: Andy McCandlish

By the time I got to stage 1,The Grey Mare’s Tail, it was grim, the rain was horizontal, in a way that only Scotland seems to be able to provide, and you had to pedal directly into the wind and the rain. The trail was loose rubbly rock, which resembled riding in a deep stream there was that much water in it. Further down, it became steeper and rockier, and threw in a couple of technical rock garden corners, that I decided I was quicker jumping around than the speed I could ride them!

I was glad to get back to the race base at the Ice Factor Climbing Centre, where hot showers, bacon rolls and mugs of tea awaited J. Conveniently my van was parked up for sleeping in the car park, so I stayed and chatted to a few other racers at Saturday night’s party before being able to crawl into my cosy van and get a good night’s sleep ready for race day.

Sunday dawned dry but very cold, and with a start time of after 10am, it was hard to drag myself out from a 4 season down sleeping bag, even though I could hear the Red Bull Truck playing music and people getting ready to set off. When I eventually did, and started to get ready, I learnt the first of many lessons that I would take away from the day…

Lesson 1: It is wise when racing over 2 days in Scotland in Winter, to bring 2 full changes of kit….including shoes and knee pads, so you don’t suffer on day 2!

Pulling on almost frozen, heavy-with-water knee pads, and putting my feet into sodden cold shoes was grim, and my feet failed to warm up all day! Not a good start!

We were set off in groups of about 8, at 3 minute intervals, with alternate groups going to stage 1 or stage 3 first…the idea being to spread the field out and minimise the chance of everyone queuing at one stage. Our group naturally split after a while as we all had different paces that we were comfortable to climb at..unfortunately on stage 1, I spent a bit too long riding at a pace that was too slow for me, and therefore I was barely warmed up, and shivering with cold hands and feet by the time I reached the start of the timed stage…..(although I had made some new friends!)

A rider on the stream crossing of stage 1 Photo: Alba In Focus

I was also suddenly REALLY nervous. I’d had a couple of messages from friends who were seasoned Enduro experts the day before with some pro tips: Don’t tense up because you’re against the clock, ride smooth, stay loose and relaxed on the bike…..all of which I forgot as soon as my timing chip beeped at the start L

I rode terribly….I was nervous, tense, making mistakes on every section, crashing multiple times, then scrabbling around trying to get back on the bike, conscious of being timed, and also of being caught by the person setting off 30 seconds behind me. I found bits which I’d cruised through in practice really difficult, and then crashed on the last corner in front of lots of people watching, and spent about 20 seconds repeatedly falling over as I couldn’t get onto my feet on the muddy slippery hill! And then to top it all off, I couldn’t find my timing chip under my jacket to “check-out” of the stage and stop the clock,(I was looking on the wrong arm…) and when I did, I was holding it in the wrong place on the timing box, so it failed to register for another 10 seconds! I felt rubbish…I knew I could ride so much better than that, I felt like a complete beginner with the number of crashes I’d had and mistakes I’d made. More lessons to learn…

Joe Barnes shows how it should be done on stage 1

Lesson 2: Make sure your timing chip is secure, easily accessible, and most importantly you remember which arm it’s on, so you can end your timed stage when you ACTUALLY finish, and not 10 seconds later!

Lesson 3: Calm down, relax, and ride smoother and slower to go faster!

After a slightly faster paced ride up to stage 2, I felt a bit better, and had been chatting to a guy who’d had an even worse run than me, puncturing right at the start, and then having to run down because his pump was broken, after he’d already replaced the tube! I was determined to just enjoy this stage, forget I was being timed, and just ride it as though it was a test to ride as smoothly and stylishly as possible. And apart from one more small lesson learned, I did J I whooped off drops, held my speed round corners, took good lines through the technical sections and ruts, and was slick with dibbing my timing chip in and out at the start and end of the stage. 

