Sifter Goes (Bike) Riding

Trying not to get lost!

2012-02-09T21:11:00.001+13:00

I don't much believe in karma, but I do wonder if I somehow put a hex on myself with my MTB-Ohhhh post back in May last year!

The first round of the series started up at the Brooklyn Wind Turbine, and I had a scorcher, on the bike at least. Trouble was, I rode down and back up a disallowed route, and then inadvertently missed a control on the way down to the finish. DQ x 2. It wasn't much consolation that I was in good company, Simon and Tom Bradshaw also taking the naughty Karepa St route, with the win going to first-timer, and Roadworks star rider, Tim "T-Rex" Wilding.

Simon and I were planners of round 2, so couldn't ride. Nonetheless, I enjoyed putting all the controls out by bike. It took me about 3 hours to do the whole thing, so wasn't surprised when a couple of riders cleaned the course in two hours. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and I rued placement of one control which sucked people of a nice bit of riding, quite contrary to what we usually regard as good practice. Nonetheless, it was great to have an awesome turnout, and great feedback.

I made a trip up to Rotorua at the end of July with one of MTBO's stalwarts, Mike Wood, for a weekend of racing. I totally sucked in the first race, despite having great legs, I couldn't quite organise myself to be pointing in the right direction. I also rode half the race with my rear QR undone, and only diagnosed the strange clunking 3 minutes from the end. I enjoyed the afternoon's three sprint events (all won in 6-7 minutes) though suffered a bit from not being on my home turf (and poor map skills)! The "long" event was a bit more up my alley on Sunday morning, and I fared much better. It was a fun weekend, but frustrating, as MTBO can be when things don't go well!

Round 3 of the Wellington series was at St Pats forest. We were nervous about the weather out on course, and true to forecasts, the big snow arrived that evening! I'd ridden well enough for the win, but my bike was totally trashed, and I was a bit down about the whole thing. Simon hadn't ridden at St Pats, and nor did he at the final round at Queen Elizabeth Park. I had a good day though on a course that suited me. I'd ridden well but spent too much time stationary, staring at the map, to beat Dave King, one of Wellington's most experienced orienteers. In this sport, it doesn't take much for brain to beat brawn.

Despite flunking out in race 1, I got a win as organiser in round 2, as well as wins in rounds 3 and 4 to take the series with maximum points. But, I'd missed duking it out with my best mate, and didn't feel much like celebrating.

By the time the second Great Forest Rogaine rolled around in November, I was riding probably as strongly as I ever have been, while Simon had had less than ideal preparation for a six hour event. Consequently, we were much too conservative at the planning phase, and by the time the run to the finish began, we grabbed all the points we could, but finished 30 minutes early, sacrilege in these events. We'd deviated from our usually successful strategy - agreeing on an ambitious route, and then scrambling at the end to cut controls out to make the deadline back at base. We deserved to get smashed that day, and we were!

Simon headed down to an MTBO carnival in Otago, but had been disappointed with his performances down there. Like my experience in Rotorua, he'd struggled with the short races, and it hadn't stirred his enthusiasm like the longer team events do.

We were disappointed to learn there would be no Akatarawa Attack in 2012 - it had been a major feature of Karapoti prep for us over the last five years. But, all was not lost. Instead of an eight hour event in the Akatarawa's, as part of the 21st anniversary of the first rogaine in New Zealand, OHV were putting on a series of five events which included two MTB options: a six hour race in the Akatarawas, starting at Battle Hill, on the Sunday, and a three hour race at Belmont on Waitangi Day Monday. Game on!

Saturday

As Simon is wont to do, by late January his legs were really starting to fire, and we drove out to Battle Hill together looking forward to a good hard day's riding. We were going to be ambitious. YFY!

By the time we were given the maps, we were well organised, and so got down to sorting out a plan. With six hours to play with, and only two possible climbs away from the start (not counting a terrible option up a fenceline), the seeds of a good plan came easily. We'd head east through the centre of the map, then curl around for a loop in the south, before resuming our eastward march. After a descent in the east, we'd climb and begin our return loop at the top of the map, before descending to the finish with a huge tally of points! Simple! We had time to transcribe the control order onto our answer card, and were ready to roll with a bit of time to spare.

Our flight plan!

At the stroke of 11 (by virtue of synching my watch with the race clock), we were off. We had a short run to our bikes, and after carefully making our way through the runners who hadn't had to stop to pick up their bikes, it was time to put the hammer down.

We had a kilometre or so of fast travel before hitting a gate at the bottom of the first climb. Looking back from the gate, we could see no-one. A good sign we hoped.

We communicated well on the run to the first control, checking off intersections as we passed them. Both bikes and riders seemed to be running smoothly. We made a turnoff towards 72, ditching the bikes at a fallen pine across the track. Simon took point, and we were soon recording the first ribbon code. We passed half a dozen teams on our way back to the bikes, including at least one who'd somehow got their bikes over or under the pine! Crazy stuff!

An unusual feature of this event was the right to leave our bikes, and we took full advantage of it at the next control, 64. This was on a spur below a prominent kink in the road. We met a guy running on his own, and another pair of runners, but didn't see any of the riders before jumping back on our steeds and continuing our climb.

The next control, 51, was in a gully with a steep route up to it through long grass. We didn't much like the look of that, and continued up the road a bit before grovelling up a short piece of singletrack. The runners we'd seen at the previous control had taken the direct route, but hadn't quite managed to overhaul us despite admitting they'd tried. We'd left our bikes at the intersection with our next bit of track, and were soon heading up it. So far, so good, and no sign of any bikers.

The next control, 30, was at a highpoint, and we opted to push our bikes cross-country through longish grass. We returned the way we'd gone up, and then took a series of intersections to the top of the singletrack through to control 53. Simon was on point, and riding sensibly conservatively. Unfamiliar trail at the start of a six hour event is not the wisest time to cut loose.

As with previous controls, this one was marked with pink tape, on which was a word or two which we needed to write on our scorecard. This sort of control seriously reduces the burden on the organisers who'd otherwise have to put out and collect the usual flags and clippers in a short space of time. Who knows how long this ribbon had been there, but we were both delighted to see the code words on it! I suppose someone hoped we'd see it!

The singletrack below the control got stupidly steep, and we were both reduced to "walking" for a bit, or more accurately, clambering. It took us a few moments to orient ourselves at the bottom, but the quality of the mapping was such that we soon diagnosed which direction to head off in.

Once on the 4WD track, it was a simple matter to get close to 74. Simon had the question sheet indicating what we'd be looking for (in this case a stump with a word written on it at a stream junction). When he read this out, I had the control within a few seconds, and laughed, explaining that he'd probably walked within a metre or two of it seconds earlier.

The map showed the next bit of track crossing a few contours, so we knew it would be steep. Steep, but mercifully short, though quickly followed by a bit more climbing. The short bit of 4WD track we were on ended at a clearing, and we slowed as we rode into it, scanning for our exit. Just as we started running out of room to find it, it revealed itself, and once again we were pushing our bikes up steep singletrack. I was very glad I'd dusted off a pair of shoes with studs in the front (last used at a cyclocross race back in August!) so while momentum was hard won, at least I had good traction!

We followed our noses through 34 to a fence junction, and were soon mounting our bikes on the 4WD track just beyond. The next control invited silliness - the green line on the map showing "an allowable route" which someone had been along with a bike. Rarely a good choice, we instead took the next two right turns, and were soon fighting for rear wheel engagement on a hard and damp clay climb. We met a few teams and hardly impressed them with our riding prowess. We stopped a little early, but we soon had another 40 points in our growing collection.

It was back the way we'd come for 30 seconds or so, before blasting south east on a fast 4WD road. The runners definitely have an advantage close into the controls, but we make damn good time in between! The next control was at a barn, and soon Simon had counted the rungs on the ladder leaning against it, and we were off towards 102.

We had a simple run in to our first 100-pointer, and while we had a short climb back away from it, the points tally really just reflected its remoteness. We continued east, taking the next left, and the one after, before meeting a team of three young runners adjacent to 73. They looked a bit nervous about where they were relative to the control, not realising it was a mere 20 metres away. We were back on our bikes in short order, and didn't see those guys again. We had no idea where they'd come from, nor where they were going!

Despite Simon warning me he'd refolded his map in and couldn't see the entire route to 91, I didn't realise the importance of a small dead-end bit of track a kilometre away. It didn't take us long to find our way to the end of it, nor to decide we needed to turn back. In similar circumstances to the dead-end Marjolein and I had found ourselves at just before Christmas, neither Simon nor I had seen the turn-off we should have taken, but we knew it couldn't be far away (and it wasn't, thankfully!).

Things got pretty miserable for a while, with a steep descent into a stream, then a grovel out of it, before dropping down again into a valley with "Very steep" written of it. We were here because of the 120 points, via controls 91 and 31, but also because of the great loop it facilitated. While it might have been slow going, and not the best points per hour ratio, it had given us access to great points before and after it, so was a good investment.

I'd seen the exit track following a stream, and despite the valley being steep, I hadn't imagined it to be the series of small waterfalls it was. At the sight of the fall-line track and the job a pair on foot we having climbing down it, we took the slightly longer and less steep track to the right. It was still goddamn steep, but we made purposeful progress.

Still reeling from the climb, I stopped at an intersection where Simon had been waiting for 15 seconds or so. He moved off, and I stopped to look at the map - I asked about the track on the left (which I'd not noticed on the map). Simon rightfully reminded me he'd had a chance to check it all out while he was waiting for me, and hinted I should just follow him! Quite!

We passed through 65, and then began a series of descents into controls off the main ridge. First 81, and then 63. We were navigating well, and working well as a team. At 63, I would have gone blasting off down the wrong spur, but 30 seconds later I was calling Simon back to the control he'd missed on his way down the correct spur. We congratulated ourselves for not fucking it up, and began our ride to 76, at the end of a track that looked remarkably like a penis (circumsized, and with a weepy STD of some sort). It was good points though!

The 4WD down towards 75 got very rough very fast, and Simon was just starting to say we should ditch the bikes when I hit something with my front wheel and hit the ground! Ironically, the track just beyond was in much better condition, but running wasn't much slower. We had soon grabbed control 90 as well, and began our descent off the end of the ridge.

We'd made pretty good time, but we still had a lot of riding to do, and we started to get a bit nervous about it as the climb through 61 and 55 revealed itself to be hard work. Simon was easily riding away from me on the climb, and we were separated by about 100m when we met Rob Garden and Marquita Gelderman on their way down. Both teams were a long way from the finish, but obviously both collecting big points out on the extreme of the map!

We ditched our bikes just above 100, and scrambled down a chute off the road edge. 50m down the track, I stopped at an intersection. I could hear Simon bashing around to my left on what looked to be a wide bench, but I could see a track to my right. One of them wasn't shown on the map, and my instinct was that it was the one Simon was on. The clue called for us to find a ribbon on a kiekie, but I wouldn't know one of those if one of its sticks had just poked me in the eye, so I didn't stand much chance of working out if I was right about the track before insisting Simon trust me! I did insist though, and Simon soon found the tree, and the control.

The singletrack to 70 was tricky to find - it was indistinct and on a fast descent. But, we knew we needed to find it, and didn't need to use the sweeping right bend to tell us we'd gone too far. The singletrack itself barely deserved its name. Unfortunately, it was particularly overgrown on the steepest parts of the track, and it took us some time to get ourselves and our bikes through. At one point, Simon ditched his bike, and dragged it through the bush once he'd got his footing up above. We burnt a lot of time and energy, but it was probably just as well.

It was a little confusing getting to the singletrack through to 56, but we didn't lose time and were soon looking along a track about 20cm wide, disappearing into thick native bush. We had 1 hour 15 left on the clock. If we stuck to our plan, we had over three kilometres of singletrack of questionable quality to ride. We thought we might be able to get the sequence 56-62-71-20-43-10 on the way back to the finish, with 101 and 42 totally out of the question. It wasn't looking great and we assessed our alternatives.

There was one: a plummet into the valley we'd less than an hour ago grovelled out of, before a steep climb back to the main ridge we'd already grabbed all the controls on. We had some controls between us and home though: 50-60-45 and 11, which we incorrectly tallied to 210. We felt sure we could get home on time, and with the arithmetic blunder it looked very favourable to the much more risky route through 250 points. It's probably just as well we fucked the maths, because the maths would have fucked us had we stuck to our original plan. We swung the bikes to the left, and released the brakes and were soon on a sphincter clenching ride to the valley floor.

We made the bottom safely, with an extra 50 points, already cognisant of the revision to the total. Nothing we could do about that though!

As is so often the case in these events, I admired Simon's prowess on the steep, loose climbs as he rode ahead of me with no apparent effort. I did my best to walk as quickly as I could after him, and was soon able to join him atop a bicycle as the climb mellowed near the top.

Back on the main ridge, we rode past the penis, then the turnoff to 63, then 81, then 30, before finally being in hitherto untapped territory en route to 45. We took the first left to hook back towards 11, and enjoyed the bumpy but fun ride down through to the gate we'd gone through about 5 minutes into the event.

We had enough time to pop up to 22, though had I been on my own, I would have left it tucked away behind a patch of ongaonga. Simon had the sense to approach it from another direction, and we were soon blasting back towards the finish.

We though we had time for control 12, but we couldn't afford a screw up. We promptly missed the turn off to it, and with no time to correct our mistake, we made a dash for the finish line, clocking in with 30 seconds to spare.

Before too long I'd tallied our points, and we enjoyed chatting about our ride and route with other teams. Megan was on her way back to Palmy after doing the PNP Club Champs at Wainui, and it was cool to see her briefly, before heading for home.

We were upbeat on our drive home, by virtue of our not insubstantial winning margin. We'd netted 1600 points, 330 points clear of the next-best mountainbike team, and 230 ahead of the best runners. It was a great result for us, indicating sharp route choice, almost complete absence of mistakes on course, and good, hard riding.

I'd started off with a hiss and a roar, feeling quite at home on my Flux, but once Simon got warmed up, I'd begun to slow him down. He admitted on the drive home that he'd had a fantastic day, so it stood to reason that I'd suffered like a dog! It felt like the natural order had been restored, and I only hoped it hadn't been frustrating for him. I suppose its inevitable that one of us would be stronger on the bike, like I'd been in Vegas, and he clearly was here. But, such is the multi-dimensional nature of the sport, even a slower team mate can still make critical contributions through the duration of the event. We'd worked well as a team, and I think both really enjoyed getting out for a good hard ride together.

When I got home, I cleaned my bike, then myself, before getting organised for the next day's imminent race.

Sunday

One very appealing aspect of this weekend was the back-to-back nature, with less than two months to go until the Cape Epic (with eight days of racing straight). While Saturday's race had been 6 hours apiece for foot and MTB teams, Sunday's race had 4 hours on course for runners, and 3 for us.

We rocked up to registration, we found the following sign. Not confidence inspiring, but we weren't here to run, not that we'd have any chance of running to a win!

All teams got the maps at the same time, even though our start was 30 minutes after the runners'. Our route was the subject of much debate, as we pondered the relative merits of the controls in the north-west, east and south, and a few in between. At the last minute, we re-sequenced things so we wouldn't be rushing home with no easy shortcuts on the main southern loop. We'd start in the north-west, and leave the hilly eastern part of the map until the end, if we had time.

Day 2 flight plan

Again, we had a fast start, and looking back along the road a minute into the race, we wondered where everyone had got to. They all seemed to be heading in our direction at the start line. We were soon ditching our bikes on the road 50m below control 20, and scrambling up the grass to it. That done, we hurtled down to control 40, much to the bemusement of a scout group.

They gave us a good holler on our climb back out of 40, some of the kids running alongside us. We soon threw our bikes over a fence, and crossed over the saddle connecting us to the 4WD road headed for 50.

Sunday had been the main event for us, and while we were still in race mode, we were both a little more relaxed about today's ride. As a consequence, when the view out towards Pauatahanui Inlet opened up in front of us, I couldn't help stopping to get my camera out!

We counted the nuts holding the pylon down (8 x 2 x 2 - 1) and then were in search of 70. The off-track travel was working well for us, but we were helped by the different style Mike Wood had used for this event - the controls were generally on things we could see from a way off.

The descent from 70 was steep, and we were seeing runners coming towards us. We stopped to orient ourselves (the point of the game, I suppose) before starting the mellower sidle down into the valley housing control 80.

I'd been using the pylon control 51 was on as a landmark, and so when we reached the turnoff to it, I asked Simon why he was heading the wrong way. "For 80 points?" he retorted. I wasn't lost, just going the wrong way! We'd ridden past a control on the Skyline on a practice ride a few years ago, but were yet to do so in a team rogaine, thank goodness! Not by accident anyway. We both still regret missing 150 points in the dark at the first Great Forest Rogaine...

With Simon's care, we were soon collecting 80 points, and another pretty scene with a waterfall just beyond the control...

The ride back down the valley was fun, and the climb out past the pylon harbouring 51 and up to 12 was much more manageable than the previous day's climbs had been. I felt a bit bad about taking a short cut avoiding a descent to a gate and not pointing it out to Simon, but had collected a mild jolt on my inner thigh from the electric fence I'd straddled as some sort of karmic payback.

We saw Rachel and Sherlock out stolling while husband and father Liam was out collecting points with our friend Barryn. Soon after we'd left them to their walk, we'd netted control 11, and were then parked up surveying the steep spur out towards where we suspected 71 to be.

We'd been pretty good at never leaving the bikes without a map the day before, but did so en route to 71. Luckily, I'd had a good look at the map, so remembered the layout of the map while we tried to reconcile what we could see with what the map back up the hill on the bike said.

Fortune smiled on us, and we were soon at the fence junction we wanted, and some minutes after that, back with our bikes. We'd left them at a good spot, and rode back to the main track.

Control 54 was easy to find, and before long we were making our turn down the ridge towards 91 and 63. I got a bit confused, having assumed that 63 was at Belmont Trig, and while I knew we weren't heading there, I was certain we'd taken the correct route, and besides Simon seemed to know where he was going.

We ditched the bikes at an opportune spot on the descent to 91 and continued on foot. I brushed some ongaonga on my way to it, only seeing a much nicer approach (and taking it) on my way out of the stream bed. The climb was steep and slow back to the bikes, but we knew it would be, it said so on the map!

There were 2 padlocks on the box at control 63, and a few minutes later we were at 35, and a minute after that we were blasting along Stratton Street. We opted to take the longer, faster route on the road around to 64. We'd decided to approach it from above, but as we ground up the road, one or other of us raised going through the singletrack, and the decision was amended.

There was no sign of the ribbon in the gorse at 64, but we were certain we were in the right place, so moved on after a few minutes' scouring around.

It was a bit of a mission getting back up onto the road, but we made it! Then along the Old Coach Road, before Simon's sharp navigation had us with 22 in our figurative purse. We had only 25 minutes left at this point, and so we quickly assessed our options. 72-33-32-10 seemed out of the question, leaving perhaps 100 points to get home (70 and one of the 30s). 62-32-10 gave the same points, and seemed to involve less effort, so we decided to do that.

We quickly got to 62, but undershot 32 after a lumpy off-track descent down towards Hill Road. Our excursion upstream of the control ate through valuable time, and we had no room to hunt for 10 on our way past. We made the finish line with 20 seconds to spare, which is pretty much perfect in this gig!

It turned out we'd done well again, though not as dramatically so as the day before. We were the top MTBers, though only 40 points clear of Rob and Marquita. They'd replaced our southern loop with one in the east, for a very similar tally. The best foot team was 90 points ahead of us though, capitalising on the benefit of an extra hour.

After enjoying a bit of BBQ, we headed inside to thank Mike, apologising for leaving early, but saying we were both keen to go home to see our daughters. He gave us a beaming smile, indicating he totally understood!

Again, a good team effort, and a hell of a lot of fun to boot! I think it was just what we needed riding-wise, two hard days in the saddle, and a great way to rekindle our enjoyment of orienteering. We haven't had much of a chance to hang out together lately, let alone ride, so it was also a convenient (if slightly arduous) way to get some quality time in. It can be a damn frustrating sport sometimes (or often even), though that can be mitigated by doing it with someone who you trust and who trusts you. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger and all that, and these events have been a huge part of the strength of our friendship.

A week out, Monday's ride was looking shaky as Simon had to get down to Blenheim to start the second Kiwi Brevet field on their amazing ride in the top of the south. I'm very glad the moons aligned - it would have been a shame to miss another fantastic ride with my best mate.

Epic prep in the St James

2012-02-01T16:16:00.002+13:00

The Cape Epic is looming, and in seven weeks time I'll be in South Africa, and in eight I'll be about a half of the way through the race. I expect those weeks to fly by, with plenty of training and racing to come.

For the last seven or eight months I've been enjoying building myself up with the Cape Epic goal in mind. Last weekend placed another piece in the complicated puzzle: how to hit an eight day stage race physically and mentally prepared.

I've long benefitted from the amazing service and friendship of Oli Brooke-White of Roadworks fame. In the build-up to Cape Epic, Megan and I also were able to obtain the support of Yeti Cycles, via NZ importer and XC legend, Kashi Leuchs. Not only was he happy to help Megan and I out, but he also agreed to sponsor the Inaugural St James Epic, a 103km mission taking in much of the St James Cycle Trail, the first of New Zealand's "Great Rides". When Megan and I got an email from Kashi inviting us to take part, heading down for the event was a fait accompli.

The couple of weeks leading up to the race were pretty low-key riding wise, and instead I had the pleasure to spend a bit of time hanging with Kaitlyn and our cousins Holly and Theo.

I did manage a few short and sharp rides though, and flew to Christchurch on the Friday morning feeling confident in my legs. I wrote lecture notes while I waited for Megan to arrive from Palmy, at which point we were collected by Kashi and Black Seal intern, Anthony. Somewhat miraculously, we managed to load our gear into the back of the wagon, and my bike on the back, and we were soon heading north towards Hanmer Springs.

The drive passed quickly, with good conversation abound. We settled into our digs, and registered for Saturday's race, before a bit of a Yeti drool-fest ensued.

A 575, an ASR5, and a couple of ASR5Cs...

Eventually, we managed to tear ourselves away from the clutch of beautiful bikes, and headed out in search of dinner. We settled on an Italian joint, but the pasta meals we ordered were each disappointing in one way or another. Mine was more creamy sauce than pasta, and I really should have ordered seconds and thirds (or grabbed something from the supermarket on the way home...).

The race briefing was to be at 7:30am, and we had a 45km, mostly gravel-road drive between us and it in the morning, so we sensibly had an early night.

When my alarm went at 5:10, the room was pitch black, and very cold indeed. Over the next 40 minutes or so I ate, and made final preparations for the race. It's always difficult to know exactly when to lather up with Sweet Cheeks' Butt Butter and pop the bib shorts up, but I didn't fancy getting my shirt off at the start and I suited up before leaving the house.

The drive wasn't too bad, punctuated only by a couple of toilet stops for Megan, who'd obviously been smashing back far too much water since getting out of bed, and a single gate on Tophouse Road.

We knew the race was going to be a fairly intimate affair, numbers probably deflated for a number of reasons: the event being in its first year, in a remote region, and clashing with the MTB National Championships in Nelson, all to one extent or another, hard to overcome. When we stopped the car overlooking Lake Tennyson, the temperature gauge read 6.5 degrees. We got out, to watch a small group of hardy multisporters head into the lake for a swim leg.

Lake Tennyson

The briefing was a little later than advertised, but it didn't really matter. The course was described to us, and we would soon be underway. On account of the near-freezing conditions, I dipped into my bag full of compulsory gear and grabbed a long-sleeved woolen top to put on under my bibs and Yeti jersey. I kind of regretted having fingerless gloves and no knee-warmers, but there was little I could do about that.

In a mercifully short period of time, we were on the start line. The bloke on my left introduced himself to me as Dayle, and I found Brent on my immediate right. We were all shivering.

Befitting Yeti being the title sponsor of the race, I led the troops back along Tophouse Road, and through the right turn onto the St James Cycle Trail. We popped over a footbridge (apparently avoiding Didymo control as we did so), and then began the climb up to Malings Pass.

As the track tipped up, my legs began to complain a little, and I had to let Brent and another tall unit open up a small gap. I was breathing hard, and managed to suck in a UFO. I could feel the critter clambering around at the top of my throat, and I started retching to try to get rid of it. After a few seconds of making some pretty horrendous noises, it was gone, and I could once again concentrate on holding onto the leaders.

I was 20m or so down over the top, and promptly proceeded to let more go, blundering through a couple of loose off-camber corners and ending up in a ditch, luckily still astride my bike, but not feeling particularly proud of my skills.

Eventually the descent ended, and I set to making my way back to the front of the race. I was really enjoying the fast conditions down the Waiau River valley, and while my shins were pretty damn cold, the rest of me had warmed up a bit.

I regretted not having a camera handy when a herd of a dozen wild horses cantered across the track, passing between me and my catch 100m ahead. It was a special moment, in an environment which rarely showed any signs of animal life.

Before too long I was crossing the Waiau with Dayle and two others, with only Brent still ahead. We came to a confusing intersection, deliberated, and then all took the right fork, though not before sending another rider back who'd not been meant to cross the river with us.

We passed Lake Guyon, and I was amazed to see waves lapping at the shore - not something I'd have expected on such a small Lake. Had I thought carefully about it, I'd have recognised I was in for one hell of a head wind upon getting back across the Waiau.

At the head of the lake, the track tipped up and I pulled away from Dayle. At the top of the short climb, a marshall tent was in sight. I rode to it, had my number plate clipped and grabbed a banana. They pointed me up the valley, which I should have known was not intended. I set off along the adjacent track, and the marshalls yelled out a correction, which soon had me slogging my way up the valley. The track deteriorated and involved leaping a few waterways.

Soon after a short but rough descent, I heard a quad bike behind me, and the rider shouting at me. I let him get a bit closer, and then pulled off the track to let him through. He pulled alongside, and said "they sent you the wrong way". I told him there was one other ahead, and then there was nothing for it but to turn my bike around and head back the way I'd come.

Dayle hadn't been far behind me, and I could see at least two others who'd made it past the marshall. I grabbed another banana as I passed the tent, resisting the temptation to make any comment. It wouldn't have made our pain any less. Megan and a few others weren't far from the turnaround, and it was at least good to know they wouldn't be sent on a wild-goose-chase. On the other hand, close to 10 minutes had been lost.

When I caught back up to Dayle, we got to talking a bit more - the screw up had certainly put the race on the back-burner for the meantime. Dayle was kind enough to get his camera out as we passed Lake Guyon for the second time, though he should have told me to put my tongue away!


Yeti, Yeti, Yeti! Oi, Oi, Oi!

Dayle and I were soon back across the Waiau, and were hammering into a block headwind. We were joined by Steve from Hanmer Springs, and another John (who I thanked for having such an easy to remember name). I was possibly too generous letting the fellas draft the living bejesus out of me as we made our way down-valley, but as Simon said when I gave him the debrief, that's my MO!

After the screw-up on our first side trip, we were pretty nervous when we started crossing the valley-mouth of our second side trip. We slowed by a DOC sign indicating a track up the valley as there was no specific mention of the race. I had a map in my pocket...

