New Plymouth to National Park (from the vorb files)

When Kaitlyn was young, there were many times when I was driving through Stratford in deepest darkest Taranaki that I would look at the "Forgotten Highway" sign and feel a flicker of desire in my legs... Fast forward five years or so, through in a cycling conference in New Plymouth, at which Simon would be a speaker, and the Kiwi Brevet in February, for which some miles are required, and I finally had my opportunity. A flight to New Plymouth and a day's annual leave were duly booked for the Friday of the conference, and a seat on the Overlander from National Park back to Wellington and we were locked and loaded.

As the Firday drew near, other preparations made evenings a bit more interesting. I fired some Maxxis Locust knobblies on my Giant CRX commuter bike, and dug out my old Blackburn rear carrier which hasn't seen a bike for about 10 years! On Wednesday night I practiced loading up a GPS course onto my Garmin Edge and on Thursday I perfected my packing, Simon had given me a 5L drybag for my birthday. Into it went Icebreaker long johns and long sleeved top, a Ground Effect Baked Alaska, some Ground Effect 3/4 overtrou, and a fresh pair of socks. I put my muesli bar bag on the bike, and two bottles, and into the pockets of my riding jersey I had my cell phone, wallet, some photocopied pages from Classic New Zealand Mountain Bike Rides (3rd edition for the Forgotten Highway, and 7th for Fishers Track), my Ground Effect Flash Gordon to keep me dry, and toothbrush and toothpaste (which never ended up in the drybag), and my sunnies case with hayfever pills, suncream and yellow lenses inside. In a saddle bag I had a spare tube, tyre lever and puncture repair kit, and a Lezyne multi tool. Not a huge amount of gear, but an interesting experiment... For the first day, I also had a couple of huge pieces of lasagne which I'd frozen overnight on Thursday, and would thaw out nicely on the ride around Mt Taranaki.

My plane left Wellington just after 11. I left my car in town with my bro, and rode out to the airport, stopping briefly at Burkes to frot my new Giant XTC Advanced SL frame, and at Rongotai College to say gidday to Mum and Dad. At the airport there was no drama getting the pedals off and the back end of the bike bagged up. I took the lasagne off in case the baggage handlers felt peckish.

I stepped off the plane to a windier day than I'd left, and there was a bit of a chill in the air too. I cruised into town and met Simon during the lunch break of the conference. We conferred about the best way of getting the lasagne to Stratford, and since he had no access to a fridge, we decided I should haul it. I grabbed a sub-of-the-day from Subway, nipped into a supermarket for a nasty green but cheap and relatively palatable (watered down to half strength) Mizone, and a 3 pack of my favourite Apricot and Chocolate Bumper Bars, and I was set to go...

With the route all set up in the GPS unit, all I had to do was follow the pink line, and soon enough I was climbing Carrington Road (or is the Street? One on the map, the other on the ground...). The bike was a little heavier than usual, and I was in no rush, so didn't push it too hard. In all, the 400m climb was spread over about 20km and an hour later it flattened off in amongst some native bush. I looked back a few times, and never really got a stunning veiw of New Plymouth, but it's down there somewhere!

I stopped in at Pukeiti Rhododendron Gardens and had a coffee, before setting off again.

 

Soon after there were some very funky road cuttings, and shortly after taking the next photo, it started raining, and the sleeves went on.

  

 During the long descent which followed I lost about half my elevation, and sensation from various bits and pieces on my body. I stopped to say gidday to an incredibly heavily laden cycle tourist who, judging by the amount of gear he had in his four panniers, was doing the entire country by bike. He was pleased to hear the coffee shop wasn't far away, and even more thrilled that he didn't have much climbing left to do...

The course I'd laid out on mapmyride.com got its knickers in a twist at some point and had me cross a ford on a gravel road, and then the "road" disappeared entirely. So, I winged it for a we while, before the "peep" from my handlebars indicated "Course Found..." and I could relax again, knowing I'd find my bed...