Not me, but another rider enjoying the amazing views, cracking riding, and muddy fun of stage 2. Photo: Andy McCandlish

I was grinning from ear to ear by the time I’d finished, completely out of breath from the sprint to the finish, and having to peel my hands off the bars they were so pumped after 7 minutes of fast technical downhill riding. I felt like I’d been super smooth and relaxed, and hadn’t thought about being timed at all, I’d just enjoyed riding the trail in one go, as fast as I could. The only way I would have been faster, was if I’d known lesson 4, before starting.

Lesson 4: If someone asks if they can go in front of you whilst you are queuing at the start of a timed stage, unless you know they are a pro, or have seen them riding and know they are a lot faster than you, then you should not feel intimidated and say yes.

Unfortunately, after feeling pretty rubbish at the end of stage 1, when the two guys behind me asked if they could start stage 2 before me, I assumed it was because they must be really good, and as I didn’t want to hold anyone up, I agreed. Stupid really, as they didn’t ask any of the blokes in front of me if they could go past them too…they’d just assumed that because I was a girl, I was going to be slow and get in their way. Actually it was exactly the opposite. I caught the one who’d started 30 seconds in front of me after a couple of minutes, and spent 20 seconds or so waiting for him to find a spot to pull over and let me past while he continued to mince his way down the course, then caught his friend who’d started a minute ahead, not long after him. He was even slower, but fortunately I spotted a cheeky inside line on a corner and pulled off an overtaking manouvre that Gareth would have been proud off (he was renowned for his cheeky “race tactics”). I was a bit frustrated with myself for letting myself be intimidated, and ultimately, losing a bit of time because of them, but also secretly smug that I hope they were feeling stupid for assuming I was slow, and gutted for being overtaken by a girl…ha!

Anyway, then it was on to stage 3, where having started in one of the last groups, I was one of the last people to go down. This was where I learnt lesson 5.

Lovely Scottish bog...not sure it's great for bike components though! Photo: Trev Worsey

Lesson 5: If there is a particularly boggy, slippery, muddy stage, and during practice day it rains heavily whilst 350 people are riding down it, then that is probably the reason people are choosing to go to that stage first on race day.

I hadn’t really thought it’d matter what time I started, or what stage I did first, so I’d not requested a start time, or stage preference like some people in the know had. But when I got to the start of stage 3, I soon realised my error. It was unlike anything I have ever seen, including the infamous 24 hour race at Mtn Mayhem that I did, which until now, held the record for muddiest race ever. You could even see it from the other side of the hill as you pedalled up…tape marking out a wide black streak all the way down the hillside. No pictures could show how bad it really was…it was so bad it was funny. In fact it was completely ridiculous! 

Stage 3 mud...this wasn't even the worst bit! Photo: Andy McCandlish

For the whole of the first half of the stage, the track varied between a sheer, super slippery mud slope with no way of braking or gaining any traction, unless you hit a tree, interspersed with sections of shin deep bog, usually at the bottom of the steep sections, so that anyone who was riding ended up being thrown over the bars when their front wheel stuck solid in the bog. As the day had progressed, racers had obviously ridden wider and wider within the tape, desperately seeking a less boggy, more rideable line, but by the time I got there, there was no-where left to ride! I ended up running/bum sliding down most of it, and was even complimented by a few spectators that I had been one of the fastest down that particular section because I hadn’t even tried to ride it!!! Anyway, after this, there was a lung-burning flat out pedal on a flat gravel track, followed by some quite nice swoopy fast trail to finish. When I did finally get to the end, all I could do was lie down and laugh at how crazy a stage it was.