... so we knew we'd be going up the Ada Valley for sure, just not when the track would dive off. When a prominent track appeared on our right, we agreed to take it. It turned out we'd shot off early, but weren't totally confident in the markings so soon after the earlier debacle.

After crossing a couple of gates, we soon converged onto the correct route, and settled in to our bash up the valley. There were regular paint marks on the ground, and frequent poles with fluoro paint on them too. The pace got a bit hot for the other John, or maybe he was hanging back a little to let Dayle, Steve and I scope out the clear route ahead. We made a couple of stops when the paint-trail ran dry, but otherwise the ride was fairly direct.

The views up ahead were great too, so much so that when we stopped to clip our race numbers, Dayle had his camera out and was asking for Steve or I to do a handstand. With two dislocated shoulders, I'm not ever going to do a handstand again, at least not on purpose. But, I'm partial to a headstand or two, and quickly discarded my helmet. After 4 or 5 failed attempts to get my balance, Dayle indicated he'd got his money shot, and it was helmet back on, and back onto the bike!


In the middle of a race, really?!

I enjoyed the ride back to the Waiau, not least because we had a bit of a tail wind. My legs were still feeling good, and my bike was humming. The plush 5" travel and lightweight carbon frame were eating up the rough trail.

We could see two marshalls on the far side of the next river crossing, so naturally headed towards them. By the time we were back on dry land, the guys had shot off, and we found ourselves looking around for the track. It was nowhere to be seen, so we shot cross-country and soon picked up the track about 100m down-river.

According to my map, which I think all three of us were relieved I had, next up was the "Henry loop". The turnoff was pretty clearly marked, but as soon as Dayle, Steve and I took it, we were hollered at by 4 marshalls about 200m past the turnoff on the main route. We ignored them for a time, and kept riding, but eventually our growing doubt had us turning around. We rode to their marshall point, and were debated whether or not we needed to go up the prominent valley to the West of us. Finally, an old codger in a 4WD vehicle arrived and confirmed it was indeed the Henry River flowing out of the valley, and that was good enough for us.

We passed a few signs, but none of them put us out of our misery by mentioning the elusive Henry. One indicated 5km to Ann Hut though, and we agreed that we wouldn't ride beyond it. If there was no clipper there, we'd all head back.

The climb, such as it was, was hard, mostly because of our uncertainty I guess. It got steep eventually, but only temporarily, and at the top of a 50m climb, we could see the hut. I was 100m or so down on Steve and Dayle at this stage, struggling to push my 30x36 "granny gear" on the steepest stuff, but we all reached the hut at pretty much the same time. It wasn't until we were right at the hut itself that we could make out the clipper, and when we did so, our moods improved dramatically.

On the return trip, it didn't take too long for us to see oncoming riders, who'd once again benefited from our trail-blazing. I gave Megan a good holler as we passed - she had what looked like a good race on her hands, and looked to be only a minute or so down on the other female in the race, Erin Greene.

Probably just over half way back down the valley the track split, and inexplicably I took the right fork while Dayle and Steve took the left. As the track converged again, the results were in - my route sucked big time. So much so, that by the time I reached the marshall point, I had still not caught back up to Dayle and Steve.

The Henry River crossing came just after the marshalls, and I was relieved to be back in touch by the time I'd reached the far side of it. My relief didn't last long.

The next section of track was some of the weirdest riding I've ever done. We were basically riding on flattened grass, but the surface beneath it was so irregular, our bikes were wobbling all over the place, and maintaining momentum was at times insanely difficult. We passed another group of marshalls sitting by a vehicle. They watched us go by, without stressing that they were the second feed-zone, and had bananas and Em's cookies for us if we wanted them... YFY, that would have been great!

Finally, we were off the grass, and onto a pretty sweet bit of singletrack. It was steep in places, and I had to let Dayle and Steve ride on, while I walked my bike. The descent was pretty sweet, and I thought how much Kashi and Anthony would have loved it on their play-bikes.

Back in the valley floor, I caught occasional glimpses of Steve's fluoro jacket, and tried to focus on choosing smooth lines, and moving fast. I was pretty close to him when we crossed the impressive Waiau Swingbridge. Though, I was so focussed on chasing Steve, I forgot to take in the view.

A steep climb followed, which again had me off the bike, pushing. I was nonetheless really close to Steve at the top, but made the decision to stop. My drive was starting to make some god-awful noises as I pedalled, and I knew, with 35km still to ride, taking a minute to apply a bit of chain lube was going to pay dividends. I also took my woollen shirt off - the day had really warmed up, and with the chase I had on my hands, and the five or so hours elapsed, I knew dehydration was a real risk. The stop was pretty short, and I hoped it was not a stupid thing to do.

The going was fast for a while once I got going again, before the track eventually made a hard left turn, to climb up to Charlie's saddle. Again, I was on foot for some of it, but could see Steve a minute or so ahead from the highpoint.

He'd been passing the third and final feed-zone when I saw him, and I was soon there myself, helping myself to a banana. Just around the corner, I was shocked to see a couple of empty cokes cans, literally the first litter I'd seen. When I mentioned this to someone at the finish, I was relieved to hear that the marshalls had suggested people drop them for collection as they made their way off-course.

I tried to keep my pace up down the next valley, but regular stream crossings made it hard to get into a decent rhythm. That, and the growing level of fatigue in my body. I kept getting glimpses of riders ahead, but was now picking up the back markers from the shorter race, rather than Steve. I was also now passing runners, none of whom seemed particularly jolly. I made a point of saying gidday to each of them, but didn't get a single response. I'm sure they were totally jealous of my bike.

As the kilometres ticked over, I finally saw Steve, only 100m or so ahead of me on what was surely the last climb of the day. He looked back and saw me, and by the time I crested the top, he was goneburger. The course split, and I took the left, and slightly longer route back towards the St James homestead and the finish line.

The descent to Tophouse Road was a scorcher. I loved the first half of it, and hit a grade reversal in the road with a hell of a lot of pace. Airborne for a moment, I landed with both wheels pointing in the right direction, and continued on my merry way. For most of the rest of the descent, I imagined totally casing that jump and how much skin I would have lost crashing. One of these days I should practise those things...

I was soon on Tophouse Road, and going through the gate I'd opened for our car 7 hours or so earlier. I could see the homestead a few kilometres away, but no Steve. Nonetheless, the sooner this was over, the better, and I wound the bike up as if I was riding for my life.

That was soon put on hold as the organiser had different ideas for his Epic riders, and painted arrows on the ground had me turning off the road and crossing the adjacent river. It took me what felt like an eternity to cover those final kilometres. There was plenty of paint on the ground at times, but I took far too many wrong turns. I found myself back at the river but sensed it wasn't right. I didn't backtrack, but headed for a pylon track I could see above the river. There were no reassuring paint marks, but I stuck to it. After a short descent, I was confronted with paint for the first time in a few minutes, and a sharp turn towards the river.

The homestead was now only 150m away, but instead of heading straight to it, I blundered around trying to find the correct place to cross the river. I didn't see the marker on the far side until I was most of the way across, and then instead of getting to the other side and correcting on dry land, changed course across the river, costing another minute or so.

I reached the finish line soon after, and was able to congratulate Dayle and then Steve for their rides. Dayle was 13 minutes ahead of me, with Steve taking second place 5 minutes later. Kashi and Anthony were there too and had had a great time on their short course. The BBQ was rocking, and I enjoyed tucking into a sausage or two.

After a while, Megan arrived, and soon after that, our car had been ferried back to us as well, completing our Yeti-posse. No-one had seen any sign of Brent since Lake Guyon, but he too arrived back literally moments before Search and Rescue were dispatched.

The drive back to Hanmer Springs was spectacular, particularly the views down off Jacks Pass. After four showers, and a bit of bike cleaning, we headed off for a well deserved soak in the hot pools.

The event was a frustrating one for me, not least because I felt like I'd underperformed. It looked to me like Brent was the strongest on course, but I couldn't help but think that I hadn't ridden to my potential. No point having big fuel tanks if I'm not going to fill them before a race! Another good lesson learned with Cape Epic now only a handful of weeks away.

On the other hand, I really enjoyed the event. It was great to ride somewhere I'd not been before, and in particular somewhere so spectacularly different to my usual surroundings. Megan, Kashi and Anthony were great company, and it was cool to meet and ride with Dayle (who admitted to enjoying these ramblings) and Steve in particular. With luck, the organiser will take on board no doubt plentiful feedback which should make it pretty easy for him to improve the event for next year. It's certainly an event I'd love to do again, and would happily recommend to anyone looking for an Epic ride.

Nowhere Special

2011-12-30T21:26:00.000+13:00

Soon after my good buddy Mike Lowrie took me on my first MTB ride (in early 1998, down Red Rocks), he and his partner Linn gave me my first copy of "Classic New Zealand Mountain Bike Rides, 3rd edition". My next was the 5th, and I now have the full set, thanks to the Bros themselves and a bit of trademe action. I enjoy flicking through each new release, searching for motivation, and there's always plenty.

A special ride first appeared in the 7th edition: Bridge to Nowhere, in the Whanganui National Park. By now, I was fast friends with Simon, and had heard on a couple of occasions his account of the Bros' "ride" through this loop in the late 80s. The scale of the write-up when it finally appeared (prior to the 7th, it had been an out-and-back ride to Mangapurua Trig) hinted that this particular trip was something else, and it's since been on my to-do list. A subsequent canoe trip down the Whanganui a few years ago did nothing but make me want to ride there even more. While I'd now seen the Bridge, I wanted to be on a bike when it appeared out of Nowhere.

Finally, the pieces fell into place. Jo and Dave did a great job of booking a jet boat while I was away touring with Marjolein. We'd be joined by Matt and Sarah, and the five us were booked for a 4pm collect on the 27th - a perfect way to use up recently stored Christmas calories.

We rendezvoused early in the morning at Sarah's family crib in Rangataua, not far from Ohakune. With five of us riding, we'd enlisted Simon and Miro to help with the logistics, and after a short drive, four bikes were being unloaded from the two cars at Ruatiti Domain. I was soon back at Raetihi, parking up next to Dave's car at the holiday park, and as 10:30 clicked over on my clock, I was rolling out.

My day's ride started fast - I had an extra 22km to ride back to Ruatiti Domain and including my drive back to Raetihi, I'd given the others an hour's head start at the domain! About 3km along the highway towards National Park was the well sign-posted turn off, and the first grand sign featuring a logo which with luck will soon be commonplace around the country.

After a few undulating kilometres. the road tipped downwards, and I was afforded great views down towards the river.

Despite being keen to catch my cobbers, I couldn't resist stopping to investigate a sign we'd seen on the drive in.

Alas, it wasn't much more impressive up close, but better to regret something you did than something you didn't.

The descent was over pretty quickly, and a few kilometres away from the domain, I met Simon and Miro heading back to Rangataua. We wished each other a good day, and I headed off, soon to be accosted by a stunning view up the Manganui o te Ao River.

That bridge marked the end of the tarseal, and a few minutes later I was past Ruatiti Domain and into foreign territory. As with my cobbers up the road, I entertained myself trying to work out when I'd catch them. Simon had predicted I'd see them before the top of the main climb, and while I had no idea how likely that was, I kept banging away at the pedals... And, stopping for photos. The highland cattle at Ruatiti even seemed worth a short backtrack after I'd blasted past them.

When I reached the start of the Mangapurua Track I had a short breather, before steeling myself for the climb (by taking some more photos).


No worries!

The Kennett Bros' ride profile made the climb appear steep, and so I was pleasantly surprised at the relatively mellow gradient. There were a few gates to negotiate, but otherwise the track was in great condition and the riding was fast. A sign indicated I'd just entered the Takahe Conservation Area, and this marked the end of the main climb and the beginning of an undulating section along the ridge to the trig.

After a few more minutes enjoying my impersonation of an XC racer, I spied ahead a bunch of four - the breakaway had been reeled in! I quickly learned Matt had won the "when will we see John" sweepstake, and the peanut slab prize. It was just after 12:30, and about time for a bite to eat. We stopped at a gate and letterbox - number 2 - only a hundred metres short of the top end the Kaiwhakauka Track from Whakahoro.

It was especially nice to see my bro Dave enjoying himself. If memory serves me correctly, the sum total of his MTB experience is: Queen Charlotte Track and a couple of hours in Rotovegas back in the late 90s, a ride through Long Gully and along the South Coast with Kaitlyn and I four or five years ago, and Tree Trunk Gorge this time last year! As we blasted along together, it was very cool to see him on board my Flux, and it made the ride that much more special for me to see him enjoying something I love doing.


Dave, on his first MTB ride of 2011!

The views along this section were so good we made a couple of stops. During one, I almost came a cropper falling down a bank after setting my camera's 10-second timer!

After promising Matt a few times that the Trig was imminent, it finally appeared to his and my relief, along with a toilet (to Jo's relief)! Miles away from Nowhere still, but well catered for.

We'd been regularly passing signs marking the names of the settlers who'd lived in this area. I caught myself joking that they were pikers, before more carefully thinking through the circumstances that brought them to this wild place, and realising what a hospital pass they'd been thrown, and how hard it must have been to turn their back on it. I felt ashamed for my initial comments. Those poor, hard bastards...

We didn't bother climbing the short track up to where we presumed the Trig was, and instead cracked into a rip-snorter of a descent down into the Mangapurua Stream valley. I followed Dave all the way down, and was impressed with how well he was handling the Flux. I was also glad that the track was in such good nick, and didn't often offer up curly surprises!

Down in the valley, we came across the first of many swing bridges. We all walked the first one but subsequently discovered that the bridges were mostly rideable - just the beginning and end took a bit of negotiating with our wide handlebars.

The riding along the valley was pretty cruisy. Sections through bush were interrupted by grassy clearings, and the biggest challenge was avoiding the thistles lurking in the long grass at the edge of the track. The track surface was almost always dry and predictable, and we were making good progress. Nonetheless, time was marching on, and we made regular stops for photos and food!

As we neared the Whanganui, bluffs became more common and here the double track would become a very narrow bit of singletrack perched half way up a sometimes sheer face. Signs warned us to dismount, and to not all be on the bluff at once, lest many birds be killed by one stone.

It was always a relief to ride past the sign reading "Safe to remount"!

Battleship Bluff was the most impressive of these sections. It was bizarre knowing the scale of the Bridge up ahead, and trying to imagine what would have prompted them to build such a major structure with these frequent pinch points on the access to it.


Matt safely negotiates Battleship Bluff, recorded by Dave and I!

The view from Battleship Bluff down to the stream was absolutely stunning, and a sharp reminder of the power of erosion and the costs of a stuff up at this point!

DOC had done an impressive job with signage along the track, and every so often, at least one of us would heed the advice to the letter.

It was after 3pm when we finally burst out of the bush onto the Bridge and through a dozen or so people being told by their jet-boat operator of its history and that of the unfortunate settlers.

We didn't have too much time up our sleeves, but nonetheless we enjoyed the views down to the stream from our vantage point high above it, and a bit of a spell off the bikes!

I blasted ahead on the track to the river which I'd walked a few years earlier, longing for my bike. I was feeling a hell of a lot more nimble than earlier in the day when I'd had a backpack stuffed with water, tools, brownie, PB&J sandwiches and one square meals, and it was fun to let rip for a bit!

When I reached the landing, already there was another party of three cyclists - parents and their 12-year-old daughter - and some trampers. Eventually Dave, then Matt, Sarah and Jo arrived, and we sat for a while admiring the massive Whanganui River slipping silently by.

Looking upstream

Our jet boat operator arrived a few minutes after we'd begun to get a little nervous, but within acceptable limits of the 4pm booking. Soon there were 8 bikes stacked on the racks at the back, and we were getting our in-flight safety briefing.

My inner bogan was awakened immediately upon the engine being fired up, complete with its lovely throaty growl. Within seconds of my first ever jet-boat ride beginning, I was in seventh heaven, and a big grin was spread across my face as we blasted away from the landing!

My GPS unit out of reach on the stem of my bike, I could only guess at our speed. In any case, the 30-odd kilometres we travelled down river passed without any energy expense, and was a quirky highlight of this mountain bike ride! En route to Pipiriki, we passed a few canoes and kayaks, and made one stop across from Tieke Kainga, where a few years earlier I'd awoken on Easter Sunday to find the locals had slipped eggs under everyone's tents.

Despite my bike being the last on and first off, I helped unload the boat at Pipiriki. That done, I didn't linger while the bikes were loaded onto the shuttle van, and slipped away before the temptation of the easy option overcame me.

As with the start of the day, I was back in race mode - this time away from my cobbers. I'd done this climb twice already - back in 2008 with Simon as an out-and-back, and earlier this year at the end of day one of the Tāwhio. On the one hand I was disappointed to find the whole thing had been since sealed, but on the other, I was pleased for the slightly easier ride. The catch was inevitable, and it came just before the top of the main climb. Luckily I was offered only encouragement (and not a seat in the van), and I kept plugging on towards Raetihi.

I'd said goodbye to Dave and Matt down in Pipiriki. As I rode through Raetihi, I expected they'd be out of their riding gear, and heading towards Taupo with golf on their minds.

My legs started to wane as I started the road to Ohakune, and I struggled to muster 30km/h. It didn't help that the road was gently climbing, but the largest factor was the fatigue in my legs. About 10 minutes out of Raetihi, Jo and Sarah drove past in my car, four bikes on the back, and plainly surprised to see me. They slowed, giving me the opportunity to wave them down. Instead, I reluctantly waved them off...

Despite being only 5km from home, I stopped at the servo in Ohakune for a chocolate milk and a red bull. I didn't spare much thought for which was the least gross order to drink them in, and instead skulled one after the other. The ride to Rangataua, still uphill, passed slowly but surely, and I was soon at home and getting cleaned up for an evening of food and stories.

Simon and Miro had had a great day, as had the five of us on our special ride to Nowhere. Our group had a huge range of cycling backgrounds: from Sarah's two decades of cycle touring and MTBing to Dave's once every year or two, with Matt, Jo and at various points in the spectrum between. Nonetheless, we had all had a ball.

For my part, the ride was everything I'd hoped it would be. I really enjoyed Jo, Sarah and Matt's company, but particularly revelled in riding with my bro. Between Tree Trunk Gorge and this year's ride, we've established a fine tradition. I wonder where we'll ride together at the end of 2012?! Perhaps we'll even get out before then. I can't wait.

Gearing up for Christmas

2011-12-26T12:12:00.000+13:00

A welcome distraction from the stresses of work, and what seem to be common post-event blues, was an email from Marjolein Ros, Ashley's business partner at Revolve Cycling. Marj was not only asking about MTB touring opportunities in the top of the South Island, but also inviting me to join her. After initially writing it off as impossible, I soon realised I could totally afford the time, and after committing, had only a few days to be excited about the impending trip! Game on!

We'd agreed to check out 3 out of 4 days of the trip I'd had planned for easter, but had ditched to play dress ups! Namely, the Waikakaho Track from Linkwater on Queen Charlotte Drive to Renwick in the Wairau Valley, the Wakamarina, and the Maungatapu Track over to Nelson. Linking these rides up would be only short sealed sections, and in total, we'd have an awesome bit of mountain biking on our hands.

Things became a little tenuous in the final days on account of massive slips and flooding in Nelson, so much so that by the time we sailed for Picton, we still weren't sure about our final day. We knew enough to ditch any thought of a pass over Dun Mountain, but weren't entirely certain we'd be able to get through the Maungatapu.

Marj was pre-booked on a full Bluebridge sailing, so while we didn't get to chat on our Cook Strait crossings, I could occasionally watch her out the window.


Marjolein rounding Point Halswell

Both ferries were delayed slightly, so we didn't hook up in Picton until after midday, at which point we made straight for the Dutch bakery! I was hoping Marjo would bust out some Dutch, but had to make do with some recommendations of which traditional cakes to buy!!! We had a bit to eat in the garden there, before saddling up, and hitting the road.

We'd never done a trip together (let alone a ride), so it was great to get stuck into getting to know each other better. The traffic was pretty light, so we could ride two abreast for the most part, and the road bash to the Linkwater store was over before we knew it! We mixed up some sports drink, and bought an apple each, which we ate out in the sun.


A Flux and a Stumpy. Perfect touring bikes, for this trip!

The store is just opposite Cullensville Road, which is the access to the "Linkwater Long Cut", aka the Waikakaho Track, and we were soon blasting along its metalled surface. As we rounded a bend, we were confronted by a herd of cows, lead by a stroppy looking bull. With trepidation we made our way through them without incident!

Safe!

The gravel road ended at a gate, and we were soon over it, and the stream just beyond it. I'd been through here with Simon a few years earlier and so, despite a lack of signage, knew the suspicious gate on our right was the one to take.

We left the valley floor on a wide bench covered with recently cut grass. As we climbed, we both realised what a mission it would have been before the grass had been cut - the trimmings were over a foot long, and there was lots of it - and we were musing about how recently the mowers had been through. We'd settled on a few days, when we were confronted by our saviours! We'd been out by a few days, give or take an hour or two!

Thanks team!!!!

As in 2009, I really enjoyed the climb, and I fared a bit better on the upper slopes. I was managing the left switchbacks much better than the right ones, but wasn't having to walk too much, which was nice. Marjo was faring similarly well, but we laughed at the mind boggling effort Simon had posted last time to ride the whole thing.


Looking down to Linkwater

The last few hundred metres of track to the ridge were in beech forest, and were unridable, so our legs got a bit of respite from the granny-gear climb, and a hammering of a new sort. Eventually though we were at the top, and after a short stop, we began picking our way across the ridge on foot.

Eventually, the ridable sections began to get longer and longer, and finally, we were able to spend reasonable periods on the bikes between dismounts. When the track finally began to drop on the Wairau side of the range, we were presented by a greasy rocky bit of singletrack! It came as a bit of a shock to my system, and I was riding very tentatively. My nerves may well have been less of an issue with slightly less pressure in my tyres and a few more recent MTB rides under my belt, and I was beginning to worry about how much walking we'd be doing!

As we descended, the track became drier, and things settled down a bit. Then, the next curveball arrived when we found ourselves at a mine shaft, and the end of the track. In hindsight, things were pretty obvious, but at the time, we thought the track continued beyond the mine. Neither of us had seen a turn off, and there was plenty of windfall around which could have been obscuring the route. We poked around for at least 10 minutes before eventually concluding we needed to turn back.

As we retraced our steps, we were both contemplating the unpleasant thought of retracing our steps. "Tyre prints" would have been appropriate, but for the majority of the last hour being on foot. After about 200m though, we were flooded with relief on meeting a switchback turn - which the out-and-back track to the mine met at its apex. We'd both been so intent on a small drop over a root in the corner, we'd overlooked the main track turning to our right. Phew! Or, more accurately, PHEW!!!!

The riding beyond this point was an absolute blast, no doubt enhanced by the sensations of relief! We made a short stop at the relics of a small settlement, which consisted of one stone chimney, and a stone throne!

Queen Marjolein

I'd discovered a weakness of my touring setup on the upper part of the descent, namely, I'd blown my Ortlieb seat bag off its mount a couple of times when riding down a couple of drop-offs. Luckily, I had space in my Camelbak Octane 18X bag, and without the seat bag, I was feeling much more comfortable on the technical sections.

There was a particular section of track I was very much looking forward to - an impressive rock bluff with cliff below it. Simon had tried to get a decent shot of me riding around it, but hadn't been pleased with his photo. When I arrived, I quickly leade the bike down and scrambled up the bank while retrieving my camera. No sooner had I turned it on, then it was time to snap Marjo making her way around it.

We didn't bother setting up for another, and continued our blast down to the valley floor! Whoop whoop!

We were soon at the end of the track, and after an occasionally boggy 4WD road, we turned right onto the Kaituna-Tuamarina Road. We had about 45 minutes to get to Renwick before the store closed, and eventually we decided I should make a dash for it. After discussing a grocery list, I was off, and enjoyed a solid TT effort into Renwick.

Supplies in hand, I was just unlocking my bike as Marjo rode in, and we walked together to Watsons Way Backpackers before washing up and getting dinner ready. We ate at a large dinner table, and had a European couple nattering away to each other while MJ and I swapped adventures from earlier in the year.

The following morning, I was stunned to learn the other couple had been Dutch, and they'd been translating Marjolein and my conversation! Little did they know, Marjolein had understood every word they'd said! RUDE!!! I wish I'd known, I would have begged Marj to bid them goodnight in Dutch.

My good friends Dave and Tim had ridden the Wakamarina a couple of months earlier, so I knew we needed to detour along to Bartlett's Creek rather than take the more direct Onamalutu Road climb up to the start of the track. The longer route was nice, and the traffic on the road dropped away significantly after the Onamalutu turnoff. We had great conditions again, and with the short sealed section out of the away, it was time to get ready for a 1000m climb!

The first 600m of it was on a gravel road, and was initially very gentle. We had a few fords to ride through, and the water passing over them was so crisp and clear. I finally made the decision to stop at the next one for a photo, when as luck would have it, the road kicked up, and we left the stream crossings behind!

The climb was sizable, but rarely steep, and it ticked away quickly enough. We stopped occasionally, and had fun trying to work out where we'd be riding. The Wakamarina track would take us across the Richmond Ranges, and the first of two high points would be Fosters Clearing, in a saddle obscured by my head in the next photo!

After admiring the view down into the Wairau Valley, in which we could just make out the Waihopai spy base, we were soon off-road, and into some glorious beech forest track.

The track was overall less steep than the gravel climb up to it had been, but it wasn't entirely straightforward riding. The surface was dry, and mostly smooth, but it was often covered with so much leaf litter that progress was hard earned. In any case, it was pretty sweet riding, and would have made for an awesome out-and-back trip.

Are we there yet?!

Climate control was tricky - as we climbed, the temperature was dropping slightly, and while I was sweating, I still was feeling kind of chilly. My sleeveless jacket went on and off and on and off, but eventually, we burst out of the bush into Foster's Clearing and beautiful blue skies.

From the clearing, we had a 200m vertical descent, after which the Kennett Bros said we be on foot. They were true to ther word, though I'm sure they should have "grovel" somewhere in there. The 200m were hard won, and when the miserably hot push was finally at an end, Marjo and I sat for a rest in what I'm sure would make a perfectly good helipad!

The main descent was to be 800 vertical metres in about 2.5km, and conditions could not have been better for us two nanas to hit it up. The track was bone dry, remarkable given the rain Nelson had experienced not a week before.

"Switchback City Arizona" was a pretty good description of the track, and Marjo and I made a conservative but effective fist of it. We had no crashes, and a hell of a lot of fun with only a little bit of walking. There were a couple of drops I might have tried with my seat down and an ambulance on hand, but there were also a few that were well beyond my capabilities!

Before too long we were down in the valley, and the crossing of Doom Creek demonstrated the waters were just as clear on the north side of the range as on the south side. The prospect of a solid meal was about the only thing that stopped us going for a swim! Well, that and knowing how damn cold the water would have been!

Doom Creek

Big-ass hills in the background!

The ride out to the Wakamarina Road-end was sweet, and much less arduous than much of the riding had been. On the other hand, the "15 easy-kilometres" down-valley seemed less so! A very large proportion of the properties in this valley were for sale, but the numbering system on the letterboxes gave us welcome progress of our ride into Canvastown.

