Ni Shagu Nazad!

Warren Beatty is quoted as saying "My notion of a wife at forty is that a man should be able to change her, like a bank note, for two twenties."

This week I have been stricken with the lurg, a real bed confining ripper. The upside of this experience was that, once I was done with wallowing in self pity and pain, I started thinking about riding the bike and the best roads I have ridden in New Zealand. Some of the roads are in places that are remote or only visited on holiday, but a number are within striking distance of where most of us live.

What I plan to do is to share them and my thoughts over the next couple of posts, in no particular order, here's the first (and only one for the day because I'm still feeling sorry for myself)-

The Waitati Loop. Approximately seventy four kilometres from the start of North East Valley, Dunedin, the loop has two substantial climbs up to four hundred metres, one up to two hundred metres and a section of rolling hills. It also has a couple of magnificent descents, excellent views over Dunedin, Otago Harbour, Blueskin Bay and the Silverpeaks. Most of the roads are very lightly travelled and are in very good conditions.
The substantial climbs are both steady and can be ridden comfortably without major steep sections causing handlebar wrenching, the views at the top are jawdropping.
Unfortunately I haven't had a chance to ride the loop for a few years, but it holds a strong place in my riding memory, and I'd thoroughly recommend it to anyone after a decent loop ride out of Dunedin.

Here's the profile-
Directions:-

http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/new-zealand/dunedin/903124903305550176


I will be adding several to this list, and by no means is it definitive, it's just something I want to share. Additionally, I do have some glaring gaps in my EnZed riding, especially the lower North Island, but in time I will fill those holes. Suggestions welcome.

Me and Uncle Sam

Recently I was asked if Jorge the Fibber, who is a follower of mine, was my alter-ego. I was mortified, not only did some of his impure suggestions offend, his picture looks like a bad cross between The Worm fitting a tight tyre and Boy George.

This prompted me to set off on a trail of discovery. What I did discover is that Jorge is from the USA. Not just any part of Amerika, but from the place of Dualies, Gun Racks and Stetsons, in other words, Texas. He is the proud waver of Hook'em Horns and has a picture of Bevo tattooed on his body.

All okay so far, except I understand that he has recently acquired a tenure with the Department of Defence, he and his wife have taken out a part share in a retired ICBM complex and he is closely related to Vernon Howell.

On to brighter matters. The new National Cycleway announcements are indeed exciting, and are neatly summarised with maps and overviews here:-

http://img.scoop.co.nz/media/pdfs/0907/NewZealandCyclewayQuickStartTracks.pdf

I do commend the Government for this initiative and the vision that is behind it, but I think there is currently a great deal of misunderstanding in the wider cycling community as to the form that these cycle paths will take. From reading the summary of the Quick Start Tracks all of the tracks will be metal and unsuitable for road bike use.

The aim appears to be to establish a network of trails similar to the Central Otago Rail Trail and the Christchurch to Little River Rail Trail. These trails are important and will provide new exercise and recreational opportunities, but may not provide a feasible, safe alternative to existing roads that are too dangerous to currently ride. A good example is the proposed track from Paeroa to Waihi. Currently SH2, running through the Karangahake Gorge, is far too narrow and busy to consider riding comfortably, but it is the only road that runs across the bottom of the Coromandel Peninsula. A good sealed track should be mandatory here, so as to allow safe passage through the Karangahake Gorge.

Additionally, at the stage of writing, no formal research has been published by the Ministry of Tourism. Currently they are undertaking research, but how, with whom and where they are conducting this research is not obvious.

To assist with getting the tracks you would like, become active with suggestions to the relevant parties.

Here is one option:-

http://www.tourism.govt.nz/Our-Work/New-Zealand-Cycleway-Project/Keeping-Informed/

Speak up, share your thoughts.

If we don't speak up, then we may lose a great opportunity to have a world class cycle network.

Finding Motivation

I've just spent a glorious weekend down in a quiet part of the Coromandel. The weather played it's part and the days were crisp, clear and windless. The company was excellent, laughter flowed, fun was had and the Kaos Kreators caught Piper galore.