I was glad to have survived the event in one piece, and actually, after the disappointment of letting my nerves get to me on the first stage and riding so badly, I’d had a brilliant day. I had no expectations of having done very well in the results after all the crashes, bum sliding, timing chip faffing, slithering about trying to get back on my feet after coming off etc, but I didn’t actually care! In the end, there had been a fault in one of the timing boxes, so no-one knew the results for a couple of days, and it was actually really nice not knowing, and instead just being content with having had just about the most amount of fun I think I’ve had at any kind of race before, regardless of the results J

I eventually came 6^th in the women’s, which wasn’t as bad as I thought I’d have done, and quite encouraging given how much time I know I’d have saved from all the totally amateur mistakes I made, without even riding any faster! I will definitely be entering some more Enduro races, and almost certainly going back to next year’s Dude of Hazzard Enduro if I get the chance! And hopefully remembering what I’ve learnt from my first Enduro experience!

November Sorrow...

It’s hard to believe that it’s 2 years since I lost Gareth. Two years since I last saw him smile, heard his voice, felt his arms around me. A good friend reminded me a few weeks ago that I have done a lot in that time that I should be proud of…that Gareth would be proud of. I know she was right, I haven’t really stopped…one challenge has led into another…all with an aim of giving myself things to do to keep busy, keep focused on looking forward, keep remembering how lucky I am to have the opportunities to be doing all these things…I know Gareth would have given anything to still be here doing them too, so the thought of that inspires me to not take those opportunities for granted…kind of like I’m trying to live for both of us. And I feel like I have been doing that well…but when November comes around, it all feels a lot harder L

Riding high in the Southern Chilcotin mountains of Canada

Despite having a month packed full of jobs, trips, bike rides, races, all sorts…I’ve felt the weight of sadness and grief slowly descending to sit on my shoulders over the last few weeks. People have been asking me a lot recently if “it’s got easier?” It hasn’t, but I don’t think anyone who has never lost their partner, their closest companion, the person they had chosen to spend their whole life with can really empathise with that. Whilst I have learnt to be grateful for the time and love that we shared, and use the memory of that as inspiration to stay positive and continue to live my life in a way Gareth would approve and be proud of, it never gets easier to think of what happened, and the sorrow that I can no longer share each day with him, or to deal with how unfair it all feels and how much I miss him. I realise now, that you don’t “get over it”, when you lose your husband, you just have to somehow learn to live with it, and try to accept it, and do that in a way which is unique to you, and honours his memory. The last 6 months I feel like I’ve begun to figure this out….I’ve found a job I love, seen new places, made new friends, and started to feel confident in the new “me” and my new life, and I have felt happy again. Not the fully, blissfully content, life-is-perfect kind of happy that I felt with Gareth, a different kind, but still happy.

Float plane biking trip in Canada 2010

Perhaps starting the job of sorting through paperwork for the two of us from the last 5-10 years wasn’t my best idea at the start of the month, but it had to be done, and I’d decided to turn down full time work this winter to give myself the chance to do all this kind of sorting.

Going through paperwork like that is like reliving your life story in documents, and can bring lots of smiles as you slowly look through them and reminisce about the things to which they related…letters from the bank to say the mortgage application for your house has been accepted, from employers to offer you a new job, receipts for the decking built in the garden, mot certificates from the car Gareth had when we first started going out with each other, graduation programmes, receipts from the purchase of wedding rings, marriage certificates, a holiday booking itinerary from our honeymoon, old passport photos, a speeding ticket from the A9 whilst on a trip in Scotland (Gareth’s not mine!), and then the more recent things, that bring tears rather than smiles as I remember them. Death certificates, letters from banks, the tax office, the DVLA, passport agency, insurers, to offer condolences that your partner has died, but to remind you there are affairs you need to sort out. Many of them it has been like seeing for the first time….when they were dealt with initially I don’t think I was really taking it all in. My wonderful friend Anna took over and sorted almost everything for me, just leaving me to sign my name on letters she had written on my behalf. Looking at them all now, I know I couldn’t have faced writing those letters myself. Even now I can’t do anything but cry when I look at them. It’s still all so very surreal to think he is gone.

