Fantastic Figure Eight

Each year since 2009, Simon and I have headed away for a 3-day Spring Cycle Tour.  New Plymouth to National Park was more a training ride than adventure, ditto the Triangle Trip of 2010.  Last year's was a humdinger though, from the gloopy mud down at the mouth of the Mohaka, to the apocalyptic scenes south of Minginui, and the finale - a mad-cap dash through some private land long after the point of no return. 

This spring, Simon was once again on point from a planning point of view.  A month or so ago, we got together to look carefully over the 1:250000 Auckland and Taumarunui maps.  And, a lofty and convoluted plan was hatched - 3 big days criss-crossing a massive rectangle (er, quadrilateral maybe...) with Te Kuiti, Awakino, Raglan and Pirongia in the corners (aka vertices).

Te Kuiti was chosen as the start-finish, since it was closest to Wellington, and over the next weeks, things slowly but surely fell into place.  Simon sorted accommodation with his friends Pete and Libby in Waitomo, and made a last-minute booking at a B&B just outside Pirongia. 

Oli and Kashi had helped transform my Big Top into the perfect platform for this sort of ride, the rigid carbon niner fork trimming almost 1kg off the weight.  Some of my touring gear is AWOL, but I managed to borrow a Revelate Viscacha from Jonty Ritchey to complement my own Ortlieb handle-bar bag.

Packing for these things has become a breeze.  Into the front bag went some tools, suncream, small cable lock, electrolyte tablets, ayup helmet lights and small battery, armwarmers, and a couple of innovations:  my new Steripen water purifier, and a 60mL V "Pocket Rocket" - a "fast energy blast" for emergencies (like the one I had about 10km short of Taihape a couple of years ago...).

Into the seat-bag went a woolen singlet, woolen long-sleeved top, a Ground Effect Baked Alaska, my Metallica boardies, a spare pair of socks, 3/4 overtrou and jacket, beanie and polypro gloves, chamois cream, cell phone and GPS USB cables + plug adapter, and a couple of tubes.  I also popped a fibre flare light on one of the Big Top's seat stays and my Garmin Edge 705 on the stem. 

I had one set of riding gear, and I'd carry a slimmed down wallet, some one-square-meals, and my cell phone in my jersey pockets. 

When I first started using my GPS unit for stuff like this, getting the route into the Edge was a doddle, with mapmyride.com exporting directly into Garmin's crs format.  Since then, the "upgraded" mapmyride site lost that functionality, and more recently, the classic interface has been turned off completely.  A bit of scouring on the 'net led me to http://www.gpsies.com/convert.do which seemed to do the trick (well the route at least, but not the elevation which had come across previously).  Simon would be bringing the maps, in case the hi-tech solution failed (or if I failed to bring the charger).

We left Wellington at 6pm on Thursday evening, having both taken annual leave for Friday.  As it got dark, I fired on the headlights in the car, and an intermittent fault with the dash light (conveniently illuminating the speedo) announced itself to be in full effect.  It wasn't until Waiouru that I noticed no red glow off the bikes on the rack, and Simon got out to investigate.  It was apparent that the whole back end of the car was dark, a tad ironic given the trailer light-board I'd recently purchased to ensure the lights were all visible.  Dead!  We completed the drive to Rangataua with a pair of rear bike lights flashing merrily away, and I'd flick the hazard lights on when someone appeared in my rear-vision mirror.

Day 1 - Friday

The next morning we awoke to a clear day, and Simon enjoyed a spot of cereal with a mountain view.  I filled my bottles from the rain-fed tank, and enjoyed nuking them with the steripen.

Chilly, but what a view!

We were Oscar Mike not long after, and apart from a quick coffee stop at National Park, we made good time to Te Kuiti.  We did the 5-minute-quiz in Friday's Dom Post, scoring a measly six out of 10.  But, we paid close attention to the questions, even doing the quiz a second time...
 
The i-site on the main drag of Te Kuiti gave us directions to the local auto-electrician, and we were lucky that they'd not only have a look at the car, but also open up on Sunday afternoon to let us retrieve it.  Bless you, Brodie and Jordan at BK Auto Electrical Ltd!

My fully loaded Big Top, waiting patiently...

The ride started with us retracing our steps back to the intersection of SH3 and SH4 just under 10km out of town. 

Settling in...

After the delay with the sparky, we decided against our first long-cut through a valley to the south of SH3, but, when we got to see the road we would have been on from our route, we realised we might have saved ourselves quite a bit of climbing. No use crying over spilt milk though!  Our first stop was Piopio, and the Fat Pigeon Cafe.  We chatted briefly to a pair of women who were very interested in our ride, and set-ups. 

Cheers!

After some good kai, we were off again.  The road wasn't too busy, which was nice, and without exception, drivers were giving us plenty of space.

One of the beauties of cycle touring was soon realised - it is incredibly easy to see interesting things, and to stop for them.  Nearing the top of a climb, we found ourselves alongside a stone wall with a flight of steps in it.  It would have been impossible to stop a car here, but our narrow bikes fitted nicely in the road shoulder, and we were soon admiring the view down into a river gorge.

I had a bit of a sketchy moment getting down off the rock, and wondered whether or not there was enough traction between my hard plastic sole and the rock I was just clambering off, but all that slipped was my pulse, and I was soon back on my bike.

We turned right off SH3 at the 49km mark, and were greeted with a perfect endorsement of our route choice...

Oh, HELL YES!

