Playing in the woods this morning, the ones just up the road from where I live, practicing the things I know I need to work on:

• steep descents into sharp corners
• clearing logs and tree trunks
• riding deep, soft mud at speed

I was doing really really well. Because I went up there with the stated objective of practicing these things till they hurt, they started to come together. Especially mud.

Now riding mud used to be traumatic. Very little grip, bike all over the place, but the trick is to go through it at speed. You then not only have two gyroscopes underneath you for balance (aka wheels), you are also kind of like surfing. Great fun.

The cornering was starting to come together too. I realised, only today, that I never use my back brake and that this is causing me to rely too heavily on the front brake and this is adding to my potential for wsahing out the front wheel. So I started playing with brake turns. OK, it may not get me round the corner as fast as a motocrosser, but it at least I get round a lot quicker than I have been.

I was playing for about an hour or more, and stopped for a rest right at the edge of the woods near the road. I saw two guys in a Land Rover Defender driving very slowly, looking into the woods. They saw me and roared the Land Rover over a fairly impressive berm, skidding to a halt beside me.

I just sat there and smiled. I knew what was coming next. I considered the options. Contrition? Humility? Defiance? Wise-ass? I figured I'd see what they had to say, then decide.

One of the guys jumped out of the land rover with what looked like a pick-axe handle. Contrition and apologies were instantly ratcheted down the possibility scale.

The driver asked me what I was doing, and I told him I was practicing. He then told me to get the f**k off his land.

I paused, let a few seconds go by, sighed and stood up. I told the guy that there was no need to speak to me in that way.

He then went completely mental about how this was private land. I asked him where the fence was, or a sign even. He explained that f**king bastards like me had torn them down.

"Exactly like me? What, did they look like me or were they just on motorbikes?" I asked him.

I should have asked permission, I was told. I asked from whom. This, it turns out, was his point. If there is nobody to ask permission, and the land doesn't belong to me, then it's private. I asked him if the same was true of Hyde Park. Nobody to ask permission, but it doesn't belong to me. Does that mean I'm not allowed in there?

Mr Pick-axe Handle takes a few steps closer. Now I have to respect the fact that he has a pick-axe handle, but he has to respect the fact that (a) I'm not particularly intimidated by this and (b) I am wearing BMW-engineered body armour so his pick-axe is going to a lot less effective than he thinks.

I then told the guy that I had no idea I was on private land and that I had never been there before. If they have better information than me about the status of the land, then there's a fairly effective way of asking me to leave. Try asking. And don't talk to me like I had just stolen something from you. And say please. Uh-oh, looks like that old blend of defiance and wise-ass.

To his credit, he calmed down a little - possibly because I had been calm throughout - or possibly because he realised that I wasn't just a hooligan on a stolen bike. He then asked me please would I leave his land.

I apologised for troubling him, and went to move the bike. Then Mr Pick-axe only went and inflamed everything again, by telling me what he'd do with the pick-axe if he ever saw me again.

I put the bike back on its stand and put my face a few inches from Mr Pick-axe. I asked him why he felt the need to be so aggressive when everybody else was being so calm. He told me that I had been terrorising everybody. I told him that I had been in a deserted woodland, and had not seen a soul. He said that it was the horses in the next field that I had been terrorising. I pointed out that if this was true then it would be the case even if I was just going up and down the road. He told me that he'd get the Police. I sat down again and asked them to please make their mind up - is it leave now, or wait for the Police and that I didn't care either way.

He suggested that he'd confiscate my bike. I invited him to do so - and that I have the registration number of his Land-Rover and would be happy to have him charged with theft. He told me that I had no rights since I was trespassing. The Law Degree studies kicked in, and I explained to him the difference between a criminal offence, such as theft, and a civil dispute - such as trespassing. He turned scarlet, and it started to dawn on him that intimidation was getting him nowhere - it was just making me even less likely to back down, pick-axe or not.

Mr Driver realised that this was going nowhere, and asked Mr Pick-axe to "just leave it and let the guy go". He then asked me again to please leave.

Again, I apologised for causing him trouble and thanked him for his civility. I took the bike and left. Mr Pick-axe and I exchanged stares as I went past him. Thank God he didn't say anything, I'd still have been there now.

As it was, I came home and did some maintenance on Queen Madge II. I have been reading a lot about mechanics and started putting some of it into practice. I straightened the handlebars (blogs passim), and did a complete oil and filter change. I adjusted the position of the back brake to make it easier to reach, and moved the handlebars around to give me a better riding position. Checked the wheel-bearings, steering head bearings and tightened up all the nuts and bolts. Hand-cleaned every link in the chain, de-gunked it and gave it a good oiling. Cleaned out all the fins on the engine to help her cool better. She is now ready for trail riding on Friday at AJP.

As I did so, I reflected on the mornings events. I wasn't too happy that I had been in a confrontation, but I was fairly satisfied that I hadn't backed down and even more satisfied that I hadn't lost my temper and had managed to keep everything calm with the guys.

In their world, anybody on a dirt bike is a hooligan riding illegally. They have probably been trying to catch off-road bikers on their land for years, and here's one who didn't even try to run away. A lot of the shouting wasn't at me, it was at all the other people who they were never able to shout at. I have to have respect for this.

They have to have respect for the fact that I have a road-legal bike, environmentally clean, and that I am riding at fairly low speed in a deserted place. Not all off-road bikers are hooligans on illegal or stolen bikes.

In Hampshire, there is at least 1 biker, with at least 1 road-legal bike, at least 1 side of whom does not back down to people with pick-axe handles.

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