The rest of the route looks fairly flat on the elevation plot looks pretty flat, but the variations in speed highlight the constant rollers in there. I worked pretty hard with what was almost a tail wind, and before long was making my way into Stratford. A quick photo of the clock tower to prove I'd been there...

  

 ... and then it was off to my digs for a hot shower and a lie down. Simon arrived soon after I started to get bored, and about 30 seconds after it had started to piss down. After he'd settled in, we nuked up the lasagne, and went for a walk into town. I bought a double chocolate muffin for dessert, and was astounded to read on the packaging that it consisted of 29% of my recommended daily calorie intake. On the walk back we passed a chinese takeaways, and although I had my heart set on a deep-fried mars bar, I made do with a sugar-donut...

We then walked home, alongside a mouse running along the gutter for a short time, before hitting the sack.

We were in no real rush in the morning, and woke to a beautiful day, looking west at least.

  

After packing up, which doesn't take long with the amount of gear we had, we shot into town for some pancakes, and then hit the road...  With full bellies, we started our 150km journey from Stratford to Taumarunui along SH43. This was my first time ever, and Simon's first time in a looong time.

  

 Surprisingly, Stratford sits at a higher elevation that Taumarunui does, and most of that difference was burnt off in the first stretch. Going west to east we were typically travelling up valley, before climbing over a saddle to drop into the next valley. Over the course of the day, we'd have over half a dozen such climbs, but all within a 200m range. The Mt Vic sessions no doubt were going to help a lot.

About 60km or so from Stratford, we arrived in Whangamomona, where we stopped for lunch in the old hotel. To the right is the road which leads to the Bridge to Somewhere ride, which I'd heard about from my friend Mike Lowrie  

"MIKE LOWERY"

and which was one of the reasons I'd always been interested in coming through here...

 

 After a very nice sandwich for lunch, we set off again, leaving a dude on horseback, and an assortment of motorcyclists and tourists to their business. I bought a frozen muffin for afternoon tea, which I stashed on my bike. Shortly after Whangamomona, and at the top of a climb, we ducked into a gully and were confronted by a very cool old tunnel, with trusses in the top, and which has been lowered from its original level over the years. The walls were all bare rock, and it was well worth the photo stop(s)...

  

At the bottom of the descent, we had a 12km section of gravel road, but the surface was dry, and there wasn't much loose gravel to slow us down much (I think I can spot a decrease in speed around the 80km mark on the Garmin graphs...). Another climb, another valley, another climb, and slowly but surely the day ticked on and we got closer and closer to dinner. We shared the muffin, and various other snacks for afternoon tea before knocking off the second to last major hill and dropping into a nasty little valley at around the 106km mark. There were three short but nastly little ascents followed by a 180-odd-m climb which almost had me walking! I'd faltered a little on the second hill in this valley, and felt great on the third, which was a little less steep. This longer one kicked up towards the top, and it got to the point that I could barely muster the strength to push the 36x25 gear. Simon all but vanished up the road, while I grovelled, spending a few minutes at 7km/h!

Things came back together a bit after that, and any climbs weren't as steep, and afternoon tea had kicked in! We made it to Taumarunui after about 8 hours riding, and pulled into the service station for a bloody good feed. Lollies, bars, cinnamon buns, croissants, coffee, powerade, bananas - you name it, down the hatch it went... We must have spent almost an hour there before tottering across the road to the Hilton (Motel), where we checked in, and cleaned ourselves up.

The evening's a bit of a blur, but I do remember that by the time we headed out for dinner, the supermarket had closed, as had most everything else - probably everyone had gone home to watch the footy. We dared not walk past a kebab joint in case it too shut up, so we ordered kebabs, and headed back to our room. I made the mistake of choosing "Extra hot" from the chilli options: Mild, Medium, or Extra Hot. I'm usually a hot guy, when confronted with a choice of Mild or Hot. I suspect Wellington's Hot is Taumarunui's Medium, and within a couple of bites, my innards were spasming, and Simon had to put up with all sorts of weird sound effects as I fought back hiccoughs and giggles... Eventually I finished my kebab, and washed it down with a nice hot cup of tea. I have a vague recollection of watching some TV - perhaps a movie - but no details come to mind...

