Mountain Biking is like learning to ride a bike (again!)

Over a pint recently, a friend of mine suggested that we organise a weekend activity as an excuse for a  boys re-union ( for boys read 40 something year olds). We hit upon Mountain Biking the ideal thing, as it is just a half hour drive away from Dublin, is pretty cheap, looks like fun, and none of us had ever tried it before.

We rang up our buddies at Biking.ie and booked a half day mountain bike hire for Ballinastoe in Co. Wicklow for the following Saturday afternoon. After a leisurely drive and a coffee in the nearby village, we collected our bikes from the Biking.ie hut at start/end point of the Ballinstaoe Mountain Bike trail. Follwing an in-depth 30-second lesson on the very impressive-looking bikes, off we went on our maiden voyage.


Having no clue what to expect, the start bit was all up hill on a fairly wide forest road, which I thought was nice and pleasant but not exactly hard core, even for a bunch of middle aged farts like us. Soon, however, I was to discoverer what mountain biking is really about - the off-road downhill tracks! And that is the real thrill of mountain biking - and especially the excellent Ballinsatoe circuit - these steep narrow downhill sections that pass over rocks, boulders, and bridges and through streams, forests and tree trunks. They make downhill ski runs seem like playground slides!


The thrill of bombing down these tracks is just fantastic. The suspension on the bikes is so good that to overcome any obstacle on the path, you basically just point the front wheel at it, accelerate, and hit the obstacle full on, letting your momentum carry you up and over as you hang on for dear life.


The Ballinastoe mountain bilking trail is 14km long and in places is truly spectacular, with fantastic views out over Wicklow to the sea.


After 2.5 hours or so, (we took a few wrong turns), we had completed the circuit and arrived back at the trail head, mud-splattered, exhausted, but genuinely thrilled by the experience. As we sat in Smyths on Haddington Road later that evening, re-living our death defying exploits to rival of Evel Knievel, we were  too tired to be boisterous, but had that nice warm glow and quiet sense of satisfaction, and all talk was about our next mountain biking trip. We were hooked.





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