Tuesday, May 4, 2010

One nights practise camp






Being the start of May and the Bank Holiday, guess? Yep dull, and a little drizzly. Hey-ho, need to get out there and have a go at camping. So with an email to a friend I had permission to camp on his land, only 8 miles away but the point was to practice and not break any records.

Saturday lunch time, all packed and eager to go I cycled around the block to make sure everything was going to be ok, but the gears all 27 had vanished. Into the garage for some investigation, I found the rear cable had got under twined with the bipod stand. Without messing about the stand was quickly removed for another day, the cable was now fully functioning to keep the derailleur happy once again.
The weight of the bike (though unconfirmed) I think was around 60 kilos, However I did manage to keep the distribution to 40-60 front and rear. While seemingly shaky from the front after a little practice this did not seem a problem. The rear being made up of: tent, sleeping mat and ground sheet was a lot more securely fixed than previous rides as all was enclosed within a sail bag which I purchased from eBay (the idea I pinched from Mark Beamont).
The previous evening I had used my latest purchase on pumping the tires. Topeak Morph Turbo Mini Pump from Chain Reaction Cycles at £29 for me was a sound investiture to make. The 90 PSI of pressure was soon reached without any effort (some what better than my track pump).
Happily on the road I made a steady 12-14 mph with a headwind, however, as soon as I reached any incline the gears started to slip upon changing, consequently, out popped the multi-tool and small Gerber pliers’ to retention the gear cable. After which selection was achieved, with no slip.
Progress was good and after a around about way, I achieved my goal of 30 miles for the day. Nonetheless, I was half an hour early of my allotted time of 16:00 to arrive at Peter’s house, with an attractive pub looming I parked the bike and soon had a cool pint of Fosters to savor.
Not wanting to drink any more than one pint, I made the small incline whereupon Peter was helping his neighbor to fix drainage foundations. Not being an expert on pipes that lay above or below ground Peter gave me the grand tour of his well spread out four acres of field. The pasture of land was more than I could have hoped; with mounds, tracks, and ponds with out-of-the-way would be pitches for any tent put-a-upper this was a perfect practice camp site.
I found my pitch at the very bottom of Peters territory, to one side was a large knoll and to the other a line of trees (later to be informed with a residing woodpecker) to gain shelter from the ever circling wind direction. Having items such as the tent, roll mat and ground sheet at hand placed readily upon the rear carrier was a good choice.

The tent (Wild Country Duolite Tourer) is most simple to erect, with my lack of tent expertise (apart from big, olive drab army shelters) this is most welcoming. All the poles attach to the outside skin without the need of threading poles through small eyelets (which for me seem to get pole and hole caught together), makes the pitching simple. With the large pouch area I would recommend this tent for cycle tours.
What I did however buy extra, was a 6 by 6ft. ground sheet from Halfords, to place within the porch. This, not being the most essential equipment to be carried on a bike but for me worth the £6 purchase price, as the extra protection it provides is worth the minimal additional weight. But without noticing the tent pegs I added were too big for the eyelets. Consequently, I will replace with smaller pegs, but this is the whole point of the practice camp.
As the camp established a near looking organized well structured site as possible, I dug out my vastly expensive gas stove, all of £4 from eBay (via Japan), and set to putting a brew on. The gas canisters are somewhat heavy but easily purchased and screw onto the stove easily. Although not having a wind break the flame had the water boiled joining the tea bag within the mug in no time at all. Some home cooked stew was warmed through to make I may add tasty meal.
Accompanied by the Archers my second mug of tea was nicely rounding the evening off, when Peter turned up with a can of larger, it would have been rude to say no. After a brief chat, he left me to settle down for the night.
I was quite pleased with how the camp was turning out, everything was cleaned and packed away, inside the sleeping bag looked cozy with its newly acquired matching silk liner, and the gentleness of it all was very satisfyingly tranquil.
Sleep was effortlessly sought and was not hard to find. That was up till around 4 am, were nature forced me to eject myself from my cocooned little world to venture outside. No, mistaking, it was cold, my breath was clearly visible upon the frosty night. With the aided guide of a head torch, I wandered around for a while smoking the cigarette that I had promised myself to give up six months previous. There is something eerie fulfilling in these small hours, not the cold but the unusual surroundings that grip you, in a strange but contented way. Perhaps it’s just the strange sounds, I don’t know, nevertheless, the sensations felt like freedom not to be missed.
The following morning I had to force myself to get up, my body was saying stay there but my mind kept saying up and up. My breakfast cereal (which I thought would be the easiest to carry) was enough nutrition for the time. The stove again proved its magic by supplying me with a hot cup of tea.
A little later I walked the few minutes to the house, were finding Peter and retrieving my bike from his garage I apply started to pack up camp. This is where I could have been more methodical, if I had thought of packing as I went about the morning’s activities this process could have been so much quicker.
Nonetheless, there were no major mishaps, and the bike was soon ready for departure. I did have plans to ride north up to Longrige. This being a round trip of 30 miles or so, as it was getting late I decided not to and cycle the direct route home through Rufford.
I did know however, at Rufford within the new marina, there is a nice little tea shop that just needed me to visit. Hence overlooking the canal boats eating a chocolate gateau, I wandered as I have often have, were did all the boats moor before the marina was built?
With that, it was of home. A most enjoyable night and a lot learned for the not too distant future.

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