Ski touring in the Cairngorms

Seeing Gareth’s writing, there on paper, a sign that he was alive, he lived, he was a very real and big part of my everyday life for a long time, but trying to work out how those little signs of life can be everywhere, yet he is not? I can’t describe how confusing that is. When junk mail from random companies still arrives addressed to Gareth, it’s like someone’s stabbing you in the heart all over again. I found the speech that he wrote when he left work before we went away travelling, complete with jokes and a style of writing that were completely him, the birthday card he wrote me a week before his accident, a scruffy bit of paper where he’d written a list of all the routes we’d climbed on our trip, an article in a Science Education magazine that he’d had published….so many things, so much evidence of his life and the person he was and so many vivid memories. 

Unsurprisingly it has taken me a long time to sort through all of this, and there’s a lot of it that’s been carefully placed back as I can’t bear to do anything with it right now.

University Ball, 2004

There are a lot of difficult dates in November;

My birthday is one of the hardest, when rather than cards, presents or celebrating, all I really want is a hug from Gareth. Birthdays haven’t held the same excitement since I lost him. He used to make me feel incredibly special, loved, and spoilt. I can remember my birthday the week before his accident, when everything was so happy, we were so carefree and content with life, spending the day climbing at Red Rocks, and celebrating in Las Vegas, completely unaware of how life was going to change just a week later.

Celebrating my birthday in Las Vegas

Climbing in Red Rocks in the week of my birthday

The 12^th, the day of his accident, which I will never forget as long as I live. How life was turned completely upside down in a second…from a morning like any other on our trip, journeying to the crag together, planning routes, seeing Gareth happy, lively as usual, thrilled to have just led what he described as “the best route he had ever climbed in his life”, on top of the world….to the sheer confusion after he fell, the terror and total fear, the disbelief that what was happening was real. The subsequent rescue, transfer to the hospital, and the longest 10 days of my life which followed…when I think of them now, despite the feeling that time and life were suspended, and everything was happening in another world that wasn’t our “normal life”, I can picture and remember every day, every detail so clearly, like they are permanently etched in my memory. It feels hard to breathe again, and like I’m being spun round and round until I’m so dizzy I can’t think straight, so many emotions and memories and thoughts all jumbled up in my head that I can’t concentrate on anything for even a second.

Gareth watching the sunset on the northern Californian Coast

And then the 22^nd, the day when he finally slipped away. I remember well the call in the middle of the night before, to say he had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, and knowing, despite all the prayers, wishes, and hope I could muster, that I was going to lose him. It felt like my life stopped too that day, like I wanted the world to end, because I couldn’t see a way I could possibly carry on without Gareth. The days, weeks and months following, it seemed like someone had pressed a switch, and turned off all the colour, sound, beauty, and happiness in the world. Everything was dull, lifeless, meaningless, I hated life, and being alive. The world was carrying on like nothing had happened, and yet life as I had known it to that point was over. I had to deal with things in those days that you never even consider you will have to think about as a 30 year old. Organ donation, death certificates, organising a cremation and collecting your own husband’s ashes. I can’t begin to describe the emotions related to all of those things.

Beautiful, empty Pacific Coast beaches in Northern California

So November will never be an easy month, but I’ve tried to be positive and plan things to do on and around those days that will allow me to smile and remember happy times together, despite the sadness I know will inevitably be there.

I’ve rediscovered a love of Peak district mud and winter riding after several weekends catching up with good friends. The thrill of sliding around on wet leaves and muddy tracks, dirt splashing in your face, finishing a ride soaking wet and clothes filthy, before sitting warm and dry at the end with a cup of tea and a chip butty or a slab of cake in the café….simple pleasures.

Signs of a good ride...muddy legs....

...and a muddy grin :)

Post ride compulsory cafe refuelling

Spending time on the farm with my wonderful mum and dad, who are the most supportive, patient, understanding and loving parents I could ever wish for, taking the new puppy for walks over muddy fields and seeing her delight at chasing pheasants and squirrels (Gareth would have been impressed and tried to encourage this for sure!)