The gravel road wound its way slowly into the hills, and we really started to soak in the scenery.  I'd transferred my cell phone from a plastic bag in my pocket into the handlebar bag, and it was great to be able to access it so easily.  And, accessing it easily I was, often.

Cliffs, with caves just around the corner

Eventually the long climb we were on came to an end, and, along the top of the ridge we'd just ascended, we got occasional glimpses of Awakino Gorge and the coast, and the valley we'd soon be riding north through. The end of the ridge was marked by a transmitter tower, some particularly wind-swept trees, and more glorious views.

Looking west

After a sweet descent, we turned right and made our way slowly but surely up-valley.  We were treated to fantastic trees, and I commenced my Kahikatea, Tawa, Totara and Rimu recognition classes. It was amazing to think that just a few days earlier I'd been releasing kahikatea seedlings at Makara Peak with my bro Ed.  Seeing these mature specimens helped me imagine what Makara Peak will look like for my great-grandchildren and their kids.

Kahikatea aside, the road was incredibly quiet, which helped offset the feeling that we'd been riding uphill for a very long time...

This one inspired by Dave Sharpe!

We crossed one saddle, and after a quick descent found ourselves battling into a headwind.  It seemed it was just coming in off the Tasman Sea, and once we'd passed the head of the valley, only a kilometre or so from the coast, and turned inland again, the funnelling effect of the valley gave us a sweet tailwind despite heading in pretty much the same direction as we'd been before.

Simon was starting to wane a bit, and said he'd meet me at Te Anga after I'd popped into Marakopa for a couple of bits of fish, and chips!   Soon after I'd left him, an oncoming truck almost slowed to a halt rather than risk peppering me with gravel at worst, or covering me with dust at best.  The courtesy shown to us by the few motorists we'd seen was well up there with the lovely scenery. 

After another turnoff to the coast was a short climb, before the plummet down to Marakopa.

Looking south a few kilometres from Marakopa

And, Marakopa itself

Being narrow was handy near the bottom of the descent as a large truck was almost entirely blocking the road.  Minutes later, I was disappointed to find that the shop at Marakopa had closed at 4pm (it was now 5), and I left without getting my feed, or filling my bottles.

I thought Simon was probably up the road by now, so rode fairly purposefully up the valley towards Te Anga.  It was dead flat, and I had a tailwind, and I soon realised that Simon almost certainly was behind me.  I eased off a bit, and by the time Simon pulled up, I'd already discovered the Te Anga Tavern was long since closed too...  For a lot longer than an hour, by the looks of it.  More likely a year, or even a decade...!

Simon, arriving in Te Anga

On of the other motivating factors for skipping a section bypassing SH3 had been a number of side-trips on this next stretch of road.  The first of these was Marakopa falls.  Simon decided he'd leave his bike at the top of the access track, while I was keen to keep any walking to a minimum and rode down, figuring I'd stop at the first flight of steps.  I didn't, overlooking temporarily that I'd ditched my suspension fork!

I was pretty damn thirsty by this stage, and the falls looked to be coming out of some nice native bush so I grovelled my way down to the river's edge.  The path showed signs of being permanently in a fine, wet mist, thrown up by the falls themselves, and it was difficult to keep out of the mud.  I filled one bottle at the river, and then made my way back up to the viewing platform.

Marakopa Falls

I gave the bottle two hits with the steripen, which was just as well, because only a few minutes up the road, the native bush stopped, and it was pretty clear the river had spent considerable time in amongst livestock.  No sign of any trouble five days on, touch wood...

As the sun lowered, our shadows got longer on the road, now heading East towards Waitomo, and our lodgings. 

We gave a visit to a cave attraction a miss, but did stop at the Mangapohue Natural Bridge, basically the remaining roof of a big old cave...

A minute or so after leaving the bridge, we had a bit of a monumental moment.  For the first time in 104km (since leaving SH3), we were passed by a car!  We'd seen perhaps two dozen vehicles, but they'd all been coming towards us.

The last 20km of the day were done with weary legs, and despite being very near Pete and Libby's place, we had to stop to rug up a bit.  We were soon warming up though, and had a delicious meal, hot showers, and great conversation before hitting the sack.  Sleep is always great after a 170km day on a mountain bike!

Day 2 - Saturday

Simon had posted a wee bit of food and a koha for Pete and Libby which hadn't arrived, so in the morning Pete drove us down to Waitomo to see if we could find it.  The postie wasn't there, so after a quick gander at Pete's next MTB track project, we headed back home for breakfast.

We were fed within an inch of our lives: peanut butter on toast, then baked beans and fried eggs on toast!  I managed to squeeze down a flat white when we made a return trip into town, where we did see the postie, who did have the parcel.

Simon gave Pete and Libby a copy of the Kennett Bros' new book - the seventh in their New Zealand Cycling Legends series, called The Muddy Olympians, about the six NZ MTBers who've raced at the Olympic Games.  We headed home, and we were soon suited up, and ready to roll, including a bit of suncream on my rump!  I'd discovered I'd got a little sunburnt through a tear in my shorts (from the Day 3 Cape Epic crash!), and I certainly didn't want it to get worse.  As it was, it was slightly swollen, and very pink!

Behind us, part of Pete and Libby's stunning view

We had a few kilometres to back-track, and all of it was uphill.  I'd eaten too much and was feeling nauseous.  Simon was similarly distressed, and the climb wasn't helping.

We were soon turning off the "main" road, and onto the unsealed Hauturu Road.  It was a great gradient for the most part, and much mellower than the climb from Pete and Libby's had been.  This probably helped us to not puke.

