August 2020

I’ve felt the need to press the reset button a few times in recent weeks. Whether it’s been the stress of lockdown with three kids and a full time job for eleventybillion weeks or just the general heightened sense of concern that seems to have taken hold globally, it’s sometimes felt like a constant white noise – in various different tones – of ‘stuff’ that’s made me want to step back, take my foot off the gas a bit and just try to put things in a bit more helpful balance.

And so I’ve been out riding my bike. And riding my bike as I used to a long time ago, before I got involved in organising stuff. Before I got involved in anything more than just going for a pedal. Back in the days where it was just a spin out for the sake of a spin out without the associated considerations of wanting to check a drain or see how a new feature was bedding in. Back to the time where I could ride up a path without getting frustrated about watching people stomp or ride the easy line and widen it.

Back when I guess I was a bit more naive.

There’s some brilliant stuff emerging about how mountain bikers play a significantly contributing role to the places they ride. Not all ‘lycra louts’ – the vast majority are out there for a nice day, enjoying nature and wanting to enjoy it again next weekend. We don’t want widening trails – nirvana for a rider is a sinewy piece of singletrack. So it’s sad that the same old tropes about who we all collectively are constantly find themselves at the top of the social media news feeds simply because they engender the liveliest arguments and so get the traffic. Some of it is true of course, but the silent majority of riders, walkers, climbers, fell runners, boulderers, hang gliders, parascenders, dog walkers, cavers, photographers, bird watchers and bog snorkellers are just out in the Peak to have a nice time. Enjoy the space we have and get on with the people around us.

So why do we still have those petty frictions that nobody – anybody – wants? Why  – when I’m on a rest ride  – do I find myself bristling at the things that others are doing, that they themselves might not even recognise as ‘wrong’. Is there some league table of ‘things you shouldn’t do’ out in the Peak? Maybe we should hold a knockout competition to work out what’s the worst behaviour? Round one: dog off a lead v. walker avoiding the slabs ‘cos it hurts their knees. Round two: riding a footpath that by all other measures is a farm track v. not closing a gate? Actually, it’d be a waste of time because we all know the shittiest behaviour is putting dog poo in a bag and hanging it off a tree – who the hell does that?

But what does that say for all those little indiscretions that to others are a declaration of war? I’m tired of the tribalism. I’m tired of the whataboutery and I’m tired of the finger pointing. Again, we’re all out there for a nice time. We all want it to be there when we go back next weekend.

But what have we got? Outdated access laws, entrenched views and everyone trying to point score over the others. To move things on we’ve all got to give a little. We’ve all got to try to see things from another perspective and maybe, just maybe, we’ll start to see some kind of progression.

Now, enough of this nonsense. Time for me to go and dust off my bog snorkel.

Seb Rogers, the editor of the brilliant Cranked magazine, gave me the encouragement to write from my heart about what mountain biking meant to me, and somehow even found the confidence in me to put those words into print alongside some of the best outdoors writers’ work out there. Since it’s closure, Seb kindly gave me the permission to share my columns here. Thanks Seb.