We'd covered a fair distance (across and up!) that day, and the rest was well deserved.

I woke at 6:30am to find Simon stretching his legs. Figuring I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, I suggested I join him on his intended walk, and we did the length of the main drag. On the return journey, we decided not to wait for cereal from the supermarket, but to grab some breakfast from the bakery instead. Assorted goodies slipped down very nicely, and before long we were on the bikes again.

At the far end of town the highway rose to a bridge over the rail line, and in a fit of intimidation, I put us down a deadend along which I'd hoped to avoid the measly 10m climb. Instead, GPS unit on my bike, I had the embarrassment of conceding we'd gone the wrong way, and had to do the climb anyway. We stopped a few times in the first few kilometres to adjust clothing - always difficult to get it right early in the morning. We also passed the spot where at one stage the 350km ride was going to start from.

We went off course at some point during the next hour, and instead of following a back route to the outskirts of Owhango, we continued along SH4. We declined to take the first rpad down into the valley, thereby avoiding some climbing, and a whole lot of descent on wet gravel road - by this stage it was drizzling on and off. Instead we took Oio Road which is sealed all the way down into Kaitieke. We had a short climb to get out of the valley Owhango's in, where we stopped by a funky road cutting to admire the view.

 

  

The next descent was cold, long, and wet as we burnt off about 300m. We were a little nervous as to what state we'd find Fisher's Track in, and we thought about climbing the sealed road up to Raurimu. In the end we decided we'd rather walk significant chunks of Fishers than grovel back up to the highway, with another shitty climb from Raurimu to National Park still to do, so we pressed on down valley along Upper Retaruke Road. This promptly turned into gravel, which our machines were well set up to deal with, and we made good progress.

  

 After about 10km of gravel, the road turned off and started to climb, and before long we reached the start of Fisher's Track, beside a flash lodge at the bottom of a cloud-filled valley.

The climb was quite remarkable, and we both had little trouble maintaining traction. We didn't move particularly quickly, but we both really enjoyed the climb. The ride had been written up by the Kennett Bros as a descent which is dodgy when wet, but it is absolutely mint as a climb. I carried my bike over a few bogs and things, but Simon rode just about all of it.

 

  

Time flew by fairly quickly, but our deadline never really threatened, and we enjoyed the ride up through patchy native bush. We chatted about MTBing, MTB parks, and what makes a Classic NZ Mountain Bike Ride. This one for me was exactly that, and I recommend doing it if you're ever in National Park. I reckon rocking down the highway to check out the Raurimu Spiral before dropping into the valley and climbing back up Fisher's Track would make an awesome loop ride - probably good for half a day if done at a sensible pace with plenty of photo and picnic stops.

We made it to the railway station about 40 minutes before the train was due to depart. There was hardly anyone around, and since we were sodden, we started to get changed in an open wood shed adjacent to the platform. No sooner had we committed to this than the train arrived, and dozens of people piled off. So, not only did we no longer have any "privacy" but we were also at the very end of the queue for lunch... Waaaaa....

I couldn't stand the thought of staying in my wet pants, and after checking out the train's toilets, bared my butt to anyone that cared to look my way. It was well worth it though to get my dry long johns on. We hosed the bikes down before loading them onto the train, and then had a few minutes to organise some lunch. Hot soup was off the menu on account of the competition, but there was plenty of yummy, although pricey, counter food. It all disappeared pretty smartly, followed by a couple of wraps from the train's pantry, and coffee or two...

Simon jumped off at Taihape to meet his wife and daughter, and I enjoyed the rest of the trip home on the train.