A solo trip to Coed Llandegla on the 12^th, with time to stop and think, cry a lot but laugh a bit too, and be thankful for the love of biking that Gareth gave me. I came across a section of trail that made me smile too. It literally had my name on it. It must have been there when I’ve been before, but I’ve never stopped and noticed it until now. It’s a swoopy, fast, fun section through the woods, currently blanketed in a carpet of golden pine needles, that left me grinning from ear to ear, (and therefore with grit in my teeth…must remember to keep my mouth closed when smiling during winter riding!) I know Gareth would have approved of it.

My trail :)

There have been visits to spend time, drink tea, eat cake and catch up with close friends who I haven’t seen in a year as I’ve been abroad working, and hopefully more of these throughout the winter.

There have been lovely kind messages from friends, and also from strangers, people who have read the article I wrote back in June, that was recently republished on the Total Women’s Cycling website. People who’ve been moved, or motivated, or inspired in some way by what I wrote and what I’ve been doing. It’s been really nice to read them, and think how proud Gareth would be of the effect he, and I, have had on the lives of others.

And finally to Scotland. A trip to Kinlochleven to do my first ever Enduro race (more about that next time), followed by a week spent visiting friends, and enjoying some solitude in the beautiful, wild Highlands, on foot, bike and ski. Remembering many adventures over the years with Gareth in places that we both loved.

Scotland in winter...awesome views all around

First ski day of the winter, in typical Scottish conditions...there's a great view somewhere behind me!

Beautiful, wild, remote, Torridon in winter

On the 22^nd, I decided to travel down to the Lakes, and to spend the day riding around Borrowdale. It’s a particularly special place for me, as Gareth and I had so many trips to ride or climb around here, and loved it so much that we chose to get married here. On a beautifully hot and sunny May day, we celebrated with as many family and friends as we could in the grounds of the Derwentwater Youth Hostel, an idyllic spot on the edge of the lake, surrounded by picturesque fells, and a day that could not have been more perfect…one of the happiest days of my life. We had some pictures taken up past Ashness Bridge, above the lake, at a spot called Surprise View, and I remember being up there on that day, with the most incredible scenery and mountains that we loved around us, looking into Gareth’s eyes, and feeling so incredibly lucky that I had found and was marrying the man of my dreams. 

A perfect sunny Lakeland spring day, and one of the happiest days of my life

Ashness Bridge

It’s a spot that I wanted to revisit on the 22^nd, somewhere to go to sit and think of him, talk to him, and remember. It’s also somewhere I wanted to spread some of Gareth’s ashes. There are other places where I’ve done this too, sometimes with a few friends, sometimes alone, but always in places that were special to Gareth and I, and that I know he’d approve of. Having lived a life where he was always off climbing or biking in different places, I don’t think he’d have wanted his ashes to be scattered in just one place…

Autumn view from a special spot

Ashness Bridge

 It was a beautifully, clear, cold autumnal day, and I was able to sit for a long time, with no-one else around,  just remembering…thinking of all the happy times, but also all the daily things I miss about Gareth and life together…

I miss waking up next to him, and how reassuring his presence next to me was.

I miss the familiar sound of him returning from work, switching the kettle on as he walked past, and calling “hello, it’s me!”

Big wall climbing in Yosemite

I miss him when I’m driving in the van, with an empty seat next to me where he should be.

I miss him when I’m getting frustrated at not being able to fix something on my bike, knowing that he would have known what to do straight away.

I miss him when I make a cup of tea, and it’s just one cup not two.

Local trails in the snow

I miss him when I’m pleased with myself for having done or achieved something, and he’s the only one I want to tell.

I miss him when I want a lazy evening curled up next to each other on the sofa with a takeaway and a film.

I miss him when I’m out with friends, and he’s the only one missing from “our gang”.

I miss him when I have to make a decision about something and I want his opinion and advice.

Building Inuk-shuks in Squamish mid ride!

I miss him when I’m feeling happy, and want to share it with him, or sad, and to be comforted or consoled.