Hauturu Road

We stopped at a three-way intersection for a drink (but nothing to eat), and a few minutes later reeled the bikes in to check out plaque marking the Robert Houston Memorial Reserve. 

Soon, the stunning bush on both sides became stunning bush only on our left, and we were afforded expansive views to the north. 

The road then tipped down, and we were soon in the valley floor, this time heading in the same direction as the water.  

Around a corner we saw a man and woman on horseback, walking with about 8 or 9 dogs.  We'd now seen more people on horseback than cars on the 30-odd kilometres we'd ridden since turning off the Waitomo Road.

Traffic jam!

We stopped for a bit of a natter with the riders, who informed us that we'd get a good feed at the Oparau Roadhouse once we'd exited this valley.  We bade the farewell, and continued our cruise down-valley, glad we'd stumbled on a rather scenic part of the world.

Eventually the valley widened, and the road had a fine coating of silt hinting at flooding.  Not long after Simon and I started theorising about this, than we noticed the fence on our right and the vegetation neatly folded around the fence wire.  We were glad we hadn't stumbled upon this river in flood...!

Evidence of flooding in the fence.

Before too long we were climbing gently, and we soon found ourselves turning onto Kawhia Road, and a few minutes later we were pulling in to the Oparau Roadhouse. 

Oparau Roadhouse, one-stop-shop

It had been talked up by the equestrians, and I had high hopes for a stack of pancakes with bacon and banana and lashings of maple syrup.  My hopes were dashed, but I did have a mighty-fine mince and cheese pie, and a coffee, and a cookie, and some of Simon's honey-roasted peanuts.

We sat outside, and eventually realised that the strange noise was coming from a herd of turkeys grazing in the paddock across the road. 

Gobble, gobble, gobble

Simon was still feeling pretty crook, and didn't manage to eat much, despite my urging.  We still had plenty of riding to do!  Kawhia Road was sealed, and travel was fast - though not so fast that I didn't have time to pull over and indulge my latent spelling-nazism. 

Acoma-what?!

It was nice to finally ride a stretch of road that wasn't lined with lush native bush on one side or both, and Kawhia Harbour provided some welcome relief.  We got occasional glimpses of the pebbly beach, and I liked the layers of shell left by the receding tide - but didn't quite get the camera organised at the right time.

Kawhia Harbour ahoy!

We turned off the very busy main road - with about one car every minute or two - a few kilometres short of Kawhia, despite Jo giving good intel on the fish'n'chip shop there.  The grand signposting of the turn off to Raglan set my expectations a tad high, so I was surprised that the intersection looked more like a layby.  We were back on the gravel, and heading up yet another valley.

There was a heap of traffic initially - about 5 cars in quick succession - but then it quietened down somewhat, to none.  About 15km later, we plonked ourselves down at our next turn off, digesting the "Road Closed" sign posted there.  Surely we'd get through on our bikes?!

How bad could it be?!

Simon had been suffering all day, due to a combination of a long day the day before and a HUGE breakfast, necessitating a bit of a team-talk.  There was pretty much no option to dramatically shorten the remaining riding for today, so instead we focussed on Sunday's plan. 

Pooped Simon

We had planned to cross back out to the coast from Pirongia, heading back through Marakopa, and then inland to Te Kuiti on a minor road north of our outbound route.  But, there looked to be other nice options parallel with the highway that would still give us a 90km ride but not be so arduous.  We weren't sure how easy it would be to retrieve the car if we arrived back late, so in the end it was a no brainer to commit to the shorter ride.

I sensed Simon's relief, and when I asked him about it a while later, he admitted that the stress he'd been feeling about Sunday's ride had been limiting his ability to enjoy Saturday's.  It was good to know we'd sorted that!  And, it was a nice reminder of the strength of our friendship that enables us to generally nip trouble in the bud.

Just before we set off, a young bloke emerged from a nearby property, and I asked him about the chances of us getting through the closed road.  He suggested we'd have no trouble, short of having to walk our bikes for a bit.  That too relieved a bit of stress, since the trouble spot was much nearer the far end of this road, and we'd get to it after a long ride.  Turning back would suck!

The guy had also told us to keep an eye out for a disappearing lake, that vanishes at the height of summer.

Disappearing Lake

The road closure ended up being a bit of a let-down, and we never had to dismount.  In fact, we could have driven through quite easily, though maybe there was something going on under the road that we were oblivious to.

We'd climbed a bit, and before long we were turning left onto a sealed road, and soon after that, we were turning into the DOC track to Bridal Veil Falls. 

There were various platforms, and from the first we were only a couple of metres away from the top of the fall - the river was relatively narrow - maybe between 2 and 3 metres wide, but it plummeted 55m into the pool below.

Bridal Veil Falls

We could see a couple of viewing platforms down in the chasm below us, but once we'd seen the view from the a second platform level with the one we'd just been on, we decided to save our legs!

Bridal Veil Falls - quite the stunner

We admired the beautiful scene for a bit, before saddling up, and hitting the road again. We weren't far from Raglan, but Simon was less keen for greasies than I was - I think I was still smarting from my rejections at Marakopa, Te Anga, and the Roadhouse.  We stopped at the turn-off we'd planned to make together, and he gave me a shopping list, and showed the point on the map at which we'd regroup after I'd had my feed.

No sooner had I got going than the road had turned to gravel again.  I enjoyed riding the climb without regard for pacing, and as the road turned north, got a great view of the coastline above Raglan. 