What a great way to spend a weekend! Super company, super countryside, and great training for the Kiwi Brevet. All I covered just over 300km, with over 3500m of climbing. Conversation was excellent throughout, and the gear I packed was pretty much spot on. A pair of jandals would've been nice, but at least I didn't have to haul them around!\

Originally published on vorb

350.org International Day of Action

As you'll see if you look in vorb's "Simon and sifter ride around the block" thread, riding from Upper Hutt around the Tararuas had been on my mind for a while. What I hadn't anticipated, was that the post disappearance debarcle of 2008 rendered the outcome uncertain - Klarkash-ton told me on Saturday that he figured we'd done it.

We hadn't - my knee injury prevented it in the summer of 07/08, and bad weather and various other commitments ruled it out in 08/09. Simon and I had put together a "training" schedule targeted towards the Kiwi Brevet in February 2010, and we'd pencilled the Tararuas ride in for the longest Saturday of the year - 19 December.

It got brought forward though, when publicity about the 350.org International Day of Action reached us - how cool would it be to ride 350km on this day. Initially, we didn't put the two together, and instead we calculated we could ride 350km from Taumaranui to Wellington. In the end, the expense of catching the train up, and the prospect of spending hours on SH1, got us thinking about putting the two rides together, and the seed was sown.

Simon came round home a few weeks ago, and we had a play with mapmyride.com, and google maps to scope out a route. The shortest loop from Upper Hutt and around is under 300km, so some lengthening was in order. I really enjoyed the Martinborough-Masterton Road when I stayed over there a month or so ago, and that added a few km. A return trip from Upper Hutt to Wellington added another few, and a little diversion just north of Otaki, using the Centre Champs course I got shelled on, added a few more, and the 350km was locked in.

The Day of Action started just after midnight on the 24th of October, and so would we! We planned to catch the 11pm train out to Upper Hutt, which would have us there in time.

Weather and busy lives meant the training plan was a little disrupted. In particular, the last few weeks were pretty much a write-off as far as long rides went. Things completely went to custard on the Monday prior when Simon answered the phone with an obvious sore throat, and the next morning, things were worse on that front, not better. It was clear, he was not up for the ride.

By that stage, I felt committed, though I was gutted to be going ahead without Simon. Nonetheless, he made it clear that I should go ahead, and so I went on with my preparations.

I collected my Specialized Roubaix from Oli Brooke-White at Roadworks complete with its new cassette and chain, positively gleaming without its usual coating of road crud and old oil. It also had new tyres and a second roll of bar tape on... Oli also gave me a larger saddle bag to use, and I picked up a Topeak Top Tube Tribag for munchies. A couple of 350.org stickers - one for the front of the bike, and one for the back of my jersey and I was sorted.

I drove the bike down to Glenmore St, not being overly confident of wanting to ride back to Karori, and not wanting to be stung with the Saturday morning parking limits. I was wearing my Roadworks kit (shorts, jersey, plus arm warmers), knee warmers and booties. I had a Ground Effect ristretto merino vest under my jersey, and the vest (but not sleeves) of a Ground Effect Flash Gordon. Roadie cotton cap on the head, Icebreaker beanie in the pocket, and some winter LG gloves rounded the costume off nicely.

In terms of food, I had two bottles of replace on the bike, and six (!!!!) Cookie Time apricot and chocolate Bumper Bars (nom nom nom) on board.

I also had my Tojjarific light (helmet mounted with 8xAA cells in back pocket) a couple of spare tubes, repair kit and pump, and multitool, as well as a tube of suncream, sunnies (yellow lenses in, other lenses in the saddle bag) my cell phone and the bare necessities from my wallet.

The train ride to Upper Hutt was fascinating. I got to the train in good time, a little anxious about the "only 2 bikes per train" rule - I needn't have been. I sat in a carriage with a non-representative sample of society. The worst was represented by a 15 year old boy who reeked of vomit. I rudely eavesdropped on his conversation with a couple of bogan chicks who got on at Petone - he'd spent 2 hours at the station spewing, and had no idea where his skateboard was. His Dad was picking him up at the station as was going to be "fucking pissed". I sincerely wished that he would stop burping, and that he didn't smell so bad.