Trout Hotel was waiting for us at the end of the road, on the intersection with SH6, and we were soon relaxing in the sun - the 75km ride had taken us just under eight and a half hours, and it was bloody nice to sit down!

As I made good headway into a pint of Radler (a fitting drop, I thought), Marjo experimented with my new tripod, not so successfully!


It was worth a crack, Nigel!

Which one's next?!

After a big meal at the pub, we went in seach of cell-phone reception. Marj had packed jandals - far too heavy - but worth their weight. My bare feet were being reamed by the road, and I made fun of myself on behalf of Marjolein, who was very gentle on me! Unlike the road surface! To add insult to injury, we didn't find any reception... Maybe I need to rethink my jandals policy?

The next morning dawned even more beautiful than the previous two days - not a cloud in the sky - and we were in for a stunner.

Ready to leave Canvastown

As with the previous two days, we commenced with a short road ride - this time, 10 kilometres or so to Pelorus Bridge. Here we made a short stop to phone home, and prepare for the Maungatapu climb! We met an Austrian cycle-tourist, who, between puffs on his ciggy, described his impending ride on SH1 to Christchurch. On a carbon fully with a HUGE load?! We suggested he investigate going through the Molesworth and left him to it!

After buying a couple of monstrous cheese scones from the cafe, we were about ready to leave when a ute swung in, driven by NZ MTB celebrity Brenda "Bob" Clapp. She was on a work trip out of Nelson, and we had a good natter before parting ways.

I vaguely remembered the next bit of riding from the end of Day 1 of the Kiwi Brevet, and enjoyed taking it a bit more gently. Once again, the scenery was stunning, and the waters clear.

The Pelorus River from Maungatapu Road

I was about to lose my GPS unit - on its single charge from hope - but not before it suggested we'd missed the Maungatapu Track turn off. Luckily the map data were off, not our eyes, and just as I was beginning to worry, we were presented with conclusive evidence we were OK!

Blinkers on, and up we go!

The climb was stunning, and took us almost exactly an hour. As if to torture us, the day became hotter, the track steeper, and the track rougher as we neared the top. We both stayed on our bikes though, but not without physical cost!

We had plenty of time to reach Nelson to hook up with Marjolein's partner Al, so we enjoyed sitting in the sun at the top for about an hour. The views to south were partly obscured by cloud, but to the northeast they were off the hook!

Eventually, we started to cook in the sun, and made the decision to head down. It was great to be on our trail bikes once again, and we enjoyed the blast down the Maungatapu. Belying the freakish rain Nelson had had the week before, the track surface showed no sign of anything abnormal.

Near the bottom, we blasted through a rock garden I'd effectively forgotten all about. I was glad I wasn't on my lightweight rigid bike like last time. Urgh!


Maitai Dam

There were a couple of short but savage climbs as we made our way around Maitai Dam. Here we saw the only signs of storm damage - a bit of windfall, and a couple of very large cracks in the road surface. If I were a betting man, I'd put money on a bit of the road disappearing into the dam pretty soon. Stink.

At the road end, a sign indicated we needed to take a singletrack section to bypass some works, a message consistent with Bob's advice. But, it was ambiguous about where the track began, so I ducked up to a caretaker's home, and was told we could actually take the road if we wanted to. When we saw the singletrack at the bottom of a fairly steep descent, we figured we'd done enough hard work, and took the cruisy option along the road.

I felt guitly as well rolled along, and occasionally glanced up at the MTB track on the hill above us, kind of wishing I was up there, but simultaneously glad I was not! Another time, perhaps!

Maitai Valley Road spat us out into the city centre, but not before we'd seen stark evidence of the storm damage. I grabbed a lock from a bike store, before settling down at a cafe, a change of clothes, and a delicious risotto for him, and a kebab for her.

Shortly after, I was wishing Marjolein farewell and a Merry Christmas, and soon after that, I was off to the airport.

The short flight back to Wellington was great apart from the fact I was looking out the left side of the plane. I knew those on the right were getting unrestricted views of three great MTB rides: the old-school Maungatapu Track, and the sublime Wakamarina and Waikakaho Tracks, complete with plenty of hike-a-bike and technical sections. Marjolein's company had been awesome, and our pace had been cruisy but deliberate. It was truly uplifting stuff, and the perfect way to bring the working year to a close.

Enduring stormy Taupo

2011-12-01T15:22:00.001+13:00

I've got a list of "unfinished business", and last weekend, I was hoping to put a big red line through "Taupo Enduro".

My first attempt at it was a disaster, even as support crew. I hurt my right knee on the way home from a time trial event, and had to withdraw a few weeks before the race. Nonetheless, I went up to support my good buddy Simon, with whom I'd been training before my injury. He was 7 months away from tackling the formidable Great Divide Race, and the 320km event would be a useful confidence builder in advance of successive (i.e. 2-and-a-half-weeks of) 200km days on a mountain bike.

What transpired was horrible from the Taupo Enduro point of view, but probably great training (physical but more importantly, psychological) for the GDR. Simon's daughter was only a few months old and not yet sleeping through the night. Knackered, and in a relatively quiet home for the night, he duly slept through his alarm. His back-up plan was me. I failed miserably, and had set my alarm for half-past midday, rather than half-past midnight. Simon woke at 3am, and was on the bike by 3:30am, 2 hours behind the rest of the field. I followed behind in Ben's station wagon, watching his feet go up and down, and berating myself constantly for letting him down. It was a long few hours, but I was glad to at least be there to shelter him from passing traffic and hand him a bottle when he signalled for one. Despite knowing that overcoming that hiccup and completing in a slow but respectable time was ultimately good for Simon's confidence going into the GDR, I've still never forgiven myself for letting him down like that.

Since April this year, I've been looking forward to exorcising at least some of my Taupo Enduro bogeys. It seemed to me to be a convenient target for getting my endurance up through winter and spring. As the months rolled along, things looked to be falling into place nicely. My ride at Queen's Birthday showed that I'd be capable of finishing, even without specific work. I wasn't doing it to finish though, and I'd set myself a target of 10 hours (an average speed of about 32km/h). While long rides had been elusive through October, a ride in the first weekend of November gave me the confidence I needed: a 200km solo smash around Wellington's Makara loop, Greys Rd in Plimmerton, Moonshine, Blue Mountains and Whitemans Valley to Te Marua, the Akatarawas to Waikanae, Paekakariki Hill and then over Haywards before finishing back to the city and up to Karori - all in 6 hours 43 for an average elapsed speed of just a whisker under 30km/h.

I followed that effort up with a local race in the Tour de Whitemans, then just under 6 hours on the MTB at the Great Forest Rogaine, and finally Le Petit Brevet. I'd managed a few short-sharp mid-week efforts around the bays, so my speed was OK, and most importantly, I was feeling "strong, and enthusiastic".

While I was down in Christchurch, my Colnago was in the shop - getting a full check up from master-wrench, Oli Brooke-White. I'd had some lower back discomfort on the 200km ride, and while no spacers had been left above the stem by the shop I'd bought it from, flipping the stem upside down and swapping a 10mm spacer out had the effect of raising the bars 10mm or so, hopefully enough just to take a bit of pressure off during the race. I'd had no doubt Oli would come up with a simple solution to my problem, but nor should I have been surprised by the incredible attention to detail - when I picked up the bike, Oli had carefully covered the now upside-down "Colnago" logo on the stem with black tape, carefully trimmed to avoid blacking out any of the white part of the stem. While I love my bikes, my "function over form" inclinations would often see such attention to detail resulting in a less aesthetically pleasing package. So much of sport is psychology, and Oli always ensures I hit the start line with pride of, and complete confidence in, my machine.

The final aspects of my preparation were logistical. While I wasn't super-keen to impose an early start on anyone, Simon had suggested my parents would probably really enjoy driving support for me on lap one. They were nervous about letting me down, so I tried to describe how I thought the race would pan out, and what I'd need from them. As we all slipped off to bed on the Friday night, I'd be surprised if they were any less nervous than I was.

I woke about 30 seconds before my alarm went off - just enough time to pick up my phone to check the time before it started vibrating in advance of the speaker kicking in. I was soon up, and dressed. For lap 1, I'd set off in my Assos bib shorts, a Ground Effect Baked Alaska and Vespa combo, knee warmers, thermal gloves and booties, and a cotton cap under my helmet. I had one bottle of replace mix on the bike, and diced chocolate brownie and one-square-meal in my feed-bag. My Ayup lights and small battery were on the bike, spare tubes and patch kit in a saddle bag, and pump in my pocket. My parents had a spare front wheel in the car, some full bottles, and kit for a change at half time.


Final prep before rolling out

I scoffed a banana, but my guts started to object, and I only managed half a tin of creamed rice. Mindful of my second day at Le Petit Brevet, I smashed back an instant coffee, and filled in the remaining time with some quad and hip stretches. I bade Mum and Dad farewell, and gave Kaitlyn a kiss as she slept, and then rode the short distance to the start line.

As I had my name ticked off, I was surrounded by about 90 other riders. Three young and fast looking guys had staked out a start line, and were no doubt affecting others' nerves like they were mine. I recognised Steve Orchard from the Freyberg bunch in Wellington and sat with him for a bit before taking my place in the mass of riders.


Start imminent

We had a short briefing, and then were off.

We rolled out of Redoubt Street, and then across the Waikato River before the road tipped up and we had pressure on the pedals for the first time. I'd warned my parents that the field would split up on the climb out of Taupo, and that I'd be almost certainly in the front bunch. By the time we reached "Ben Lomond, the highest point on the course" things had pretty much played out as I'd anticipated: I was in a bunch of about 20 at the front of the race.

This period was an opportunity to check out the other riders. I knew Brian Bushe was strong, having ridden around the Tararuas with him a few years ago and monitored his continual improvement since. Steve also looked good. Brian had pointed out Jim McMurray as the man to watch, and had he not told me, I'd have drawn the same conclusion in this first hour or two, during which time Jim had rolled off the front at least once with apparently no effort. He looked the business!

The pace was sensible in the context of the event, though purposeful. We were being buffeted by very strong winds, and while things didn't feel unsafe, we all clearly needed to be very attentive. There was one dude on a time trial bike, who was making a habit of occasionally dropping down on his aero bars and going past the bunch very hard. We mostly left him to it, for no reason other than conserving the energy required to get on his wheel.

Somewhere approaching the Kuratau relay exchange, Jim and Mel Titter opened up a 50m gap on a short climb. I was following Brian (both of us with deep rims), and was alongside the dude down on his aero bars on the TT bike, when all of a sudden we were hit by the biggest wind gust yet. We were travelling probably in excess of 50km/h, downhill, in pursuit of Jim and Mel, and in an instant, we were all over the road desperately trying to regain control of our machines. As I popped up off the drops wrestling with my handlebars as they whipped left and right, I could sense others around me doing the same. Luckily, no-one went down, but boy oh boy did that gust knock the stuffing out of us. For the next 30 minutes or so, the bunch was very subdued, and speeds rarely crept up to the levels that they'd previously been at. Less than a quarter of the way into a 320km event, we were riding like nervous novices, and with good reason.

The Kuratau climb seemed a total non-issue in the dark, and I was surprised when I recognised the descent to Tokaanu. Jim and Mel were long gone, so when we hit the flat section through to the bottom of Hatepe, the bunch seemed keen to pursue and capitalise on its numbers and the tail wind, sort of. In principle we had enough riders to make good progress to Taupo, but the bunch seemed intent on destroying itself. Gaps were constantly opened up, and then the guilty party would surge to fill it, and slowly but surely the surges were starting to add up. For the most part, I tried to stay smooth, and when we finally arrived at Hatepe, Matthew Luckie cleared out, followed a few dozen metres behind by Darryl Strachan and I.

My parents were near the top, and I grabbed a bottle from them, before finishing the climb off (note to parents: next time, right at the top - that drink is heavy stuff!).


Second bottle change ahoy!

By this stage Matt was 100m ahead, and Darryl had stepped off the bike for a slash, so I was on my own. I've only ever done one lap of Taupo twice: back in 2008 as a solo and with my family in 2009, and while I had no idea how long it would take to finish lap one, I knew time was of the essence - a successful second lap and overall time relies on hooking up with one of the first big solo bunches. We were riding a different course for the first 40km, so needed a decent head start to be on the solo course by the time they came through.

My parents drove past as I was mulling over a strategy for transition, and they tucked in behind Matt. I tried to wave them down, but there was no reaction, so I went to plan B and sprinted hard after them. I was soon alongside, and waiting for Mum to roll down her window. That done, I told them the change needed to be quick, and that I'd prefer a double espresso to the trim flat white I'd ordered the previous evening. That done, I connected with Matt, and we worked together to the transition at the BP station in town.

The highlight en route was seeing my Cape Epic team-mate Megan - she'd passed us in the car, mountain bike on the back, and recognising my legs and outfit from the weekend before pulled over and gave me and my workmate a bloody good holler! Cheers!

As I swiped my transponder over the USB gadget, my time was recorded as 4:59 - not too bad, but not as quick as anticipated thanks to the insane winds we'd battled on the western side of the lake. Next up was to have a quick slash, and then I was back outside. Mum and Dad were a finely oiled machine and were operating like people who'd done this sort of thing dozens of times before. New bottles were already on my bike, and my feed-bag was again brimming with OSM and brownie. Mum was holding a dry jersey for me.


Man on a mission

I declined a dry hat and vest, but did put new gloves on. Knee warmers came off, as did booties, and I took the front and rear lights off the bike too. Pump went back in my pocket, as well as a bunch of jet planes and a couple of bananas. A small bottle of coke went into my third jersey pocket, and when I'd smashed back the coffee (in one gulp), I was good to go.


Darryl and Jim happy to wait, while I roll out

I was happy to be on my own for the next 15 minutes or so - hell, I was leading the race! The sun was up, and my legs were feeling good, and for short amount of time, I had as much space on the road as I needed. The wind was still blowing, but its strength seemed trivial in the context of what we'd already experienced in the dark, a few hours before.

I was eventually joined by Jim, Mel and Darryl. I'd made no effort to not get caught, and I was expecting to see these guys. We were joined a few minutes later by Matt, and without any discussion, formed one of the best pace-lines I've had the pleasure of riding in. In contrast to the earlier effort north of Turangi, everyone was pulling through very smoothly. No-one was obviously weaker than the others, and when someone missed a wheel, within a handful of seconds, rotation had recommenced without any fuss whatsoever. As a result, progress was good, and was without undue physical or mental stress.

We'd left Taupo just after 6:30, less than 15 minutes ahead of the Elite field. We had an extra 3.5km to ride, I believe on a more hilly course, and as a result of those factors and the fact we were not an Elite field pinning it off the start line of a 160km race, the bunch went through a couple of minutes ahead of us. Safely on the main course, Jim, Mel and Matt stopped at a service area for a leak and a drink, while Darryl and I pedalled on.

Up ahead we could see three riders - Elites out the arse of the main field, we deduced. They were being followed by an ambulance, and when we caught up, it was mighty tempting to draft the living bejesus out of the ambo! It was still windy, and it was in our faces. We did the honourable thing though, and rolled by, just as the ambulance was clearing out anyway. The threesome included none other than Radioshack-Nissan-Trek signing George Bennett. He and his mates perked up a little to see us, and increased their pace to match ours. For the next while we drafted them, but they soon wanted to stop for a slash themselves, and again Darryl and I were on our own.

Someone was looming up ahead though, and before long we realised it was "Ironman" Ron Skelton, on probably his last lap of eight. We gave him some good encouragement, and kept on our merry way.

Soon, over our shoulders we saw a bunch of a dozen or so, and soft pedalled until we were caught. According to the photographic evidence, we were now 13, including the five Enduros, as well as Wellington's Tristan Thomas and Sam King-Turner. "Gidday sifter!" said Tristan as I settled in next to him.

Last time around Taupo, I'd sprinted ahead in this very spot to roll across the photographer's line, netting a great shot with Dad.


2009

This time around, I had another great opportunity, but didn't have to work so hard for it. I filled a gap between George and Tom Francis, much to the amusement of the bunch behind. As we past the spot where an old-fashioned camera might have been clicking away, I heard from behind "I'll have four copies of that one thanks!", followed by a few chuckles! You know it boys! It was a great, light-hearted moment, and it was a nice distraction from the building sensations of fatigue in our legs.

2011, and one for the garage wall!!!!

It was a while longer before we were caught by bunch 1a - the first start wave of the Solo race. The catch was intimidating - we were cruising along and they came by very fast, a group of GMC boys at the front of the peloton, driving it along. I felt a friendly hand on my lower back, helping me up to speed, and looked across to see a grinning Antosh Kowalewski. In the last few months I've finally felt able to turn up to the Circa "Wellington Wednesday Worlds" bunch, which Antosh regularly dominates on its hot-lap of the bays.

I really should have got up to speed more quickly, and I ended up well back in the bunch. Totally understandable, but not great strategy - I could see Jim and the others safely ensconced further ahead. The steady riding after leaving Taupo had been good though, and my legs felt up to the increased pace. Angus Taylor was another friendly face I recognised, and it was good to hear supportive words from him.

One minute life was pretty simple: pedal. Then, out of the blue, my ears were assaulted with the horrible sound of carbon rims being heavily braked upon, and I too was desperately reeling my bike in and trying not to go up anyone's arse while still staking my claim on a patch of road. The problem? One of the bike transporters at the Kuratau interchange was blocking almost the entire road, and a bunch of 100 or so riders was being forced into a gap about a third of the size of what they'd become accustomed too.

I was at walking speed when I safely negotiated the bottle neck, and then I was out of the saddle sprinting back up to speed. I wasn't completely sure at the time, but Antosh later confirmed there were dudes up front attacking the bunch. The effort cost me, and when we hit Kuratau Hill soon after, my match box contained mostly smouldering ashes, and not too many intact matches left to burn.

As the gap ahead of me started to open up, I didn't take much solace from the fact that around me were 1a starters who were suffering equally. Dammit, we were being shelled.

One of the nicest shows of respect and generosity towards us enduros came from Tom Francis. He'd asked earlier if I needed any food or drink. I'd asked in turn whether he had any fresh legs for me. He'd apologised then, but the 20 seconds he spent alongside me with his hand on my lower back made a couple of gears' difference on the ascent of Kuratau. Not only did I get a speed boost and a small period of respite from the climb, but it was also a massive psychological boost - nothing like a bit of kindness to distract from a grovel. Cheers Tom - that was much appreciated, even though I was probably too rooted to say thanks properly at the time.

I went over the top 100m or so down on the main bunch, but in company. There was one older dude in particular trying to exhort the group into action, and while his intentions were good, I'd have preferred not to be snapped at. I didn't think to counter with any alternative encouragement though, and instead got to work trying to help the group bridge the gap.

My legs felt OK, and I was definitely able to contribute to the chase. I probably shouldn't have though - I had every excuse not to, and I'm sure the fellas would not have begrudged me sitting in. I knew Dan, Mel and Matt were up ahead, and that Darryl was in the group with me. We didn't have long to get back to the main bunch, and I knew things were getting desperate as I tried to use my strength on the flat lands to the bunch's advantage.

We were so nearly there when I found myself sliding off the back, and too late I realised I'd gone too deep. Darryl had already popped, and was behind me somewhere while I watched the group I'd been in 30 seconds before latch onto the back of the main field, and then watched them all disappear around the sweeping turn that marked the beginning of the descent to Tokaanu. I hung my head, knowing full well that I'd screwed up, powerless to correct it.

I rolled dejectedly down the hill, knowing that I now needed to recharge lest I be unable to hold onto the bunch behind. I made a point of eating a few hunks of food, and take some long pulls from my drink bottle. I kept looking over my shoulder, desperately wanting the cavalry to appear. It wasn't until just before Turangi that it did appear, but not in the strength of numbers I was hoping for.

I slotted in behind Sam King-Turner, one of the Elite starters, and young Jack Sowry, a solo rider. Sam made it clear he expected no work from me as he passed, my yellow helmet cover bringing me protected status at this end of the race - over 250km in my legs at this stage, to their 110km. I was not about to argue, and sat in.

Sam took an almighty turn, but eventually I could see him tiring, and went to the front. He came by me again, then Jack, and then me again, but when I rolled back past Jack to slot in onto Sam's wheel, he wasn't there. Fuck! That's a worry. I tried to encourage Jack, and told him of my aim to get back to Taupo by 11:30. He took a few decent turns, but soon, he too was nowhere to be seen. Double fuck!

It was all back on me, and the distance markers were indicating I had better press on. A minor complication in the calculations was that my GPS unit had somehow started the ride in imperial mode - around this point on the first lap I'd been a bit confused at our speed - it felt a lot quicker than 21km/h. 90km elapsed at that point confirmed it wasn't km at all, but miles, and since I'd been struggling to work out conversions. The distance markers seemed a bit out of whack in places too, an observation confirmed by world-record holding unicyclist Ken Looi who was struggling to make similar calculations at the same point later in the day.

I passed Nick Dunne, within 40km of the end of his 1600km, 10-lap effort. While I'm incredibly impressed with what these ultra-enduro guys do, I also reckon they're mad. I remember commenting to a friend, while leaving a screening of the RAAM movie, "thank god this doesn't do it for me...".

I knew there were hundreds of cyclists moving a hell of a lot faster behind me, but for whatever reason, I put my head down and tried to keep the pace up around the 26mph mark. Something like that was going to be needed to make my 10 hour deadline. The wind was mostly behind me, but the lake itself confirmed it was still blowing a gale out...


Trying to keep the pace up on the rollers before Hatepe

While Hatepe Hill is often referred to in hushed tones, much to the bemusement of Wellingtonians, I knew this was not the biggest hurdle I had left to surmount. My undoing, or not, would be in the flat riding beyond it. On the climb, I managed to keep on top of my 39x25 granny gear, and enjoyed passing the folk out on the roadside, cheering me on.

Second (and last!) time up Hatepe

I didn't quite hit the descent with as much vigour as I'd done five hours earlier, but my mental arithmetic was still telling me to keep on working.

I finally knew my ten-hour target was outside my grasp when I reached the 15km to go marker. I didn't know my GPS was running a bit fast, and thought I had 18 minutes to get back. I'd missed the famed 3-hour mark at Karapoti in March by only 21 seconds, and I knew already that I'd be close here, but not under. While bitterly disappointed and frustrated, I nonetheless kept pedalling hard.

My feet were killing me, I had a bit of jet-plane rattling around in one nasal cavity, and I was lacking punch in my pedalling, but was still turning the big gears over and got up the airport hill without too much speed loss. As the kilometres ticked over, I was no longer fueled by my target time, but by reaching the end.

I knew the lake-front was going to be miserable, by virtue of having ridden it once already. This time though, I didn't need to keep anything in reserve. Still alone, I got great support by the folk along the way - they'd probably been waiting a long time for someone to cheer for!

Into the final straight

I was bouyed as I turned into the final straight - not only was I almost done, but I now had a killer tail wind. I pushed hard all the way to the finish, stopping my GPS unit just under 5 minutes past ten hours - I'd managed to knock out the last 15km in 23 minutes and 39km/h, but not the 50km/h I'd needed.

It was lovely to see the smiling faces of my parents and beautiful daughter as soon as I reached the domain. They confirmed I'd finished in 4th place, over 15 minutes down on Jim McMurray, who I'd last seen ensconced in the big bunch over the top of Kuratau. Matt, my companion at the end of the first lap was in second, two-and-a-half minutes down on Jim. Mel was a further seven minutes back, probably dislodged on the Hatepe climb. Darryl arrived, with the cavalry, four minutes later! Brian finished in 10:21, and Steve was the seventh and last Enduro under 11 hours, sneaking in by a minute.

My overriding emotion upon finishing was disappointment. As the days have passed, this has eased, and I've become less gutted about my performance. Riding a bike hard is a funny thing, and at the level I'm currently at, it's probably worth remembering just about everyone's hurting - not just me. Road racing is beautiful, and probably the style of racing I'm best suited to. It's also unforgiving, as my short lapse on Kuratau showed. If I'd limped home, I'd have probably felt better about the whole thing, but the ride back to Taupo had been strong - apart from Sam and Jack, no one had caught me in the last 70-odd km of the race.

It's also helped to have seen the various reports describing the atrocious conditions. The mountain bikers had been stopped mid-race on account of trees falling down, and with the exception of the elites, race times were apparently on the slow side. I'd ridden two 4:59 laps with a 5 minute break in between for an official time of 10:02:52, and would have been well within the top 10% in the solo field with one or other of those lap times.

My legs felt mostly-fine for Wednesday Worlds, but my head is still reeling from the effort. It's not that surprising to me given the concentration required throughout the night to simply keep the bike on course, plus the added abuse of a sub-par two hour sleep beforehand. The drive back to Wellington added insult to injury, and felt much longer than the ride had!

It was super cool to have my parents involved in the event, and they did their jobs perfectly and without complaint! It was a privilege to ride Black Ops on my beautifully prepped machine, spurred on by Oli's faith in me. And, to have Simon's words of wisdom ringing in my ears - in response to "I'll do my fair share of work and no more" he answered "preferably less"! I spent at least a lap preparing my justification for ignoring that advice. This event would have been so far off my radar without his mentoring and friendship over the last five years - it seems I'm no longer a weekend-warrior, even though I've waged my fair share of wars in the past weekends.

The nice thing about writing these things up - it helps bring closure. I can now stop dwelling on this race, and start thinking about whatever's next. One thing is for sure though, I'm going to have to do this damn event again. For the meantime, it stays on the list of unfinished business.

Le Petit Brevet, and pardon my French

2011-11-23T16:58:00.001+13:00

Fuck me, the hills are big, steep and plentiful on the Banks Peninsula!

Nonetheless, the second edition of my good friend Tim Mulliner's Le Petit Brevet was something I've been looking forward to for twelve months. Last year, I'd been on course, but short-cutting like a mofo after inflaming my right knee. The lead-up to this event had been a bit light on climbing, but I was fit and strong, and, just as important, enthusiastic!

The only real curve-balls of the event were bike choice and a riding buddy.

I'd cracked one of the seat stays on my carbon Giant XTC frame at the Tāwhio back in February. Mostly, this was my fault and a bit of bad luck - I should have been more conservative mounting a freeload rack on a lightweight carbon race bike. Live and learn though. As November loomed, I continued to procrastinate about getting the frame repaired, and eventually realised I was fast running out of time. In the end, I sold the frame to Simon (after filling the crack with a bit of superglue and hiding the damage with some of Kaitlyn's paints, shhhh!), and ordered a Yeti ARC from sponsor, Kashi Leuchs. I'd had nothing but good experience on my Cape Epic race rig to date, and having another Yeti in the stable was an exciting prospect. The cost of replacing forks and wheels meant I'd stick to the 26" format for now. The frame arrived in plenty of time for long-time friend Oli Brooke-White to give it a bit of Premium treatment, and in the week leading up to the event, I was able to load it up, and give it a good shake-down.

Around the same time as I was deliberating on bike choice, Megan and I decided to do Le Petit Brevet together, thinking it would be a valuable experience in the lead-up to our South Africa mission in March next year. We'd both need to make a few sacrifices for this, but the opportunity was too good to miss, we both agreed. I tried to impress upon Megan the importance of travelling light - even more critical for someone 50kg. My gear would be closer to 5% of my body weight than the near-10% Megan would have. I curtly responded to the txt "Jandals?" a couple of nights out with "no, too heavy"! Megan lugged all her overnight gear and spare tubes, though I had all our tools, sun and chamois creams, and map. Not a huge amount of weight redistribution, but at least we had no replication.