I miss the way he knew when something was wrong without having to tell him, and knew exactly how to cheer me up.

Adventures together on our honeymoon

I miss him when I visit places that we’d been to together, and I can’t reminisce with him about past memories.

I miss him when I’m lying in bed, and I can’t hear him breathing next to me or feel the warmth of his body on the other side of the bed.

Peaceful van spot in Honister Pass, Lake District

I miss the jokes, the funny eye rolls, the playful teasing and friendly competitiveness that were part of daily life with each other.

I miss having someone who was always equally as keen for an adventure, and not having to worry about finding a partner to be able to continue doing those things.

I miss the daily hugs, kisses, signs of affection that were a daily part of life, and made me feel so loved and special.

Skiing in the Alps

I miss the way we used to justify to each other why a particular purchase was “essential”, knowing that actually, both of us understood each other’s way of thinking and were perfectly ok with the purchase anyway!

I miss continuing to grow older together, and the new adventures and challenges I know we would have looked forward to.

Shredding the trails in Hood River, Oregon

I miss him in a million ways L

I spent the rest of the day of the 22nd riding old familiar Lakeland trails, before heading to Chris and Henry’s house for a fun weekend of winter scrambling on Blencathra (with a new added element of excitement provided by taking 2 border terriers as our guides!), and a ride exploring a new part of the Lake District to me, around Swindale and Haweswater.

Chris and Tilly the dog walking down from a snowy Blencathra

A new part of the Lakes to explore with some brilliant trails

So it's been good to be busy, and have some time away during a difficult month, and I now have plenty of winter plans to think about..

Somewhere, not too far away, I know Gareth knows everything I’ve been doing, and that he’s happy I’ve begun to build a new life, and is proud of the way I’m doing it. Following my dreams, doing what makes me happy, and not compromising on those things because I feel pressured by society or others to do so, being true to myself, and to his memory.

There’ll be lots more adventures this winter, next year, and hopefully in many years to come, both on my own and with friends, and I know that even though he can’t be with me, Gareth will never be far away, and will continue to provide my inspiration for a lifetime of adventures…Always thinking of you Gareth xx

A little taste of Italy

So here I am, back in the dark, damp rainy North of England, with the memory of sitting drinking coffees in the Piazza, riding dusty trails, and sitting round a campsite in the evening without feeling freezing cold and wet, seeming a long way away! As I type, the rain is lashing down, the wind is picking up outside, and the thought of charging up my lights, dressing up in winter gear, and heading out on a night ride is not particularly appealing....it appears I've become a fair weather rider! It will take a while to readjust I think, and actually feel psyched to go out and ride, rather than sit and drink tea, which is what is top of the list at the moment...

Card and tea courtesy of of a welcome home parcel from Caz...thanks buddy!

Ah Italy, and the last week of my 6 month stint in Europe... and what a good week it was :)
Finale Ligure sits on the Italian coast, only an hour and a half from Nice, but a world away in terms of the feel and vibe of the place. I haven't spent a lot of time in Italy, but after last weeks trip, I'll be sure to be making some more visits...
I can't believe I haven't been to Finale before...it's an awesome mountain biking destination, has world class climbing, a pretty town complete with narrow cobbled postcard-perfect streets, clean, sandy beaches, cheap pizza, and gelato, and of course a great coffee culture...it's a brilliant place!

Awesome views, fun and dusty trails, and riding with your friends...a good way to finish the summer :)