Further up the carriage were four more kids. These were sober, though possibly intoxicated by the lord. Initially a girl was playing a guitar and singing. Later, she handed the guitar off to a young guy who was a beautiful player. He and she then sung, and it was quite something. A pissed mid-30s dude joined them but didn't seem too keen to sing. A goofy looking guy with half his dinner on his chin also sat with them. It was nice that they didn't object.

When the train pulled into the station, Monolith, ThingOne and Klarkash-ton were waiting for me. Mono and Clive had ridden out from Karori - in fact, I passed them in the car, and K-ton had driven over from Waikanae. It was too cold to wait for the International Day of Action to begin, so we set off.

The ride to the summit of the Rimutakas was sweet. I rode alongside K-ton and we chatted, while Clive and Mono rode together. At some point Mono received delivery of a shell jacket, which he'd deemed unnecessary in the comfort of a relatively balmy Karori. I took point on the descent, and we all got down the hill without incident. I really enjoyed the road - it wouldn't be a bad one to know off by heart...

We topped up our bottles at Featherston, and Clive tightened a loose brake pad before we set off towards Martinborough. Soon after the pace got incredibly hot, and I let myself drift off the back. My survival instinct is good, and I knew it would be better to ride 300km on my own, than blow my legs in the first 100km, and have to wait for a train. Soon, K-ton headed back to me as well, and by the time we regrouped we were in Martinborough.

Getting onto the Masterton road is a little awkward, but I'd had the benefit of scoping it out. The only car I remember from the first four hours of riding came towards us heading to Martinborough just before the Hinakura Road - it was quite a treat having the place to ourselves.

Time ticked by nicely, and around 4am we pulled into Masterton. A couple of jinks and jives, and soon we turned left onto SH2. We rode past the Shell station, closed yet open, and pulled up at Maccas where I treated myself to a hot chocolate. I had no idea why none of the others partook, but I was pleased for the warmth and the sugar hit. I also swapped my cap for the beanie - things were cooling down... The carpark had some bogans sifting in it, and they pulled out just as we were leaving. No doubt they thought we were mad to be out riding at that time of night.

North of Masterton, I was really pleased to have an altimeter on board to confirm that it wasn't my legs crapping out, but rather a steady climb in progress. We were getting a car or logging truck every 10 minutes or so, which made a change from the first four hours. The summit of Mt Bruce surprised me a little; I wasn't expecting it until after Eketahuna. Despite my altimeter sometimes telling me porkies (e.g. -50m along Oriental Bay) at the summit its reading was only 1m different from the sign's. My brain was not capable at that time of "day" of computing whether I was up (consistent perhaps with the bike's height above the road) or down (consistent with an error).

The descent off Mt Bruce was excruciating... We had a brief stop in Eketahuna, but apart from that endured over an hour of freezing cold temperatures, literally. At Eketahuna, some way through the descent, I put my cap back on over my beanie, desperate to try to keep a little more of the chill off. Mono was riding with both hands behind his back, and I was too scared to mention to K-ton that he must be freezing with short fingered gloves on. My fingers were all numb, and only small patches of my feet had sensation; at one point I became convinced that I had a stone in my shoe only to realise it was simply a patch of un-numb foot...

The sun was starting to rise, but while there was some light, there was definitely no heat. The grass alongside the road was frosty, and we all rode along, mostly in silence, kilometre by kilometre getting closer to the point at which we would begin to warm up again.