I enjoyed getting my gear together for the event, as always. I like the analytical side of it, and now have some experience pulling things together, as well as some flexibility of stowing options. This time, I'd be rocking my 2.7L Ortleib saddle bag (enough room for woolen singlet, shirt, Ground Effect Baked Alaska, boardies - lighter than undies and shorts, and plenty comfortable - survival blanket, tools, GPS charger, an assortment of pills and tablets, and funky - but pretty useless (!!!!) - tiny disposable toothbrushes that Simon had found at a supermarket). I taped a couple of tubes on the frame, and mounted my GPS unit and Ayup lights up front, a small red rear light, and pump in a bracket behind one of two bottle cages. Also, a Bontrager feed bag, which is a little more stable than the Topeak one I've used in the past. I'd again be sporting my new Camelbak for extras: jacket, map, beanie, suncream, Sweet Cheeks Butt Butter and lip balm, and food!

I had one surprise amendment to my gear list when I swung by to get Oli's expert torque into the bolts I'd loosened when reorganising the handle bar a little - I'd be running Black Ops in Banks Peninsula - an honour I'm humbled by...

Ready to rock and roll!

I swung by Oli's on the way to the airport, but he was on a school run so he'd have to wait to see me in my new jersey. I then popped into see Ma at Rongotai College - not the greatest photographer, but one hell of a Deputy Principal!!!! (Nice shot of the buses Ma!)

One cause of nerves during the week was realising I'd booked the flight down with Jetstar, returning with Air New Zealand. I arrived to check in 90 minutes before scheduled departure, and while the flight was all on time, I was told I needed the bike in a box. I declined to purchase one initially, but after a quick visit to the ANZ desk, returned with my tail between my legs and handed over $20 to go with my pride.

I had the tools, I needed, and time, so calmly set about getting the bike into the box. My ESI grips seemed like an excellent choice, as I taped one the left fork leg and the other to the top tube of the frame. I marked the seat height with a bit of tape, and then taped it to the rear wheel in such a way that the saddle would keep the frame away from the side of the box. Front wheel was also taped to the frame, and my two bags were also used as buffers. After about 30 minutes, I was satisfied it was in pretty good shape, and got changed out of my lycra, before sealing the box up and crossing my fingers than the bike would emerge undamaged in Christchurch and hour or so later.

Ma and Pa swung by and we grabbed a quick coffee, though I was still a little frazzled about the box requirement. Sometimes it takes me a while to "let go"!

I had a great window seat in an exit row with no-one beside me, making for a comfortable flight. Tim and Megan were there to meet me, and we soon had my reassembled bike alongside Megan's on the back of Tim's car. A short drive later, and we were getting stuck into a good feed of pasta, and catching up!

5:45am didn't take long to arrive, and after smashing down some cereal and a bit of coffee, we were rolling out! I couldn't quite replicate the shot I'd taken of Tim and Simon the year before, but to be fair, I didn't bother to ask Megan to pull up alongside Tim. In contrast to last year, Tim was rocking a freeload rack instead of a hefty backpack.

Megan and Tim heading to the start line

We arrived at Hansen Park shortly after 7, and it was a bit of a wait before people started to arrive. I had the briefest opportunity to chat to fellow Wellingtonians Charlotte and Barryn, Peter, Ollie and Jasper from the Kiwi Brevet, Cape Epic vet Geof Blance, and Tandem exponents about whom I'd written a short piece for Spoke Magazine, Rose and Jackson Green. Tim gave us a short briefing, and after a few photos, we were good to go.


Flogged from the Le Petit Brevet blog!

It was a little hard to watch the front half of the field ride away from us as we set off up Rapaki. Instead, I concentrated on sticking with Megan, and kept an eye out for good photo opportunities!

Megan, and Karin, one of the many CXers

While I felt completely comfortable on Rapaki, I really struggled on the Mt Vernon singletrack. The wind was strong, and Megan was getting battered by it. I probably should have realised drafting was futile and just tried to find my own rhythm. The cafe at Sign of the Kiwi was closed, so no opportunity for last year's silly coffee stop, and we jumped onto Bowenvale Traverse. I think we rode an extra section of it, but it was nice to be in the relative shelter of the trees.

The summit road was exposed, and there was a strong, cold wind blowing. Here, Megan had a much better chance of getting some protection from me, but still, it was hard conditions for her.

The descent from Gebbies Pass was a quick one, and before long we were at the start of the Little River Rail Trail.

Just as we set off, I saw four riders coming through the gate we'd bypassed by sneaking around the back of an adjacent building. We didn't pause to say gidday. We didn't see them again on the rail trail, but soon after, as we were fumbling around trying to pick up the track from Birdling's Flat onto Bossu Road they whipped past on a pretty solid 4WD track we hadn't noticed. We got to Bossu Road eventually, but certainly not efficiently!

This second climb was my favourite of the event. The gradient was relatively mellow, and the views over the Pacific Ocean and back along the Lake Ellesmere spit were spectacular. My legs were feeling great, and I took advantage of my pace over Megan's to take plenty of photos...

Birlding's Flat, and the narrow gravel "bridge" we'd crossed over the lake outlet

The home of what, I wondered?

Lake Ellesmere Spit in the distance, a universally hated section of the 2010 course

The wind was still blowing cold, and at 600m asl, it was time to rug up before the descent into Little River. This one was sealed all the way, and an absolute blast! With my additional mass and fast-rolling Stan's Raven tyres, I had no trouble escaping Megan, but stopped a couple of times on the way down to make sure we didn't get separated.

The food quality in the gallery cafe at Little River would be pretty damn good even if you'd just got out of a car, but after two big climbs and a few hours of riding, it was out of this world! I had a coffee, and a delicious bacon and egg sandwich. Something sweet too, to chase that down, but I can't for the life of me think what. I do remember it was hard to choose though! I also stashed a double decker white chocolate chip cookie, lashed together with chocolate and peanut butter in a takeaway baggie for the afternoon! No weight-watching on this gig!

When we set off up the biggest climb of the event, I had Megan's bottle of powerade in my pocket, in addition to my couple on the bike. These would need to see us through to Akaroa, probably not too far shy of 1500m vertical climbing away. I should have insisted I haul the thing all the way up, and hand it to her when she wanted it, but I wasn't prepared to argue the case and instead enjoyed climbing without an extra kilo! Western Valley Road up to the Double Fenceline track was steep, and we did well to take time out of quite a few riders that had arrived at and left the cafe before us. We didn't really pause once we'd left the road, and set off first along the only other bit of mountain bike track on the trip.

A quick drink and we're off!

The numerous gates and styles didn't do us any favours though, and we got smoked by the group we'd set off just ahead of, a large number of cyclocross bikes among them. Megan saved our bacon at the very bit of track we'd been briefed to avoid, and we only lost a few minutes with my navigational foul up.

Again, I had plenty of time for photos, and the clearing skies afforded excellent material!

Looking north into Pigeon Bay

South, over Little River and Lake Forsyth. We climbed just behind the ridge on the left of the lake

We had no more blunders, and eventually we popped out at the top of Pettigrews Road. We then spent a bit of time on Summit Road, complete with another few hundred metres of climbing, and one of the few parts of the course we'd do in both directions. It was good to scope out the top of Middle Road, but not so nice to see the top of the climb from Little Akaloa...

The descent to Akaroa Harbour was as you'd expect off a 700m asl ridge, and we were soon approaching Akaroa itself. A couple of bumps later (the second of which was quite a grovel for such a short climb) we were starting to think about an early dinner! We met CXers Julz and Matt leaving the superette (which closed at 8pm, they assured us). We asked if they knew where to find a fish and chip shop, and were promptly invited for pasta at a friend's restaurant.

We accepted, and were treated to a delicious meal. I really shouldn't complain, but, it was a driver's meal! Delicious, and small! I imagined scoffing down seconds and thirds, and then we bade our cobbers farewell. The meal had also taken quite a lot longer than we expected, but it had been nice to rest for a bit, and to enjoy Julz and Matt's company. I'd also had a chance to fire off a txt or two.

Upon leaving the restaurant, we headed to the superette, and stocked up for supper and the next day. I bought 7 packs of instant noodles, a loaf of fruit bread, some peanuts, OSMs, and a couple of bananas. These all went in my pack, and we refilled our bottles with powerade. Then, we made the left turn into Rue Balguerie, and onto Purple Peak Track.

Before we left the seal, we were both off our bikes walking. It was so bloody steep, it hardly seemed worth riding away from my team mate on it, and so we walked together.

As we slowly but surely made our way back up to the ridgetop, I started to get increasingly nervous about Megan's energy levels. I'd been pushing both bikes for significant chunks of this climb, and still, my offsider was looking very weary.

Purple Peak Track out of Akaroa

By the time we reached the top, I'd tried to summarise our options, and in the end we agreed to split up for the run into Okains Bay. Not before passing Hinewai Reserve (for which donations from riders in lieu of an entry fee for the event would raise $650) and watching the sun go down...

Hinewai Reserve


Sunset

We stopped at the top of Le Bons Bay Road, and had a look at the map together. We'd taken Okains Bay Rd from the summit to the harbour, so Megan knew the intersection she was looking for. I showed her where Double Dutch backpackers was, and gave her a couple of packets of noodles to get her supper started. I donned my coat, and started the descent to Le Bons.

A few minutes later, I pulled off the road to put my beanie and Baked Alaska on. These did a much better job of cutting out the chill than my jacket alone had done. So often the course went straight up and then straight down, and managing one's temperature had been challenging all day.

I still had enough light to see by, and was soon setting off up Lavericks Road, at full noise. While I was totally cool with the decision to ride with Megan, it was nonetheless exciting to have the flexibility to ride at my own pace for a change. And, I made the most of it.

The climb was steep to begin with, and I soon passed a dude struggling to keep his bike moving. Another four riders came back to me near the top of the climb, one of them being Peter, another John McGrail who I'd chatted to on the Little River Trail at last year's event, and a third Greg Manson, who I'd ridden with a bit on Double Fenceline. The fourth was a guy who'd quietly watched Megan and I take the wrong turn on Double Fenceline!

Despite being nearly at the top of the climb, I took almost 15 minutes out of these guys on the remaining run into Okains Bay. I was hauling, and really enjoying my big lights, light setup, and relatively fresh legs.

When I arrived at the backpackers, I was on a bit of a high. It was great to find Megan washed and looking happy, with some noodles stewing away. She showed me to the room we'd be sharing, and I too was soon showered. Soon we were joined by the others, and it was a nice opportunity to swap notes from the day. In addition, it was a good chance to do some prep for the morning. I loaded my camelbak bladder with water, and mixed up some Replace for my two bottles. I also took a leaf out of Simon's book from last year, and boiled up a couple of eggs for a snack for Megan and I the next day. Our GPS units also got a charge, and I smashed back a couple of packs of noodles myself. These positives were offset somewhat by the discovery of my 8mm Allen key - needed for pedal removal at the airport. While it was nice to know I was a little more prepared than I realised, hauling the relatively hefty (80g) tool was annoyingly at odds with my travel-light mentality. One of my (too heavy) jandals weighs 180g, so I suppose in the giant scheme of things the spare tool wasn't that bad!

The four riders I'd passed late the previous night were aiming to head off before 6, but Megan and I figured rest was slightly higher priority than being on course at sparrow's fart. Instead, we set alarms for 6am, and it took us a full hour before we were on the road. The others hadn't claimed any of the free-range eggs available, so we scrambled a couple, and enjoyed them with our fruit toast and some more noodles. I had a cup of tea, too, but should have got stuck into the instant coffee... I knew I hadn't fed my caffeine addiction well enough as we rolled out, but it was too late to do anything about it.


Adjusting attire a few minutes into the ride from Okains

We hadn't looked closely enough at the map, because we weren't expecting the climb out of Stony Beach, but it was well worth it for the views alone.

Stony Beach

Somewhere on Chorlton Road was meant to be a place serving Devonshire Teas. I fantasised about these for a bit, but saw no sign of the shop. Perhaps I was too busy thinking about jam and cream when I temporarily lost track of what was up and down. We descended into a narrow gully and then descended out the other side, and while looking across at the far side of the gully, I swore it was a climb into the gully, and that I too should have been climbing. I knew that I'd better trust the momentum of my bike over my eyes, but it was a fascinating illusion nonetheless.

Little Akaloa was looking gorgeous too, but the climb out of it would soon wipe the smiles off our faces...

The regularity of the swell rolling into the bay was very cool

I was quite out of sorts on the ascent back to Summit Road, and I was looking forward to seeing the road sign I'd eyed up the day before!


Steep?! It sure was!

We spent a few kilometres on Summit Road, with stunning views over the harbour, laden this morning with two massive cruise liners.


Akaroa Harbour

The right turn onto Middle Road (nestled between Pettigrews and Pigeon Bay Road) came soon, and relatively painlessly.

While we had only two wheels each, we weren't the only ones on the steep, corrugated gravel road this morning. I was coming into a sweeping left-hander when I spied an SUV on its way up. I tried in vain to peel off as much speed as I wanted to, and in the end, gave up to concentrate instead on steering around the corner! The metre between us was plenty enough to avoid an accident, and I was soon back to Megan and back on the seal!

After a bit of a cruise down-valley, we were soon at Pigeon Bay, and back on the gravel.

We met a girl walking down a steep bit of road. As we passed her in our granny gears, we heard "It gets worse further up"! Thankfully, it wasn't noticable, and soon Megan and I were at the top of overlooking Port Levy. I was impressed with Megan's form this morning, and while I was leaving her to it on the climbs, I was only waiting for a few minutes each time for her to arrive. My worst fears of getting stuck in Okains Bay were far from being realised, and we were looking good for a steady ride back to Christchurch.

The climbs were getting shorter each time, and the last significant one before Lyttelton, over to Purau, was sealed. I took the opportunity to do the vast majority of this standing - a chance to not only give the muscles in my legs something slightly different to do, but it also eased a few hot spots on my arse!

While we climbed the short hill out of Purau, I coveted a small island in the harbour, imagining how cool it would be to live on such a place. Somewhere in a parallel universe, I'm a lighthouse keeper I think...

One of the locals had warned us the dairy at Diamond Harbour was past the turnoff to the ferry (and over a couple of small bumps), so I was delighted to see a cafe half way down to the wharf. We stopped, and soon learned that the next ferry was sailing in 10 minutes. It was 12:20, and while the clock was ticking, there seemed little point in rushing. Instead, we ordered a bit of food and drink, and enjoyed a quiet sit-down in the sun.

A coffee + extra shot, steak and cheese pie, and a three-scoop icecream later, I was returning the 600mL bottle of chocolate milk I'd bought, and trading it in for another coffee. There was no way I could've finished the milk, and I figured it would spoil in the hot sun.

The ferry ride was cool, and I got the distinct impression the captain was a bit of a hoon!

Our bikes tucked in behind 5 MTBs fresh from a ride on Mt Herbert

We were soon disembarking in Lyttelton, giving us a close-up view of the carnage dealt to the area by several massive earthquakes and untold after-shocks. There was one massive concrete slab in particular that hammered home the forces involved in these events.

With all that coffee in my belly, I perked up immensely and became all chatty again! Not only that, but my legs felt pretty much brand new! The ride to the bottom of Dyers Pass Road was pretty straight forward, and it was one of the flattest sections of the course. The climb to Dyers Pass itself didn't last too long, and while waiting for Megan at the top, I siphoned about half a litre of water out of my camelbak, mouthful at a time. We still had 50m or so to climb, and it would be easier without the weight I'd just spat onto the hot pavement.

Megan had our first bike issue of the event only a few kilometres from the end. Her rear derailleur shifter fouled, and she'd got her slightly too short chain stuck in big-big. We eventually freed it by dropping the wheel out, but it wasn't until the bottom of Rapaki that we thought to undo the cable, dropping the chain into a much better gear for the flat ride back to Tim's.

Megan hits Rapaki for the blast to the finish

We were back at Hansen Park on the dot of 3pm, 31 hours after leaving, and a whopping 17 hours and change after Ollie, who'd "ridden through the night" so damn fast that he'd barely ridden any of the course in the dark!

Done! (And, a tad sunburnt on the left!!!)

My GPS unit logged 17 hours of riding in that time, for a distance of 232.73km, and climbing of close to 8000 vertical metres (the gory details are here). There were nine major climbs: Rapaki, Bossu Rd, Western Valley Rd (Double Fenceline including Mts Fitzgerald and Sinclair), Purple Peak, Lavericks, Little Akaloa, Pigeon Bay-Port Levy, Port Levy-Purau and Dyers Pass. The Summit Road bump after Double Fenceline (at just under 100km in the graphic below), and the two climbs out of Okains (at about 150km) barely rate a mention, but they're still roughly equivalent to three ascents of Mt Vic in Wellington.

Hills!

It may not have been as much as my GPS unit recorded, but even at 7200m which some others had, it was a hell of a lot of climbing. For a bit of fun, I looked up wikipedia, and with Garmin's Elevation Corrections enabled (which "cross reference the horizontal position (latitude/longitude) provided by the GPS with elevation data that has been acquired by professional surveys"), the 8007m ascended corresponds to just 20m shy of the world's 14th highest peak, Xixabangma in the Himalayas. Not a bad effort for a couple of days on a bike!

I was very pleased to get through it without any real physical strain. I'm no stranger to long days in the saddle, but this was the first time I'd encountered such a huge amount of climbing. It was very valuable time riding with Megan, and I'm sure our team effort in South Africa will be a hell of a lot better for the shared experience at Le Petit Brevet.

I'll be back for another edition of this hard and cool event for sure. It's always great to catch up with Tim, and the peninsula has more gorgeous views hidden away I'm sure. For the next year, I'll ponder the merits of riding the whole course in one hit. For one thing, I'm not absolutely certain my legs would hold up. For another, it seems like such a waste of awesome scenery to ride in the dark, and I'm under no illusions about my inability to match Ollie's solution to that particular chestnut. Finally, Double Dutch at Okains Bay is such a nice place to stay. As I told the owner, "I'm always so pleased to reach this place, and so reluctant to leave". There's one hell of a climb out of it, no matter which way you go!

Damn, it was good to get out.

PS: The very same ride's also been described by Megan, and if you're curious about the line from Pulp Fiction which I said to her at the top of Purple Peak, it was what Mr Wolf said to Julz and Vincent at Jimmie's: "let's not start sucking each other's dicks just yet."

Labour Weekend Labours

2011-10-26T21:50:00.000+13:00

Over the last 5 years, I've clocked up a very large number of hours riding alongside my best mate Simon. The last few of these years, we've allocated a few of them towards a spring cycle tour: NP2NP (New Plymouth to National Park) in 2009 and the Triangle Trip of 2010. Not only have they been a great way to kickstart a bit of fitness, but they're also a very good way of recharging the mind in advance of the silly season.

This year, Simon took charge of the route planning, and providence took charge of the timing. Early last week, I borrowed Simon's marked-up 1:250000 Napier map, and started transposing the route into mapmyride, before eventually loading it onto my Garmin Edge 705. The basics: head north of Napier on Friday evening, and overnight somewhere on SH2. Ride into Tuai on SH38 on Saturday via some back-roads. Head to Minginui (south of SH38, about 30km short of Murupara) on Sunday via the Moerangi Track in Whirinaki Forest (czech out the latest 8th edition of Classic New Zealand Mountain Bike Rides), then return to the car via a southern route. Cool!

I found the last week or so prior to the trip stressful, largely due to bike anxiety. In the end, I threw a worn Stan's Raven on the rear of Flux Turner (replacing the humungous Nevegal), mounted a freeload rack on the rear triangle (all of about a 5 minute job), had a quick squizz at my Kiwi Brevet gear list and before I knew it, I was good to go!

Light is right: in a dry bag on the freeload rack I had a woolen singlet, long sleeved woolen top, shorts and undies, a Ground Effect Baked Alaska, plus jandals and my GPS charger. Also in the bag were toothbrush and toothpaste, some bog roll, and a few bike tools. I was testing out my new flash-as Octane 18X Camelbak (thanks to Extreme Gear for the support) - it was loaded with one square meals, rain gear, suncream and lip balm, chain lube and pump. Not a lot of stuff, but the essentials were present and accounted for!

I picked Simon up from work mid-afternoon on Friday, and soon we were unpacking the car into the Waikare Hotel, at Putorino, about 50km north of Napier.

We ordered a meal - I had a steak, which was accompanied by one of the biggest steak-knives I've ever seen! Simon's quote of the weekend came early: "good to have cutlery you can kill a man with"!

We watched some of the World Cup consolation final, before eventually turning in.

Saturday

The next morning dawned with the sound of light rain on the roof. We consequently made a leisurely start, enjoying the buffet continental breakfast on offer, and the Saturday edition of the Dom. We did the 5-minute quiz, managing only 6 correct.

Finally, it was clear the weather was not going to change, and we figured we might as well make a start. A quick photo outside the pub, and it was time to roll out.

We had 15km or so on SH2 to start, during which we shepherded a large flock of goats for a short while, before crossing the railway line onto Mohaka Coach Road. In the dry it would have been fantastic, but the gloop we were riding in resembled cold porridge, and we weren't having a lot of fun in it.

The road was quiet though, and apart from a single motorcyclist, we didn't see any other traffic before the crossing of the Mohaka River almost 20km later.


Crossing the Mohaka River

We stopped under a large tree before we passed the small settlement near the river-mouth. We had some food, and I took the opportunity to put my 3/4-length overtrou on - something I immediately regretted as for the first few minutes it felt like they were lined with sandpaper. Fortunately that horrid sensation ended, and I was soon back to gladness.

We were both wet and cold by the time we rolled into Wairoa - site of one of the ugliest churches I've seen in a while.

We hadn't intended on coming this way - we'd planned to backtrack on SH2 to Raupunga before hitting up a back road into SH38. But, the conditions had us seeking an easier route. The trip through Wairoa also gave us the opportunity to grab a bit of lunch at a cafe, some extra food from the supermarket, and Simon had a crack at buying some polypropylene to supplement his minimal gear. Despite cruising the entire town, the only option seemed to be a $2-store, and while Simon emerged with a new pair of "woolly" gloves, there was only cotton to be had and so it was a big fail on the warm clothes front.

Just out of town, we passed a funky teapot tree, which was worth doubling back for.

SH38 was very quiet, and apart from some very dodgy directions from the GPS,


ORLY?!

...we'd soon hit the gravel, and some quality scenery.

Before too long, we were standing in front of Piripaua Power Station (a bit of a tongue twister), the lowest of the three hydro-stations below Lake Waikaremoana.


Piripaua Power Station

After checking out the info panel, we were getting stuck into the final climb of the day up to Lake Whakamarino and the settlement of Tuai. We chose the "back road", which was hugely ironic, given the fact that the parallel stretch of SH38 was gravel as well, and not much wider.

Piripaua Road afforded us a lovely approach into Tuai though, and was well worth the slightly steeper ascent.


Tuai, on Lake Whakamarino

We were soon unpacking our bags into a nice twin room at the Whakamarino Lodge, and not long after that tucking into a delicious Kennett special: 1 tin baked beans, 1 tin spaghetti, 1 tin salmon, mix and apply heat. I wolfed mine down, and tried not to stare too intently at Simon's meal as it slowly disappeared.

Among our various forms of entertainment for the evening was trying to remember the 5-minute quiz questions (and answers) from the morning's paper. We only managed 8 out of 10.

The views out to the lake were stunning, and our host was a source of good conversation. We chatted for a bit, went for a short walk, and then hit the sack. Simon had a magazine which included info about the hydro scheme and the area more generally, and he occasionally reported bits of interest while I rested my eyes.

Sunday

When we woke the next morning, we were in the mist, but it was obvious the sun was doing its darnedest to cut through. We were treated to a cooked breakfast: deep-fried sausages and hash browns, an egg each, and toast, but our chef decided not to offer us any porridge - she didn't look that impressed with it. After posing out front, it was time to ride out.

We didn't get far before stopping to admire a bit of hardware from the power plant. Imagine the size of the socket-wrench for turning those puppies!

We took the main road out of town, SH38, gravelled, and before long were up above the mist. We were set for a stunner by the looks of it!

Lakes Kaitawa (L), Wherowhero (R) and Whakamarino under the mist

We faffed around a bit, stopping to take photos, apply sunscreen, shed coats etc etc, but were soon alongside Lake Waikaremoana. The lake itself was choppy with quite a wind blowing, but still spectacular.

For the next couple of hours we were riding alongside Lake Waikaremoana, and the scenery was off the hook.

We stopped briefly at the DOC HQ, and assessed our progress against the plan for the day. The upshot of that wee team-meating was to quickly pack up and to get riding again!

About 250m down the road, my rear tyre started quickly losing air. Stan's jizz had been struggling to seal a hole just by the rim, and while I'd been able to top up the pressure every so often, this time, it was going down fast. I stopped and pulled the wheel out, before realising the hole had plugged itself again. I put some air in, and Simon recommended I let it settle a bit before riding off. I was riding a bit quicker than him, so he took the opportunity to get a head start.

I could have done with his moral support and experience in the minutes that followed. No sooner had he disappeared around the corner when I realised my rear brake was in a bad way. Not only were the pads touching, but the brake blocks were pretty much non-existant. One looked to have completely sheared off the metal backing plate, and the other was very thin indeed. In the end I managed to get my car-key in between them, and open them enough to get the wheel in. Then it was time to chase Simon...

The chase didn't go so well. As I set off my mind was whirring as to how the hell I'd manage to ride the next 200km with no rear brake. I must have knocked my GPS unit when I had the bike upside down cos when a strange noise prompted me to check my handlebar stem it wasn't there. I reeled the bike in (front brake only) and then turned around. About 150m back I saw the GPS sitting in the road. I guess somewhere in the data will be a rather sudden halt!

I had to reinflate my tyre a couple of times before I caught Simon. I quickly brought him up to speed on my shenanigans, and we were soon discussing cutting out the Moerangi Track. I felt pretty stink, but didn't see how I'd manage a day MTB ride nursing a compromised bike. Soon after, Simon reported rear brake problems of his own, and while I was calling time on my tubeless troubles, he diagnosed his rim was about to shit itself.

When we set off, both of us were on a strict diet of front-brake only.

The cruise along SH38 was fantastic. We very rarely saw any traffic, and if anything, had more altercations with wildlife. At one point we came across a herd of about 6 horses. They started hooning down the road in front of us, and I delighted in putting a massive attack in to pass them on their outside. Whoop whoop! It felt great to fire the legs in anger, albeit temporarily.

Soon we'd climbed away from the lake, and after a long descent we arrived at Ruatahuna - a pamphlet at the Whakamarino Lodge had assured us we'd be able to get pies and icecream here. Sadly, neither were available, but I did buy a tin of tuna which I ate with some grainwaves, a tin of creamed rice each (in the old colours, and $3.80!) which we ate with ice-cream sticks, and a big bottle of L&P. I couldn't be bothered grabbing a bottle outside, so used my creamed rice tin as a vessel... Yummo!

