Back Issue | “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night”
“Do not go gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light” Dylan Thomas.
Winter is here, a time for reflection, warm clothes, deep conversation and logs on the fire. Winter is time to hang up the bikes; watch movies and talk of the summer to come, and the summer gone by. NO WAY!… Those days are gone, we have the power of light and winter is no longer the shit season, we can still shred the night!
As we pedal through the halogen lit streets, we are not commuters, we are kings of the dark and the woods are our playground. Friends join the parade, excited voices hiding behind beacons of powerful LED light. The soft hum of tarmac is replaced with the crunch of gravel as we rise through Larch and Pine. The crisp frost crunching under tyres as we hide behind jackets waiting for the heat of the climb.
Breathing hard we crest the fireroad and continue upwards on dirt, tyres clawing for grip in the damp loam. In the forest all is silent and dark, mysterious eyes follow our progress safe beyond our world of light. Fallen Pine needles dampen sounds like a blanket; soft and loose under our toil.
The peak is finally reached and we regroup, breath condenses into the crisp air and hangs suspended in the blaze. Straps are tightened, seats dropped and lights powered up. LET’S HAVE IT! In procession we plummet into the dark!With senses heightened we punch downhill, each a charging ball of light. The speed is electric, the trail surging past like billowing ribbon; trees snap out of the dark and pass in an instant. Hoots of joy and relief pierce the silence, risks taken, berms held and blind jumps made.
We pass under hushed nocturnal hunters in an explosion of light and motion, and then once again all is quiet, the hot smell of burnt brake pads hangs in the air. Absorbed in personal halos, our eyes and mind are focussed on nothing but the mystery beyond the next corner. Fragments of trail are illuminated from those in the lead, tyres rip at the ground and beams cut through the still darkness but leave no scar. This is night riding and it is freaking awesome!
The ride is over, revelry is rich and high fives exchanged as one by one lights peel off back into night. Pedalling back past warm, glowing windows, TV’s blare into blank faces hibernating and cut off from our world; we feel proud to have stolen some fun from the dark! UP YOURS WINTER! Get out there and rage, rage against the dying of the light!
Words: Trevor Worsey Photos: Full Beam / Steve Wyper
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