Bill Donnelly - Trail vs. Subway MTB techniques ... a comparitive study

04.02.2010

The subway does require fat tires due to “lumpy rough terrain”, but has no tight turns, and fewer logs to hop. However, there is the famous “third rail” which I understand is bad for bikers. Lowers one’s immune system or some such thing. Here’s the big thing that separates the trail from the tunnel: you always (at least almost always) need your headlight, day or night! Keep yourself charged.

Another big diff is falling styles. On the trail the most beautiful is the “head over heels over handlebars over head over heels” style. The view from the outside is spectacular, of course, but as the crasher, one feels as if one is orbiting the Earth (when in fact, it is we, the crashers, who are the Earth and space is a tad less infinite.) One style that I like to employ involves free flight in more of a prone -- we’ll call it “superman” -- position. Recently my nephew, Will, gave me a glorious vision of his supine flight while on foot (or “off foot” really) during the “Piglet” O-Meet which he did with my partner Katy while I did the “Billy Pig.” Will was quite thrilled with his instant SUPINE hover flight over snow and ice. Although more difficult to arrange on a bike, this style offers the feeling and the view of Heaven. The prone position offers a rather earthy view suggesting doom more than salvation but does give one some visual information on landing options.

The two styles mentioned above (namely where the bike stops and you, the rider, continue) are less likely in a subway because most of the physical encumbrances run parallel to your path, unless you are doing drills, crossing the tunnel bumpity bump bump. Excellent for reflexes, balance, rhythm, and testing the integrity of rubber clothing (third rail). One style that is unique to Subway Two Wheel Travel is the “cartwheel.” Since the situation is generally linear and/or parallel, the fall needs to follow the philosophy.

Let’s say you’re pedalling along in your favourite tunnel. Your batteries are getting low. You happen to scrape the side wall with your handlebar end, you begin to lose control and “guess what” is suddenly coming around the bend. Remember one thing. This is not “Mission Impossible.” Your abilities are limited but not severely. Thus, the “cartwheel” (read flat fall) is born with all the love and prudence you can muster. Your wheels may or may not suffer, but a good clean series of cartwheels keeps you safe and provides fabulous imaginings for those on the multi-wheeled train, particularly if you are wearing a head lamp. I try to scrape my cleats along the wall as I wheel along; creating sparks to increase the value of the show and the notoriety of the sport of Tunnel Wheeling.

On the trail, a cartwheel is never wrong but a tad less predictable. One time at night I had forgotten that I was not in a tunnel. My synapses fired into “cartwheel” and poof, I was rolling into the world’s most virulent collection of briars in the eastern half of the U.S. (The West has those spurious cacti.) The barbed wire effect was quite overwhelming and I had to wait, since I was still in wheel formation with my head pointing down in a rather steep Sisterly direction, one might say 82º out of horizontal (172º out of vertical, 352º out of in vertical) till the next day when a group of riders came through, understood the explanation, the situation and returned with the Jaws of Life for my extrication. We giggled as we viewed the photos of my Great Mandala pose, although the spokes and hub of this particular Wheel of Life (namely me) were still bleeding.