The drive down went over the Kopu-Hikuai hill, and, as is always the case, I find myself staggered that I can ride that Hill as part of the K2 and view it as one of the easier climbs. The only reason for considering it as easy is, that relative to the cluster of climbs between Whitianga and Kereta, it's gentle in grade and can be ridden with a modicum of decorum by me. Driving it, it looks steep, goes on for an eternity and is preceded and followed by a series of short bergs. Yet again it frightened me about the looming K2 and just how well prepared I am, or am not.

The K2 event, has been for me, a scene of implosion and suffering several times over, but it has also been a scene of triumph and satisfaction. In the second edition of K2, I, as per normal, had imploded somewhat short of the finish. EM towed me from Coromandel to the finish in Thames, he waited while I crawled up the hills, he stopped while I had an involuntary lie down with another rider on the outskirts of Thames. Then in a fit of rare competitive spirit from me, I sprinted him in. The records for the event that year show I finished a place ahead of him. Never mind that he'd waited, towed and sheltered me for fifty kilometres, I had a brainfart and jumped him on the finish as we rolled in.

As time passed this became a bit of a button that I'd press on EM when the opportunity arose. Finally, one night, three and half years after the day of disgraceful behaviour from me, I pressed the button quite firmly. EM reacted by wanting a wager for that year's edition of K2, which like the last time we rode it together, started and finished in Thames. His initial wager failed to cause me any anxiety, so he rapidly increased it. Suddenly it was two thousand dollars, I was still pretty calm, then he wagered, as well as the cash, a night with my Domestic Commanding Officer. It was around this point that the female in question realised the stakes I was betting. She wasn't too perturbed, but EM's Spousal Unit was a little more concerned, probably by the fact that if he lost, she'd have me to contend with.

In the cold light of the following day, and over the subsequent weeks I realised I truly had a tiger by the tail. At least I have a well developed sense of self worth and a fool's optimism, these two traits served me well in these period. The upside of the wager was that, suddenly, I was encouraged to train, and train properly, both by my own pride and by my Spousal Barnacle. The war of words started in earnest between EM and myself, both of us running smokescreen and spin campaigns.

I went into that year's K2 better prepared than ever and cracked out my best ever time. Unfortunately for EM, business commitments grew greatly in that period, he was unable to train enough to even just ride the event, let alone defend his honour, and he had to withdraw his entry and the wager. Shame really, I was looking forward to the money and a night with his betrothed.

This year, I am riding K2 again, I have a plan and am training well, I just need that added focus, is there anyone who wants to wager their family?

Where balloons burst!

I got to thinking how EnZed is a great place, and that we, who live here, are damn lucky. One failing of EnZeders is their persistant belief that you have to travel overseas to see the sights and experience history. I believe that just isn't true. So for the purposes of education, not the usual entertainment that I usually provide, I'm going to give you a list of five places in EnZed to visit, and the reasons why you have to go there.
So, without further ado, here's the list (in no particular order)

Ruapekapeka


Site of the final battle in the northern land war of the New Zealand wars, also, arguably, the first use of trench warfare in the world. Here, the British Imperial Army faced off against Ngapuhi under Kawiti and Hone Hiki, cannon against musket. The site still has the trenches, bunkers and earthen ramparts.

Tolaga Bay



EnZed's longest wharf, and Ship's Cove is an easy walk from here. Important for local Maori history, also Captain Cook's provisioning on his first voyage after his hostile encounters further down the coast.

Gillespie's Beach


Remote in South Westland, forest and vegatation is regenerating, but the massive scars from gold dredging can still be clearly seen along with scrap and ruin from the dredges and boom towns. Also, standing on the beach with the roaring West Coast surf and seeing rainforest and then the snow capped Southern Alps within hand's reach is inspiring.

Mangere Mountain


See Maori terracing dating back six hundred years, a crater where part of the scoria has been rafted away by the lava, a tholoid has blocked the main volcanic vent and there are numerous gas explosion craters around it, the carpark is the site of one of EnZed's more grisly, and unsolved, murders. Take a picnic, it's a surprising place.