I'd headed over after my work finished in Sospel, keen to go somewhere away from where I'd been working all summer, and relax and ride for myself for the first time in a while. There was the final round of the Enduro World Series taking place the following week in Finale, so I knew there would be friends and people I'd met before to ride with, and maybe the chance to race too. Fellow Trans-Provence guide Emily had a race entry, but needed to work, so we had been trying to arrange swopping her entry into my name. Getting my own entry was out of the question, with 600 riders already registered, and a waiting list that was rumoured to be up to 300! I was a little apprehensive about racing my first ever Enduro race as a World Series race, but as long as I didn't come last, I was just keen to take part.
I had no idea if I'd be good enough to even ride all the tracks, let alone race them, I literally had no idea what to expect. But I found I was pleasantly surprised :) The race tracks were brilliant, and suited my kind of riding well...steep, technical rocky trails with some tight switchbacks, and a fair bit of timed pedalling to weed out the pure downhillers! I was super excited about racing, and encouraged to see that hopefully I wouldn't be last, judging by the number of people who were struggling to even ride some of the technical sections, let alone race them.
The format for Enduro racing, is basically a long day's ride, with untimed Liason stages (although at this race there were cut-offs to make on the liasons), and then timed Special stages. At the end of the day (or two days in this case), the winner is the person who has accumulated the least time, ie the fastest, over the special stages. Enduro is kind of a current niche word for what I would say is essentially just mountain biking...its what most of us have been doing for years anyway! Go out for a day's riding with your friends, enjoying the scenery and the socialising on the way up the climbs, and then race/shred/shralp down the trails, eyes wide with adrenaline and delight, before regrouping at the bottom to share how much fun you've just had! Some clever marketing person somewhere is sitting in a large chair, probably stroking a cat (a la Dr Evil), laughing to himself about how much money he's making from being able to sell "Enduro-specific" products to everyone at the moment!

Pretty cobbled streets, beaches, and epic trails. Finale is ace!

The week leading up to the race was great. I rode with Sam and Toby and their friend Al, organising shuttles for a few of the days so we could maximise the amount of descending we did, and save our legs for the weekend of racing, as well as a couple of days of pedalling up and exploring with the (terrible) local map, getting lost a few times, but eventually finding some great trails. I felt like I was riding well, and it was nice to go fast, not have to worry about clients, and switch off from Guiding mode for a while! There were loads of familiar faces around to chat to, and plenty of time to sit drinking coffee or eating gelato in cute little street cafes. We managed to squeeze 2 vans and a gazebo onto one campsite pitch, and had some great chilled evenings eating tasty pasta concoctions (or pizza...well it would have been rude not to in Italy!), chatting about future bike adventures, and despairing over Sam's Desert-Island biscuit choice (Rich Tea biscuits should be no-where near the top of anyone's list!).

I was totally gutted therefore when it got to Friday and the day of registration. Emily's name was still on the list, and despite our multiple emails and a conversation in person with the race organiser the previous week, it hadn't been sorted. I was gutted, and despite a couple of hours of trying to talk to him, it became clear he wasn't going to sort the entry swop out in time for me to race :(
So once again, I had to watch whilst everyone else was racing for two days...it was like the TransProvence all over again!
However, I'd still had an awesome week's riding, and it just made me even more resolved to get some entries in for races next year :)

It was sad to leave on Sunday evening to start the long drive back to the UK, knowing it'll be a while before I can go out on a ride in shorts and a t-shirt, and simply dust off the bike at the end!

Surprise surprise....it's cold wet and windy in Calais :(

Arriving at Calais after 14 hours of driving over 2 days, it was raining and windy, and I could feel the post-summer depression starting to kick in. But fortunately, Chloe and Jim came to the rescue in Kent, with a warm welcome to their house, a comfy bed, and a feast of a meal at their lovely local pub....hopefully one day I can return the favour :)
The following day I finally completed the journey back to Cheshire, to be greeted by my parent's new very bouncy puppy that looked excited to have someone new to play with....(being more of a cat person, I've yet to decide if the feeling is mutual)...and a huge chocolate cake from my sister Clare, so a good "Welcome Home". The rest of the week since I've been back has been spent fixing my poor bike who has had a long and hard season, and tidying up my stuff after 6 months of living out of a van and a bag! It will be great to see my mum and dad when they are back from holiday this week, as well as lots of other family and friends who I haven't seen for ages....it'll be a busy winter!

New friend? Only if she stops trying to eat all my tyres....!