Sheep, potatoes, rainbows, rainbow coloured potato sheep - you name it, it's got Ireland written all over it. However, would you guess that mountain #biking is conquering the greenery as well? Most likely not! Yet, Ireland has some of the world's most exciting hidden gems for 'shredding the gnar' at any time of the year. This past weekend, I attended my first #BikingBlitz in Ballinastoe. Round 1 of the cross-country event jetted off in the #Wicklow forest on a very un-Irish crisp, sunny February morning.
The crowd chatted about the lucky conditions in comparison to the year before, which witnessed a gray and snowy atmosphere.
Riders were jittery ice cubes at the starting line, but they quickly broke their frozen muscles by powering up the first hilly stretch of road to enter the green kingdom of carnage.
My husband, known as 'Gazza Davis,' flew off as number fifteen - beginning the friendly battle with Paul Caldwell and Harry Byrne for the Pro-Men podium. I could only imagine where he and his top competitors were chasing one another through the distant snaps of twigs and whirring wheels. Hundreds of bikes blended with nature; wheels whipped 'round by the strong breeze and power in their legs; brakes squawking like birds. Who were the animals?
How was I going to pass the time when I couldn't fly above the helmets and watch the action? Surely hypothermia was creeping in at this stage of the game (3 hours of standing out in the freezing temperatures). The on-call medic may not have needed to assist many crashes that day, but he had a good chance of nursing my weak, cold bones back to warmth. Alas! If you don't move it, you lose it. Instead of waiting around for the racers to emerge or for my toes to snap off, I decided to go for a walk. As I was getting ready to walk, a beautiful Irish Setter looked at me longingly for an ear rub. From that moment on, I earned two companions to gallivant around Ballinastoe with in search of the racers. The cold was mostly forgotten, and the hour flew by chatting to the kind dog owner. Occasionally, the wind wiped across my face with the force of a mother wiping her child's chin, and covered my ears so I couldn't continue the conversation. I could only imagine the rawness that the riders felt higher up in the hills.
At the top of our hike, a fairy tale view of #Roundwood Lake and beyond opened up our senses to the right; to the left, we spied a snake of red, yellow and blue helmets ascending the course. The race was in full swing, but no one on the outside would know that the forest was under attack by two-wheeling (and one-wheeling) athletes. The time passed quickly with my companions, and before the racers finished, we were at the end to cheer on our winners. With no rain or snow in sight this year, Round 1 came to a satisfying end. If this past Sunday is any indicator of the season to come, then you can expect a warm community of cyclists in the face of any climate.
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