There was a greasies menu above the counter. Fish were first on the list at $3.70, followed by "Blood and guts" at $4.30. I could only surmise that was a hot-dog, since that wasn't on the list. I wish I'd asked the woman behind the counter...

There were a few tiny settlements beyond Ruatahuna, and these were always fascinating to see. Often a building or two, surrounded by fairly modern vehicles, and then junk strewn around the place.

The scenery continued to be stunning - often we were alongside a stream, and there was one super impressive cutting which I couldn't ride past without reaching for the camera.

We stopped for a spell at the top of a hill before beginning the descent. It was sealed - a rarity - and as we came onto a long straight we saw something in the road at the far end. We stopped, grabbed our cameras out, and rolled off down the road a bit more, both realising too late that we had cameras in the front-brake hand! We managed to stop though, before carefully considering how to safely negotiate the next 20m of state highway!

The huge cattle-beast in our rear-view mirrors, we were soon passing the turn-off to the Moerangi Track. Even if our bikes had been top notch, we were now well out of time, and wouldn't have made it through in daylight. The road section to the Minginui turn off was surprisingly hilly, but maybe we were both suffering a bit from a slightly stressful day, and about 200km in the legs so far.

It took us a bit of time to sort out where our accommodation was, but we got there in the end. We were sharing a farm-stay with Simon's bro Jonathan, Richie and Hannah from the Tāwhio and their friends, Mark and Sylvia. It was a while before Simon and I had access to the food Jonathan had driven in for us, but once we had it, it didn't take long for us to smash it down. The others made curry, and then we watched the ABs win the Rugby World Cup final against France. Our TV was small, and the reception was poor, so we didn't really get nervous until the commentator said it was "seven minutes to go". It still looked to be somewhere in the 50s on our screen!

Sunday

The next morning, Simon and I had creamed rice and bananas for breakfast, with a bit of fruit bread and a one square meal bar for good measure. We were travelling ever so slightly lighter today. We both had clean clothes back in my car, so we ditched a few non-essential garments. Consequently Simon was riding only with a small back-pack, and I wasn't hauling my jandals any more!

We rode the few kilometres into Minginui on the seal, before turning right towards a forest. We passed the turn to the Whirinaki MTB tracks and took the next left, onto a nice wide gravel road. The next 60km or so were off the hook, and are among the most amazing riding I've done.

The first task of the day was to gain some elevation, some 500 vertical metres. A lot of this was laid out in front of us, and after a while, we stopped to rearrange attire and lather up with suncream again.

Simon sets off, onwards and upwards...

...and the view back north towards Minginui

Often we were riding through or beside pine trees, but we also had stretches alongside stunning native forest. We saw an SUV in a skidder site, and they tooted and waved at us. It would be another 3 hours or so before we'd see the next vehicle!

Every now and then there would be signs of civilisation, but for the most part it was just us, the gravel road, and trees.

I was quite enjoying using my GPS unit as a copilot. I had the map screen zoomed in so I had only about 500m of track on the screen. When I saw a corner coming up, I'd check its radius on the screen before deciding whether or not to brake! Simon had no such need - he'd claimed his Cannondale back from Jonathan!

We were soon back in Hawke's Bay - we were about 50m up the road from where my GPS thought the boundary was, but the spot Simon was in looked like the watershed!

Bay of Plenty/Hawke's Bay boundary?

For the most part the navigation was very intuitive. We'd started on Main Road, turned onto South Road, then Boundary Road. My GPS unit was proving very helpful though, and we made a hard left turn onto Main Road (again?). A few kilometres along, it suddenly started bleating. I called to Simon "it wanted us to turn right back there". Neither of us had noticed a track, so we turned back with trepidation.

A track was there, though it was very minor compared to the massive gravel roads we'd been riding. It looked like a forgotten 4WD road, reminiscent of parts of the Karapoti loop. We got Simon's 1:50000 map copies out, and confirmed the route. Then, we proceeded!!!! FUN!!!!!

For the next few kilometres, we trusted my GPS unit completely. We'd pop out into a clearing, and I'd look down to see which direction we'd exit in. It seemed to work well, though sometimes I felt like I had a bit too much going on. We'd probably have managed with just the paper maps, but it would have been very slow, and a lot more nervewracking!

Before too long we were dropping into a valley which would take us out to SH5. I almost came a cropper in a rut, but managed to keep my bike upright! Luckily it was dry, and I wasn't being hampered too much by the missing brake. There were times where I'd find myself enjoying letting the bike go a little too much though, resulting in a bit of a pucker while I reeled it in!

The stunning scenery continued, and we now had some mountains on the horizon ahead of us. It was amazing to feel the scale of the place, and to realise how much country we were traversing.

The complete absence of vehicles was soon explained by a massive fissure in the road, which took some negotiating, even with our light bicycles.

A while longer, and we were soon only a few hundred metres from SH5, probably about mid-way between Taupo and Napier. We had an opportunity to avoid half an hour on it though, and took what my map described as Pohokura Road, but which looked to be an overgrown 4WD track...

... which ended all of a sudden in a bunch of native bush. We made our way through, walking our bikes, and were soon staring into an open car grave.

We back-tracked a little, before picking up a small track on the left, and were soon smiling on the far side of the latest mid-road-chasm!

Minutes earlier we'd been staring into this from the other side!

Shortly after the pit, we passed a clearing with a couple of concrete chimneys the only remnants of old buildings. Then, Pohokura itself, which looks to be only a couple of houses these days.

We had some stunning views over SH5 before a descent ending in the first gate of the day (about 70km into our journey).

Oops!

500m riding later, we had a sobering reminder we were back in "civilisation". We'd contemplated stopping here for a break, but just as we were about to collapse under a tree, I'd noticed Tarawera was only a couple of clicks up the road.

The only hill before Tarawera had been used in the second (?) MTB nationals back in the day. Simon regaled me with a description of his older brother Paul puking after drinking a bidon filled with juice concentrate mixed with coke! The hill didn't seem so bad with a decent story being told in the background!

The prices at the cafe at Tarawera were daylight robbery, but we didn't care. Sandwiches and scones with jam and cream times two thanks, and I added a pie and coffee for good measure. We had our first real cellphone reception for a couple of days here too, and it was nice to touch base with a few folk at home.

When we set off, we had a couple of "monster" hills to contend with. Neither actually as big as they felt. The second one is up to the lowest saddle on the skyline, in the photo taken from the first!

Looking East

I don't care for my GPS unit that much, and while I sometimes use it to keep track of a ride's distance, total climbing, or duration, it earns its keep through its mapping functions. The new version of mapmyride doesn't spit out Garmin "course" files, but the classic interface does. It can also plot routes on the fly, and will give directions to the nearest cities - in our case, Tutira on SH5, 15km short of the car.

It seemed to be doing a shocking job, and was recommending U-turns, and all sorts of crazy distances, but we knew better. By this stage we'd pulled the pin on the route it seemed to want us to take, and had scoped out another. We eventually discovered why it wouldn't allow us through, when we were confronted with a bunch of private road signs. Unfortunately, we were about 20km past the point of no return, so had no choice but to run the gauntlet. We passed near a house with a very vocal dog in the yard, but kept pedalling, our heads down, reciting "LALALALALALALALA" just so we wouldn't hear anyone hollering at us. It was stressful, and not at all pleasant.

After a short descent, we were again at a large mound of earth blocking the road. We'd seen this a couple of times before, and new instinctively that the bridge we were looking to cross was goneburger.

Without too much fuss we managed to get our bikes down into the riverbed - so many advantages to travelling light, and hike-a-bike sections being one of them. Simon called to me that there were people on the other side. Gulp. We didn't see anyone, though we did see a dog and a parked car. We walked briskly away from the car and were soon riding up a fairly steep 4WD road, chasing some billy goats.

Soon, we heard the sound of a vehicle, and Simon asked if I'd like to hide in the bushes. I replied "I'd rather be caught riding on this road than cowering in those bushes" - they didn't look like they'd offer much shelter. It was all academic, as the noise we heard was from a plane overhead. This prompted more great stories of Kennett Bros' missions from back in the day!

We had a nice surprise a few minutes later when a pink line appeared on my Garmin screen - signalling we were close to a route to Tutira! It was about 15 minutes away, and I was soon tucking into a massive icecream and a bit of jaffa slice! Simon arrived a few minutes later, and we got down to arm-wrestling to see who would blast the 15km back to Putorino.

I got my arse kicked...

It was nice to have an almost bare bike, and no bag on. It was good that I'd loaded my pockets with pump and tube though, because at "7 down, 8 to go" I felt my arse-end squirming around strangely, and had to stop to put extra air in the tube. I was keen to the the hell out of dodge on account of the magpie which was coming pretty close to my helmet. I cussed that bitch out though, and was soon full steam ahead to Putorino.

I figured if I made it as far as "11 down, 4 to go" before needing more air, I'd get away with just one extra pump. Luckily that was all it took, and I was soon retrieving the car, and then Simon, before starting the drive back to Wellington.

We managed to hold off our desire for dinner until Dannevirke, where we had a bit of Chinese smorgasbord followed by one hell of a lollie selection.


Dessert!

As we drove south through the Wairarapa, our legs reminded us we had notched up about 350km over the three days. Some of them tough, but very many of them glorious in one way or another. There were many pretty unique experiences to reflect on too.

Men at Work's Business As Usual on the car stereo was a pretty fitting way to bring the trip to a close. The next day, Sarah asked Simon what on earth we talk about with so many hours together on these trips. The answer is all sorts of random shit, and sometimes nothing at all. It's one hell of a treat to have such a great mate to do these things with. The trip served us a few curve balls, and Simon was short a few training miles before it, but by god, that'll be one mission that's hard to top. I'm sure we'll try though...

Postscript

In no particular order: Somewhere over the rainbow (multichoice, a top movie song); 3 (sequels to Alien); Swallows and Amazons (an Arthur Ransome book set in the Lake District); Wales (multichoice about who'd beaten the ABs - I think Ireland and Scotland hadn't); Milkshake Maker (some appliance manufacturer in the 20s); the Dalai Lama (didn't get a visa to attend a party in South Africa - Desmond Tutu's 80th?), Poverty Bay (Cook's first landing in NZ). We remembered 9 of them on the ride, but only 8 at a time. I'm short 3 now!

2011 Welly Peaks Points Race

2011-10-04T23:44:00.000+13:00

It was with some excitement that I spotted Asher's announcement of the second "Wellington Peaks Points Challenge" on vorb. I'd really enjoyed the previous year's inaugural event, despite not having a fantastic ride. The thrill of the chase was cool, and I'd enjoyed plotting and scheming before-hand, and even during the event - trying to reverse-engineer where my fellow competitors had been and were going, and why we were so often crossing in opposite directions.

The event's concept is pretty simple: Asher nominated nine of Wellington's prominent peaks, and a six hour time limit. Riders had to connect the dots, recording their feats with photos taken at each of the summits. How you get between the peaks is entirely up to you.

I learned a few lessons from the year before: I hadn't chosen a good route between Kau Kau and Johnstons Hill, and my get up and go and got up and left before I was back at base. A couple of things to remedy this time around.

Asher had posted a teaser about a possible tenth peak. The most obvious choice seemed to be a high point on the ridge between Happy Valley and Island Bay, particularly as WCC had opened a new track up there in the last year. I hadn't been up the Wharangi track before, so organised to check it out with Simon and last year's winner, Tim "T-Rex" Wilding.

Touching base about Wharangi had prompted Tim to suggest a Thursday evening ride, which, at the last minute I was able to join him on. We met at the cenotaph, then blasted up Ngaio Gorge, and up through Broadmeadows to the top of Kau Kau. I was pretty tentative once we had gravity on our sides, and Tim was smoking me. This was the "gnarliest" riding I'd tackled since my shoulder dislocation, and I was keen not to fuck up! The evening was still and warm though, so despite feeling well out-ridden, I was enjoying the ride nonetheless. We had a couple of short stops, but still made Johnstons Hill within 40 minutes. When I got home, I fired up my cell phone photos, and noted with interest it had taken me 42 minutes on my route through Ngaio and up behind Crofton Downs. Unless the weather was foul, it would have to be Skyline!

Tim was swamped at work the next day, so Simon and I checked out Wharangi alone. It wasn't clear from our recce whether Tip Track and Wharangi would be quicker than the much longer road loop past the windmill and Brooklyn shops, but at least we knew not to take on the massive flights of stairs on the off-road route down into Island Bay.

Often on race morning I'll wake a few minutes before my alarm goes off, and spring out of bed. Sunday morning was different, and I woke feeling pretty down. While my brain was urging me to turn the alarm off, roll over, and go back to sleep, I knew I'd regret that! So, after one "snooze", I dragged my sorry arse out of bed, and started fixing some kai.

I'd laid out my clothes on the floor of the lounge the night before, and had already mixed up a single drink bottle of replace. I faffed around, but eventually had some toast and coffee in me, and was ready to roll. Katy was due back from an overnight birthday party in Levin at 3pm, so I travelled light, and rode the short distance to Jonty's shop in Northland.

The ride added to the mood-booster I've relied on so much over the years. I've pulled my Roadworks jersey on many times now, but it always gives me a little charge. I guess it symbolises so many positive things: riding endeavours, friendship, and mutual respect, and it comes without any pressure or expectation.

The shop was busting at the seams when I arrived at around 8:30am. There were the usual suspects, and a rather illustrious surprise visitor, none other than Rosara Joseph, one of New Zealand's most successful mountain bikers. Jonty was working the coffee machine out back, and I was soon slamming down an espresso. "This will help" said Jonty as he passed it to me, "or make you feel sick!". Classic stuff.

When I'd downed that, I noticed Rosara was scoping out one of Greater Wellington's city maps. I slid up to her and asked if she'd like a bit of route advice. She looked relieved, and said "yes please!", so I grabbed us a couple of chairs, and gave her a suggested sequence.


Photo: Andy King

Well before I'd finished, I realised how difficult it would be for Rosara to retain even a fraction of my advice. It was cool to see her at the end, whereupon she thanked me for the sharp route between Makara Peak and Wrights Hill. With a DPhil from Oxford, I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised that someone with such awesome academic credentials would have a good memory!

Eventually, 9am was drawing near, and everyone began piling out of the shop. I had time to check the map on the wall, and to confirm that indeed the monument Simon and I had visited two days earlier was on the course, and was soon astride my sparkling Yeti ASR5C outside the shop. T-Rex arrived with a minute or two to spare, Asher gave a short briefing, warning us not to be back at the shop until after midday (like that was gonna happen!) and then we were off.

Compared to last year, the initial pace was very civilised. Once the gradient eased off just across from Northland School, Dave Sharpe, riding a fixed gear, dropped-bar bike completely unsuitable for this event (!!!!) rolled off the front. I swung out after him, and as we hit Orangi-Kaupapa was starting to feel the blood flowing.

As we rode 4 or 5 abreast, Dave was still 15m ahead, and we all watched with curiosity to see how he'd fare on the driveway up to the summit of Te Ahu Mairangi (Tinakori Hill in last year's money). Though I'd half expected to see Dave muscle his way up, he dismounted and started his march up the steepest pitch. I wished him well as I passed him, and I was soon side-by-side with Jonty, chasing Alex, Tim, Ed Crossling, and Andy King.

The driveway eased off as we made our way up it, and finally we were all standing atop Te Ahu Mairangi. I made a bit of a meal of getting my phone out and into photo mode, but was in soon in hot pursuit of Ed and Andy north along the ridge.

#1: Te Ahu Mairangi

We had a little trouble with dogs, and Andy and I lost Ed. I turned into Weld Street, and unlike last year, stayed on it before bombing down a series of steps, and safely maneuvering around an awkwardly positioned gate, calling back to Andy in case I was obscuring it from his view. Ed must have taken a long-cut, so we were back together as we hooked into Churchill Drive down at the Otari Stream crossing.

Alex, Tim and Jonty were about 100m ahead, riding into the northerly wind. It took Ed and I until just after the Crofton Downs roundabout to get up to them, swapping turns a couple of times to ensure our collective progress.

We all made the turn into Simla Crescent, but Jonty and Alex went straight past the turnoff Ed, Tim and I took into the bush reserve. We all stopped, dismounted, and began our march up the hill. This track was walking only, and we observed that to the letter of the law, noisily clicking Hope hubs be damned.

When we'd finally crossed over the style onto the open pasture 150m from the summit, we got back on the bikes, and back to what we did best!

Alex was first to the summit, and was off along the Skyline ahead of Ed and Tim. I was still having camera trouble, and clearly didn't take the requisite time to check my shot before departing.

#2: Kau Kau

I could see Jonty heading up from the Broadmeadows direction, and so had about a minute or so gap on him. It had taken me 33 minutes from Te Ahu Mairangi, a minute slower than last year, but not bad given my fully, the northerly, and more particular observation of the track status.

I definitely reaped the benefits of Thursday's ride with Tim, and was a lot more confident along the Skyline. I was perplexed to see Tom Lynskey, Ian Paintin, Miles Davies and poor Rosara climbing Kau Kau on the Skyline into the wind. It's a bit of a grovel at the best of times, and surely not a great route choice!

I saw a couple of other guys on the blast south - perhaps they'd skipped Te Ahu Mairangi? I was pleased to see Tim crossing the fence just below the final section to the Johnstons Hill summit - a good sign I'd ridden well. I was soon at the summit myself, and slowly getting my photography sorted. I popped a bit of brownie out of my pocket, and slugged some drink before heading off in the direction Tim had gone.

#3: Johnstons Hill

I'd had a good ride on Skyline - 30 minutes between photos, and a whopping 12 minutes quicker than the year before down through the 'burbs. Jonty offered me a high five as he passed on my right. I ducked, figuring that was probably the single worst thing I could have subjected my right shoulder to. I apologised at the end, and he'd said he'd realised the jeopardy he'd put me in too!

I saw some more riders as I popped out of the Skyline at Makara Road, maybe they'd missed Kau Kau?! FUN!

Marjolein and Maya were out for a run as I passed them up the access road to Varley's Track. I suffered quite a bit up Varley's, and had to walk a couple of short sections. The 4WD track felt better, though I pushed the steep pitch up to the summit.

Makara Peak's first chairman, Malcolm Gunn, was at the summit with a couple of buddies, and offered to record my presence. Asher's notes had said "On the bench seat at summit" so I literally climbed aboard. I could see Malcolm's finger partially covering the lens, but was too rooted to say anything!

#4: Makara Peak

That last segment had taken me 22 minutes, and despite feeling like shit, I'd been only 1 minute slower the year before. I was soon blasting down the Snakecharmer, enjoying being on my lovely plush fully!

Just after passing the end of Ridgeline Extension, I had company, in the form of a smoking Jonty! We had a good natter down St Albans and Allington, before making the turn up into Woodhouse Avenue, bound for Landsdowne Terrace. As it kicked up, I felt I needed to press on, and told Jonty I'd better enjoy the smooth stuff while I could, and perhaps I'd see him again soon.

Nearing the end of Landsdowne, I kept my eyes peeled for a friendly tap, and before long had a full bottle of water on board. I was nearly at the top of Wrights, and it seemed sensible to fill the bottle as high on the course as possible. I stayed left on the connector track (I'd erroneously jumped onto Salvation the year before), laughed at myself at the spot I'd crashed on the phone to Oli in 2010, then ran up the steps before setting up for the next photo. Jonty had been about 50m behind when I disappeared into the single track off Landsdowne, and wasn't in sight when I left the Wrights Hill trig.

#5: Wrights Hill

This leg had taken me 20 minutes, 4 minutes quicker than last year. The crash would have accounted for some of that, Salvation another 30 seconds or so, and nursing the rigid bike down Snakecharmer to offset whatever I didn't lose climbing on the fully.

I made a small route adjustment to get onto the Fenceline Track, saving probably another minute, and was soon grovelling out of the Glade on the Long Gully access road.

As I made the first right-hander on the road up the ridge, I spied Simon and Sarah ahead on their tandem. A few minutes later, I was alongside. Simon told me he thought I was in third - they'd seen Alex and Tim, but no Ed. I offered them some of my brownie. Sarah said she was sweet, but Simon gasped "yes please!" - it sounded like Captain was doing some hard yards up front! It took me a while to get the baggie out of my pocket, and I slowed to pass it to Sarah, and asked them to leave it at the top of the Tip Track. "If we get there before you" replied Simon. "Pah, no worries" I said, before accelerating away from them.

I saw Tim diving down into the Tip Track, and gave him a shout of encouragement. A minute or so later, I was posing up large in front of the radome. Last year I'd gone up to the trig point, but Asher's instructions had said "next to the radome", and I wasn't about to disobey an opportunity to avoid some climbing, no matter how trivial.

#6: Hawkins Hill

21 minutes from Wrights to Hawkins, 4 minutes faster than last year. It helped not to be freaking out about my phone and bleeding knee, I'm sure!

I saw Jonty, then Simon and Sarah, before collecting my leftover brownie, and shooting after Tim down the Tip Track. It was rough as guts, and one of my brakes was pretty spongy by the bottom. I'd screwed a few corners, and slid sideways at one point, but had always made it out the other side of the impressive drainage channels along the length of the track.

The ride up Happy Valley Road to the bottom of Wharangi was hard work, and seemed ridiculously long! Wharangi itself also felt like hard work, and I was looking forward to stopping at the Kingston shops for some drink. I spied someone up at the monument, taking a photo of themselves, but I was too far away to see whether it was Tim or Ed.

I was soon there myself, and took a couple of photos. The second was a better shot of the impressive monument, but I look more broken in the first, so here it is!

#7: Tawa Tawa Ridge

A minute or so later I was on tarmac, and then a couple of minutes after that, I was skulling coke out of a 1.5L bottle. I filled my bottle with coke too, and when I put the bottle in its cage, my handlebar clanked on the window - just as I noticed the "please do not lean bicycles on the window" sign. Sorry... I took another swig of coke before realising that any more would be silly. I screwed the lid on, and left the remnants by the shopfront, wondering if maybe one of my fellow competitors would help themselves to it! Probably not!

The run into Berhampore was quick, and after a 20 second wait at the lights, I was soon riding up the pedestrian connector between the two sections of Herald Street. I made the first right, then left along the park to avoid a bit of undulation. Then, onto Mount Albert Road.

I was feeling a tad shattered, so stayed on the road instead of taking the shorter but steeper path adjacent to the Chinese centre. Soon, I was back off-road, and within a couple of minutes was at yet another summit. The coke was beginning to have an effect, and I was feeling good about the next leg.

#8: Mt Albert

Hawkins to the top of Wharangi had taken 21 minutes, with another 15 to the top of Mt Albert. 36 minutes in total, compared to the 35 it took me to get to Albert from Hawkins the year before. The upshot of that: my 2010 route sucked!

I was soon in Kilbirnie, using the same route as I had last year: the steep steps onto Hornsey, and then Rodrigo. I popped onto the footpath at the lights, then across the road into the Mobil, before once again resuming the responsibilities of a vehicle on my ride along Rongotai Road.

I almost screwed up at the fire station roundabout, not quite reading the lane markings correctly. I had the rear wheel skidding, briefly, followed by a track-stand, and acceleration into the traffic. Soon, I was through Miramar cutting, then turning up Maupuia.

Hurtling towards me was my Team Yeti mate Alex, obviously having a very good day out on his Big Top. We waved at each other, and got back to our work. There was quite a bit of foot-traffic along the reserve which steadily climbs towards the prison, rather than ducking and diving like the road does. I'd pretty much concluded Tim and Ed must've taken the road down, when, just adjacent to the access to the top of Jail Brake, they flew past. I had still a minute or more to climb, and a very pre-meditated photo to take.

#9: Behind bars, Mt Crawford

Mt Albert to Mt Crawford had been another good leg: 21 minutes - the same time as last year, though this time on a fully and against a northerly wind.

I crossed Cobham Drive soon after the fire station roundabout, and couldn't get off the grass median soon enough, such was its horrible effect on my momentum, and temporarily, my will to live. I hit a green light at Kilbirnie Park, but made a left to avoid the next red. It took quite a while before I could pull a u-turn, and when I finally got back onto course, the other me that had waited patiently for the light to turn green was about 20m up the road.

I totally fluffed the turn up onto Alexandra Road. I went off-road just before the roundabout, then indecisively ducked and weaved my way around, before finally going straight up the guts and onto the road. The coke I'd had since Kingston was almost gone, but I'd been chugging it down to good effect. Unlike the year before when this stretch had seemed to take an eternity, progress was good this day.

I decided against "blasting" up the grass slope to the Byrd Memorial, taking the longer route up the road instead. As I prepared to make the right turn down to the lookout carpark, I saw Ed coming out, and he had a faraway look in his eye. We had a race on our hands!

I carried my bike up the steps to the lookout, scoping out my descent on the way up. From the top, it looked like I was going to get wet - showers were starting up over the city.

#10: Mt Victoria

22 minutes from Mt Crawford to Mt Vic, 4 minutes quicker than last year, on a slower bike on the same route. Fuel FTW.

Last year, I'd been pretty fucked at this stage, but my route across town (Courtenay Place, Dixon St, Kelburn) had also left a lot to be desired. Steep pitches, and constant changes in gradient had really had me struggling. So this year, I changed it up.

I blasted the steps from the lookout, before hurtling down the grass I'd only a few minutes before declined to ascend. Down the road for a couple of hundred metres, before making a hard right turn into the Wild Wellington descent. A quick left soon put me on the Dovetail, and before long I was at the Pirie St playground.

At the bottom of Pirie, I swung left onto Kent Terrace, before crossing over to the Karo Drive cycle path. As the Basin Reserve traffic hit Buckle, I saw a red light ahead, and figuring it would soon become green, made my way onto the road, hitting the green at Tory, then Taranaki, then Cuba, and finally Victoria Street, pretty much in the flow of traffic. I had a short stretch up Willis on the footpath, before crossing over onto Aro.

When Aro kicked up, my legs started to complain. Both quads were feeling very crampy, and I was not at all keen to experience full-on spasm in those big slabs of meat. Luckily I had a couple of gears left, and as I lightened the load and upped my cadence, the cramps eased. Sweet - homeward bound.

The steady climb up Raroa Road suited it me, and it was one I'd done rooted a number of times this winter - usually following Ash's spin class in Newtown. So, this was nothing new. Before too long, I was at the top, and managed to get the bike moving nicely along the flat. Traffic at the right turn to Northland Tunnel was non-existent, so I hit Northland Tunnel Road at speed. As I passed the Northland Road intersection at the far end of the tunnel, I nervously looked right to see if I could see Ed. No sign of him, and 20 seconds later I was at the shop. 13 minutes for that leg, down from 22 the year before.

Only Alex and Tim were in the shop, with Asher who'd opened up after a short ride with his young son Abe. Ed arrived a couple of minutes later, and as I popped into the superette next door, I was congratulated by Jitesh, the proprietor. "You're third" he said with a great big smile! First Alex, then Tim had gone in with a glazed-over look, and bought chocolate milk, and other assorted goodies. I was the next shopper that fit that bill, so, he correctly deduced, I must have been third!