Looking north beyond Raglan

The descent into town was being sealed, and the workmen told me to look sharp as he let me through.  I managed not to get squashed, and was pleased that I didn't seem to be picking up any tarred stones on my tyres.

I stopped at the first shop I saw, but it didn't have the range I needed, so I limited myself to a powerade, and an incredible-looking piece of pineapple and date cake! A couple of clicks later, I locked my bike outside the supermarket on the main drag, and went in for our groceries.  I bought two packets of instant noodles, two small bottles of coke, two chocolate milks, a small can of tuna for Simon, and a cookie for myself.   I managed to get all these things into my jersey pockets, and was now in search of greasies.

Since there'd been a shop on the outskirts of town in one direction, I figured it would be the same on the outbound side, but I figured wrong.  A short climb later, I was turning around and blasting back into town, parking up outside a fish'n'chip shop directly across from the supermarket.  I felt like a bit of a moron, but didn't let that stop me ordering a bit of snapper and a scoop of chips!

Dinner, take one!

I didn't clean my plate up, but gave it a good nudge.  Raglan had solid cell phone reception, so I made a couple of calls, and flicked Simon a txt saying I'd soon be there.

He was waiting for me at Te Uku, just down the road from the awesomely-named "Roast Office".  I was a little sad I wasn't able to sample their wares...

The Te Uku Roast Office

I transferred all the food out of my pockets into Simon's bag, and then delighted him by putting the bag on my back!  He was sure he was going to be carrying it all!

It was nice to finally get off the main road linking Raglan and Hamilton.  I was pleased to pass by "Old Mountain Road" which sounded like hard work.

Oh deer

Eventually the road tipped up, and I watched Simon slip up the road away from me.  Eventually the gradient mellowed - imperceptible to the eye, but I could feel it in my legs.  The gap to Simon shrunk until I was alongside him, and we "enjoyed" hammering up the remaining climb side by side, as we've done many times over the years.  Neither of us puked at the top, which was also nice.

The descent was fast, but that didn't stop us from stopping to admire the beautifully lit scene off to our left.

More scenery

The final ten kilometres passed reasonably quickly, and we were soon, showered, fed, and I was duly thrashed at a couple of games of pool.  I was especially glad each time I sunk my first ball, since my light-weight approach to cycle-touring does not extend to underwear...!  A down-trou would have been unpleasant for both of us.

Our room had a poxy wee television, and its channel selection was even smaller than its screen, but turning in was a fine alternative.

Day 3 - Sunday

We didn't indulge ourselves with a sleep-in; even though we'd shortened our route, we weren't certain that my car's rear lights would be fixed, and early arrival in Te Kuiti might mean we'd get back to Wellington before dark.

Ironically, the evening before, I'd not been able to get to my camera in time to record Simon passing the "Alert riders..." sign, so I was pleased to have a second opportunity.

Pirongia had a Sunday market, which we stopped at, and Simon bought some gifts for Miro and Sarah.  I fired my cell phone up, and got a flurry of txts, reminding me it was my birthday.  Simon had mentioned it the afternoon before, but it seemed to have slipped his mind, and we were both spared the awkwardness of him singing to me! 

Where's all your gear, ow?!

Just under 10km north of Pirongia, we crossed the highway and rationalised our clothing a bit.   It was overcast, a little chilly, and rain was threatening in the hills - where we were headed - but, we were overdressed and working up a bit of a lather.

We made another right turn at Ngutunui Enviro School, and then started one of the most beautiful climbs we'd done.  The road was sealed, which made a pleasant change, but the bush was totally luscious.  Again, the bottom was steep, and Simon drew away from me.

Simon, way ahead!

I tried to settle into the climb, but he got a healthy lead before the gradient mellowed and I clawed my way back.  He'd eased completely off by the time I did catch him, so I kept the pace on, figuring he'd just had a sweet rest.  I could also see from my GPS unit that we'd made awesome headway into the climb, and that our next turnoff wasn't that far ahead. 

My turn to lead for a bit!  And, Simon's turn to carry the camera!

The road was windy (as in, it winded) and I eased off about 200m short of our intersection, hoping Simon would get a nice surprise!

We didn't get much of a view to the south, but it was a nice place to stop for a snack, and to bask in the quality of the forest we'd been skirting.  A fat kereru put on a nice show for us, which was a lovely bonus. 

In anticipation of a fast descent down to Kawhia Road.  Neither of us was expecting the view of the harbour that eventually opened up in front of us, but I guess we shouldn't have been surprised. 

Kawhia Harbour

Kawhia Road itself came as a surprise too, and I think we both got a bit of a start when a large truck passed in front of us about 100m away.

We turned left on Kawhia Road, and after a few minutes of traffic were making yet another turn, this time onto Kaimango Road.

We were both expecting a bit of a grovel, but we found ourselves on the top of a very flat ridge.  We saw a couple of young women on horseback, and the sort of native forest that had been a theme throughout this trip.

The next intersection had a strange shape to it, and may have been slightly mismapped on my GPS unit, which showed us about 100m short of the intersection when we made the left turn.  The descent that followed was "one of the best descents I've done", according to Simon.  We had Pirongia Forest Park on our left, and despite the riding being stunning, we stopped a couple of times, just because.

Whoop whoop!

At one stop, we spotted a rimu across the valley which was probably 30-40m tall.  Another stop was at a gnarly old pine tree which was full of epiphytes.

All good things must come to an end, and soon we'd left the bush, and were in a valley with pine forest in various states of harvest.  We stopped for a snack, and watched a digger lumbering its way along the road.

