Not every Sunday spin is worthy of a report, but this one was so here it is.
***Disclaimer â Names have been changed to protect the innocent, details have been exaggerated for entertainment value and spelling isnât frenetic its mentenetic, the way they sound in my head. ***
As soon as we started movin the sky started leaking, it didnât stop. There was a decent gang, we had the innocent, the not so innocent, the old school, the newbieâs, the inbetweeners, the coalition of the willing and the good old access of evil.
To give them their ârealâ names, we had: Bren of the Brenâs, Paul of the Cumminses, Brian of the Goonies, Newbie Dave, Shinny bike Dave, Smiley Colm, the Good Mr. Egan, Fairygirl of the Kilkennies, Richard of the Lâs and picked up Aimi and Tiny on route. 12 in all, like apostles, but without the Jesus.
Much was made of the savage road spin of horribleness, or as I like to call it, the easy pleasant bit at the start to get to the mountain, and way we got our selves to the pet cemetery and off up through annicrivey, to the track of wide narrowness to get onto the good old way of the Wicklow. Down through Curtlestown, firstly on the path of the rockyness (where there was a disproportionate amount of walking of the bicycles) then down the track of the invisibleness, onto the track of the ferns, then down the track of the Cooney shaped hole in the ferns then out the ferny tract to the bottom. Loads of rocky ferny deadlyness.
We then went off around Knocknacree down to the Hostel, havenât been down this in years, its turned deadly, will have to go again, but faster next time. Then down the hill of the slippyness, tried to overtake Tiny on the slippyness, was definitely sliding the wrong way around at one stage, my first 180, then off in a heap. Off around the track of the burnt out tenty grassyness and up to Crone.
Miss Baker departed at this point, and off we went up the climb of the longness to the top of de waterfall. Down the mountain mentalers trail (there was an outbreak of the walking again), then up into Djouce (or the forest of the whinging as its now to be called), down Alanâs trail, which thanks to some clearing is back to being the deadliest trail in Wicklow, sidways mayhem breaking out all over the place, if you ride down it that is, Iâm not sure what it was like on foot, Iâll have to try it some time.
Up to the middle carpark, where the men with the families had to depart, over the commonage of the horizontal rain. The horizontal rain seamed to finish off all the young lads, obviously unaccustomed to the horizontalness of it. Up around the side of the Sugarloaf, followed the heard of sheep down half of it until they decided to take a left, carried on, realised I should have followed the sheep, 30 yard hike and back onto the track of the fast rocky punctureiness. Down to the bottom to see an eviscerated Bamby, down the last bit of single track and back to the cars.
5 hour spin of deadlyness, raining the whole time, some might use world like death march and cruelty but they would be the soft she-males. Weâll just call it a good old fashioned Sunday Spin. Well done to Dave of the Rustyness, the Fergalator, Niall of the Eganâs and Colm of the Colmâs for completing / surviving the whole thing. And well don to everyone elce for lasting as long as you did. Next time, if the rain isnât a bad, we wonât take the sort cuts and actually go over the tops of some hills.
Deadly buzz.
***Disclaimer â Names have been changed to protect the innocent, details have been exaggerated for entertainment value and spelling isnât frenetic its mentenetic, the way they sound in my head. ***
As soon as we started movin the sky started leaking, it didnât stop. There was a decent gang, we had the innocent, the not so innocent, the old school, the newbieâs, the inbetweeners, the coalition of the willing and the good old access of evil.
To give them their ârealâ names, we had: Bren of the Brenâs, Paul of the Cumminses, Brian of the Goonies, Newbie Dave, Shinny bike Dave, Smiley Colm, the Good Mr. Egan, Fairygirl of the Kilkennies, Richard of the Lâs and picked up Aimi and Tiny on route. 12 in all, like apostles, but without the Jesus.
Much was made of the savage road spin of horribleness, or as I like to call it, the easy pleasant bit at the start to get to the mountain, and way we got our selves to the pet cemetery and off up through annicrivey, to the track of wide narrowness to get onto the good old way of the Wicklow. Down through Curtlestown, firstly on the path of the rockyness (where there was a disproportionate amount of walking of the bicycles) then down the track of the invisibleness, onto the track of the ferns, then down the track of the Cooney shaped hole in the ferns then out the ferny tract to the bottom. Loads of rocky ferny deadlyness.
We then went off around Knocknacree down to the Hostel, havenât been down this in years, its turned deadly, will have to go again, but faster next time. Then down the hill of the slippyness, tried to overtake Tiny on the slippyness, was definitely sliding the wrong way around at one stage, my first 180, then off in a heap. Off around the track of the burnt out tenty grassyness and up to Crone.
Miss Baker departed at this point, and off we went up the climb of the longness to the top of de waterfall. Down the mountain mentalers trail (there was an outbreak of the walking again), then up into Djouce (or the forest of the whinging as its now to be called), down Alanâs trail, which thanks to some clearing is back to being the deadliest trail in Wicklow, sidways mayhem breaking out all over the place, if you ride down it that is, Iâm not sure what it was like on foot, Iâll have to try it some time.
Up to the middle carpark, where the men with the families had to depart, over the commonage of the horizontal rain. The horizontal rain seamed to finish off all the young lads, obviously unaccustomed to the horizontalness of it. Up around the side of the Sugarloaf, followed the heard of sheep down half of it until they decided to take a left, carried on, realised I should have followed the sheep, 30 yard hike and back onto the track of the fast rocky punctureiness. Down to the bottom to see an eviscerated Bamby, down the last bit of single track and back to the cars.
5 hour spin of deadlyness, raining the whole time, some might use world like death march and cruelty but they would be the soft she-males. Weâll just call it a good old fashioned Sunday Spin. Well done to Dave of the Rustyness, the Fergalator, Niall of the Eganâs and Colm of the Colmâs for completing / surviving the whole thing. And well don to everyone elce for lasting as long as you did. Next time, if the rain isnât a bad, we wonât take the sort cuts and actually go over the tops of some hills.
Deadly buzz.
