COME ON DOWN

TOM HUTTON REPORTS FROM A BIG DAY OUT IN THE ROLLING CHALK HILLS THAT SURROUND AVEBURY’S STONE CIRCLES. A GOOD, LONG, FAST RIDE, BEST DONE WHEN DRY OR FROZEN SOLID.

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY TOM HUTTON

Forget the Velominati: the one real rule in mountain biking is that if the weather’s going to change, it’s always going to do it when you’re at the highest and most exposed section of your whole ride.

You’ll be hot and sweaty from the climb, and as ready as you’re ever going to be for five minutes’ rest, a cereal bar and a good chew of the cud with your riding buddies. Then, just as you finally catch your breath, wipe the sweat from your eyes and start drinking in those hard-earned views, the heavens will open.

Suddenly you’re diving into your pack for your waterproof, rueing your decision to wear short sleeves, and of course shivering from that first wind-blown blast of ice-cold rain. We’ve all experienced it at some stage. And no doubt we all will again.

‘If we go there, we won’t be blinded by your jersey’.

But there’s also a lesser-known subsection of this rule; this one states that when the Sod’s Law index is particularly high, any sudden and unexpected shift in conditions isn’t only going to make you wet and cold – it’s also going to change the character of the descents you’d been looking forward to all day. And in the Wiltshire Downs that means that the steep, twisty, rutted chutes that were going to pay you back for all that climbing, are instantly transformed into slimy, off-camber, half-clay, half-chalk, man-traps that offer less traction than a pair of road slicks on soap-covered eel skin.

Sadly today, on Cherhill, there was little doubting that the index was up in the red. And although the squall blew through completely in less than ten minutes, its aftermath changed the nature of the ride completely.

Lucky boy.

I consider myself lucky. Growing up in Bristol, I was within easy reach of just about every type of riding imaginable (well, at the time anyway). South was the West Country: Mendips, Quantocks, Exmoor and Dartmoor; west was Wales and real mountains; and just a few miles to the east were the chalky delights of the Wiltshire Downs – not as high, or as dramatic maybe, but great fun nevertheless.