Paerau



This was a staging post on the Old Dunstan Road, magnificent, lonely scenery, the Taieri River loops and meanders with ox bows and marshes. The nearby ranges dwarf you and, hot as hell in summer and as cold as charity in winter, it's always a soul enhancing place.

Do some research, go and find these places.

This is an imperative!

Changing my mind

This morning, while I was out for a pre-dawn ride with EMC, we were discussing this year's TDF. EMC expressed his concern that I hadn't updated my TDF comments since the last time I posted some predictions before the whole circus started. I did defend my other postings by pointing out that Defy Evolution is a purely onanistic outlet for me.

However, he did prick my conscience, so here we go. Firstly, I must add that EMC is not the carbon fibre guru who has had gender reassignment that I alluded to a few posts ago.

Looking back at my picks, I was a little wide of the mark with D Menchov, so far he's been lurking out of the top twenty, and will struggle to even make the teens. Alberto is now the man with the Tour to lose, but to me, he still has a real battle on his hands with all teams, including his own. I'm not completely certain about Mr Armstrong's newly found devotion to Alberto. There have been stranger intra-team rivalries in the Tour in the past and, usually, they have ended in tears.

In saying that, I can't see who else can rival Alberto, unless he has a day like he did in this year's Paris-Nice. Andy Schleck is the only real rival he has in the mountains, and Andy can't timetrial, but Andy has a united team. Carlos has been invisible, he did ride a very sensible climb to Verbier and shows that he can't be written off the podium yet, but he does have some ground to make up. I pick he will go on the rampage up Mt Ventoux.

Cadel, nothing else to say.

My podium pick - Contador, Armstrong, Wiggins (who would have picked that a week ago?)

A separate Tour topic is Roulston's third last week, a great result by any standards, and must be applauded. It's not the first time that a Kiwi has been top three on a Tour Stage. Eric MacKenzie won the bunch sprint in 1983 for third at Le Havre, there was a break of two stayed away taking the first two places. Eric also gained quite a few other top ten places throughout the four editions of Le Tour de France that he rode ( a couple of fifths, some sevenths and others). The picture at the top is Eric in 1983 when he was riding for Splendor. Photo, I pinched from the web, thanks to cyclingwebsite.net.nz.

Opportunity Knocks

A couple of years ago, when I was quite spritely and ready, I decided to tackle my tribute to the European spring classics. I had planned this route a few years earlier, but fitness and mental flimsiness had always undone me on it. This time I was ready.

The loop is one hundred and sixty kilometres from town, with two thousand, one hundred and fifty metres of ascending spread over sixteen climbs and innumerable small rollers. The loop itself is good because it's pretty compact, has numerous bail out points, predominantly quiet roads, shops in the right spots and has a nice easy last twenty kilometres. Where it's toughness comes from is the lack of flat and the constant short climbs. In the middle it loops around on itself to take in a variety of climbs in the Coatsville/Dairy Flat area. No climbs are repeated, and there's next to no riding the same piece of road twice.

It needs either a map, gps or a mind like a steel trap to remember the route. If anyone does want the route, email me and I'll send the file through.

I set off on this particular spring day in beautiful conditions, and rolled around the planned loop, finally making it home a content, but spent man. The final long descent from the top of the Bethalls quarry was pure bliss, knowing that there was no more climbing that day. The middle section with it's climbs that come one after another and pitch up steeply in places did tax me a little, but I was a man on a mission that day and the weather gods smiled on me.

Since then I have tried, in vain, to drag various parties around. Now that K2 is on the serious radar again I'm going to have another crack at it, but hopefully with company. I want to see some other spent faces next time.

Junior, you listening fella?

Depriving Villages

The following story could be used as a cautionary tale, and for reasons of preserving the dignity of the other players in this fable, they shall remain hidden behind the letters A, B and C.

