Our regular Sunday social ride is a rapid thrash around the singletrack
at Whiteways. The wooded hillside north
of Arundel is the local MTB mecca with its warren of criss-crossing trails.
There is a carpark complete with café if you drive, but we usually ride up from
home. The South Downs Way borders the upper northern edge of the wood and
provides off road cycle links east and west. I love the challenge of fast
flowing singletrack as much as most mountain bikers and I have spent many happy
adrenalin fuelled hours sweeping around the trails with my mates. Sometimes though
it is good to do something different.
After last weeks incidents and resulting injuries it was felt we needed to tone things down and take it a little easier. The clear skies heralded a late return of Summer as five of us met at the top of the Trundle, a hill a few miles west of Whiteways with views down to the coast around Chichester. The plan was an evenly paced ‘gravel ride’ around the local area, with a stop for coffee and cake. All very civilised and grown up!
Gravel riding is a relatively new phenomenon that has grown up in the states, where they have long open miles of dirt roads and forestry tracks to explore. It has even spawned a whole new genre of bike, with drop bars and road bike geometry, but fat tyres and disc brakes for control. Gravel riding doesn’t transfer quite so well to our densely populated little island, where roads are generally tarmac covered and countryside paths are frequently of the rooty, stoney and muddy variety. A better name in the UK would be bridleway bashing, and to me this represents a return to my mountain biking’s roots. Back in the 90’s the bridleways were all the off road cycling community had available.
Probably worth mentioning that none of us own a gravel bike, but four mtb hardtails were joined by the young man Will on his cross bike.
After the rutted climb up Chalkpit Lane to the top of the Trundle we headed down into the valley between Singleton and Charlton. Maintaining the northwards heading we climbed up the gravel forestry roads that were built to access to the oil well towards the top of the hill. Without a cloud in the sky the scenery opened up, and with not a building or road in sight you could for a moment have imagined we were riding through the wilderness of Wales.
Plunging down to the A286 we crossed the road and were soon climbing again, meandering through East Dean woods. This eventually brought us back up to the South Downs Way, which we followed briefly before the drop to Hooksway. The decent is fast and the morning dew had left the chalky surface slick. Navigating the gulleys cut into the chalk by the rain runoff was difficult enough on the mountain bike, but Will seemed to enjoy the challenge on the CX bike. From the pub we were climbing up, initially through the avenue of oaks and out onto the open downland to Harting. Wet grass is like riding through treacle so we were relieved to reach the summit and start the decent down to our coffee stop in Compton.
A ludicrously large portion of cake and cappuccino were ravenously dispatched as we lazed in the warm sunshine outside the Village Store. Our visit was perfectly timed, for while we were sitting outside cyclist after cyclist rolled in until the old well outside the pub was hidden behind an eclectic selection of two wheeled steeds. Our mountain bikes were joined by aerodynamic, electronic carbon exotica and steel tourers with panniers and mudguards. The riders all looking for a slice of cake and a chance to rest weary limbs.
Eventually we dragged ourselves away and looped out on the bridleways towards Stansted house. This meant we avoided the worst of the hills without resorting to tarmac. The paths eventually led us to Adsdean and the foot of the climb up to Kingley Vale. I ride this route regularly after work, but the long steady gradient is quite a drag with 40 miles in the legs. The path also has lots of roots which don’t allow you to settle into a rhythm and are tough on tired bodies. Zooming down towards West Stoke we could see the green Trundle Hill where we had started out, silhouetted against the deep blue sky. But to suggest we were nearly done would be misguided. Binderton Lane that links Kingley Vale to the Trundle is a horrible little kicker. Not a proper hill but too long to attack flat out and too steep to cruise up comfortably. After finally arriving at the foot of the Trundle we approached the western edge, which is a vertical grassy field full of sheep and their doings. The group splintered immediately, Will charging ahead on the Cross bike, the rest of us spread out behind him each in our own private worlds of pain.