I immediately texted Oli, and, as over the next hour or so, some pretty sharp riders arrived back at the shop, an overwhelming sense of satisfaction started to come over me. "Skinny Sifter was flying, beat me up the first steep climb to Tinakori summit" was what one of them shared with a buddy the next morning. Currently at 89kg, I'm not that skinny, and I certainly don't look like the kind of guy to ride well in a hill-climb event.

I'm going to go so far as to say that I think this will go down as one of my most satisfying races. I was 29 minutes quicker than a year before, and to be only 4 minutes down on Tim, and 12 to Alex, and to beat home a rider of the class of Ed Crossling, among others, is still amazing to me. It is yet another hint to me of what I might just be capable of given the right "environmental conditions". I've had an awesome winter, and despite dislocating my shoulder only a month ago, I'm feeling in great shape physically - perhaps better than I've ever been.

Four and a half years ago I smashed 40 minutes off my Karapoti PB to finish in 2:47 and change. For most of the intervening time I've believed I would never see that sort of time again. Today, I'm very much looking forward to proving myself wrong. I believe in myself more than ever, and I'm very excited about what might be around the corner.

The Revolve Spring Fling cycle tour, sort of

2011-10-04T15:43:00.000+13:00

Wellington is an awesome place to live and ride, and a major part of that for me is the extent to which the mountain bike community is advancing the "sport" through community initiatives. The range and scale of trail-building projects around the city is one part of this - and I'm proud to be involved. Another, more recent phenomenon, is Revolve - a "down to earth cycling club for women".

One of the two leaders of this project is my dear friend Ash, and over the last few years, with her buddy Marjolein, she's built up what, from the outside, seems to be a community of women riders who are positively fizzing about the range of bicycle-related opportunities.

While there are few Revolve events I can participate in (I've swung a couple of rides chaperoning Kaitlyn), being excluded is a great excuse to help out as a volunteer. So, when I was asked to join Ranger Steve in a support-wagon for Revolve's "Spring Fling Cycle Tour", I agreed (with pleasure) and started plotting a bit of riding for myself.

The Spring Fling's format would see the women overnighting in Martinborough and then Lake Ferry in the southern Wairarapa. There would be MTB and road options, and most of the group would head over on the Friday morning train, returning to Wellington on Sunday.

Friday

I had a shoulder appointment on Friday morning, which gave me an excellent excuse to ride out to Martinborough. After a couple of tedious hours in a queue (luckily with a brand new Spoke magazine to read cover-to-cover), I'd finally been seen ("oh, you're riding already?" asked the registrar upon seeing me in full roadie kit - I didn't tell him about Day Night Thriller two weeks prior), and left with a physio referral for my troubles.

I stopped at iRide for a quick bit of lunch, before mounting up. My sexy Colnago was raring to go, and I was keen to open it up. Steve had most of my gear with him, but I still had a back-pack with bits and pieces I'd forgotten to give him, some tools, rain-gear, and of course my Spoke magazine.

There was a southerly wind blowing, and I was both pleased to be underway finally, and looking forward to seeing my friends. The Colnago's 53-tooth front chain-ring was glistening, and I was running my "race wheels". The upshot of all that was I hauled out to Petone, and then up the Hutt Valley. My legs started to object as I neared Totara Park, and I finally watched my average speed drop below 40km/h after the 30-odd km up-valley from Wellington. Great progress!

I stopped briefly at the Caltex for a bit of fuel before getting underway again. My legs, feeling a little smashed from the drag-race from town, grizzled vigorously at the foothills at Te Marua. One lake was completely empty, and I was tempted to stop for some photos. I didn't, for fear of never getting going again.

The Rimutakas themselves weren't as bad as I was expecting. Not as steep as the Te Marua climb, the considerably longer hill ticked along nicely, and a good rhythm was only broken by a puncture in a gravel section just below the summit.

I had a fantastic ride down the Wairarapa side, with clear road the whole way down. My legs came back to life too, and I knocked out the final 18km to Martinborough in just under 30 minutes. I'd managed the 75km ride from Ngauranga (where I'd finally remembered to click my rarely-used GPS unit on) in under 2.5 hours riding-time! Not bad with a 600-odd-metre climb in it!

When I turned into the Martinborough camp-ground, where I'd stayed on a similar trip a couple of years earlier, then were a bunch of familiar faces to greet me. It was cool to hear about the various rides of the day (MTBers had ridden from Upper Hutt via the Rimutaka Incline...

...and roadies from Masterton via a few hills!) and have a very satisfying shower. Ash and Steve had set up a tent for me, and all was good in the world!

Soon enough, there began the mumbles about pre-dinner drinks. Steve and I had been expecting to fend for ourselves, but accepted the invitation to join the women without hesitation. We all enjoyed a decent feed at a Thai restaurant, and slept well after exertions of the day.

Saturday

The next morning began with a shared breakfast, and before long, the intrepid MTBers were ready to set off on their crossing of the Aorangi Range.

Steve and I had a couple of functions to fulfill during the day - the most important would be relocating the women's overnight gear to Lake Ferry. While the revolvers got organised to ride, we packed Steve's wagon. Some women had been staying at another rider's home a kilometre or so away, and once we'd collected gear from there, we found a decent-looking cafe, and enjoyed a second breakfast, the newspaper, and the opportunity to catch up!

I grabbed some lunch for us from the local supermarket while Steve retrieved some beers from the camp-ground communal fridge, and then we headed south. We were soon unloading a not insubstantial pile of suitcases and back-packs into room #3 at the Lake Ferry Hotel. None of the bags were large, but the weight of some had us scratching our heads as to their contents. Sewing machine? Bag of cement?!

Once that job was done and the key returned to the main desk, we jumped back in the vehicle and drove onto the beach, heading East. Our map showed a route along the beach towards Cape Palliser, but after a kilometre or so, the track petered out, and we turned around. We soon got to the end of the Aorangi Crossing - where we were expecting 12 intrepid MTBers to appear sometime before dark. They'd left Martinborough at 9am, and we figured they'd be a while, so decided we'd sneak in a bit of sight-seeing.

It was about 30km to the Cape Palliser lighthouse - our destination - but on the outskirts of Ngawihi, 5km short of the lighthouse, Steve's phone started hollering. We stopped, and soon learned that one of the roadies had been caught in a wind gust on the western side of Lake Wairarapa, and needed our assistance. We duly cancelled our sight-seeing mission, warned the poor woman we'd be a wee while, and turned around!

At least the drive in itself had been cool. The coast line is remarkably rugged, and at one point the road traverses what's obviously a very unstable cliff. Despite feeling very remote, we were only an hour or so from Martinborough, maybe two from Wellington. I enjoyed the sense of remoteness, which felt at odds with the regularity with which we passed people: fishing, walking, or like one couple I glimpsed among a stand of native bush, sitting on deck chairs in the sun.

We had a couple of stops before we reached the wounded roadie, mostly to try to respond to the urgent calls for help. By the time we reached her, we thought we had another [wo]man down, and so once we had her on board, we set off to find her compatriot. We'd just passed through Kahutara when the penny dropped - we already had rescued the "second" wounded rider! No harm, no foul, and we were soon heading south again.

We passed the roadie bunch just before Pirinoa, and when we stopped to fuel up (on diesel and ice creams), the bunch grew by one. It was good to see the wounded rider climbing back on the proverbial horse. It was still blustery out, but the final kilometres were uneventful, and no doubt confidence restoring.

The women took full advantage of the "van of awesomeness" and Steve and I set off from Pirinoa with bottles of wine, and chips and dip which had been liberated from the store. We dropped these off with the advance party - a few had ridden a shorter road route to Lake Ferry - grabbed the bike trailer and my Colnago, and made our way back to the end of the Aorangi Crossing.

We got there just after three, nattered for a bit, and then decided it was time for a nap - thinking about all the riding being done around us had clearly taken its toll on us both. Around 4pm, we both jolted awake at the sound of voices. We were both disappointed to see unfamiliar faces.

It was obvious we weren't going to get back to sleep, and some chocolate brownie sealed that deal. In dire need of something to wash it down with, Steve disappeared out of the truck, and came back a few moments later with a couple of coronas and a lemon. He grabbed a knife out of the glove-box, and we were soon sporting ear-to-ear grins as we touched bottles and enjoyed the first slug of beer!

Those downed, we decided we'd go for a walk up the track a bit. As we made our way up a steep and rocky 4WD road, I fired up the photos I'd taken on my Aorangi Crossing trip all the way back in December 2008. The time stamps on my photos gave Steve and I a baseline for an ETA for the group, but how much slower than "hauling" they were going, we weren't sure. We walked as far as the paddock where I nearly got trampled, and then turned back.

Back at the vehicle, we had a nosey around the wood-shed we'd parked next to. I found an axe, and a chopping block, so started to split wood to while away the time. We were starting to get nervous about the women, and the impending loss of daylight. No sooner had I jammed the axe against a nasty knot, than we heard a cheery greeting from the gate yonder, and there was the first of our revolvers. Whoop whoop!

Nearly nine hours had passed since they set off from Martinborough, but you wouldn't have known it from the demeanour of the women. They were all smiles, and Steve and I were filled in on the day's events. We started loading bikes onto the trailer, and as soon as it was full, Steve took off with his truck filled to the gunnels with happy women!

I didn't have to wait long for the next arrivals, and I told them Steve would be back soon! Ash was the last to arrive, having suffered a pair of punctures (to add insult to the injury of an earlier pair). I for one was relieved to have everyone in, especially after I'd helpfully (?!) suggested the Aorangi Crossing would be a potential route!

Yo! Welcome back!

Beefcake, dude, what's with the punctures?!

True to form though, she was just as exuberant as the others had been. I fetched a corona from its hiding place in the woodshed, and handed it to her, and before long it was doing the rounds!

We headed down to the road, and before too long, Steve was back. We loaded up, and were soon back in Lake Ferry.

The All Blacks were playing the French in the room next door while the last of us finished off our meals. Eventually, it was time to hit the sack - I had a tent to myself, and had a better sleep - not only did my borrowed mattress hold air, but I didn't have to worry about kicking Leigh in the face!

Sunday

The following morning was tough, mostly on account of daylight savings kicking in. What looked like 7 on my watch felt like 6. But, I was keen to get back to Wellington to see Kaitlyn. It was wet out, so I left Lake Ferry after a quick breakfast wearing a coat and overtrou.

The ride up to Featherston was into a bit of a head-wind, and the rain never really made up its mind. I took my coat-sleeves off for a bit, then back on again, then off again.

Just before Kahutara, I saw a familiar face going the other way - another Alpine May GPS route in production, it turned out. Just around the corner, I found myself stopping at the start line of a race. From the funny-looking helmets, I deduced it was a time trial event, and a 2-up time trial to boot. I was a little bummed to be on my lonesome, so after giving the next pair a 100m head start, I headed off after them.

I hadn't been feeling particularly flash, so this was a nice incentive to make some progress. Bike Hutt's Mike Anderson shot past in the opposite direction, and pretty soon Dave Rowlands and Dan Waluszewski came by me, I sped up a little, but didn't want to piss them off so made no attempt to jump on. My efforts started to take their toll, and the rain had eased, so I made a brief stop to shed my jacket. I'd just got going again when Steve Chapman and Mike Sim rolled past, and I tailed them at a polite and slowly increasing distance.

Pretty soon, the turnaround came, at which point I was back on my own. But, great progress had been made! I stopped at Featherston for a coffee, and just as I had ruled out any of the counter-food, the woman at the counter suggested some scrambled eggs. Bingo.

Before too long, I had a hot meal in my belly, and was saddling up again. The climb over the Rimutakas was pretty benign, and much better than I'd been expecting - the steep pitch at Te Marua had been the worst after-all, and all in all, my "granny gear" of 39x25 hadn't been too bad. The descent was fine, though I took the unsealed section near the top pretty slowly, a couple of times pulling over to let cars through.

I had a bit of a fright at Te Marua when hitting a bridge with a nasty seam across the road. After slamming through the top side, I managed a wee bunny-hop on the down-hill seam saving myself another mildly disturbing millisecond.

Soon after leaving the Caltex with a full bottle of water, and some food in my pocket, I started staring anxiously at the very large black clouds to the south. By Silverstream bridge it was starting to spit, and as the rain began in earnest I started to think about catching a train home. I was just adjacent to the Manor Park station when I realised a train was just pulling in. I screeched to a halt, jumped over the armco barrier, then tip-toed across the north-bound rails, jumped clumsily onto my bike and hollered at the guard leaning out of the rear carriage. "Go to the front" he shouted back, and gesticulated ahead "er, don't leave yet". A minute later, I was handing over some cash - a bloody good trade I thought. As I sat watching the rain pelt against the windows, I thought about the women who'd be heading around the south coast from the Wairarapa to Eastbourne. After the experience of the day before, I knew they'd be sweet, despite being a bit wet and cold.

The roadies ready to bust a move from Lake Ferry

Leigh leads the way through the mess spewed out of the Mukamuka Stream

Progress was fantastic, and less than 30 minutes later, I was rolling out onto Lambton Quay. I didn't feel bad about taking this easy option - the hill had been good quality riding, and I'd been on the bike for a little over 3 hours and 85km. I'd only have grovelled home into the wet head-wind - there was no fun to be had in that, and plenty of opportunity for injury. 20 minutes after jumping off the train, I was jumping into a shower, and another 10 minutes had me collecting Kaitlyn, only half an hour or so behind schedule!

=/=/=/=/=/=

All in all, it was a cool weekend, with some decent riding quality in it, some great company, and a small sense of adventure. I was super impressed with the MTBers - that Aorangi Crossing was getting tougher and tougher in my mind as the day wore on, and I was fully expecting some very broken and pissed off women. But, not at all! Despite at least one having apparently more gear than I took on the entire Kiwi Brevet, they'd made great progress over some at times demanding terrain, AND, had finished with great big smiles on their faces. Stellar! It was cool to hang with Steve, as always, and I think we both enjoyed doing our bit towards making the weekend a success.

If you're a woman, live in Wellington. and have even an inkling to ride a bike, you should at the very least be on the Revolve email list. Contact info@revolvecycling.co.nz to sign up to a weekly newsletter, or check them out on Facebook. There are women just like you itching to go riding with you, they are super friendly, and very cool. And, we're all lucky they're out there.

Thanks to Revolve and Ranger Steve for an awesome weekend!

Day-Night Thriller, Done and Dusted

2011-09-14T20:04:00.004+12:00

Of all the events I've lined up for the rest of 2011, strangely the one I was most looking forward to was the Taupo Day-NIght Thriller. Last time I did it was with Joel Healy and Tijs Robinson as team JABOR (Just a bunch of roadies), and we took out the men's 2/3 team division after a ding-dong battle with a local team lead by Damien Steel-Baker. With fond memories of that race, it seemed like a perfect event to launch Megan and I as a team, and to kick-start our Cape Epic campaign.

As September drew nearer, various pieces in our exciting puzzle started to fall into place. Kashi Leuchs and Yeti NZ not only came onboard as a major sponsor for the Cape Epic, but also was happy to enter us as Team Yeti for the DNT. While symbolically it would have been nice for Megan and I do did it as a pair, my memories of riding with Simon as a duo at Wainui were not so good - there would be no real team-bonding opportunities for Megan and I if we'd only see each other at transitions. So, with Kashi's support, we enlisted local Yeti and all-round lovely guy, Alex Revell, to be our third rider - or more accurately our first rider!

A week and a half out, everything was looking fantastic - my form had been good at a couple of local road races and a cyclocross race, and I'd managed to slip in a bit of mountain biking too. Alex had been crook, but was quickly coming right, and Megan had done a bunch of MTB races with great results (well, apart from the one where she took a massive short-cut!). Megan and I had also had more fantastic news on the sponsorship front, with Mitre 10 MEGA coming on board as a headline sponsor for the Cape Epic.

To keep life from being overly predictable, disaster struck. I was just meant to be a sifty ride with a crew I head out with every week or two. This particular Thursday ride took us up Mt Vic. Jeremy had just recovered from a broken shoulder blade, and he, Rich and I were discussing the relative merits of breaks, dislocations and tears as we climbed to the top of the Super D course. I followed the other two down, but as I rolled onto the ramp near the top, I saw to my horror a rather large rock sitting in the middle of the track just beyond the ramp. I had no opportunity to stop, nor change line, and in my vain attempt to get around it, things went to custard and I flew off my bike and down the bank below the track.

I landed heavily, on my right forearm I think, and immediately knew I'd popped my shoulder. The good news was that it wasn't my left - dislocation number 4 for that one will see me straight into surgery. The bad news was obvious. I tried to relocate it myself using the strategy that works on the left.That didn't work at all, and eventually I gave up. I retrieved my bike and walked up to where I knew the others would be waiting, knowing that soon the muscles around the joint would start to tense, and that I'd soon be in dire straits.

The wait for the ambulance seemed eternal, and Rich and Jer, joined by Ranger Steve and Rod did their very best to keep me comfortable and suitably distracted. They were champions, but really were up against the growing pain and waves of nausea.About 4 hours later, Steve and I were sitting in my lounge, where I suspect he was waiting for the morphine to wear off sufficiently that he could confidently leave me alone. I hope never to have to repay the awesome company and care he gave me that afternoon, but would at the drop of a hat. He's been a hero of mine for a long time anyway, and come to think of it would have made an awesome substitute on the DNT team...

I was hoping the violence with which the shoulder relocated was a good sign, but on Monday I couldn't support my weight on it on a spin bike, almost toppling off at one point. I spoke with Alex and Megan, and they seemed keen enough to proceed with me in a management role. By Thursday though, it was feeling very stable, and I rode to work and home again. On Friday, I was still sitting on the fence, and when I dropped my car off at Alex's, my riding gear was in the car, just in case.

It almost became academic at the bottom of Grafton Road. As I made the left turn just past the shops, I was confronted with a car, stock still in the middle of the lane to let an oncoming bus through a gap that wouldn't have taken both of them. Not only did I manage not to steam into the back of the car, but found a wee triangle of life between the car and the moving bus, my injured shoulder mere inches from the colossus. Surely survival was a good omen! Besides that bit of providence, it was ace not to be back in hospital, or thinking about how on earth I'd replace my gorgeous race bike...

Alex and I drove together to Palmerston North, where we transferred all our gear into Megan's car before continuing the journey north. We just made registration before they knocked off, and then had an awesome meal at a Thai restaurant on the main drag - I was suspicious I'd fallen asleep at the table the food came so quickly! Apart from the unbelievably rude patrons mocking the uber-long surname of the manager, the experience was entirely delightful.

I'd grabbed the Yeti tent from Wellington rep Zeph Wadsworth, and when we arrived at our site in the morning, we got busy putting it up. The amount of dust already floating around was a worry. We got some team photos done before we were coated with the stuff, and besides, the only times we'd be all together over the next 12 hours would be at transitions, and then it would be all hands on deck!


Team Yeti, ready to rock and roll!

Alex was locked and loaded for the first two laps, and had disappeared before Megan and I headed down to watch the start. I couldn't make him out in the mass of riders, but was certain he'd be there. The field did a short loop of Spa Park before hurtling down past us to join the course proper!

Alex, squinting in the dust the photo doesn't do justice

Alex was near the front, and he, along with everyone else, looked to be struggling to see through the insane dust being thrown up by the riders in front. He was clearly at the sharp end of the race when finished his first double lap, sending Megan off into the dust already a lap up on some teams. I quizzed him about the course, and it sounded pretty benign. When Megan arrived back, Alex was transferring the timing chip onto my ankle, not the other way around as she'd expected. Call me an idiot, but I wanted in on this action!

I'd love to say I took it easy for a bit, but if so, it was only a few minutes, as "passing on your right... thanks" became the order of the day. I was nervous, but felt in incredibly good nick, and my excitement almost completely overwhelmed any concern I had about my shoulder. There was one hard/easy option on the course, and after checking out the "hard" line, decided that the second or two the easy line would cost were far outweighed by the consequences of crashing at speed. There was one other short bit of track I was wary of - a gentle right-hander which was cutting out on the prime passing line... As the day wore on, the blown out bit of track would widen each lap, and I was careful not to make any dumb moves through there.

And so it was that Team Yeti settled into our work. We rode double laps, knocking out almost six laps every two hours, whereupon Alex, followed by Megan, then I would start again.


Alex, smashing it on his Big Top!

Megan, smashing it on her ASR 5!

And, me, smashing it on my ASR 5 Carbon!

It is usually after a few hours of these things that I can barely contemplate keeping going for 12 hours. But, the team vibe was lovely. Alex was knocking out his two laps in under 38 minutes, I was about a minute and a half slower, and poor Megan a few minutes slower again. She pointed out she was not only riding the longest, but also getting the least rest. I pointed out she was waiting least, and enjoying being out on the bike most, but in the end it was all semantics.

The double laps helped make sure we had time to eat, drink, and even be merry. Nonetheless, there was always someone on hand to write down the first lap time, and we didn't miss a transition.

It was good to see some familiar faces. My good buddy from single-speed Nats, stealth mode, was doing a six-hour solo, and while I never saw him on course, he stopped by for a brief chin wag. So too did Sepp - Wellington's loss has been Rotorua's gain. Charlotte, one of the few hard-women from the inaugural Kiwi Brevet was doing the duo with her hubby, and Shane and Jude were in action, as pit-crew and 12-hour-solo rider extraordinaire...

Hey Jude, don't be afraid...

For our third doubles, Alex and I made the executive decision to grab a swift wardrobe change. I was loving rocking the Yeti kit - black is very slimming after all - but it was a glorious as ever to pull on my beloved Roadworks jersey (well, one of my five!). I felt a bit bad I hadn't told Oli I was riding, but thought it best to save him worry!


Steeling myself for the worst bit of the course - I swear it got steeper!

Such a photogenic man!

True to expectations, it was marvellous to have Alex riding with Megan and I. Not only was he the consummate team-mate, ripping around the course like he owned it, but it gave Megan and I a chance to hang out for a bit. Not only do we live in different cities, but we only met back at the Tawhio in February. So, heaps to learn, and it was great to further that process.


Megan and I, waving the flags of our two major Cape Epic sponsors

As the day wore on, it was clear we were doing well. With each update of the results, we were extending our lead over the next mixed 3-person team. We were also having a ding-dong battle with the leading 2 or 3 teams of three blokes. That competition was going to go down to the wire.

At just after 6pm, Alex set out with lights on, and we switched to single laps. I for one really struggled at night, though fewer teams on course meant lap times didn't drop that much (the 6-hour teams finished at 4pm). The dust was catching a lot of light, and flinging it back into my eyes. So too were the copious quantities of highly reflective trim folk were rocking on their riding attire.

A couple of hours to go, we did the math, and reckoned we were looking at 34 laps with around 15 minutes to spare. There wasn't much we could do to squeeze another lap in - both Alex and I were riding over 20 minutes by this stage, so we stuck to our Alex-Megan-John pattern. Alex had a blinder on his final and 12th lap, having enjoyed riding on Singlespeed Champ, Mikey Northcott's wheel for a decent chunk of the lap. Luckily for him though, it wasn't enough to force him out again, and we knocked off with the predicted 34 laps.

The time before prize-giving was well employed pulling down the tent and loading bikes and shoving everything else back into Megan's car. Prize-giving itself was an efficient affair, and Team Yeti stood atop the dias momentarily, collecting gold medals for the mixed 2-3-person event. A couple of days later, we'd learn we were 13th overall, beaten by only one other 3-person team - not a bad effort, if I do say so myself!

Team Yeti!

We drove back to Palmerston North that night. Megan was the only one who could drive, on account the amount of stuff loaded against the back of the driver's seat! While she had a power nap in Taihape, I supped coffee and read the paper at the servo!

We had a respectably slow start on Sunday morning, and shared brunch together before Alex and I coughed and spluttered our way back to Wellington - our bodies had already begun the process of expelling the massive quantities of dust we'd inhaled the day before.

I could really have done without the craziness the shoulder injury caused, and while relieved that I didn't have to man up to the "I told you so" from all points in the compass, my overwhelming sense of the weekend was delight. Megan and Alex had been awesome team-mates, not that I ever had any doubt of that. I hope they'd enjoyed hanging with each other as much as I had with each of them. The win was immensely satisfying for both Megan and I, and a small hint that we weren't the only ones who loved every bit of it was appended to an email from Alex today...

"When's the next relay?"

I recommend you check out Megan's awesome account: here. Alex's to come!

Mixing it up and sharing the love

2011-08-25T17:41:00.005+12:00

I recently got an invitation to join my friends The Kennett Brothers and others on the launch of the National Cycleway - a two day ride through the Forgotten World Highway from Taumarunui to New Plymouth. I chose not to join them, and instead would be spending Sunday in Wellington with my beautiful daughter Kaitlyn.

Cycling is a tricky sport as a father. Ever since Kaitlyn grew out of her trailer bike, it hasn't been possible for us to race together. While we occasionally get out for a ride where Kaitlyn's on her trusty Montana Judy, most of my riding is done away from her. For the last few years, Kaitlyn has tended to spend Saturday with her Mum, so this has typically been a free-for-all as far as riding's concerned. I've tended to try to concentrate any quality riding into that day, so that when we spend Sunday together, I'll have had a good ride under my belt.

This weekend, I fronted to the third of PNP's Balfour Pennington handicap series on Saturday. I lined up in "Cat 1 Break", nominally the second fastest bunch on the road. It was my first race outing on my lovely new Colnago, and I was pretty excited about that. The race was frustrating at times, but I had a good ride, and while I didn't hold the front of the large group which hit the bottom of the final hill together, I finished knowing I couldn't really have done much better. I'd felt strong on the flat, but haven't been doing much climbing lately, and am perhaps not best suited to the 39x25 granny gear on the Colnago. Best I harden up!

After the finish up near the Mount Crawford Prison and a bit of sifting, I rolled back to the car and headed for home. I didn't manage to catch Steve and Ash and a few other friends sessioning the top section of the Mt Vic Super D track, though had I been a little more attentive to my rear view mirror, I would have seen Steve waving at me.

We regrouped at my place an hour or so later, and headed out for a somewhat special ride (for me at least)! I have just taken possession of my Cape Epic race rig, a stunning Yeti ASR5 Carbon, weighing in at a mere 24.25 pounds. The wheels were built by Oli, and the bike put together by Yeti's Wellington rep, Zeph Wadsworth. Megan's should be arriving soon, and with luck, we'll be racing a matching pair at the Day Night Thriller as Team Yeti. Plenty more on this rig to follow!

Steve and I rode down to Makara Peak with Hamish (one of the easter bunnies) and his workmate Al, and we were met there by Ash and Leigh. My bike was centre of attention for a while, as it had been at Friday night beers at Revolution Bicycles the night before. I took point as we set off up Koru, and rode like a man possessed with interloper Andy King hot my heels. We stopped to regroup at the bottom of the original steep route, panting! The bike didn't feel unfamiliar at all, but boy did it feel fast! The short stem and quick handling in particular were obvious, even at these early stages.

It was great to get out, and we collectively couldn't bring ourselves to stop and turn towards home. Despite all having a few hours riding already under our belts, we continued through to the far end of Sally Alley. Finally there we made the right turn, and were soon barrelling down Ridgeline Extension.

