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Jack and Carl go in search of some real mountains Being a mountain boarder means different things to different people, for some people it`s about how many times they can spin in the air or how fast they can race down a track... for me it`s simple, it`s about being free to ride what I want, when I want, with no restriction..... freeride. I`m lucky that the people I ride with share my enthusiasm for freeride, unfortunately our terrain has a distinct lack of mountains. And this possesses a problem, how can I call myself a mountain boarder if I have not ridden a mountain. Therefore as a group we decided that we would embark on a trip to become mountain boarders. After a long drive from London we found ourselves in Scotland, driving into woodland trust just north of Perth, we drove our van slowly up a fire track to a car park deep in the woods. We don`t stop there, someone had left the gate open so we chose to continue up the hill, to see what was there to ride. We continued up for several minute until the track started to flatten. I could see about 10m in front of me due to thick fog, it was 5:45 in the morning and it was tipping down. Perfect, two of us jump out the van padded up and clipped in with my GPS on my arm I set off, while the other 2 looked on in horror at the time. It was great, 5km later we rolled to a stop, what a way to shake a 12hr drive out of the legs. Over the next few days we prowled the woods and surrounding countryside for better drop offs, fire tracks and roads to hit, which we found in abundance. After leaving tyre marks on steep corners, jumping cattle grids the size of a long wheel base transit and hammering down firetracks in excess of 5km we all felt that we were getting close to becoming mountain boarders. Racing down these long fire tracks, reaching speeds of 60kph, it seemed boarding couldn`t get much better. However talking to Alan, a local, it was quickly established that we were still far from being mountain boarders, these were just big hills. He told us of a mountain he had driven past which he wanted to ride but didn`t know anyone who would hit it with him. We all decided that this would be a great idea, and made a plan to ride it the following day. Myles was gutted as he was the only one that didn`t have a brake board. He was even more gutted though when we past a skate park, which he was desperate to hit, so we stopped and let him go for a play. However when hitting a rail, with a not quite enough speed, he took a tumble and broke his wrist. It doesn`t end there though, it gets better, his wrist guards were still in his back pocket. So after an afternoon checking out the facilities of a Scottish hospital we all settled in for an evening of getting boards ready for the next day, a good BBQ and a cold beverage or two. Waking up the next day with heavy heads, but all thinking about the riding ahead of us we set off on the drive up into the Cairngorms to the base of the mountain, a few hours away. Myles had the honour of looking after the van at the bottom of the hill, or more just catching up on a bit of sleep. So the rest of us loaded ourselves up with boards and pads and started heading up the hill. It was then I realise just how unfit I am, the best part of 2 hours later we were still climbing, whenever we thought we were near the peak you`d see the path head up again.... and again. When we finally reached the top the GPS was reading 916 m, not bad considering the highest peak in England is 956m. The views were amazing and the anticipation was great. The ride down was full on, and not entirely what was expected. The large rocks, in many cases bigger than the 9 inch tyres we were riding on were unforgiving, and often dictated where we went. It was quickly established that the best way to avoid continually going straight over the front when hitting rocks was speed, the more you have the bigger the rocks you can get over. Well, almost, the rocks which were over a foot in size did become a slight issue, leaving some nicely bruised legs. However the 12 minute decent was the best I`ve ever had, as the rocks got smaller near the bottom the speed you could hit got greater, and there were regular drainage ditches to jump. On reaching the bottom a real sense of having achieved something washed over us, looking back up at what we had ridden, which now looked small compared to how felt. At this point it was agreed, we were now mountain boarders. However with legs so tired and shaken from the ride we all clambered into the van and headed back to where we were staying. The trip left us psyched about mountain boarding, wanting to ride bigger, better stuff, and on the drive home agreed that more road trips had to be done. There was a flip side to this however, returning to our local spots we suddenly felt, although they were good, they weren`t THAT good. Written by Carl Rowlands and Jack Beezer |
