The virtues of wearing a helmet

Enjoyed the pleasures of a trip to Dalbeattie forest, near Dumfries, over the weekend and took wee Sam and Jodie round some of the highlights of the red /blue 'taster' mountain bike routes. Being part of the 7 Stanes, the forest offers some excellent biking and I decided to test whether it was indeed for 'all abilities'.

Mashed helmet

And I'm pleased to report that it was. Sam had a great time on the run back in to the car park, blasting along on his little single speed Giant Animator round switchbacks, over lumps and bumps, going with the gentle gradient. But I saw an odd thing. Something I rarely see these days. A couple riding the trails without helmets.

Move on a couple of days to last night, and to the club night weekly Wednesday evening ride. Fantastic. Making the best use of the ever decreasing evening light, we opted for one last go at the Devil's Staircase. Its a real classic, rising from the head of Glencoe over and down to Kinlochleven. Catch it in the late evening and you can concentrate on the riding and not have to worry about dodging the West Highland Way walkers.

All was going so well. A little bit of testoserone and adrenalin mixed up with some of the best natural biking going. And so to the last obstacle. One I've ridden dozens of times. Descending a greasy convex slab I knew I'd cracked it when I hit the deep rut in the peat that marks the exit line. And then wumppphhh... My world flew by like a camera mounted in a crashing rally car.Sky, rock, dirt, sky... nothing.

I'd clipped a boulder, which in turn fell down into the rut jamming solid. My front wheel came to a resounding sudden stop and I cart wheeled into a flying head butt of the Devil's Staircase's finest rocks.

There was some seeing of stars, spitting of blood, and moments of disbelief, but we all eventually got home and its now just another notch on the bike frame, counting the crashes that really hurt. But on closer inspection of my helmet, it really did what it was supposed to do. A golf ball sized stone was lodged between the vents, collapsing the polystyrene which is also cracked around the rim. If I hadn't been wearing it then I think that today's West Highland Wayers would have been treated to brain soup up at the Pen Stock.

So, the moral of this tale; Don't even think of riding without a helmet.

And does anyone know a good plastic surgeon who can sort my nose out?