We reached Pahiatua sometime before 7, and before the sun had lifted above the hills. Immediately we pulled into a servo, and got inside ASAP. It was probably a cold room, but to us it felt positively tropical. We all drifted towards the pie warmer, and took turns putting our hands on the glass front. We may have removed pies from the oven, and studied their ingredient lists intently, first in the left hand, then the right. Most were replaced without purchase. I microwaved a Cookie Time cookie, and chased that down with a latte. Mono's body shivered just as he was about to take his first sip of hot chocolate, and I LOLed when I noticed Clive's gloves in the pie warmer. The story gets no better than that folks, and if I forget every detail of this ride but one, that's the keeper right there... A short trip to the loo, which seemed to be even warmer than the shop, and it was time to set off again. A quick stop at a water tap, and we were rolling.

We took the first left to Palmerston and finally we had the sun on our backs. K-ton dropped a chain and I stopped for him, while Clive and Mono cruised along ahead. We started the climb up the Pahiatua Track just behind a father-and-son duo out for their Saturday morning regular. We nattered to them a bit, told them what we were up to, and marvelled at their attacks up the hill. [embellishment] Determined not to let the breakaway go, the four of us immediately got into a pace line, and before long we not only had regathered the pair, but smashed past them in a daring passing manouver on a treacherously windy (as in bendy) descent.[/embellishment] We'd obviously got their goat up, because they put in a second attack which we simply could not be bothered with respond to...

Before we knew it, we were on the outskirts of Palmie, and turning south towards home. Frankly, the road to Shannon sucked balls. The undulations in the road were unpleasant in themselves, but worse was the lack of shoulder coupled with a lot of traffic, and the fact that we'd had eight hours of riding by this stage on virtually empty roads. It was a relief to arrive in Shannon, where we were greeted by Mono's wife, who was heading to Palmie for the day.

I grabbed a bit of apple slice, a powerade and a couple of bananas from the 4-square, and a coffee from down the road, and we sat in the sun for a bit, and had a well-deserved rest. We were there for about 45 minutes in the end, and when we set off, we were sans lights and the others a few items of clothing. Surprisingly the long break hadn't seemed to have done any of us any harm, and before long the pace was back up to where we'd been before.

We hit SH1 just south of Levin, at which point the traffic picked up a lot. There were a couple of shitty bridges over the rail line which we managed to get across without any scares, and on this stretch I witnessed the closest any of us came to an altercation with a car. I didn't ask him about it, but K-ton was up ahead riding along a straight with a passing lane on it. From what I could tell a car had been about to pull out into the passing lane, and had realised that someone was about to pass them. Their over-emphatic correction had led to them swerving way out onto the shoulder, so that all I could see was K-ton silhouetted by this veering car... If the whole thing had happened half a second sooner, I think he'd have been toast...

We turned off SH1 just north of Otaki onto South Manukau Rd. This gave us some respite from the traffic, though added a few little hills. We rejoined SH1 at the start of Otaki's 50km/h zone, and cruised up the inside of a short queue. Our only major mechanical came about 3/4 of the way to Waikanae - K-ton punctured, ironically only a kilometre or so from his home. Clive and Mono grabbed a sit down up the road while I hung around ready to offer assistance during what would prove to be the slowest tube change EVAR!!!! Eventually, we got going again [embellishment] woke Clive and Mono up from their deep slumber [/embellishment] and continued South.

Simon was waiting for us in Waikanae, and so our 4 became 5 for the trip over the Akas. Simon and K-ton had gone to college together and while they nattered at the rear, Mono, Clive and I cruised up the hill. Eventually the inevitable occurred, and I laughed quietly to myself as Mono responded to Clive's attack within a couple of kilometres of the summit. I found them both a few minutes later, sitting in the sun. Simon and K-ton were another few minutes behind. After a couple of photos, we were off again.

We made it safely down the Hutt side of the Akas, despite a bit of traffic. Clive and Mono made repeated digs at each other, despite over 350km already in their legs. It was well past midday by now, and they'd been at it since about 10:30pm the previous day. We were all in good spirits though, and hadn't had to endure any drama! Simon and I said farewell to K-ton at the Upper Hutt turnoff - he returned to his car knowing full well that he'd cope with the Taupo Enduro, and a new member of the double century (200 mile) club.

