Trails of the unexpected
We’re not greenlaners, one bike is more coffee hut than countryside, yet turning off tarmac on our Honda Transalp and Ducati Scrambler is a grand day out
We’re not sure exactly where we are, but every turn reveals a pleasing vista. Neither bike has been past third gear or 30mph all morning, yet the riding has been engaging. And at no point have we worried about ‘safety’ cameras, queued for roadworks, or been wound up by the myopic antics of a flustered delivery driver who needs to make 350 drops before lunch. In fact, we haven’t seen another vehicle all morning. Or anybody else at all. When the forecast promised a frosty spring day with clear blue skies, I made the executive decision that Bike designer Paul Lang and I would skive off to ride our long-term test Honda Transalp and Ducati Scrambler. But rather than the favourite tarmac roads, we’d hunt out some byways. It’s not what Langy expected: he has chuff-all trail riding experience and finds the prospect as appealing as root canal surgery, and my Scrambler isn’t an enduro bike. But that’s the point. We won’t be getting wild air and doing nick-nack-paddywhacks; in fact, we won’t even be going off-road, as the dirt and gravel routes are all legal roads – they just haven’t got the hard, smooth bit on top. Surely, they’re for any rider on any type of bike…
No mud to plug
My theory was a frosty start would be perfect for our flailing antics. Firm ground will mean no wading through slop or fishtailing bikes, and it might feel more familiar for two road riders. Bit like riding on baked earth in the height of summer, but with a fresh chill to manage the sweat brought on by gripping too tight and forgetting to breathe. Amazingly, I may have been right. The route began with a singletrack tarmac lane that became increasingly broken by clumps of tufty grass before turning to gravel. We trundled along side by side, sun flickering through the trees, exchanging chuffed-with-ourselves glances, and occasionally standing up on the ’pegs so we looked like hardcore dirt monkeys. With no earplugs (not going fast enough) we swapped light-hearted insults and daft comments. And when we
‘We trundled along side by side, sun flickering through trees, exchanging chuffed-with ourselves glances’
reached a few dips and ruts, the frostiness indeed made them less intimidating – the Ducati skipped across easily. It was all very lovely. Hurrah for us.
Concentrate, now…
We need to pay attention now, mind. After scooting down a worn section, which despite tractor-induced ruts and lots of large rocks was easy enough on the Ducati, we find ourselves with a vast pool swamping the route. Frozen, of course. I think it’s made Langy nervous: ‘I’m not bloody riding through that,’ he says. After schoolboy-like amusement lobbing rocks in, we decide that toppling into an icy lake of unknown depth wouldn’t be a good look, and that we’ll paddle our way around the edge. The verge is covered in evidence of other vehicles having done the same.
I imagine this would require some actual skill on soft ground, but today it’s easy enough. The Honda’s large front wheel and trail-ready
suspension make it easy to thread past – and surprisingly it’s even easier on the Ducati. With no fairing or screen to peer round it’s easier to pick a route – and this is essential, as the frozen ground has no ‘give’ so is like riding on inverse rails. I imagine. The V-twin also feels lighter than the taller Transalp. Pleased with our successful negotiation of such arduous conditions, Langy accelerates away, slips on some ice and has a lie down. Having established a) he’s alright, and b) the Honda is unscathed, merciless piss-taking begins.
Just take it easy
By late morning the sun has de-iced the landscape. For these two inexperienced fools, the riding actually becomes breezier – my Ducati’s fat tyres squidge deeper obstacles flat, frozen puddles become water splashes rather than unknowns, and Langy stops falling off. We stop at the side of a spinney and I notice what we thought was a farm access has a waymarker hiding in the hedgerow. We go exploring and discover a tree-lined trail that follows a brook, before twisting and flicking out into sun-drenched greenery.
I’ve been trying to recall all the stuff I’ve been told about riding on trails. Head up, knees slightly bent, lean forward a touch, elbows out a bit, ride ruts to keep wheels pointing the right way… or something. Truth is, on the sort of gravel tracks we’ve been riding today you can feel what’s right and what’s not; and when dealing with terrain that’s tougher (for us), we’ve just taken our time and trusted that the bikes can do it. Which of course they can. The Transalp’s potential is far greater than British trails, and the Scrambler’s confirmed our belief that you can enjoy this sort of day out regardless of the bike.
And enjoy it we have. Langy says he’s not convinced; the big smile on his daft face and his ever-increasing confidence say otherwise. We’ve barely done any miles, not strayed out one county, yet learned loads about our bikes and our riding. Best of all, the deserted byways, new views and escapism have been invigorating. Go on, do it.
‘The deserted byways, views and escapism have been invigorating’