We said our goodbyes in the carpark at the top and headed home. Nearly 50 miles and 4 hours of deserted bridleways and beautiful views etched into our memories and legs. No doubt next weekend we’ll return to singletrack flat out attack mode, but mixing it up keeps things fresh and interesting.
After last weeks incidents and resulting injuries it was felt we needed to tone things down and take it a little easier. The clear skies heralded a late return of Summer as five of us met at the top of the Trundle, a hill a few miles west of Whiteways with views down to the coast around Chichester. The plan was an evenly paced ‘gravel ride’ around the local area, with a stop for coffee and cake. All very civilised and grown up!
Gravel riding is a relatively new phenomenon that has grown up in the states, where they have long open miles of dirt roads and forestry tracks to explore. It has even spawned a whole new genre of bike, with drop bars and road bike geometry, but fat tyres and disc brakes for control. Gravel riding doesn’t transfer quite so well to our densely populated little island, where roads are generally tarmac covered and countryside paths are frequently of the rooty, stoney and muddy variety. A better name in the UK would be bridleway bashing, and to me this represents a return to my mountain biking’s roots. Back in the 90’s the bridleways were all the off road cycling community had available.
Probably worth mentioning that none of us own a gravel bike, but four mtb hardtails were joined by the young man Will on his cross bike.
After the rutted climb up Chalkpit Lane to the top of the Trundle we headed down into the valley between Singleton and Charlton. Maintaining the northwards heading we climbed up the gravel forestry roads that were built to access to the oil well towards the top of the hill. Without a cloud in the sky the scenery opened up, and with not a building or road in sight you could for a moment have imagined we were riding through the wilderness of Wales.
Plunging down to the A286 we crossed the road and were soon climbing again, meandering through East Dean woods. This eventually brought us back up to the South Downs Way, which we followed briefly before the drop to Hooksway. The decent is fast and the morning dew had left the chalky surface slick. Navigating the gulleys cut into the chalk by the rain runoff was difficult enough on the mountain bike, but Will seemed to enjoy the challenge on the CX bike. From the pub we were climbing up, initially through the avenue of oaks and out onto the open downland to Harting. Wet grass is like riding through treacle so we were relieved to reach the summit and start the decent down to our coffee stop in Compton.
A ludicrously large portion of cake and cappuccino were ravenously dispatched as we lazed in the warm sunshine outside the Village Store. Our visit was perfectly timed, for while we were sitting outside cyclist after cyclist rolled in until the old well outside the pub was hidden behind an eclectic selection of two wheeled steeds. Our mountain bikes were joined by aerodynamic, electronic carbon exotica and steel tourers with panniers and mudguards. The riders all looking for a slice of cake and a chance to rest weary limbs.
Eventually we dragged ourselves away and looped out on the bridleways towards Stansted house. This meant we avoided the worst of the hills without resorting to tarmac. The paths eventually led us to Adsdean and the foot of the climb up to Kingley Vale. I ride this route regularly after work, but the long steady gradient is quite a drag with 40 miles in the legs. The path also has lots of roots which don’t allow you to settle into a rhythm and are tough on tired bodies. Zooming down towards West Stoke we could see the green Trundle Hill where we had started out, silhouetted against the deep blue sky. But to suggest we were nearly done would be misguided. Binderton Lane that links Kingley Vale to the Trundle is a horrible little kicker. Not a proper hill but too long to attack flat out and too steep to cruise up comfortably. After finally arriving at the foot of the Trundle we approached the western edge, which is a vertical grassy field full of sheep and their doings. The group splintered immediately, Will charging ahead on the Cross bike, the rest of us spread out behind him each in our own private worlds of pain.
We said our goodbyes in the carpark at the top and headed home. Nearly 50 miles and 4 hours of deserted bridleways and beautiful views etched into our memories and legs. No doubt next weekend we’ll return to singletrack flat out attack mode, but mixing it up keeps things fresh and interesting.