The story centres around the Moonride in Whakarewarewa Forest, Rotorua a couple of years ago. A had cobbled together a team for the event. The team consisted of two of us who had ridden MTBs more than once, B who had ridden one once and C who had never ridden an MTB. Fitness was also a bit of a mixed bag. We were entered in the twelve hour event.

Logistics wise the team was well equipped with a horse float, marquee, two generators, fifteen hundred watts of lighting, a BBQ, large stereo, chilly bins and a reasonable amount of food and liquid refreshments. We had three sets of lights for the bikes. Arriving down on the Friday night (in two vehicles) we set up base camp and then retired to our hotel, for a plan of attack and some dinner. At the hotel we slept two to a room.

Race day dawned and out we went to the event, full of vigour. We had already decided that there was to be a compulsory beer per lap for each rider as they finished their lap. Additionally we had a handicap system in place, so that the rider with the slowest lap, every four laps, gained another beer. We also had some arcane rules around a cold beverage to be served immediately to the incoming rider.

Things were going quite well, until, as we were setting up, I was asked to put some music on. We did have a reasonably large and loud stereo. Unfortunately for the others, I had enquired as to what music I should bring and, given that no-one made any requests, I bought what I wanted to.
By memory the first song that popped out was La Via La Varquez by The Mars Volta, quite loud. Howls of protest, so it was replaced by Forkboy by Lard, and so on. Much disagreement followed, with me refusing to concede. In the end A found his iPod and plugged that in, with a mix of classic rock, easy listening and some horror electronic stuff that is normally accompanied by hands in the air, strobing lights, dry ice and party drugs. The other groups either side of our compound looked on slightly alarmed.

When the race started A went first, then I took the next lap, then C, then B. All went swimmingly, for a while. I refused to put up with A's music anymore and would switch it whenever possible, after a couple of hours of abuse and switching we hatched the cunning plan that whoever was due to ride the next lap could choose the music. In the meantime, one of our two generators, which we had sited as far away as possible, using a thirty metre builders lead, was starting to stink out someone else's camp. Complaints and a bit of lugging of generator fixed that.

The sun was out, the BBQ cranked up, steak and prawns and bread and much, much more was served and eaten, beer was drunk and much pleasant merry fun was had.

The sun started to sink lower in the sky, C realised that the lamp that looked like it had fallen out of a DC3 during a rough landing, and was powered by a lead acid motorbike battery, was simply incapable of being mounted on his bike using duct tape. This, he realised as I set out for one of the last day light laps. On that lap there was a bit of sunstrike in places and a light would have been handy in the deepest woods, but I wasn't concerned. C headed out next with a couple of things akin to fairy lights in the place of his landing lamp.

I was getting a little cold, so A, B and I decided that we should drink some wine and maybe a nip or two of vodka wouldn't go amiss. C took a long time, a little longer than anticipated. The bottle of vodka was consumed, B mixing his with jellybeans to fuel his upcoming lap.

Eventually C reappeared, and B wobbled out into the dark, vodka and jellybean fueled.

A longer wait followed, a little more wine and tales of bravado. Eventually two children appeared with the transponder, they had been asked by B to pass this one and been told to tell us to keep going. It was A's turn and A was tipsy, actually more than tipsy. C and I manhandled him onto his bike and slung him protesting down the race shute into the dark. It was like a plane being launched from an aircraft carrier, he was going whether he liked it or not.

C and I then went to find B. B was in the ambulance, "The drunk guy" as the ambulance staff called him, with a dislocated shoulder. He was quite cheery and was just annoyed that he'd crashed within hearing range of our, now wound up, stereo. C and I retired back to the compound to cook on the BBQ and drink a little more wine.

A was gone quite some time. Eventually he staggered in, still very tipsy, quite worse for wear and sans the transponder. I set out because I wanted to do one lap in the dark. I rolled around and eventually made it back. Only then did I find out what had become the transponder. A was so tired and emotional on his lap that he fell from the bike innumerable times, eventually falling a sleep for a while and also breaking a few ribs in the process. He was found by a marshall and escorted out of the forest. B reported the next day, that while lying in the ambulance, it was about to depart to take him to Rotorua Hospital, when the radio call came through asking the driver to wait, because a rider had been found in the forest who was too drunk to walk. B was quite cheered by this and told the ambulance staff "That will be A". The ambulance left shortly after without A.

