Blood, sweat and bicycle helmets
Because they look a bit nerdy, I used to ride my bike on short, local trips without the protection of a bike helmet, but the events of Sunday March 28, 2010 changed that perception for me. It was a bit of a windy day but nonetheless John, Ryan and I decided to take a mountain bike ride through Herriot County on the North Yorkshire Moors. The planned route of eleven miles or so would take us from Langthwaite to Booze Moor to Washfold via the disused quarry where we took a downhill trail back to Langthwaite just in time for the quick half of bitter on the Red Lion, the pub used in the TV version of All Creatures Great and Small.
Coming out of Langthwaite Car Park the initial climb should have been very difficult but unusually the wind was on our backs pushing us up the steep tarmac road towards the grouse track that snaked up to Booze Moor. The path across Booze Moor wound erratically up and down and left and right to Hurst Moor, where we encountered a long downhill section that took us to the bridge over Skegdale Beck.
The next uphill climb through the hamlets of Washfold and Hurst went into the wind. At the time I was glad I had put on my cycling pants instead of my mountain bike shorts and had the added extra protection of a windproof vest. The ascent continued through the disused Mine Workings to a stone wall and then through the gate through a marshy section of Fell End Moor, although this was a downhill section the wind was so strong we had to navigate granny outfit section. The next section we hit was a proper, rocky, compact downhill singletrack that came to a U-bend…then hallelujah, the wind was behind us again.
Aside from the wind, this was just like any other bike ride, however, if you’ll excuse the pun, things were about to go downhill from here. John and Ryan were stuck behind some hikers so I was first around the U-bend. The section was straight and fast with great views of the Akengathdale valley, just ahead on the trail I saw a technical rocky section that went down pretty steep About three to four feet in, immediately ahead of that was a second U-bend that dropped sharply to the right.
I applied the brakes to make sure I got through the first bump at a reasonable speed and shifted my weight behind the mountain bike saddle to ensure a safe negotiation of the stepped rocky feature. As I traversed the obstacle, I felt a satisfying pulsation through the handlebars that told me the bike’s front and rear suspension were perfectly reacting to each step in unison. As my front wheel cleared the last step, my thoughts turned to the well-deserved bitter half at the Red Lion about a mile or so down the trail.
My next sensation was one of complete disorientation as I found myself totally separated from my bike. I can’t actually remember flying through the air, but the laws of physics became very relevant at this point, I’m not Superman, so it’s inevitable that gravity will bring me down to the ground sooner rather than later. It all happened so fast that I hit the ground and felt a sharp pain in my left side, then the surreal feeling of being absolutely unable to keep my head from bouncing off the rocks. I can vividly remember concentrating on the brim of my vented bike helmet as it hit a sharp rock with a vicious blow. I closed my eyes fully expecting to pass out as the impact was miraculously absorbed by the cycling helmet’s Styrofoam liners, a combination of nausea and relief quickly set in as I thought, “Thank God I was wearing a helmet.”
Once I realized that I was, in fact, conscious and that my head hadn’t sustained any damage, my first instinct was to avoid any more carnage, I stood up and dragged my bike away from the main trail. I was enduring severe pain in my left shoulder as I frantically waved Ryan and John with my right arm to stop them before they, too, plummeted onto the rock. When they saw my pale, traumatized face and the blood oozing from the lacerations on my left hip, it didn’t take long for them to realize it was more than just a fall. As they dismounted from their bikes and approached me, I pointed to my left collarbone, there was the large bulge visibly protruding through the left shoulder of my cycling jersey. “Looks like it’s broken,” John said as he helped me remove my backpack and helmet. “It hurts like hell, but I’m lucky it wasn’t my skull that cracked,” I answered, pointing to the strong impression the impact had left on the side of the bike helmet.
On the long walk back to the car with my right arm pushing the bike and my left arm sling-style inside my half-closed cycling jersey, I had time to reflect on the incident and how lucky I had been. The annoying thing is that I still don’t know what I did wrong, but the realization of what could have been had I not been wearing a cycling helmet still haunts me. The trip to the hospital revealed that I had torn the ligaments that hold my collarbone in place, it may heal on its own or it may need surgery, either way it looks like I will have a deformed shoulder for life. I can live with that! It’s got to be a million times better than a lifetime of being spoon-fed liquid food.
I never got half as bitter on the Red Lion, but got a new helmet to replace the damaged one, now it accompanies me on every bike ride, no matter how short.