Before long, I was confronted with a very slippery looking boulder in the middle of the track. Instead of going around it, or hopping over it like my more capable companions had done, I went straight over it, and was soon bringing my bike to a halt well off the side of the track. Unscathed, phew! The learning process continued, but I was a bit more thoughtful with my navigation beyond that point. While the others went to gather provisions I went home to light a fire, and had time to clean my steed before we whiled away the evening together at my place.

I love doing events, and while sometimes I really look forward to them for the challenges they bring, other times, I'm keen just to get along and support the event and its organisers. I know how much work is involved putting an event on, and realise that these opportunities only exist as long as people are showing up. Sunday had a cyclocross race on offer, and despite being #6 in a series of 8, I'd not yet made it out to one.

The CX series, organised by Mike Anderson of Bike Hutt fame, had been on my radar all winter but invariably something conspired against my participation. The races are on Sundays, which coincides with my weekend-day with Kaitlyn. She plays football in an all-girls team, and with the races out in Upper Hutt, mostly the conflict has been prohibitive. Second, I was a bit nervous about the riding. I'd done a 'cross race a couple of years ago on my commuter bike (a flat-bar roadie) with CX tyres on, but the early races had been insanely muddy, and I feared an event in similar conditions would be the straw that breaks my workhorse's back. Plan B was my Raleigh, and I'd bought some Schwalbe Sammy Slicks to fit to the 29er wheels. But, the singlespeed had me nervous about being stuck with a lousy gear. In the end, gear anxiety was definitely the lesser of two evils, and I had the Raleigh on the back of the car when I collected Kaitlyn this Sunday morning. We were soon a foursome, with my Mum and Dad joining us for the drive out to Upper Hutt.

We took the Silverstream bridge off SH2, and stopped at a wee coffee cart I'd discovered with some mates en route to a race in Whiteman's Valley. Suitably armed, we finished the drive through the suburbs marveling at the level of church attendance. Damn those places are busy out there!

By the time I'd signed in (as "sifter" for the first time ever!) and handed over another trivially small entry fee, there was little time for a warm up, and certainly no opportunity to check out the course.

We were told to line up at the start line, and as one of the first there, I needed to check which direction to point my bike in. It was all academic though, as we were soon doing press-ups a short run away from where our bikes lay on the start line.

Photo: Kaitlyn Randal

With press-up efforts ranging from a dismal 0 to a whopping 10, we were soon dashing towards our bikes, mounting up and getting under way!

Photo: Craig Madsen

Mike Anderson promptly opened up a gap on half a dozen of us who were hot on his heels, and showed the way over the first of the hurdles.

My first lap was by a country mile my worst, as I struggled to anticipate the twists and turns of the cleverly engineered course - it made full use of a pretty small venue, and put the acid on riders at various moments. The race format was 40 minutes + 1 lap, and at lap times of just over 4 minutes, I had plenty of time to get used to it.

I was in second place by the end of lap 2, and was getting busy hunting Mike down!

I was getting slowly but surely catching Mike - on average - he'd pull away from me on the tighter section of the course, and I'd eat into his lead on the open stuff.

The top of the course was by far my biggest struggle, and while limiting my losses was top priority, it occasionally played second-fiddle to simply staying upright.

As the laps wore on, I tried not to let my intensity drop...

Photo: Craig Madsen


Photo: Kaitlyn Randal

Photo: Craig Madsen

... and was finally hot on Mike's heels.

Just when the catch was impending, disaster struck Mike, and he dropped his chain. As I went past, I told him to take a lap - unsure whether or not, like in criterium racing, riders could fix a mechanical and then rejoin the race where they left off one lap later. Soon, once the course had looped back on itself, I sensed Mike in hot pursuit of me - he clearly hadn't taken me up on my offer! A second chain problem soon after saw me out front on my own, and rather than ease off, I just kept hammering away.

As time passes, I'm slowly realising I do have a "race gear" after all. And, as I slowly eased out of it in the last couple of laps, I became aware for the first time of my beautiful parents and daughter who'd been on course for the duration of the race.

Ma and Katy watching the show!

I also hadn't noticed the marshall counting down each minute of the 40, so my first indication of progress was with 2 minutes left of the 40. At the end of that lap, I got the bell. Not before racing past a fellow competitor track-standing just before the line. Had he beaten me over it, he'd have had to do an extra lap for his trouble! I don't know how long he'd been there!

Photo: Kaitlyn Randal

The last lap was without incident, and I was soon crossing the line for what the commentator stressed was a cheeky win by a dirty burglar! Guilty as charged, but it was either race B or spend the morning at a cafe in town. I was bloody pleased to get out, and copping a bit of flack for it was a small price to pay!

The A grade race started soon after, with sit-ups as well as press-ups the order of the day. Mum, Dad, Katy and I had a walk around the course while the riders knocked out their first couple of laps, and then it was into the car for the trip back to Wellington, where Katy's football team were eagerly awaiting her appearance!

All in all, it was a great weekend on the riding front: a road race, a sifty mountain bike ride, and a balls-to-the-wall cyclocross race. Three different bikes, and thrills all around. Thanks to PNP Cycling Club and Bike Hutt for putting the events on - they are much appreciated!

What really capped it all off though, was being able to share the last ride with my family. It's very cool to have them watch me doing something I love so much, when a lot of the time, all they have to go by are these words. Yes, bike riding and racing is something I've done a fair bit of in the last while, and yes, it has often come at the expense of time with my family. But, I'm glad they get to reap the fruits of that time - there's no doubt I'm a healthier and more chilled-out son and father than I would be without the outlet riding gives. I'm also pleased for them to see me in the box from time to time, especially Kaitlyn. Not bad for a kid to grow up knowing that there's some perverse joy to be found in digging deep and hurting! Not to mention getting all dirty and covered in mud and whooping and hollering! (Or maybe that's a lesson we adults learned from them.)

This coming Sunday, Kaitlyn turns 11. There's a PNP race that day, but I won't be there!

Grandest loop of a lifetime?!

2011-08-16T20:53:00.002+12:00

Soon after getting home from an MTBO race in St Pats forest, the "perfect storm" arrived, dumping snow over Wellington unlike any I've seen in the near 40 years I've lived here. The highlight of Sunday night was nailing Simon with a well timed snowball, and the hits just kept on coming.


Makara Peak, Monday morning

I rode my singlespeed to work the next morning under clear skies. It was seriously cool passing cars covered in snow, and the odd piles on the side of the road. By mid-morning, it was snowing again, and I took the opportunity to cruise around downtown Welly in a snowstorm, not sure I'd ever get the chance again!

Chews Lane, and snow at sea level

I headed to Newtown after work for Ash's spin class, and didn't really bring tha noise. Karori seemed like a long way away when I was done. I stopped at the bottom of Aro Valley to put my cotton cap on over my beanie, and my big woollen mittens on over my winter gloves. These helped, but the novelty of riding in the snowy conditions was starting to wear thin. I particularly didn't like being passed by cars - the spray of wet snow that inevitably coated at least one of my feet was insult to injury. Soon after getting home, I was sitting in front of a fire with a hot bowl of soup, and sensation was starting to return to my extremities.

Tuesday morning dawned fine, as Monday had, and on account of the mounting pile of wet clothing, I decided to work from home. Kaitlyn's school was closed, so work made way for a quick walk along part of the Skyline track with her and her Mum, treating us to scenes reminiscent of alpine villages rather than little old Wellington!

When I got home, I managed to get an assignment written before stumbling upon a good friend's blog, in which he wrote "how many opportunities will I get to go running in the snow in Wellington?!" I realised that despite my reluctance, I absolutely had to do a quick lap of Makara Peak, and retrieved my Ground Effect waterproof top and bottoms from where they were hanging over the shower.

Flux Turner was still covered in a few kilos of St Pats forest, so it would have to be the singlespeed again. I added a bit of air to the annoyingly narrow 700x35C Sammy Slick tyre on the front, and let a bit out of the back. Not a great day to be caught short, I made sure I had a pump and spare tube. And my camera!

The ride up Koru was pretty cool, with patches of snow around, and leaves all over the place - the bush had probably been nailed by a few hailstorms, and was a bit the worse for wear. I popped out to the Skills Area, and looking across to Hawkins Hill saw the snow flurries starting up! Things were about to get a bit more interesting!

I was enjoying the ride, and the novelty of the snow-lined track. It looked like the park had been getting an impressive amount of use since the storm started on Sunday night, and the riding line of Koru was mostly clear.

Into Sally Alley, increasing elevation and distance from the carpark combined, with the outcome quite a lot more snow on the track. I started to struggle holding my line!

Last time through this loop I punctured a big old 29x2.3 tyre, so I was taking it pretty easy on the narrow 'cross tyres. Aside from a few slips and slides, they were hooking up well, and I was managing to isolate most of the bumps with my arms.

By the time I popped out onto Aratihi, it was fully snowing, giving pretty amazing views up the valley to the summit. There was also a hell of a lot more snow on the track, and the going was getting tougher.

No sooner had I passed the turnoff to Upper Leaping Lizard than I was lying in the snow. And again, and again. At least the landings were soft! But, they were also cold and wet. I could see my feet and hands were still attached, but couldn't really feel them any more. At least the singlespeed meant I didn't need my thumbs for changing gears!

I had to walk a lot of this third quarter of Aratihi - starting off in the deep snow was pretty tough, and without forward momentum, my front wheel seemed to have a mind of its own. I jumped out onto the 4WD road just below the pylon, and promptly discovered what an awesome bike stand a snow drift makes!

The 4WD road was mostly rideable, but I ended up walking the top section to the summit. The snow wasn't quite deep enough for me to reenact my new trick at the summit, but the map board did the trick.

I slithered my way down the 4WD road to the top of North Face, and found the going through the deep snow was much easier with a bit of gravity-induced momentum. The narrow tyres cut through the snow nicely when they were moving forward!

By this stage, my feet were well and truly numb, as were my thumbs and forefingers. Despite this, I was quite amazed at how functional the fingers were, and braking occurred as per normal.

The views over Karori were even more impressive than usual!

I was tempted to cut down to Allington Road, but figured my fingers couldn't get any colder than they were, and was soon at the bottom of Lazy Fern. There's a bit of chainsaw work needed in there - a couple of big trees obviously couldn't cope with the mass of accumulated snow on their branches.

I had a nice tail wind up South Karori Road, and was soon standing in front of my fireplace enduring the horrible reheating-pains in my digits. Unlike the night before though, I was also sporting an ear to ear grin.

Cheers to Dave for the moment of clarity, and to the Makara Peak Supporters for building such an awesome facility on my doorstep. Oh, and cheers to the weather goddesses for the AMAZINGLY AWESOME ONCE IN A LIFETIME STORM!!!!! Whoop whoop!

Tim's dirty weekend in Wellington

2011-07-26T21:13:00.001+12:00

Long time, no post. I suppose it's that time of year really, when even regular-folk fall victim to glumness that comes with the cold, wet weather and the short days. I've certainly been no exception but despite far too many dark weeks in a row, I've managed to keep the legs ticking over.

One thing that did perk me up a few weeks ago was a message from my good friend Tim Mulliner asking whether or not I'd be up for a visit. My response: "shit yeah!"

I met Tim only a couple of months after I was given his book "A Long Ride for a Pie" for the second Christmas in a row by my dear Ma. I didn't click when I ticked him off the Kiwi Brevet list at the cinema in Blenheim, but within about 10 minutes of riding together in the back roads between Hope and Wakefield on the second day of the event, my brain eventually dug out the connection.

Tim and I rode together for a fair few hours that day, and on each of the days that followed, to the extent that he was probably the single rider I spent most time with - more even than Simon. Tim hosted Simon and I at Le Petit Brevet last November, and since the devastating quakes in his home-city of Christchurch, he and his wife Tina have had an open invitation at my place.

Consequently, it was with some delight that I urged Tim to book those flights, and as the weekend got closer, a ride-plan for the two of us started to take shape. Tina would be in Europe at the time, so Tim would be accompanied only by a mountain bike. He told me he'd only ever passed through Wellington with a touring bike, so a good old-fashioned single-track frenzy was in order. I was keen to put together a schedule which would showcase the wonderful variety in this fair city.

Tim arrived on schedule on Friday evening, and it was straight back to mine for some curry and plenty of gas-bagging. Then some sleep - we had a big weekend ahead of us!

Saturday

We suited-up pretty much straight out of bed, and we were out the door by 8am. We shot down the road, and within a few minutes had traded the hum of knobly tyres on tarmac for the sweet sound of Makara Peak. Perhaps the jewel in Wellington's MTB crown, this purpose-built park now boasts over 30km of singletrack, designed and built for mountainbikers, by mountainbikers. Not a bad place to start!

We cruised up Koru, through Sally Alley and Missing Link, and onto Aratihi. We'd not eaten before heading out, and with energy levels starting to wane a bit, we decided against a Nikau Valley loop - next time!


Tim tries to work out where we are!

Keen to get home for some food, we rocked straight down the 4WD road onto North Face, where we found very many puddles. God damn the water was cold! JFK and Smokin were in good order, and we finished off with SWIGG and Starfish.

Back at mine, we smashed back some coffee, cereal and toast, and then got ready for phase 2. Tubes, a pump and a pack of cameo cremes were among the important goodies in my backpack, and I insisted we pack some dry clothes for the afternoon's stop.

We headed back towards the Makara Peak carpark before peeling off towards Salvation which took us up onto Wright's Hill. We paused briefly at the summit to admire the 360-degree views over Wellington and its surroundings. We worked our way south around the fenceline, before dropping into Long Gully. A good tail wind ensured fantastic progress, and it was cool to blast side-by-side along the wide gravel road.

Pretty soon we were overlooking Cook Strait, and an impressive bit of rough sea where presumable the currents collide.

Awesome view to the south

The descent to the coast was a scorcher, and we were soon at Devil's Gate. I can't remember what comment I made to Tim in reference to the huge seal lying just in front of it, but his response made it clear he hadn't yet identified the seal! I hope he wasn't assuming the smell was coming from me!

After a quick bite to eat, we were soon pushing our bikes up the two steps at the bottom of the new Red Rocks track. Last time I went up there, I was having my legs torn off by Tim Wilding - today, it was Tim Mulliner's turn.

We rode most of the climb to the ridge, but both succumbed to the loosest section. We made the mistake of looking up the track when we got onto the ridge proper - the first section is a real grovel, and goes for ages. When I went through with T-Rex, we met a group at the top of the steepest section, and mercifully stopped for a natter (and a bit of recovery!). No other riders meant no rest, and soon the effort was starting to catch up to me.

On one of the last steep pitches before the top, my left foot shot forward out of the pedal, and I gave my calf a good whack. Just the excuse I needed to get off and walk for a bit!

It wasn't much slower pushing, but once again I had to watch a Tim ride away from me at the top of that damn climb!

From Red Rocks, we snuck onto the almost-complete Barking Emu to begin our long descent into Aro Valley. The south-facing sections of track were very muddy, but anything with a bit of sun on it was dry and fast. Before too long we'd hooked into a wet Carparts Extension. At the bottom of Carparts we jumped across onto the Rollercoaster, and weaving our way around the new jumps, took that through to just above Denton Park.

Highbury Fling was next, then onto the Planet Ride connector to Transient. I got a bit confused by the myriad of tracks, and eventually stopped and told Tim we'd gone the wrong way, adding that he shouldn't feel at all responsible! We'd seen Dan on Highbury Fling and stopped briefly to talk to Chris and then the indomitable Kev on Transient. Kev had been walking down the track away from us, and recognising him, I called out "RIDERS" in the most annoying voice I could muster. I laughed at his obvious bristle, and enjoyed watching the recognition come over him. Kev is one of Wellington's finest!

A little bit later we saw Richard from the Tāwhio, though I'd failed to recognise his partner Hannah who we'd passed a few seconds earlier. Was a busy bit of singletrack, and we'd made slow progress!

At the bottom of Transient, we made for Pirie St, with only a brief stop en route to organise our lunch date. I toyed with the idea of blasting up Adelaide Road, but a bit of dithering later, we soon found ourselves at the top of Pirie St. We cut through the playground and were soon on the Mt Vic trails, cruising south down the ridge to meet Ash. The three of us were soon enjoying a big feed at the Chocolate Frog in Miramar, though we almost didn't make it - Tim had been so focused on the SUV that was about to smash into us from Evans Bay he hadn't even noticed the orange zephyrometer at the corner there!

Just as we were about to leave the Chocolate Frog, it started to piss down - luckily we only had 100m to ride, and much of that under shelter. We locked our bikes outside the very new and very snazzy Roxy Cinema, and tried to make ourselves look a bit presentable. My muddy shoes safely stowed in my backpack, and a pair of shorts on over my filthy trou, I strolled inside in my socks!

The next couple of hours were spent chatting, supping beer, and watching Pedal Driven "a bikumentary" which documents the struggles between the US Forest Service and freeriders. A good mate of mine Ben Wilde had organised this fundraiser for the awesome Miramar Trail Project. Ironically, one of the few areas in Wellington we didn't ride. Apart from the coolness of the company and occasion, I really enjoyed a town councillor's description of MTBers - to paraphrase him, "they come, they ride, they spend money, and they're too rooted to make trouble at night".

After the film was over, we headed to La Boca Loca for a bit more conversation and refreshments, before eventually saddling up, and riding over to Newtown. There we had another stop, and sifted with Ash, Steve and Leif for a bit, neither of us that keen on the remainder of the homeward journey. While pre-breakfast laps of Makara Peak are a perk of living in Karori (albeit one which I very rarely enjoy), the ride home at the end of a long day is sometimes the last thing I feel like!

Eventually, it was time to man up though, and after a quick detour to Leif's to borrow a functioning light for Tim, we were soon on our way. We were soon at the bottom of Transient, and despite very muddy bikes and tired legs, we were here to ride! Highbury Fling followed, and then along the fenceline to the Karori Tunnel.

At the top of Chaytor Street we turned into Standen Street, and into the Karori Cemetary. We were soon on the Cemetary Trail, and were blasting along until I clipped a tree and tumbled down the bank! I landed on a bunch of old foliage, but luckily the impressive cracks we heard were only old branches snapping under my 90kg bulk. Mildly embarrassed, but feeling lucky, I scrambled back up to the track, retrieved my bike, and we were soon underway again.

We really should have stopped for a cameo creme on the way up to Skyline, but instead we soldiered quietly on. The 4WD track at the start of the farm was much much much steeper than I remembered, and I was dreading the wind up on Skyline. We were in luck though, and not only with the wind. The track had been very recently graded, and the cows hadn't been on it since, so it was a smooth, and poo-free ride through to the final singletrack section which took us to the top of Wahine.

At the bottom of Wahine I contemplated a lap of the Kids' loop, but couldn't quite face the extra effort. Soon, we were home, and tucking into toast. We'd arrived just after 10pm, and a rugby game was on telly. We had a couple of hours to kill before the Tour de France coverage started, and after only 15 minutes of rugby I remembered all the cycling I'd recorded, and we were soon watching Paris-Roubaix, and the bizarre actions of Fabian Cancellara as he pulled the pin on his chase of the leaders, and any chance of victory.

By the time the tour started (Stage 9 to Super-Besse), we were both seriously flagging, and we only lasted an hour or so. We finally saw sense at 1am, and disappeared off to bed.

Sunday

We had a 10am ride date, but before that we had plenty of work to do. Coffee and food was one priority, but second to giving our bikes a bit of love. They lost a few pounds each as we cleaned debris from some of Wellington's finest singletrack from the various nooks and crannies. Steeds glistening, we managed to sneak in the final minutes of the Super-Besse finish, before putting the bikes on the back of the car.

We were joined by Simon, and Jo Goudie, and headed out to West Wind - Meridian's wind farm overlooking the Cook Strait. Simon and I were organising a mountain bike orienteering event for the following weekend, and Jo had kindly agreed to be our first-aid-certified chaperone. Tim was... essential mapping support! SCORE!

As with my first ride in the facility with Ranger Steve, Simon's first ride was also in fantastic conditions. We were treated to blue skies and excellent riding conditions, with a suitably impressive landscape thrown in for good measure. Good timing from Tim's point of view, and as host, it was cool to be able to jack this up!


Looking south from the yet-to-be-opened public carpark

We rode the two tracks built by Meridian to Simon's design - ironically Simon's first time on the track, which had been built over a year prior and had been unused since. The views over Cook Strait were stunning, and well worth stopping for.

Looking west past Te Ikaamaru and Ohau Bays

The singletrack starts off in pine forest, but soon is out in open farmland, before diving into a gully with native bush. The final section of track is hand built, rather than machine built, and is a nice way to finish. The valley track that I'd really enjoyed with Steve a month or so before had really cut up in the winter weather, and our bikes weren't looking too flash by the time we hit the valley head at Opau Bay.

We took the track along the beach until it ended under a massive pile of driftwood, where we stopped for a snack, and to soak in the remoteness of it all. You certainly feel miles away from anywhere, despite the massive turbine on the hill above.

Back at Opau Bay, we split up - Tim and Simon taking the track up the ridge while Jo and I rode the access road. We met at the top, then spent a few minutes poking around the old WW2 bunkers above Makara Beach before heading back to the car.

We dropped Jo off at her home, and farewelled Simon, before chugging back a bit of toast and jumping back in the car. We met Whacko Jacko on schedule at the Railway Station, and were soon unloading the car at Wainui MTB Park for the final leg of Tim's whirl-wind visit.

Leif arrived alone, which had us scratching our heads a bit until Ash and Leigh arrived, already sporting a bit of mud here and there. I felt a bit dumb for not turfing Tim and Jack out at the Wainui Rd summit - shows I've not done enough shuttling!

Steve and Hamish were there too, and we were soon hooning up Jungle Jim. I came round the corner to find Leif looking rather dazed after taking a header into a tree. There was more carnage to come, as Steve's rear derailleur assploded. He and I had gone into West Wind earlier in the week, where he'd discovered a busted cable. It had been replaced, but obviously without an investigation into what had caused it to fail. The damage was significant, with the derailleur snapped and torn out of the dropout... Eeek!

Steve turned back, while the rest of us carried on and road down Snail Trail. At the Wetland, we decided to go check up on him. With some fatigue in my legs, and a whole heap of great riding under my belt, I'd decided I'd send Steve out on my Flux, but when we got to the cars, an alternative plan had already been hatched. Hamish had his jump bike in his wagon, so Steve was soon riding this singlespeed, no-front-brake-having monster up Jungle Jim.

We took Labyrinth through to the top of Spoonhill, where I insisted Steve and I swap bikes. We traded shoes too, and I was soon nursing the jump bike down the less steep sections, and running next to it in between. The closest I came to a crash was while running after almost tripping on the front wheel which lurched towards me off a slippery root. I was amazed at how much I could ride though, and quietly wished for my Flux!

We were soon back at the carpark, and set to hosing the bikes off. There was quite a queue for the hose, and by the time all the bikes were cleanish, very dark clouds had gathered overhead, and rain was imminent. As a consequence, Tim dodged book-signing obligations, and we barely had a chance to say our goodbyes before the heavens opened.

We drove back to Wellington, and to my parents' place in Strathmore to join them and Kaitlyn for dinner. Katy and I were soon after dropping Tim at the airport, bringing to a close a pretty action-packed schedule. As we said our farewells, Tim divulged he was already planning the return fixture in Christchurch - I can't wait!

I lost track of the hours we spent on the bikes, and gave up trying to tally the track we'd ridden (lengths from tracks.org.nz for Saturday totaled over 40km, excluding the road, and long gully, and Mt Vic, and Skyline...). We'd also managed to pack in a fair bit of socialising, and a nice mix of company for the riding. Saturday's effort(s) had been at a solid yet sustainable clip, but had set us up nicely for the group-rides on Sunday.

It was cool introducing Tim to many of my riding buddies, particularly given his inspirational cycle-touring and their thirst for adventure. I was proud to introduce Tim to Kaitlyn and my Dad, and it was also fitting for Tim to meet the woman who'd been compelled to buy his book for me not once but twice!

We and our bikes got filthy, many times over, but hot damn, what a fine weekend!

Queen's Birthday road trip

2011-06-05T17:13:00.002+12:00

The Queen's Birthday long weekend offered all sorts of possibilities - what to make of an extra day off? For a while I had a spot of cycle touring pencilled in, first on-road with Steve and Ash, then off-road with Alex, but as Friday loomed, an offer to spend Sunday and Monday with Kaitlyn was too good to miss, and so any riding would have to be on the Saturday.

I'd had a tough week, and I figured Saturday's mission should be something with a bit of a kick to it. I asked the indomitable Thomas Lindup if he'd be interested in joining me (we'd ridden the last few hours of the Kiwi Brevet together, and have been trying to coordinate a ride since!), but the timing wasn't good for him, so I'd be going solo.

By the time I left Revolution Bicycles late on Friday evening, I'd settled on a plan: catch a train in the morning to Upper Hutt, then ride over to the Wairarapa, cross the Pahiatua Track and then ride as far south as Waikanae, whereupon a train would take me back to Wellington. Google maps had the distance at about 245km.

I'd really no idea when the sun would come up, but figured I'd make an early start to avoid as far possible night riding on SH1 into Waikanae. The 6:05 to Upper Hutt was perfect (apart from the obscene hour I'd have to get up... 5-something simply shouldn't be allowed...).

With my Colnago in the shop, it was time to dust off my trusty Roubaix - destined to be my bro's bike, but not yet handed over. Oli had brought my road pedals with him to Revolution, so when I got home, my first task was to put them on. I pumped the 700x28C Gatorskins up to 90 psi, and fitted my Garmin Edge GPS unit and Ayup light. I realised my Fibre Flare light was on the Colnago, so made do with an old LED rear light. I also fitted my 2.7L Ortlieb seat bag, mostly with an emergency in mind, but also with a view to making the train ride home a bit more comfortable.

I packed a couple of tubes, a multitool, tyre lever, lightweight cable lock, a few zip ties, and a patch kit into the seat bag. Also, I put in my Ground Effect overtrou, my Flash Gordon, and a Baked Alaska jersey. With luck, I wouldn't need them until Waikanae. I laid out my riding gear: thick woollen socks and booties, knee warmers, bibs, a merino vest, long-sleeved Roadworks lycra jersey, winter gloves, and a Ground Effect Vespa vest - a perfect colour for hours on the open road, but not so heavy that I'd cook. I also put out my Sweet Cheeks chamois cream, a couple of OSM bars, a cotton cap, and a merino beanie. And of course, a small selection of cash-cards and my cell phone for photos, txt updates and any emergency calls! Satisfied that things would be pretty simple in the morning, I headed off to bed soon after 10...

5am came quickly, and I resisted the very strong urge to ping my alarm off, roll over, and go back to sleep - I was already psychologically committed to this ride, and I'd regard myself a pussy to pull out now.

When I got to the fridge, I was annoyed to discover I was almost out of bread, so made do with a couple of slices of toast and a bowl of weetbix. I was soon dressed, and heading out the door. I was tempted to drive in to town, but went with the relative simplicity of riding - my office is just across from the Railway Station, and the ride in is like second nature.

I was in good time for the 6:05, and had enough time to snap a photo of my bike in front of the rather grand-looking station, and grab some cash from the money machine.

My bike and I were soon on the rear carriage of the train. I was warned by the guard he'd be using only the front carriage for passengers, so not to be alarmed when the doors didn't open! Sweet!