Little Yellow Digger?

The curve in the road was such that every few seconds, the driver would have to steer to the right ever so slightly, causing the claw to lurch, and one track to stop, tearing up the road a little bit in the process.  As we rode away from the stop, it was crazy to see how much damage had been done to the road, and over such a long distance!

More logging machinery

Our ride was coming to an end, so Simon and I smashed each other a bit more - nothing like a bit of racing to pass the time.

One hill top afforded us nice views over Otorohanga, but that was pretty much all we'd see of it, taking the turnoff onto Waitomo Valley Road a few kilometres short of the town.

Otorohanga in the distance

We passed a young girl riding her bike while her mum jogged, giving them a cheery hellloooooo!  Just short of SH3 at the end of Waitomo Caves Road, Simon got all excited about a couple of emu chicks - the funny things fatherhood does to you!

Emu chicks in with the cows, and mum

Despite being alongside the railway line, our final side trip was a little less flat than we'd expected.  As we rounded the final hill, I had my camera out, but must have been a little too excited to see Te Kuiti to get Simon and the town in a single shot.

Te Kuiti

With only a few minutes left of our 400km ride, we passed a sweet little old lady, who famously said to us "enjoy your cycling!"

We stopped at what appeared to be the only open cafe in town, and I txted Jordan, the auto-electrician, expecting him to announce a short wait for the car.  But, he said to come any time, so we scoffed some food at a leisurely pace.  Simon had asked for a raw egg in his shake, and by the reaction of the cashier, was the first ever request of that sort.

Mmmmm....

Outside, we collected our bikes, which had performed flawlessly, and cruised down to the supermarket, where I collected some beer for Jordan, to say thanks for opening up on Sunday, whether or not there was a hefty call out fee (there didn't appear to be).

Just before 3pm, we had the bikes loaded on the car, complete with fully functioning rear lights.  The icing on the cake of this glorious ride was the two hours of rain we had as we made our way south, dry!

Rain, rain, do whatcha like

Postscript

Knowing what was to come when we did the 5-minute-quiz helped somewhat, and we usually remembered the 10 answers within a few minutes of the "game" starting up...  They were, in no particular order:  knot, Elvis Presley (apparently an anti-drug crusader back in the day), hashtag, (decline and fall of) the Roman Empire, Duchess of York, (Napoleon was exiled to an island in the) Atlantic Ocean, (economist, John Kenneth) Galbraith, Sultans of Swing, Lassiter's Reef, (metastasizing is) the movement of a disease from one part of the body to another. It's amazing the random shit you can remember with a bit of effort...

Here's a link to the mapmyride route of our final ride.  I'm looking forward to next year already...

Fantastic Figure Eight

The Missing Months

This might not be everyone's gig...  (There's more biking in there than I expected, but still...)

 
Yet again, I find myself stuck indoors.

Let me paint the scene for you.  I'm literally seconds away from a classic Wellington road loop, and a couple of minutes from some of the best mountain biking in the city.  My Colnago and ASR5C sit primed in the hallway, and another couple of options are under the house.  I've no company, and no constraints.  And the sky is blue. 

And, here I sit.

I've been mulling on this blog since late-April, and have been wondering whether it's time to write it on-and-off for the last couple of months.  I guess I kind of wanted to wait until I'd finished gathering material, but that's never quite happened.  So now I write, in the vain hope that confronting it as I type somehow will snap me out of it.  Stranger things have happened...

* * * * *

It's just over six months since the Cape Epic.  I came home feeling as strong as an ox, and as eager as ever to put my strength to good use.  The road Club Nationals was in early May, and I decided I'd enter M1 and if possible ride in support of fellow PNP club member, Silas Cullen.  My hard riding at the Epic had generally been on fast terrain with Megan hanging onto my bag strap, and laying down the power on the road seemed to be the best way of letting rip.

I was enjoying being back home, and managed to sneak in a couple of bays laps with Wednesday Worlds bunch, and rode well enough on the Tip Track to take second place in PNP Hawkins Hill climb event, largely benefitting from a depleted field.  My good friend Alex Revell took first place, and Simon was in third.  I rarely manage to beat him in a head-to-head race on the MTB, and it was a strange, almost unpleasant, feeling (much like riding up the hill!).

Photo:  Pete Marshall

A couple of weeks later, Wednesday lunch-time was wet and cold, and after a ding-dong battle with Tony Keith, something in my lower back went into spasm, and in one fell swoop, my Club Nationals race was gone burger, a little bit of creative writing (posted to the Wednesday Worlds facebook page) not withstanding...

At 11:30 this morning your humble scribe was desperately trying to reconcile the rain of biblical proportions out the window with Metservice's "showers clearing" forecast. For the next 15 minutes it was a case of "will I or won't I" until finally, I suited up, and rode purposefully towards the most important ride of the season.

My approach to Circa afforded me a perfect view of the meeting point, with not a soul in sight. I was elated at the thought of sure victory, then crest-fallen a few minutes later when Tony Keith arrived - a win today would not be a mere procession. Before we could discuss course alterations, or arm-wrestling, we were joined by one other hardy soul.

As we rolled out, Tony introduced himself to young Cameron, but barely had the introductions been made, than hostilities began. The three of us swapped turns into the fierce southerly wind through to Evans Bay. We were the beneficiaries of the new Give Way rule as we made our left turn onto Shelly Bay Rd, and now, with the "breeze" behind us, it was on like Donkey Kong.

