Levanger shock bike brake cycle! An axle of evil?

Bent, abandoned, broken. Drowned, disused, forgotten; de-wheeled and discarded. At times I feel as if I share the town with a serial killer, a mechanic of mayhem. The victims have similar characteristics, they all had 2 wheels at some point, but there are differences too. They are old and new, flash and dowdy, with baskets and bells, or sporting sprockets, suspension and rear mechs. I cannot see a motive, no pattern to follow, just a relentless disregard for the life of a cycle.

I have attempted to document the crimes around me. These were all seen on one day, but there are others. Some of the bodies are only revealed on the lowest tides, some just disappear before I can record their existence and still more must lie un-noticed in the dank places where nobody goes, nobody knows.

Remember; a bike is for life, not just Christmas

This blew me away..

Two days in Hell.

Hell has a bad rep. Too hot, crowds, noisy, the smells and annoying blokes in bad Halloween costumes who explain quantum physics to you, in scouse accents, 24/7.

Try this version: regular train service, easy walk in, dry rock, not too warm (or too cold) and a range of routes to suit all abilities. It’s enough to make you give up being good, even on a Sunday. My college class at HiNT (Hogskolen I Nord Trondelag) spent 2 days in Hell during the week. It is a sport climbing venue and is renowned for steep hard routes. Luckily it also has a selection of more amenable grades for the folk, like myself, who are merely human.

This sport malarkey is an unusual beast for a committed trad climber to tame. It seems to involve climbing on steeper rock than I have ever been on and moving faster than ever on this steep ground to avoid getting pumped. There is no need to hunt for gear, so this previously essential and energy demanding skill lies dormant, probably allowing more brain space to focus on movement.

I think I like it.

It's so nice to be home.

To be honest, I’m not quite sure where ‘home’ is at the moment, or even what home is. Home has been described as the place where you will always be welcome. Using that criterion I think I have several homes and I thank the folk who live there- you know who you are.

The home it is really nice to be at now is the one I rent in Norway, where I have important stuff like my own bed, my sharp kitchen knives and my bits and bats. These things welcome me as I unlock the door and have a far greater mass than their size would suggest. The gentle gravity they exert allows my soul, chi, whatever, to sink down and feel at rest.

Over the last month I have slept in Torp airport, Aviemore, Fort William, Glencoe, Oslo, Voss and Bergen. Some places I stayed for a few hours, some provided 12 days of shelter; some were luxurious, some were very basic.
I have met Eddy and Sally, with whom I will set off on an adventure to Kyrgyzstan in August. I met Steve, Neil and Carolina. I climbed with Roy and discussed many things with Beth. John and Tricia were good hosts and I give thanks to John for the screwdriver. Bruce made me laugh as always, nice hair mate but watch out for the crocs. Bob and Beck tried to give me their grotty cold but I survived. Mum and Dad were great company over a very chilled week with plenty of ‘culture’ and some very expensive meals.

With old and new friends I have gone off route, descended in the dark, climbed in the sun, dropped a camera, walked out of the mist, dug holes in the snow, watched the sun set, captured the moment, seen avalanches, walked over an opera house, backed off and pushed on through.

It has been an amazing month and I want to thank all those who made it the way it was.

5 day ski tour

The last week was spent travelling by ski across the border from Sweden to Norway. The weather gave us real value for our money, with heavy snow, strong winds, brilliant sunshine, zero visibility and 2 days of warm rain. I think all who went enjoyed the trip but the last day was a suffer fest and we were all very glad to get back to Levanger. Dry clothes, hot showers, cold beer. Ahhh..

Day one...



Day two...






Day three...



Day four...and five..
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Dombas 16th to 20th March

1 ski school, 2 instructors, 5 student assistants and 60 kids. And 1 overworked ping pong table.

The Trolltun hostel is located in Dombas in the Dovrefjell region of Norway. In the winter it provides 5 day ski based mountain activity courses for school kids. I went with 4 classmates to help out for a week and really had an awesome time, spending the days out on cross country skis, touring, digging snowholes and soaking up the sunshine. On two evenings the ski centre next door switched on its floodlights and t-bar and we 'ripped up the slopes' on telemark skis!!!.

The credit for the following pictures belongs to Erik. The 'stuntman' is yours truly...

An eventful week

The last 10 days have been interesting to say the least.

The aim of last week was for the friluftsliv class to spend 3 days ski-touring, over nighting in snow holes. The chosen site for the snow holes was a steep sided stream bed, with a lee slope and a windward slope. My group of four chose to dig our hole on the windward slope which also caught the sun for most of the day. The rest of the class decided to dig into the lee slope where there was deeper snow. The spot was fairly sheltered from a constant 25 mph wind

Around 3pm the next day the lee slope avalanched partially filling the 3 holes that had been dug there. Luckily nobody was hurt despite 1 girl being carried a short distance and fully buried in the slide and 3 or 4 others who were covered to their waists. After digging out all the buried sleeping bags, cooking kit and clothing we binned the trip and headed back to Levanger. It seems the moral of the story is not to dig your planned snow hole into a lee slope that is being loaded by wind transported snow, spend some time finding a safer location instead.

As a result of some snafu’d communication I have just had a week without lectures instead of joining classmates at a ski school in Dombas. All is not lost as I can join another group of students next week. Instead I have been giving blood in spectacular fashion.

On Thursday whilst top-roping a steep and thin ice pillar with Gudmund I got hit in the face by a large chunk of ice. I had swung my right axe into the top of a bulge and was watching it to see the quality of the placement as you do. A chunk of ice literally exploded out of the bulge and caught me just under my nose. I spluttered with surprise and shock and liberally coated the ice in front of me with blood. My mouth had become an air brush, loaded with bright red paint. I assumed that I only had a nose bleed, so sprayed my way up the rest of the pillar and set up another top rope over another route. Gudmund climbed this while I belayed with a wad of snow stuffed into my nose. Rest, Snow, Compress, Elevate.

When we got back to the car my face was still dyeing chunks of snow a bright red. So I had a look in the mirror and decided a trip to the hospital was probably a good idea. 2 stitches later I was set free to wander home, feeling like I had been facing Amir Khan for 5 rounds.

Warm days and cold nights are a recipe for disaster if you travel by bike. The route to join friends for dessert, whiskey and cards went via a steepish downhill. An icy steepish downhill. As the back wheel slid away from under me I knew I was going too fast to get a foot down and a trip down the road on my backside was inevitable. And painful. No stitches this time, but I will need to take the bits of road out of my arm soon and put them back before the council complains. My heartfelt thanks to Gudmund and Kirsten for helping me plug holes in my body twice in 2 days and especially for the effective top quality liquid analgesics, matured for 10 years in oak casks in a misty land far away.