A long, long time ago, in a car park far, far away, a wise scribe summoned a gathering.  The meeting formed a council of 6 minds.  United in their quest, the gallant heroes prepared for a journey.  Unbeknown to the 6, the coming events would shape a ride of unprecedented proportions, the riders became brothers.  The brotherhood of the Black riders.  
This is their story…..

The day arrived like any other, ½ on time, ½ assuming that as time was relevant to the observer, they could turn up whenever they wanted and the others would wait.
Just as time could wait no more, it was whispered that Rossi was in striking distance of the car park, the 6 became 7 and the journey began.

Battling through the masses to the start of the Black, was the usual struggle of warming cold limbs and excitable chit chat.  The 1st Black single track through the woods saw a bottleneck of weekend warriors, the offal of which was soon to be a distant memory.

Here we tell Donald’s story, Part I
1st Descent, 1st 100 yds, 1st puncture.
1st Descent, last 100 yds, 2nd puncture.
The only redeeming consequence of 8307’s flats, was the ride between the two inconveniences, where he managed to ‘fall in’ behind a 5’4” 8 ½ stone blonde with thin nylon gym shorts and no distinguishable VPL.

Here lies the first serious climb of the day and granny rings were selected one by one until all were prepared for the onslaught of gravity versus muscle and sinew.   Not so prepared were the three novice riders we reeled in due to their leaders loose crank arm.  The mechanical was remedied by ACJ and with the promises of ‘free beer for you tonight mate,’ becoming only a distant whisper, once more into the breech we fled.  The three were seen again toiling up an impassable ridge with bikes by their side, and once again by Rossi who cured their reoccurring mechanical by exploiting the rules of mechanical forces in such as fashion, as to have Newton himself perplexed.

Onward and upward the ascent, until after what seemed like an age, the forest parted and the warming glow of the 1st refuge fell upon our weary eyes..  Within the walls of the safe house it was time to refuel.  The Ying of carb drinks, fruit and go bars, was countered by the Yang of SK’s Scotch egg and meat pie.  The speed at which he devoured the reformed meat products did not subside even when Dunks removed his signature bandanna in order to ring out the morning’s accumulated perspiration.

Time to go, partly due to W’s increasingly disturbing fascination with an innocents new cycling shoes and the mud they had attracted en route.  Outside, saddling up, the 5’4” Blonde tortoise meandered past us hares and into the distance, closely followed by 14 dilated pupils.  The fleeting image of nylon gym shorts and Rapunzelean golden hair was utterly shattered by someones pertinent yet wholly unwelcome observation that, ‘she has the ar5e of a 10 year old boy’.

Next was Britney Spears descent, ACJ informed us that he was looking forward to going down on Britney hard and fast, it was pointed out that he had never before expressed such an interest until she had shaved her head and looked like a boy.
For a while the downs and ups saw little event, save the good will and encouragement offered between the riders, metres became kilometres and the trail distanced itself from our rear wheels, we took only photographs and left only skidmarks.

The top of Deliverance saw a futile attempt to cut the quest short and unravel some secrets, but we came to slay the Black, and the Black run we shall conquer.
Squealing like Piggies, deliverance was mastered by all and by the top of redemption, a well deserved break ensued.
Now was the time for the final encounter with our loose cranked acquaintances, rejoicing in our triumph over redemption, we sat and feasted, only to be greeted, coming UP from Ewok village, by our beginner friends.  Their No2 leaned upon the waymarker and requested our council.  ‘What’s the quickest way to the hub’?  Our bemusement of their map reading skills and of how they managed to get to where they were, soon subsided and we pointed them down the mountainside.  No2 pushed himself off the ‘escape to the hub’ waymarker and resumed his quest.

The final push was briefly arrested by the mysterious disappearance of a single gauntlet.  The ancient cry of ‘give it back you pack of gays’ unravelled the spell and the glove fell from the heavens.
For most, the Ewok village was gracefully bypassed, in part due to the maddening crowds that lined the trails and their intent to feast upon our failure.

One last section of Black now before the paths re-converge into Blue and Red.  
Now we tell Donald’s story Part II.
Last Black descent, last 10 yds, 1st Fall.
Last Black descent, last yard, 2nd Fall.
Unfortunately for 8307, the second fall was a bit of a stinger, and the bleeding fingertips spoke for themselves, even worse, no blonde to follow post fall.

Dust brushed off and pride regained we set off to finish what we started so long ago, plain sailing from here on.  The wormhole was either smited or left for another day, the final uphill led to the final downhill, all over now.
ACJ 1st, speeding ahead, when a strategically placed rock that could not be avoided assured the last wash of the day.  Metres from the end, the intensely adult wipeout brought nausea and concern of concussion.  Assuring the Big Giant Head was unstruck, the one legged peddler finished the quest and even raised a grin when he overtook a novice in the final few metres.

The Hub was indeed the Holy Grail of the day and once finally conquered, the 7 rejoiced in caffeine and carbs.  As the warmth of the day subsided all that remained was the Regaling in tails of joy and despair.  The cheese maiden that greeted us at the grail, listened intently as the tales fell into legend.  
And so ended the tail of the Brotherhood of the Black