As the speed ramped up, poor Cameron popped off the back, and when Tony and I turned into the wind at Point Halswell, we knew the young fella had no hope of getting back on.

The effort barely eased, though the pace was pitiful at times. Buffeted by the wind, we laboured on, and as we turned south to face Col de Branda, we shook hands and agreed to attack the brutal climb with the wind in our faces. Tony drew the left side of the course, and took the hill prime not by virtue of his wind being any less, nor his hill less steep, but, by being the strongest.

Major tree-work, undoubtedly to provide better vantage points for the television cameras which will surely record this monumental climb in future editions of the Wednesday World Champs, meant the peloton was turned around, and would then approach the Col from the rarely used Eastern side. Tony once again took the prime, and an unassailable lead in the KOM jersey competition.

Sensing my weakness, Tony ordered me to sit in as we plowed on into the biting wind. He could sense victory, and needed at least one vanquished foe to witness him in his glorious hour.

I wasn't done yet though, and determined to show at least some flair, and earn some coverage for my rain-coat sponsor, took advantage of the mighty tail wind... to deliver my foe to the sprint prime at Lyall Bay. Unofficial timing clocked us at 70km/h before Tony leapt from my slipstream and unleashed his second jersey-winning effort.

I felt like a plaything as we made our way to the base of Col de Happy Valley. I was, by now, well and truly at Tony's whim. And soon, we were both at the whim of the weather gods as the heavens opened once more.

Needing to earn some respect and salvage some pride, I took long turns up Happy Valley, but, at the critical moment, my legs started to falter, and I couldn't match Tony's brutal acceleration. Seconds later, through the rain on my glasses, I could barely make out the sight of Tony, arms outstretched, crossing the line for his first World Championship win. I hung my head as I rolled across the line in what seemed like an eternity later, imagining the glory he was now basking in and which I'd had such high hopes of calling my own.

It was hard-man's conditions out there today, and Tony Keith owned them. He is the new World Champion.

I'd loved my Yeti on the Cape Epic, I'd decided it was a keeper.  But, it was a bit bling for general MTB use, so I decided to rationalise my fleet a little.  I toyed with the idea of an SB-66, but in the end decided to get a bike suited to the riding I love, rather than the riding I don't.

Soon, I was seeing photos online of new wheels, and then one of the most beautifully proportioned bikes I've seen.

Yeti Big Top Ahoy!

Oli finished the build just a few days out from the Wainuiomata Six Hour Wurldz.  Simon had lost interest in the event shortly after I'd turned down Tim Wilding's suggestion he and I enter a Roadworks team, and by the time that had all been confirmed, Tim too had cooled on the idea.  So, it was me, myself and I, and my stunning new steed.

A six hour race perhaps wasn't the best shake-down ride, but I started on the Big Top.  Unlike the previous year, I was riding in my cherished Roadworks kit, and also riding well - or at least happily.  I'd felt out of sorts the year before, and struggled with the tightness of the trail, but wasn't conscious of that this time.  The unfamiliar set up caught up with me around the three-hour mark, and perhaps too late I switched onto my ASR5C which I'd taken as a back-up bike.

My lower back was causing me grief - not the same spasm as I'd had before - just a growing feeling of discomfort.  I pulled the pin around the 4.5 hour mark.  Any earlier, and I think once the dust settled I'd have wondered if I'd been a bit of a pussy by stopping.  Any later, I'd have ridden myself into a pulp and would have obliterated any sense of enjoyment I'd had from the earlier part of the race.

All in all I'd had a good day, and had enjoyed the riding for the most part.  I waited for a while for photos of the event to surface, but once none showed up - to complement the failure of the timing system to produce any lap times - I lost interest in writing about the event.

I've been in this blog-writing game long enough to know that this spells trouble.  When I'm well, the passion I have for the bike spills over into my words (I hope), and they come easily.  The icing on the cake, and the cake's better for it, at least to my taste.

What with the Qantas Club membership I'd shelled out for before the Cape Epic, I'd put travel well and truly on my radar.  My sister Millie had set sail for London back in September 2010, and I hatched a plan to spirit a now much-more-grown Kaitlyn over there unbeknownst to her aunt.  After a stressful week or so (on account of Millie booking me a surprise side trip to Turkey), the beans were spilled, and when she met us at Heathrow, she was looking for two familiar faces instead of one.

As luck would have it, the Roadworks clothing order I'd been managing was ready from Ultimo the day before Katy and I were due to depart.  Luckily I was able to boost out to Petone and the hundred-odd assorted garments and sizes were all present and accounted for, and I was even able to deliver most of them that evening before making the 6am flight to Sydney the next morning.

Katy and I were only with Millie for a week, but it was action-packed. Highlights, in no particular order, included a train trip to Paris...

Waving the flag(s) on the Champs-Élysées

...a bus tour of Stonehenge and Bath, the Tower of London, and the Queen's birthday Trooping of the Colours.  I even snuck out for a ride, while Millie and Kaitlyn went to Harry Potter World.

The ride took a bit of effort to organise - I'd spent hours online before booking a guided ride in the Surrey Hills with Danielle from www.singletrackschool.co.uk and after a bit of a mission with the trains was suiting up and getting my pedals onto a rental bike...

Throughout the ride, I took photos which would normally form the basis of a blog.  Danielle even kindly helped me out with the detail I had no hope of recalling after just shy of 4 hours in unfamiliar country.