The journey out to Upper Hutt dragged on, and I struggled to stay awake - had the seating been a bit more conducive to sleep, I'm sure I'd have nodded off before Petone! Soon enough though, we were pulling in at Upper Hutt, and it was time to get on the bike! REALLY?! It was still dark, and bloody cold. I spied a BP, and shot inside for a long-black...

It was 7:15 by the time I'd drained that coffee, and there was little else for it but to saddle up. The morning was chilly and overcast, but calm. I had a very nice ride through to Kaitoke, during which I remembered my very first non-commute bike ride - essentially the Big Coast event, but done as a Rongotai College 6th Form Activities trip back in November 1990!

The ascent of the Rimutakas was a highlight of the day. The compact gearing of the Roubaix meant I didn't have to struggle at any point, and the road surface was good. Also, there wasn't much traffic, and cars that did pass me gave me heaps of room. I had a friendly toot from a ute headed the other way and it reminded me of a vorber seeing me on this very hill some years ago (tylersdad?!).

Just before the summit, I passed some scaffolding on the left which had a punga poking out from between the planks. Top marks to the contractor who'd decided not to chop that down! I contemplated stopping for a photo, but was already past it and kept going. I did stop at the top though, and you can just make out the scaffold to mid-picture.

I set off a few seconds before a truck reached the summit, and decided against racing him for the clear road. I spent the next few kilometres a few dozen metres off the back of him which toned things down a bit. Nonetheless, I had a great descent, and rolled into Featherston with just over an hour on the clock.

I hadn't had much water from my bottle, and wasn't feeling particularly hungry, so decided to press on. I didn't take me too long to reach Greytown which was showing more sign of life than Featherston had.

Leaving Greytown I noticed the head wind for the first time - it may have been windy all along and I'd just turned into it, but my sense was that there'd been no wind at all.

Somewhere along this stretch, I came to the realisation of how sweet an Oli Brooke-White-tuned road bike is. Despite pretty scant use over the year preceeding my purchase of the Colnago, it dawned on me that the Roubaix was shifting sweeter than the Colnago ever had. Something tells me that when I pick the 'nago up from Oli next week, it'll be better than new!

I was pleased to reach Carterton, for which I've always had a soft spot. In my early-20s, they'd elected Georgina Beyer as mayor - something which at the time gave me huge confidence in humanity (the massive swing from Creech and the National Party to Beyer at a later general election was another...). I rolled through Carterton soon after, and as with Greytown, again decided against a stop - Masterton beckoned.

I had my first meal-stop in Masterton - scrambled eggs on toast and a coffee - and enjoyed eating that over the front section of the morning paper. I also grabbed a powerade from the fridge, and topped up my water bottle. A mere 20 minutes after sitting down, I was off again!

I knew from the 350.org ride back in late-2009, the next section would be slow. The 250m ascent of Mount Bruce happens over about 25km, and while rarely steep enough to look like a hill, the gradient is enough to tax the legs. The morning's head wind also was to take its toll.

My recollection of the Wairarapa was a bit lacking, and I was expecting to see Eketahuna before the summit. An hour or so after leaving Masterton, Eketahuna was nowhere to be seen, but I was starting to enjoy the descent off Mt Bruce.

In the name of progress, I decided against a stop at the Pukaha Mount Bruce National Wildlife Centre, and continued the "charge" north. I did have a bit of a break at Eketahuna though - I'm not exactly sure how it entered into Kiwi folklore, but I'm pretty sure that it did have some mystical properties for me as a kid.

I've also a family connection to the place - a good family friend not only lives there, but has the best hedge ever!

Joe used to own "Sweeney See Foods" on the main drag, but no sign of it now. A shame, cos Fish 'n' Chups would really have hit the spot nicely!

As with the ascent of Mt Bruce, the descent was imperceptible to the eye, but was well noticed by the legs. The head wind was making me work for it though.

I stopped just south of Pahiatua to photograph the Early Times Trading Post. Heading north, the two palm trees seemed very out of place - until I discovered the entire main street of Pahiatua lined with hundreds of them. Despite a lunch-stop looming, I chugged one of my one-square-meal bars, hoping to combat growing fatigue in my legs before it was too late.

A sign for the Tui Brewery at Mangatainoka had me imagining a meal there chased down by a pint, but the 4km to the brewery would have taken me through Pahiatua and out the other side. The price of a few extra kilometres was too great, and I stopped short, not before coming up with a slogan though: "Nearly there... Yeah right!"

My helmet lock did the trick while I was inside having a quick plate of pancakes and yet another coffee, now into the second half of the trip.

The road through to the Pahiatua Track was a bit convoluted and dives south for a bit before heading north again to the base of the climb.

A few hundred metres out, I stopped for a photo, and to take off my windproof vest.I figured I'd be working up a bit of a lather on the climb.

The ascent was a sweet one, and though my legs were starting to feel well used, it ticked past quickly. At the top it started to spit, and after a minute I pulled over and put my Vespa back on. I enjoyed the descent, and despite the patchy drizzle, enjoyed letting the bike roll a bit.

I was ready for a refuel, and on the outskirts of Palmy, a supermarket was the ideal opportunity to grab another powerade. There were no loose bananas, so instead I made do with a small pack of peanut M&Ms, half of which I'd scoffed down before I hit the road again.

The tail wind out of Palmerston North was a great sign of things to come, and things were looking good. My bike was continuing to hum along, and while my legs were starting to tire, I was still able to tick along nicely. With the wind-assist, I was often good for 40km/h, and it was heartening to be making such good progress. At one point I saw a guy grovelling in the opposite direction. He said I'd chosen well - little did he know I'd done my fair share of grovelling into the wind myself!

My final stop was in Shannon, where I finally managed to find a Havana coffee to wash down a very yummy bit of caramel slice.

Soon after leaving Shannon I was on SH1, and suffering! I'd always thought the stretch south of Waikanae was horrid - little did I know it's similar rough-chip virtually the whole stretch between Levin and Waikanae! I was pleased to be on the Roubaix - surely the funny inserts on the seat stays and fork actually do dampen the vibrations a bit?! My feet were starting to ache a little, and while my legs were good in favourable conditions (e.g. flat or down hill), my speed was dropping off at any sign of a rise.

While the distance advisories in this neck of the woods had kilometres appearing out of nowhere, the road was fairly familiar, and I knew that soon I'd be in Waikanae. It was just after 4:30 when I reached the outskirts of town, and about 15 minutes later I was enjoying an apple and some chocolate milk on the platform at the station, bike already safely stowed in the dog-box. I was glad to have a dry shirt to put on - well worth the effort of hauling it around.

The train ride back into town was a nice way to end, though I did get a little cold and crampy by the end of it. And, apparently I looked a bit wrecked.

Simon picked me up from the station and took me back to his place for dinner with Sarah and Miro, and then while he read stories to his not-so-wee-any-more girl, Sarah dropped me home.

I put on some very loud music and jumped in the shower. Weary, but not tired, I watched an episode each of Sons of Anarchy and True Blood before finally hitting the sack.

I've spent most of today feeling hungover, with a nasty headache to boot. On the flip side, I also feel very satisfied. I think the ride was fairly ambitious given my recent riding. I think this has been the longest ride distance-wise since the Kiwi Brevet back in February 2010, and only one of 3 or 4 rides over 100km this year. Was good to know that with adequate fueling, I can still crank out the miles. And, good to see my head come to the party nicely - so nice to bite off an ever so slightly unmanageable chunk, and to enjoy giving it a good crack despite not being confident it was a done deal.

In all, the ride clocked in pretty much at the 245km google maps said it would be. Just under 9.5 hours elapsed between stations, and Garmin tells me my ride time was just under 8h20, for an average moving speed of 29.5km/h. Stats aside, it was bloody good to get out.

And, once done I still had a whole weekend to enjoy - the advantage of cramming two or three days riding into one!

MTB-Ohhhh!

2011-05-31T15:29:00.002+12:00

Last weekend brought with it an eagerly awaited opportunity to get stuck into the mountainbike orienteering (MTBO) season. It turned out to be one of those great weekends, spent mostly with an ear-to-ear grin...

Saturday

After skipping organisers' duties in 2010, Simon and I have this year put our hands up to organise one of the Wellington MTBO Series rounds. We were hoping to set a course out at QE2 Park south of Paekakariki, but instead we were asked to stay a bit closer to home - namely, Meridian's West Wind facility at Makara.

I was Chairman of Makara Peak Supporters back in the day when we made a submission in favour of the development, and have since been a little miffed that the promises of recreational opportunities on the land have been far from realised. Looks like that's about to change though, and about time!

We've had a fair few hoops to jump through, and Simon was tied up with family stuff on Saturday morning, but despite that, just after half-nine, I was keying the code into the security gate at Opau Road. My chaperone for the day was Ranger Steve (all 7ft of him!), necessary in case I came a cropper and needed first aid treatment.

We signed in at the security office (rescued by the post-it on the monitor "John Randal, Orienteering, Sat am") and set off shortly after with our radio on Channel 1, just in case.

Order of the day was to explore - my onboard GPS unit would record where we'd travelled - and I'd also packed a couple of cameras in case further record was necessary.

Within a few minutes climb we were beneath our first giant turbine, and fark me it was huge! (It looks like it's on a bit of a lean?!)


Ranger Steve scurries out of my viewfinder!

Lying on my back, looking up!

For the first hour, we rolled down the access roads to the various turbines - the map we had showed all these roads, so our travel down them was not essential. But, I think we were both relishing the opportunity to be among these huge feats of engineering. The expansive landscape made it very simple to forget how large the turbines are.

Looking south towards the Kaikoura Ranges

We eventually started lifting our bikes over the plentiful gates rather than open and close them.

The day was clear, with a fairly gentle wind blowing by West Wind standards. Nonetheless, a rough back-of-the-envelope calculation had the blade tips at close to 300km/h - a full revolution of the roughly 40m radius blades was taking just under 3 seconds (2*pi*r/3*3.6).

We only had access to the northern part of the complex - Terawhiti Station would have to wait for another day - so Steve and I soon headed down a ridge which had us overlooking Opau Bay. A maintenance crew had one of the massive hubs, with its three blades still attached, on the ground. Despite giving the work site a wide berth, I still had to run 20m down the hill to get the whole thing in my viewfinder.

No thoroughfare!

Sneaking around the outside! Did I mention huge?

At the end of the ridge, the track petered out, but we could see fairly sparse shrub down to the coast. We hunted around but found no distinct track, so simply followed our front wheels down the spur. Before long, we were both safely down in Opau Bay, having ridden a fair chunk of the descent (perhaps a clue to prospective competitors?!).

We then headed up-valley, alongside an idyllic wetland, nattering away about this and that. No shortage of great conversation material in either of our lives!

Eventually, it looked like time to turn around, but the exploration continued. We temporarily gave up on any attempt at conversation - the limit of our exchange was something like "Simon loves this steep shit" - but eventually we were out of the valley.

We finished up by heading out to the northern-most turbine, sneaking unchallenged through a work-site where foundations for a car-park were being laid out - Meridian look to be opening up access shortly to this single turbine.


Looking north to Mana and Kapiti Islands

We soon picked up a short but sweet section of singletrack, designed by my good friends the Kennett Brothers, before returning the same way, and heading back to Steve's wagon.

Two happy blokes, neither too rooted, and some sweet riding done and recorded, data soon to make its way into Michael Wood's mapping software.

Sunday

As if exploring the previous day was not enough for one weekend, Sunday morning saw me checking in at the Hataitai Velodrome for an Intermediate MTBO event, the last before the series starts in June.

Organisers Liam and Rachel Drew had planned a short course (controls 1-9) and a medium course (10-23), with the option of tacking both together. My dear Mum was in charge of the daughters while the dads and a mum hit the trails. As soon as Mum, Kaitlyn and Miro headed off, I shot onto the velodrome, and did a dozen or so laps to get the blood flowing a bit, and by the time I went to the start, both Simon and Sarah were out on course.

I'm always a bit nervous in the moments before that start of these events, but I was pleased to be finally back in my venerable Roadworks strip - something not lost on many of my fellow competitors who'd witnessed my Singlespeed Nationals or Wainui costumes online or in person!

Usually, a fixed-order course such as this starts with riders on hands and knees transposing the control sequence carefully onto their map. While the map for this event was pre-marked...

Try studying this while blasting a descent!

...I'd avoided looking at it before now. I know Mt Vic pretty well, and working out exactly where the controls were pre-start would do me no favours for when the series kicks around.

Nonetheless, when 10:52 came around, I at least knew where the first control was - Hataitai Zig-Zag, here I come.

The course took a fairly gentle route down towards the Wellington Harriers clubrooms, though control 5 wasn't behind it as I'd thought. A minute or so lost as I headed back to the table-tennis club with my tail temporarily between my legs.

Control 9 was back at the velodrome, and soon after that I was exploring the sometimes confusing network of trails above the city.

I saw Sarah just before I hit control 14, and again at control 15 - we'd taken completely different routes at completely different speeds. I indecisively blundered my way down to 16, despite having passed it earlier and being fully aware of where it was!

I saw many others while collecting the final controls, and as I pulled into the finish line at the velodrome, Simon commented "this will be close". It was - "7 seconds" announced Jo, initially withholding the vital information of in whose favour! When prodded, Simon was declared the winner!

Of course we'd taken virtually completely different routes, especially on the medium course. I'd overlooked the "off track travel allowed" clause, rare in MTBO but pretty much essential from a mapping point of view on Mt Vic (otherwise it would be near impossible to get all the tracks onto the map). We laughed to think about how much slower we'd have been if we'd been a team - riding to each other's weaknesses rather than strengths!

Top stuff! What a thrilling sport!

That afternoon, Kaitlyn and I went riding out at Belmont with a crew Ash and Marjolein had organised. We drove to the end of Sweetacres, but were soon riding with the bunch along the Old Coach Road. Despite a bitterly cold Nor'wester which had come up that afternoon, Kaitlyn soldiered along, putting Montana Judy through her paces for the first time in a while.

At the highpoint of the ride, we decided we'd turn around, and were soon rugged up in the car, and shortly after that, we were being treated to a great pot-luck dinner at Caroline's place.

The MTBO event I'd ridden in earlier eventually came up in conversation. It was cool to describe a sport I love so much, to those who seemed genuinely interested. I realised I had a map in the car, and was soon talking through the mechanics and some of the strategy of the event with the map in front of us all. Hopefully I tempted some to give it a go!

Postscript

If you want a better sense of what MTBO is about, check out some of my old posts: Akatarawa Attacks are in January each year, and I've also described the Great Forest Rogaine, and the 2010 MTBO Series. There are bound to be other write-ups lurking around too (e.g. foot events, including the City Safari in May). Hopefully you get a hint of how much I enjoy the sport, and with luck I'll have given enough of the "why", "what" and "how" to let you make an informed decision about whether or not its for you!

The Wellington MTBO Series is organised by Hutt Valley Orienteering Club, and kicks off with an event on Saturday 18 June. (Thanks to OHV and Michael Wood for the map above.) The start is at the Brooklyn wind turbine, so expect plenty of climbing! Also, expect some sublime riding, a perfect map of the area, the odd bit of second-guessing, maybe some panic or confusion, and an exciting wee ride which gets divided up into manageable chunks by the regular stops to clip your control card. Round 2 is at West Wind, and while we'll have a rider-limit, maps will be guaranteed to those who ride Round 1.

Hope to see some of you there!

Robin Hood and Little John do laps in Wainui

2011-05-24T20:07:00.013+12:00

Last year Simon and I headed out to Wainuiomata to spectate for a bit at the inaugural Wainuiomata Winter Weekender. With at least one of our daughters in tow (I think we just had wee Miro with us), we didn't spend much time out there. Despite a fair bit of mud being hauled around on bikes and butts, we looked to be missing out on some great fun!

The call for entries at the 2011 edition coincided nicely with the annual "what on earth do we do now?!" question that follows Karapoti. I emailed Simon suggested we enter as a duo, and soon after was doing the paper work. That done, any discussions we had of the event invariably focussed on our attire.

One of the things I've enjoyed about the last 6 months is being pulled out of my comfort zone, and I figured why do it alone. With that in mind, Simon and I had agreed to compete in costume - his first time since dressing as Mary Poppins during a wharf-jumping comp in 1996 - but it was less simple to find an appropriate angle.

Initially I was keen for Batman and Robin - I thought Simon would make a stunning Batman, with me as Robin. I'm sure that would have been a bit of a hoot, and challenged usual stereotypes somewhat. My mate wasn't keen... We considered Thomson and Thompson, of Tintin fame, but worried about how we'd be able to make the outfits distinctive, and soon but the kibosh on that idea too.

Little did we know, but all the while, at least part of my costume was merrily growing on my chin.

One of my favourite TV shows as a boy had been Robin of Sherwood...

... and I'd even watched it recently with Kaitlyn (at least until Jason Connery replaced Michael Praed as Robin). Whichever of us suggested we dress as Robin Hood and Little John is lost to me, but I do recall instant agreement. Robin Hood and Little John would ride at the 2011 Wainuiomata 6 Hour Wurldz!

The month or so leading up to the event gave us a bit of time to sort our gear. Simon's mother-in-law Shona generously offered to sew up some outlaw booties for us, and did a stunning job at that. She borrowed a pair of shoes from each of us, and we ended up with covers that would sit tightly around our shoes yet leave our cleats exposed! Wicked!

Simon's wife Sarah sewed our hooded shirts one evening during the ad breaks on Survivor. Simon had a jersey from the 80s which wouldn't need any alteration at all, and was perfect for our purposes. While super convenient, it was alarming that he would have worn it while not impersonating Robin Hood!

Accessories were obtained from all over the place. I emailed my good friend Ranger Steve, asking him to keep an eye out for a staff for me. I figured he might spot something while out and about in Wellington City's awesome Parks and Gardens. Within minutes though he'd responded saying he already had the perfect thing in his garage! Sweet! A few days from the event, Simon was busy at Revolution Bicycles making arrows while the rest of us ate chips and dip and talked shit. He'd made his bow earlier in the week and had a bunch of costume feathers from a $2 shop. On Saturday I'd headed to a costume place on Thorndon Quay to hire a bit of leather stuff from the Xena box, and we were soon sorted.

Race day came, and before collecting Jonty and Alex, Simon and I got suited up to make sure Sarah had a chance to admire (hopefully) her handiwork.

Off to the races!

Before long we had four bikes on the back of my car, and were heading up Wainui Hill. Soon after that, "Robin Hood and Little John" and "Team Alex Revell" were registered, and setting up camp at the far extreme of the transition area.

I was delegated to ride the start lap, and thought I'd better try get my legs a bit warm. I was joined for a lap around the Wetland Loop by Danny Boy, looking resplendent in a pair of very short shorts seen a few months earlier, hauling around the Wild Wellington course. Dan was one of many whose company I enjoyed briefly on the day, and someone whose wisdom and kind words I've been privileged to receive recently. At the end of our short loop, we wished each other well, and made our final preparations for the onslaught that would soon come.

I'd barely any experience riding at Wainui, so the briefing had made little sense to me. Mostly the message was simple though - follow the leader!

I was standing next to Dave Aldred, one of the highlights of any event he graces with his presence, nervously awaiting the gun. Dave was just finishing adding a bit of air to his rear tyre when all of a sudden a whooshing sound was heard. In fact, I'd done exactly the same thing prior to a ride on Mt Vic with Simon a week earlier. It seems the flexy hoses between valve and pump are back in fashion, but they suck when it comes to valves with removable cores. When you unscrew the hose, the valve core tends to unscrew with it, and unless you're very lucky, the tyre will come off the bead, and it'll be tube-time. In my leather pouch was a brand new pump, of the direct-mount variety. Luckily Davo managed to get his tyre reinflated before the gun went off. Tense stuff though!

Davo retrieves his valve core, photo: Pete Marshall

The start (half) loop was my best ride of the day. Despite not being particularly ready to roll, the open, fast terrain suited me. I was suffering like a dog though by the time we passed through the transition area. Simon called "do you want to do a second lap?" to which I responded "Fuck no!" As a result, he was standing waiting to go when I'd looped around to pass him a minute later - I thought he'd meant a second full lap after my first full lap, but clearly he was offering to take over immediately!

Within seconds of disappearing into the trees, I started to struggle as the course tightened up and began to climb. Soon I was cursing my fast start, and slowly but surely slid back through the field. Things got no better when the course tipped down, and I struggled to find, let alone maintain, any decent flow. I did really enjoy being back down on the Wetland Loop, but that was soon over and it was into more tight singletrack. After a series of switchbacks which pushed me well into the red, it was onto Beeline, and I faltered at the first drop, running down alongside my bike, in one piece at least. A few minutes later, I was relieved to hand over to Simon.

We soon established some rhythm, each doing a couple of laps, and slowing only for a quick drink and a bit of encouragement as we passed through the transition area. For a couple of laps I chased young Eden Cruise, who I'd last seen during his debut ride at Karapoti - the youngest ever finisher at age nine! I could almost match him on the long climb, but he'd scoot away on the descent. Sadly, I eventually did pass him - he'd punctured on the way down Snail Trail. Good to yarn to his old man (and head mechanic) too!

Many of the issues I'd had on my first lap were resolved by the end of my second double - I was managing to keep my bootie out of my chainrings, and I'd worked out not to follow the track right at the point it connected across to Beeline, and instead make the unintuitive left turn.

On the flip side, I hadn't sorted the double-pronged tree on a left-hand bend some way up the climb, and constantly rode into it. Nor was I really feeling overly competent and continued to struggle on the tight-stuff. It was looking like a tough day at the office.

While my own riding wasn't going well, Simon was hauling, and while he was out, the atmosphere around the transition area was awesome. We were visited by Sarah, Miro and Shona, and my Mum and Kaitlyn popped in too. I busted them sifting with the "Ladies who Lunch" and had to head over there to make sure I got some quality time of my own! While there, I made myself useful by not only sampling some of the delicious lunch on offer (Amanda's Lemon Cake Oh YES!) but also snapping a photo of the team mid-transition.


Ladies who Lunch, as Ma and Katy look on

While in that neck of the woods, I also took the opportunity to visit the lovely weather-goddess, Paula Acethorp, and bribe her with a few chocolate coins. Little did she know but I'd spent about 2 hours on the Saturday trying to find them, in the end grabbing a few dozen from Kirby's Candies for a small ransom. Nonetheless, it was fun pulling them out of the leather pouch on my belt, temporarily housing them in addition to my pump and tube.

As the race progressed, my riding didn't improve much, but at least I wasn't getting any slower - my endurance wasn't being tested nearly as much as my skill level. We'd done a good job with the costume design though, and riding in this non-traditional gear was pretty good. I was missing gloves a little, but apart from a couple of tender spots - some caused by clipping trees - coped fine. Occasionally I'd catch one sleeve or other on a tree, and once had a bee buzzing around in my hood for a bit. My copper-lined leather gauntlets were well sodden for the duration, but were comfortable enough - I just had to remember not to wipe my nose with them - the left had a raw copper edge protruding, and the right a busted rivet!


Photo credit: Jono Baddiley

Photo credit: Pete Marshall

Photo credit: Agnes Arnold


Photo credit: Jono Baddiley

Finally in the last hour or so, the solo riders, and many others started to wane a bit. I'd caught myself yawning, but a can of coke from Mum seemed to perk me up a bit. Jonty, a fellow coffee addict, found his had exactly the same effect! When Simon handed over to me for a single lap we were looking good to sneak another couple in afterwards.

Simon scorched around for his seventh lap, and was clearly having a great day!


Photo credit: Jono Baddiley

Photo credit: Pete Marshall

When he returned, I was left with about half an hour to knock out our 14th full lap. We hadn't timed any of our laps, but we assumed that would be enough, and so I had no qualms about setting out.
I finally rustled up the nerve to ride the first drop on the Beeline section, encouraged slightly by Ashley's threat not to be my friend any more if I didn't! Incidentally, by this stage the Ladies who Lunch had become the Ladies of Raunch - if you weren't there to witness it, you have only yourselves to blame.

Soon after, Alex Revell, from Team Alex Revell, came blasting by, thereby lapping Robin Hood and Little John. It was nice to see such a lovely young man in smashing form, though I didn't get to admire it for long. A second or so was all it took to get the point though.

I inadvertently excused myself from packing up our site, and instead took the opportunity to catch up with some friends. It was nice to see Ben Wilde with his son Sasha, to congratulate Dan and Mat Wright for another ding-dong battle, and to finally get a chance to natter to Mike Anderson of Bike Hutt. Our paths seem to have crossed at terribly inopportune times of late - typically in the middle of single-speed races!

The prize-giving had a lovely vibe, and we also saw some action! Simon and I had managed a third place in the Duo class, taken out by Big Gav and Stephen Butler, with Jonty and Alex (Team Alex Revell) in second! Simon and I also were highly commended in the costume category, along with the Ladies of Raunch who Lunch, bested only by Mr T himself, complete with bike done up as the A-team's panel van. Nice work Paul!

Paul Smith, aka Mr T


Highly commended! Photo: Pete Marshall

Before heading home, I managed very many short conversations with some of Wellington's finest, and even managed a bit of crafty product placement while talking to single-speed Solo victor Dave Sharpe!

Photo credit: Jordan Moss

Despite feeling like I hadn't ridden well, I was absolutely shattered on Monday morning - my body certainly felt like it had worked hard! I'd felt big on a tight course, not that local legend and fellow Roadworks rider Tim Wilding had any trouble taking out the mixed duo with his partner Tamsin.

While I'd been Mr Consistent at Wild Welly, this time it was Simon's turn - he knocked out an awesome seven laps within a 25 second time range! My fastest had been half a minute slower than his worst, and my second lap of the pairs I did tended to be about a minute slower than the first. Yuck!

While I felt like I'd struggled on the bike, my overall memories of the event are entirely positive. Riding as a duo almost completely eliminates spending any time with your partner - during our time together I was either elated (as I watched him ride away) or full of dread (as I watched him come in). While he was away though, I had been able to catch up with other friends, and though never for long, the quality was there in spades!

The organisers put on a slick show, from the entry process and marketing, through to check in and setup, course marking and marshalling, and results and prizegiving. Top notch stuff, belying the quality such a modest entry fee might imply. It was also great to see some fantastic photos spring up in Facebook albums on Monday; thanks to Agnes, Jono, Jordan and Pete for spending part or all of their day recording the event for us. The Wainui Trail Project also had the tracks in tip-top condition. I thought they held up very well despite a fair bit of rain leading up to the event.

I gathered from the man on the mike, Geoff, that Paula and Shane Wetzel were the main organisers, and so special thanks to them. Sometimes organising events can be a thankless task, but I'm sure after the show they put on, they'll be being thanked for some time to come. I'm certainly among the very many happy customers.

Paula asked after one aspect of my costume via email this morning, and I was bloody pleased to report it had been lying on my hall floor the night before!

Once again, another top-notch experience with a bit of riding thrown in. Thanks to my good buddy Simon for teaming up with me once again, and helping make a whole experience a huge amount of fun! The sun really was shining last Sunday.

PS: we're hanging onto our costumes, and will be taking applications from budding Friars Tuck, Maids Marion and Merry Men at some point in the future!