Spoke 2: Ultraviolet Summer (JM)

Featuring 10,000km Arriba’s second guest writer, Jack McKeever

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Sep 11, 2023

Somewhere in deep northeast Somerset, between the towns of Radstock and Frome, lies an abandoned railway line. A relic of the region’s coal mining past, it’s consumed by rust, baked by the sun, and a languid metaphor for southwest England’s barrenness.

A glimpse into a thriving economic panacea this isn’t… But it does make for one of the most pastoral sections of the country’s National Cycle Route 24. A dashed but relatively smooth sandstone path runs parallel to the cracked and barbed train line which occasionally offers a haunting lone carriage or a plaque dedicated to the workers who once tore up this serene valley with iron and smoke. This glimpse of hard toil has been replaced by thick green canopies and secretive glades, and it’s here that I found myself one day sometime in mid-summer, 2021.

I am at best a casual, social cyclist. I rarely go out on my own or use my bike to commute. If I’m riding then I’m going *hard*; taking six hours to do the nine miles from my house in Bristol to the coast, or huffing my way up Gloucester Road, a pint or two deep and scowling because Arsenal Football Club have rejuvenated their heartfelt desire to bottle the league title.

But it’s important to remember that transcendence is, ultimately, a personal and often solitary thing. To be honest, it’s probably pure happenstance that I achieved it while cycling that day. But I do know that I haven’t felt euphoria to the same degree since, and that the feeling of being on two wheels played a vital role.

A few months prior to the cycle, legendary UK house, techno and more recently jungle standard bearer Paul Woolford released his contribution to the DJ-Kicks mix series. Working under his Special Request moniker, the 75-minute session sees him glide from milky, swooning, chill-out house to deeply resonant techno, IDM, club tweakers and rambunctious breaks, all guided by philosophical searching and earthy spirituality.

It might seem odd that something designed for urban abandon could fit an isolated countryside ride, but the mix itself is one of contrasts. There are field recordings of lapping waves conjoining with ethereal communiques from NASA employees, and Woolford flits between beauty and hardness with composite ease. As I trundled along for the first half an hour or so, it was impossible not to feel that actually, the mix’s soothing first chapter gave the landscape a new lease of life; a life that was somehow both uniquely present and historic.

I remember exactly where I was as the real endorphin high hit though, just after the 32^nd minute and having emerged from between a hulking archway. Revving up Speedy J’s classic ‘De-Orbit’ to double speed might not sound like a masterstroke, but in Woolford’s hands it pinpointed the moment where I stopped cycling and started floating. During the 15 or so minutes of pure melodic bliss that follow, 11 miles per hour felt like 80.

It was such an unexpected moment, but one that felt genuinely perfect; gripping, idiosyncratic and escapist yet human, warm and lucid. I didn’t feel like I was on the bike anymore. Instead, I was looking down at myself while being totally overwhelmed by my immediate panorama. It sounds so obvious that it could turn the pope Protestant, but it’s now that I start realising how green the leaves are, how bright the sun is and how recharging it can be to step outside your own life. In that moment, the only thing that felt real was the ride and where it could take me. And I was there to experience it; only me.

I’m not sure what I’ve learned from this experience. I don’t know if it has taught me anything that I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life, but it doesn’t need to. All that really matters is that it happened and that I can’t forget it. Far-be-it from me to dream of influencing anyone, but some nice records and an open mind can take you a long way on two wheels.

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Jack is a writer working in the sustainability industry based in Bristol.

His favourite ever trip was from Bristol to Clevedon via Portishead; an exploded chain, a 3-mile walk, a random bike repair man’s garage and a cider and scotch egg snack.

His dream trip is riding the Black Forest mountain range, then travelling through Bavaria en route to Prague.

He likes to muse on literature and music and has had work published in The Quietus, The Publishing Post, Glasgow-based literary journal Thi Wurd and others.

He has his own Substack where, fittingly for this newsletter, he most recently reviewd the works of Peruvian and Argentinian authors.

A Story of Murder and Denial in Colombia by Maria McFarland Sánchez-Moreno
The Dangers of Smoking in Bed by Mariana Enriquez

You can follow him by adding your address to the box below.

If you’d like to guest write on 10,000km Arriba, you’d be most welcome.

You can write about any bike based experience, whether a short or long trip, a chronic cycling addiction, or simply a moment on two wheels that you deeply cherish.

Let me know in the comments.