She wrote:

We started from Box Hill and Westhumble station in the village of Westhumble on the opposite side of Mole Valley from the famous landmark of Box Hill. From there we climbed Ranmore Common on the North Downs Way National Trail up through Denbies Wine Estate taking in views down on the market town of Dorking on the way.

From the top of Ranmore Common, after a bit of random singletrack, we dropped down to the valley bottom between the North Downs and The Surrey Hills. We saw evidence of the 1940 World War II Stop Line on the way down. After crossing the valley and leaving the chalk hills of The North Downs behind, we began to climb the sandstone Surrey Hills.

The first hill we climbing in The Surrey Hills was Holmbury Hill. We climbed the hill twice effectively; on the first run back down we took in 'Twig's Trail' (natural)  followed by 'Barry Knows Best' (man-made) before climbing all the way back to the top of the hill where we looked South towards the South Downs and even spotted Dunsfold Aerodrome where Top Gear is filmed. We set off for our second run which took in "Yoghurt Pots', 'Telegraph' and 'Mutiny' on the way to the valley between Holmbury Hill and Leith Hill.

On the way up Leith Hill we rode some doubletrack through Abinger Common before climbing all the way up to the top of the hill and the local landmark of Leith Hill Tower. From here we had time for just one run back down into the valley. After a brief diversion to the new trail 'Moonbase', we set off down the way-marked 'Summer Lightning' (named after a beer at the local microbrewery). The took us all the way down the to sleepy hamlet of The Rookery, before we then crossed the valley and began the climb back up to the vineyard via The Coach Road bridleway.

From the top of Ranmore Common there was time for one more singletrack - 'Red, White and Rose' before dropped back into Mole Valley for the last few hundred metres on cycle lanes and finishing at Dorking Rail station.

In total we travelled 47.1km climbed 1069m with a moving time of 03:23:41. I burned 1760 calories, which just about covered the bacon sandwiches I had for breakfast!  :)

Atop Holmbury Hill...

I felt bad not justifying Danielle's efforts when I got home, but, the crucial spark was missing.  Indeed, the whole trip I'd found happiness and marvel only in watching Kaitlyn experience it all for the first time, and of course, seeing her and her aunty walking side by side in two of the iconic cities of the world.  And, it was all worth it just for that.

We got home to discover my grandmother had taken a nasty turn and was very sick in hospital.  I sat with her for the most of the last two days of her life, and held her hand while she slipped away. 

Ash and Steve organised a surprise day trip to try to perk me up a bit.  I met them downtown early one Saturday morning, and was surprised to find we weren't alone.  Soon my Big Top was on the trailer, and some good conversation, Jeremy, Mike, Julie, Ash, Steve and I were Oscar-Mike at the K-Loop out the back of Palmerston North.

We all continued to natter on the climb, which was Jeremy's local ride back in the day.  We had a couple of runs of a fun little section of track before dropping through the pines on some steep and sometimes tricky singletrack.  Before too long we were loading the trailer again, and getting into some clean gear.

We made a quick stop in Shannon where I ate an delicacy which can best be described as cross between a raspberry bun and a custard square.  

I felt a little sick afterwards.

The bikes came off the trailer again at Kohitere Forest, near Levin.  We were joined by Rod Bardsley, who I've had a soft spot for since he sold me a DBR V-Link back in '98 - my first real mountain bike. 

I rode with Ash on the first climb, but cut loose on the second climb of the day, putting myself in the hurt box, and staying there as long as possible.  I could still taste my legs in my mouth when Steve joined me on the side of the track.  We headed back down to the others, and I didn't have too much time to rue my bike choice on the rough descent before we were back at the car.

We celebrated the impending end of our "Mountain Bike Adventure" with an ice-cream, before heading back to the big smoke.

As the weeks rolled by, my poor mood was punctuated by occasional glimpses of light, usually spontaneous.

An impromptu spot of manual labour on "Windmill"

I had a weekend in Vegas for an MTBO weekend - again gold-dust on the blog front, but again, no inclination to put words to the pictures.  Stark and frustrating contrast to the no-blog-on-account-of-no-photos scenario of the Wainui race, I was now in no-blog-despite-photos mode.  I'd enjoyed the riding too, with a reasonably good outing in the middle distance race on Saturday morning, and a 3rd in a wet rogaine on Sunday. 

I started to get the bit between my teeth a little at PNP's Balfour-Pennington handicap series.  I rode well in the first round off a Break start, and was promoted to Scratch for round 2.  In between I managed a win at the Wednesday Worlds, and was feeling quietly confident I'd at least manage to survive in the scratch bunch.

Tapped out at Worlds, but victorious

The race was at Whiteman's Valley, and started with a small hill before the gradual climb up-valley to the turnaround.  The pace was hot from the start, and I was feeling under pressure, but OK.  I knew once I'd weathered this initial storm things would settle down.  But, I didn't make it that far.

Our bunch of 20 or so was rolling around clockwise.  There were gaps everywhere and instead of sitting in the back, looking after my legs, I tapped myself trying to close gaps.  A couple of minutes of that, and I was in the red.  I'd just hit the front of the queue, and as I swung right, I inexplicably went all the way right, and sat up in the gutter on the other side of the road.  I'm really not sure what happened.  It would have been smart to at least roll to the back of the bunch, and try to seek shelter while recovering from the effort.  I pulled the fucking pin at the front of the bunch!  WTF?!  Who does that?!

I'd been for an MTB ride with Simon earlier in the day, but it had been cruisy, and I'd eaten well afterwards, so I don't think it was my legs.  I was just hating riding in that bunch, and I couldn't bring myself to endure it.

