A Days Private Instruction

The following write up on a days Private Mountain Bike Instruction was written in October 2007 by journalist Dan Roberts.

If, like thousands of Londoners, you’ve recently embraced the idea of two-wheel travel, you probably have a shiny new mountain bike sitting in your hallway. You may have ridden to the shops, perhaps to work and back a few times. But those fat, knobbly tyres and indestructible frame are meant for one thing only – tearing down muddy hillsides, leaping massive rocks and tree stumps and generally going wild in the woods. But serious mountain biking requires serious off-road skills, so I’ve asked Helen Powell, from Get Mountain Biking, to show me the ropes. We’re doing an intermediate-level skills course in Woburn Sands, near Milton Keynes – a former quarry with over 800 acres of mountain biking trails.
‘So Dan, you up for this?’ asks Helen.
‘Bring it on!’ I reply, buzzing with nervous excitement.

Rude awakening

After taking me through all the basic safety checks to make sure my bike’s trail-worthy, Helen asks me to try a ‘small dropoff’. It doesn’t look too daunting – just a two-foot-high muddy bank. ‘What you need to do here is assume the “attack position”, standing up with your pedals level and keep your weight back. Then just roll towards the dropoff, focusing on the path ahead,’ she advises. Sounds like a doddle. Then, as I’m cycling through the bracken to get a good runup, my foot slips off the pedal and it crunches into my inner knee. It’s absolute agony, so I sit down clutching it and swearing under my breath until the throbbing subsides.
‘You OK in there?’ asks Helen.
‘Not really,’ I grunt.
Cursing my choice of slippery-soled footwear, I pedal towards the dropoff and roll down it without further incident. Phew.
‘One more try,’ says Helen, ‘and keep your weight back this time.’
Back into the bracken and, as I head towards the dropoff, my front wheel hits a tree stump on the path. I go flying over the handlebars and land with a thump, knocking the wind right out of me.
Gingerly I get back on the bike and tackle the dropoff again.
‘OK, let’s try some descents,’ says Helen.
Those knocks have really dented my confidence, but I nod grimly and follow her through the woods.

Going down

We coast down a gently undulating trail, then stop as it suddenly plunges towards the forest floor. ‘That,’ says Helen, grinning mischievously, ‘is a descent.’
Jesus. As I peer down the nerve-shreddingly steep hill, Helen gives me the lowdown. ‘Right, so you’re going to start in the attack position, then choose your line and stick to it. Keep your bodyweight right back – you should be virtually sitting on the rear tyre,’ she says.
‘And, erm, how about braking?’
‘Never, ever use your front brake on a descent, as you’ll go flying over the handlebars,’ says Helen sternly. ‘Just “feather” your back brake – applying it in short bursts so you don’t lock up the wheel. Right then, off you go,’ she says, pointing downwards.
It’s surprising what a couple of painful whacks can do to your confidence. I’ve really got the fear now, but I’m determined not to show it. So, heart in mouth, I gingerly roll up to the lip of the descent and head down, backside hanging comically in mid-air. It’s really, really hard, partly because the trail is so steep and partly because it’s littered with limb-threatening rocks and gnarly roots. Hit one of those and you’d be cartwheeling all the way to A&E.
I find a line between the many rocks and roots, and feather the brake. Problem is, every time you brake the back wheel locks and starts sliding out from under you. When you release it you fly down much too fast for comfort. More by luck than judgement, I make it to the bottom in one piece.
‘Well done!’ calls Helen, flying down to join me. ‘Now you have to get back up.’
I knew she was going to say that.

Coming up

If the hill was daunting going down, it assumes Everest-like proportions when you have to climb it. But, as with everything else in mountain biking, it’s all about technique.
‘When you’re ascending you’re best off staying in the saddle,’ explains Helen. ‘Keep your elbows in and tip your wrists round and down on the handlebars. That brings your chest down, which stops your front wheel lifting.’ ‘Anything else?’
‘Just keep pedalling. Most people don’t get up steep hills because they bottle it and stop pedalling,’ she says. Head swimming with advice, I put it all into practice. I find a really easy gear and hit the hill. But after a few feet I narrowly miss a huge, jagged rock, sit upright and my wheel comes flying up. Game over.
‘Try again!’ shouts Helen from the bottom.
I line up and try again. Same problem. Refusing to be beaten by a stupid hill, I do it over and over until, finally, I manage to keep my chest down and tough it out until, chest heaving and sweat dripping into my eyes, I reach the top. I’m absolutely shattered, but really glad I made it.
‘Good job!’ she enthuses. ‘Now for some real fun.’

Wheelie good

We cycle through the woods and end up at a grassy clearing. Helen disappears into the undergrowth and comes back with two fat, mossy logs. ‘You have to get your front wheel over the log – which is called a “wheelie”, she says. ‘One way is to push down on the handlebars and depress your front suspension, then as it rebounds just put your weight back. The front wheel comes up enough to get you over.
‘The second is a classic wheelie – the one you see boys doing on the street. So when your pedal’s at the top of the power stroke, as you push down on the pedal pull up on the handlebars and keep your weight back. The front wheel lifts up and the wheelie keeps going until you dab the back brake.’
Cool – I’ve always wanted to know how to do wheelies. I give it a go and find it a cinch to get over the logs. I practice over and over until I’ve got wheelies nailed. Can’t wait to show the boys back in London.

Leap of faith

‘Now for some jumps,’ says my ever-enthusiastic instructor.
She points to where the path runs over three railway sleepers ending in a three-foot drop.
‘I’m not going down there, am I?’ I ask, feeling the fear again big-time.
‘You certainly are,’ says Helen. ‘The key here is speed – hit the jump fast and lift your front wheel as you hit the dropoff. You’ll be fine!’ she says, seeing the colour drain from my cheeks.
It looks like one hell of a leap but I grit my teeth, take a run-up and fly off the step. For one horrible moment I think I’m going to crash, but then I land sweetly and break into a huge grin.
‘Excellent!’ I holler and go back for another go.
Eventually, Helen drags me away and we head back to the car. I’m absolutely shattered, my knee’s throbbing and I’m splattered with mud, but it’s been a brilliant day. We say our goodbyes and I head back to London a tired but happy man.

A day’s one-to-one mountain-bike skills training with Get Mountain Biking costs £110. Group sessions cost from £50 per person. For details call 01604 891044 or visit www.getmountainbiking.co.uk