Simon paced me up to Clive and Mono, and took up the lead position as he led us all the way back to Wellington. It was a generous gesture, and the three of us behind took it for what it was. I think we were probably all wondering whether we should help out, but each decided that we'd stay put. At Ngauranga, we rode side by side until the Tinakori Rd turnoff, where Mono and Clive headed home to Karori. It looked like each of them was going to have to do a few laps of Karori Park to clock up the 400km each was after. What an amazing effort! I was really impressed with the way they seemed to be able to knock the shit out of each other throughout the ride, but without doing themselves irreparable harm! I wasn't at all confident at my own ability to survive, so had kept well out of it.

Simon and I continued through to where the 350.org festival was in full swing. I warmed down by doing a lap of Waitangi Park, arriving back to Simon with 350.2km showing on the speedo, with an elapsed time of a few minutes under 15 hours. We'd estimated we'd spent about 2 of these hours resting, based on Monolith's riding time. The average speed including breaks was 23.4km/h and with breaks probably just under 27km/h, not bad for a ride of 350km, with 2700m of climbing (Rimutakas, Pahiatua Track and the Akatarawas being the only steep ones, and Mt Bruce a 30km long false flat).

I felt remarkably good at the end of the ride, and while my legs seized up a bit, I didn't feel too bad at all. I rode back to my car and drove home for dinner, a bath, and a good long sleep.

As they used to say on the tv when I was a kid, "I love it when a plan comes together."

 POSTSCRIPT

In my haste to get that all down (in about 10% of the time it took to do the actual riding) I forgot a couple of things...

That was one of the coolest rides I've ever been on, and I'm thrilled with almost every aspect of it.

Monolith, ThingOne, and Klarkash-ton were fantastic companions. The vibe was very very cool, and never was there any stress, perhaps with the exception of the mutual hatred of the cold north of Eketahuna. But, even that was largely suffered in silence. Completely apart from being hard core enough to join in on such a wacky ride, these guys were brilliant to ride with, the entire time. Fucking unbelievable really, in a ride like that!

It was weird doing it without Simon. Though I'm used to him having adventures without me, it still weirds me out when it's the other way around. I couldn't have done it without him though. To all intents and purposes, he's my coach, as well as my training partner, and best friend, and he knew perfectly well how to set me up for this, both physically and mentally.

Thanks also to my generous and kind sponsor, Oli Brooke-White at Roadworks. Those of you who've paid even the smallest bit of attention will have noticed his logo in my avatar, the way I'm invariably dressed in riding photos, and the not-so-subtle links in my posts. You're also likely to have stumbled on the huge respect Oli has within the vorb community for his skill and knowledge. You'd be forgiven for thinking that our relationship is: he keeps my bike going well, and gives me sharp prices on parts and labour, and I pimp his business. Of course, his incredible skills as a mechanic are probably the least important contribution he makes to my riding. What I would hate to lose more than anything is his faith in me. Not only does he help me believe that I can succeed (which surely is the critical ingredient to completion of a 350km ride), but he also helps marginalise the fear of failure - I know that he would have backed me even if I'd caught the train home from Masterton in tears. Both of these factors are so important, and one without the other wouldn't be nearly as helpful, at least not for me. I count myself incredibly lucky to represent Oli, and Roadworks.

When I set out the other day, I had been inundated with well-wishes, and also a few words of advice. I was warned about the lows. Strangely, they never came. I think my post of a week or so ago might be in some way linked to this, as well as my quality companions, and supporters. It was fucking freezing (like seriously cold - I have never been colder in my life), I bumped my big toe a few times as my shoe loosened, I overtightened my shoe and crushed the side of my foot a bit, my butt started to hurt a little on the way back down the Hutt Road, but never did I have to dig into my handbag of courage (a shame really, as it is a charming place). It was an incredible experience, as I've mentioned, and throughout, I enjoyed being a calm place, enjoying one of the activities I enjoy more than anything else.

24 October was one of those great days to be alive!

Originally published on vorb