It was a day of strange turns of events.  I blew my race, but felt a strange transformation come over me when I got home.  I wasn't bummed, but rather, I felt determined.  I got on the scales for the first time in months.

I started the next week with a ride through the country side to Johnsonville before dropping down Ngaio Gorge to work.  And, I ate less than I normally would.

Round 3 was in Wainui, and I was back in Break.  We had a great ride, and I felt strong.  We managed to stay away from Scratch and got to the front of the race.  I was 4th in the sprint, and we were only 10 seconds slower than scratch had been, helped a bit by our monstrous group which only grew as the race progressed. 

Photo:  Oli Brooke-White

By Round 4, I was a couple of kilos lighter than I'd been in Whiteman's Valley, and had a few more kilometres in my legs.  And, the race was a doozy!

We had two laps of the Blue Mountains-Wallaceville circuit to ride.  The Break bunch was large again, and were pretty sedate up Blue Mountains for the first time.  The intensity of the week before seemed missing, and I got barked at a couple of times for trying to up the pace a bit.

I felt OK on the second climb, and watched 3 or 4 ease off the front, but was confident so long as the gap didn't open up too much, I'd be able to close the gap after the summit.  That all changed when Stu Houltham blasted past 100m or so from the top.  I knew the guys ahead would latch onto him, and I'd be stuck.  Jason McCarty drew the same conclusion but we were a bit indecisive over the summit and decided not to totally throw caution to the air.

To chase, or not to chase, that is the question...!

Again, that all went out the window when Tristan Thomas and Dave Rowlands came rocketing past.  I'm still learning when it comes to road racing (and by in large, I'm an eager student), but I could see that the finish line of my race was Tristan's wheel, and if I didn't give 100% to hold it, there'd be no race left in which to expend my reserved energy.

So, I put my head down and pedalled my guts out.  I wasn't as close I'd have liked to be, but I couldn't shut the metre or so between us down.  Though it wasn't closing, it wasn't getting larger either.  What was closing was the gap between us and Stu and co, and after a couple of tortuous minutes, the chase was over and the race changed again.

We got organised, but before too long, it became clear that the scratch boys: Tristan, Dave and Stu, were keen to shake off Tony, Steve and I.  We made it hard for them, and I enjoyed shutting down one attack by Dave - the run down-valley and the pace we were riding at suited me well and I was in the right place (and gear) at the right time.

We picked up a few stragglers from slower handicap groups, and our pace got disrupted a bit as a result.  I was surprised there were no hostilities and we were together at the bottom of Wallaceville with a tail wind.

I'd scoped out the left turn near the end, and knew I could ride through it at full noise with about 30 seconds of hard effort between there and the finish line.  My timing was good, and I got the hot line into the corner that I wanted, and opened up a gap on the others.  Going for broke probably wasn't the smartest move, but I didn't want to waste the gap or my momentum.  I was still clear 100m out, and was closing quickly on another small bunch, but it turned out I didn't quite have the legs, and got caught by Tony and Edwin.  It turned out we were three seconds short of the front of the race, and that Scratch had sweet-talked the starter into knocking 90 seconds off their handicap and were all DQed!

I missed what turned out to be the final round, but I had a better place to be.

12000m asl.  Pretty much on top of the world...

While I had an amazing time in Colorado, and was heartened that I could actually have a great time, the buzz soon wore off.  I'd also lost a bit of momentum on the training front.

Another MTBO trip to Vegas - Simon's and my third tilt at a Great Forest Rogaine title - didn't go quite as planned and we got smoked by Rob Garden and Marquita Gelderman.  We were spared the ignominy of three 2nds in a row by another men's team narrowly beating us.  Phew!

I feel like I've been off the bike boil for a bit too long now.  Time is scarce too, as I'm back at the helm of the Makara Peak Supporters after a few years off the committee (not to mention the time black-hole that is depression).  There's a (somewhat traumatic) story behind that too, but one which I'm too tired to tell.  Nonetheless, it's been great fun to be working in the park again - tomorrow the number of work parties I've been to in the park this year will nudge ahead of the number of rides I've had there...

A small but talented crew on Zac's track a few weeks ago

Maybe this blog will serve its purpose.  I was interested to note the "good" races in amongst that lot - the ones where my head was good, and in command of my legs - were in my memory as if they'd been yesterday.  The Blue Mountains race was almost literally two months ago, but I can visualise the last 30 minutes of the race clearly to this day.  Though, I didn't remember it when I started typing eight hours ago.

The guess work continues with my medication.  I've just started on attempt number six (in as many years).  My well-intentioned specialist told me the additional pills would be a bit of a drag - I'd need to take them twice a day.  To which I answered, "depression is a drag - tablets twice a day doesn't seem so bad".

I hope they work, not so much now, but in six months time when the days get short again.  I feel like that's where all my trouble began this year - perhaps confounded by the Cape Epic and its ups and downs.

Some exciting riding's on the horizon, and though I'm behind schedule on my preparation (I should have been riding late this afternoon instead of writing this), I hope I've got sufficient quality in my legs to do some lofty plans justice.

Here's a couple of teasers...

Photo: Oli Brooke-White

Photo: Oli Brooke-White

I'm weary of my mood being so lousy.  If my life was just a bit more shit, I sometimes wonder if it would be easier to cope with it.  The fact is, I'm surrounded by amazing friends and family, a wonderful community, and have remarkable opportunities.  Depression, piss off already.