The Revolve Spring Fling cycle tour, sort of

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

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!