First, apologies for the interruption in transmission. I'd like to say that it was circumstances beyond my control. I'd really like to say that. In fact, I could easily say that, but it wouldn't be the truth.

The truth is that it is entirely in my control, or at least it feels like it now. There can be no "up" without "down", no "day" without "night", and we're hitting a bit of twilight now. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Whether it is in oncoming train or not, time will tell.

So, what's been going on this last week?

Well for one thing, it's hard to be all light-hearted about stuff when hundreds of thousands of people are being killed in cyclones and earthquakes, and the world is going into financial meltdown. It's hard not to feel that collective pain, and absorb it like some crazy emotional lightning rod.

Then there's the flip-side. I should laugh and make jokes. I should do this because I can - because Fate has decided not to involve me in the cyclone and earthquake and (for now) financial meltdown. I should do this to thank Fate for giving me a break.

But would you be the one who jumped up at a funeral and shouted "I say, I say, I say ..."? It's tough.

Anyway, first of all, Martin did a rather annoying 6 laps on that technical terror (which he did nont construct) at Tea Till Dusk, and I only managed a rather pathetic 4. I could, if I wanted, blame it on Keith's daughters, or I could blame it on my front brake.

Keith, a self-made very-wealthy individual, is doing Enduro Africa this year along with his two daughters. He did the Red Kite rally a couple of months ago. He was doing Tea till dusk, and so were his girls.

It was a tough tough course. It was an Army enduro course, full of Army enduro riders who were not there to muck about. I was steady, but not quick. Martin was quick, but not steady. The first lap consisted of an awful lot of "Martin screams past, I pootle-pootle-pootle, pass Martin lying on his arse ... rinse and repeat". There were drop-offs 5 feet high, and the mother of all hill climbs.

Every time I passed one of Keith's daughters (who were predominately lying down or trying to pick their bikes up), I stopped to help. Sir LapsALot, helping the damsels in distress and also helping the young ladies who were riding them. I didn't stop to help the girls, oh no, I stopped to make sure that Jane and Nadia were all right (since those were the bikes they were on). This caused some amusement - and probably offence - to the young ladies since I'd pick the bike up and give it a check over and say something like "take it easy lass, it'll be over soon".

Then the young ladies would realise that I was talking to the bikes and not them. Hmm. Probably not an ideal pulling technique, I have to admit.

Right into the beginning of lap two, my front brake decided it had had enough. No front brake. None. Steep downhills - very steep - and no front brake. Which made the descents quite exciting. At the end of the second lap I asked The Missus to fetch the tools from the van which she did, bless her) and I had to ride the entire 3rd lap with no front brake.

The technique for going down a steep hill with no front brake is actually rather simple. All you need to do is totally shit yourself and hang on, making sure that you steer out of the way of trees and stuff like that. I managed the first one very well indeed, and did a reasonable job of the second one.

Now, this created an interesting side-effect. Since I had no front brake, I was going down these hills a lot quicker than I would like. Fate, with that wonderful way of nudging you on that she has, is trying to tell me that I can get down hills a lot quicker. In order to convince me of this, she nicked my front brake.

My cornering is shit, this we know, and there were a lot of corners. I need to work on my cornering since it is here that I am losing all of my time.

But let me ask you this, it's giving me a bit of a dilemma. I am not coming off the bike when I am riding. Does this mean that I am getting better, and the speed will come, or does it mean that I am not pushing myself enough? It's a tough one. What's the right thing to do here? Is it to allow the speed to build gradually, or do I ride a bit quicker than I feel safe with?

Interestingly enough, it's a dilemma I've been facing this last week or so. Enduro is a great metaphor for life. There comes a time in the cycle when it's time to grit my teeth and shove. Before this time, shoving is pointless - I may as well try to stop a runaway train by throwing a baked bean at it. If I shove too soon, then I make myself feel worse - there is no more despairing feeling in the world than not being able to make yourself feel better. If I shove too late, then I wallow in my misery and risk it lasting a bit longer than it should - possibly even tipping into a longer-scale bout of depression.

The gift is not being able to shove, that's the easy part. The gift is knowing when to shove. And that was today.

I got a lovely email from Cockle (THANK YOU), and from Brendan in Australia who suffers from a similar affliction to me. It's time to shove.

Tell you what though, if you ever think that nobody cares whether you live or die - try missing two mortgage payments.

I've been spinning the wheels a lot these past few days, storing up a lot of stuff. I can forsee some interesting topics ahead.

Speaking of spinning the wheels, there were two photographers atTea Till Dusk (no photos yet). One of them was halfway upa hill, and the other one just over the top. How appropriate - "over the top". I saw the first photographer and, well, you know, put on a bit of a show. Gave it proper 'andful up the hill. Cleared the top of the hill with my front wheel in the air, and nearly put myself on my arse - right in front of the second photographer, who got me square on close-up shitting myself as I nearly ploughed into a tree.

But, still, it looks an awful lot better than the browning-of-the-trousers moment it actually was at the time. Ten out of ten for style, even if it was minus several million for good thinking:





Now I know what you're thinking. You're thking that "surely you need finely-chiselled buttocks to pull of a stunt like that". I know, I know.



Hubris, anyone?

Download the Manic Mission Information Pack for the full story ...