All the well-meaning advice I got beforehand from more experienced mountain bikers — stay off the saddle, knees bent, only two fingers on each brake lever, pedals at three and nine o’clock when leaning into the corners — evaporates.
The lung-bursting, calf-tightening ascent up the side of the hill, when I wished my bike had half-a-dozen lower gears, is just a memory. Right now my problem is not physical discomfort. It’s staying on.
Up ahead is a tightly banked turn, known in the mountain biking world as a berm, and I know with a mixture of certainty and horror that I am going too fast to make it.
But again, from somewhere in my brain, some advice kicks in: hit the berm high, turn your head so you are looking round the bend, stay crouched and come out low.
In an instant I am out the other side, and a wave of relief and triumph joins the adrenaline. Now, if only I could slow down a little, I might start enjoying myself.
Advertisement
For two decades I had a fear of riding a bike. It stemmed from a mishap on a student holiday in Ireland when the combination of dodgy brakes, a steep country road in Co Wicklow and the desire to impress a girl left me needing hospital treatment for road rash.
What I should have done when the bandages finally came off was jump back on the saddle at the first chance I had. I didn’t, and eventually the very thought of giving it another go would induce an involuntary shudder.
But my sons’ enthusiasm to try one of Scotland’s fastest-growing sports forced me to look my fear in the eye. What was I, a man or a mouse? It was only a bike, after all. How scary could it be? After the first Sunday spent at Glentress, a Forestry Commission site near Peebles in the Borders, the answer was clear. Mountain biking is very scary indeed, but also a lot of fun. Six months on, the fear is still there but is now under control — most of the time anyway. And I’m hooked.
In the past few years mountain biking has grown from a minority pursuit to one of Scotland’s leading outdoor adventure pastimes. VisitScotland estimates that more than a million mountain bike excursions are now taken every year in Scotland — making it a bigger participation sport than skiing was at the peak of its popularity.
Leading the way in providing facilities judged to be some of the best in the world is the Forestry Commission. More than £3m of government and European Union cash has been spent on trails in the past four years, partly in an attempt to inject new economic life into areas badly affected by the foot-and-mouth epidemic.
Advertisement
There are trails across Scotland, but particular attention has been paid to seven sites in the south of Scotland, known collectively as the Seven Stanes: Dalbeattie, Glentress, Innerleithen, Kirroughtree, Mabie forest and Newcastleton.
Glentress is perhaps the jewel in the crown. With 40 miles of colour-coded trails, showers and changing facilities, a top-quality bike shop and a biker’s cafe with a laid-back, almost Californian feel, it has been described by the specialist MBR (mountain bike rider) magazine as “the best dedicated mountain bike centre in Britain”.
Trails include a training loop showcasing the main types of skills that are required. Green trails suit the beginner, with blue, red and black trails ascending in difficulty.
It was the black trail that Ged MacDomhnill was preparing for on a grey Monday morning last week. The 24-year-old climbing instructor from just outside Belfast reckoned it would take him and a friend two to three hours to get round the 16-mile circuit, through challenging sections with names such as “Britney Spears”, “Deliverance” and “Ewok Village”.
MacDomhnill was a keen mountain biker many years ago, but has only recently started to get back into it. The sport now is unrecognisable, he says, strapping on his helmet and checking the brakes on his borrowed bike.
Advertisement
“When I first started doing this 10 years ago you were really looked down on if you were a mountain biker,” he says.
“You were scum, the enemy of all good ramblers and horseriders. Whereas now so many people do it, it’s respectable.
“The forestry people are really switched on. They have realised they have heaps of hills, heaps of fire trails and really good access. They are used to making big fat roads for logging trucks, so making a mountain bike trail is no sweat for them. There’s seesaws for bikes and wobbly bridges to make it a bit more fun.”
The sport’s appeal, he says, is its simplicity. “It may sound obvious, but it’s just a bike. Everyone knows how to ride a bike. That’s what makes this so great. It’s not too left-field.
“It’s just simple fun. There’s nothing too crazy about it, although of course there are people who push it really far, like in any sport. You play around and get wet and covered in mud and you have a hot cup of coffee and it’s brilliant.”
Advertisement
Bikers have been known to spend thousands of pounds on the best downhill models, with full suspension and hydraulic brakes and super-strong, feather-light frames, but such expense is not necessary, says MacDomhnill.
“For climbing you need a lot of specialist kit. For this you don’t need an awesome bike, you just need to get out there. The bike might fall apart eventually, but so do the expensive ones.”
As for those run-ins with hill-walkers and other hill-users, he admits it sometimes still happens. “There’s always going to be daft folk on both sides — ramblers who deliberately get in your way and mountain bikers who go out of their way to annoy ramblers. But most of us just want to be out in the same places and enjoy it. If we have sense and work together we keep the access good.”
The next big development in mountain biking is the growth of what are known as “North Shore” trails. The phrase was originally used to describe the surfing mecca in the north of Hawaii, but has more recently come to be used to describe specially built wooden courses for mountain bikes, with challenging ramps, jumps and plank-width bridges.
A number of private landowners are believed to be interested in building North Shore facilities in Scotland, and the enthusiasts await news with interest.
Advertisement
Back at Glentress, Robert Smith, a 40-year-old computer engineer from Falkirk, is strapping on the leg protectors he decided to use after a series of bad falls from his £1,200 Specialized Enduro.
“These have saved me losing a fair amount of skin. I’ve come off more than a few times,” he says pointing to some nasty scar tissue on his shin, calf and especially his knee.
“It’s mostly just scrapes,” he says dismissively. “It’s bound to happen as you start out. The front brake is called the eject lever. Hit it too hard and you just go over the handlebars. That’s a lesson you don’t have to learn twice.”
For Smith it is all about the rush he gets when testing his nerve at speed. “It’s the downhills that it’s all about. There’s a real kick to it. You are driven by a mixture of fear and adrenaline, and when you get to the bottom you’re happy just to have survived.
“Some people like it just for the climbs and the exercise. Others do it for the dares and they just go nuts. I’m not nearly as good as some of these guys. I’m just an old codger who goes around at his own pace. But you can’t beat it. It’s you and the bike and the hill. What more do you need?”