A, C and I decided that we should stop riding and instead concentrate on enjoying the atmosphere. The team on one side of us scarpered, the team on the other side, from the Hutt Valley, thought it was amusing and started joining us for some hospitality after they rode their final laps. Some further destruction and mayhem ensued at the compound, before we retreated to the hotel at around two in the morning. The team from the Hutt Valley were so taken with our performance that they wanted to know when we were next fronting up to an event and whether they could camp beside us there.

B's night was far from over, the radiographers at Rotorua hsopital were on strike, so he discharged himself. Unfortunately he was without his clothes and his wallet was back at the forest with us. He walked out of the hospital clad in a blanket and hospital gown and flagged a taxi. Taxi took him back to the hotel, where he managed to borrow cash from reception to pay the taxi. As he got in the lift in the hotel a fellow guest asked him if he'd been to a toga party.

The next morning I was woken by a groaning, whimpering sound. It was A, who I was sharing the room with, and the full pain of his broken ribs was kicking in, he shuffled about whimpering and groaning for the day, but, unfortunately for him, that was a source of amusement for the rest of us. B was only good with one arm, the other he rigged a sling for. Like that the four of us returned to pack up Camp Destruction.

Our marquee had been egged and there was an abundance of empty bottles, cold steak, prawn shells etc. Not pretty, but the two able bodied of us did manage to pack up, assisted by the man with one functional arm. The broken ribbed one was truly broken and just whimpered.

The sum of alcohol consumed did surprise us all a little (and if anyone wants the totals email me), and we concurred that was the root cause for the failure of our campaign.

On return to Auckland we did all spend several days anxiously reading various forums, etc in the hope that we had passed unnoticed, and, after a week or two, that did appear to be true.

We have considered a return to the race, but next time we will have our own ambulance, because at least they will be more reliable than the local taxis, will be warm and the beds will be comfortable to lie in between laps.

I will keep you posted as to those plans.

Caveat Canis

Recently, on my usual pre-dawn loop it was wet and I suffered a puncture. 5:30am, wet, cool, dark and I have a deflating back tyre, nice. I should add that up until about a month ago I had been puncture free since the start of October 2008, but then I started talking about it, and have now suffered a couple.

This time it was down by the Tank Farm, so a light industrial area, and I stopped under a street light. As I started to effect the repair a chap came out from one of the lit buildings there, asked if I was okay, if I had a spare tube, etc, then stood and chatted to me while I changed the tube. He also had a torch, with which he helped me find the offending piece of glass that had caused the puncture.
His appearance and company turned what would have been a small opportunity for practising cursing into a pleasant conversation.

This incident, a couple of recent conversations and also the positive response to Avoid The Clown, has given me food for thought.

In riding bikes we are part of a large community, but we don't often function as a community and, too often, ignore our fellow members.

When I started riding and racing I pretty much knew everyone who rode a road bike and would wave and say "gidday" when ever we passed, bunch riding was part of a regular club activity and the laws of the bunch were passed on through admonishment for transgressions. I remember being told gently, yelled at and counselled after for various transgressions. Quickly I learnt, as did most others.
Now, most people who ride are never part of a club, have never raced and have little or no desire to. That's fine, it's great seeing so many people riding bikes. The issue is that most people now ride with others who have never ridden for a club, have never had some grumpy old codger yelling "Hold the wheel" or similar at them. They have simply jumped on a bike and enjoyed the freedom.

Unfortunately they also have missed all the experience and accumulated wisdom that is handed out, and a lot of the vital safety and social parts of riding are missing also. The greater issue is that the behaviours that they have learnt from their riding companions are often flawed and can be dangerous. Put these riders all together and add some competitive spirit and it's a recipe for disaster.

Additionally, and importantly, the greater community aspect of cycling is disappearing. What I am referring to is the friendly wave, the check to see if the rider stopped on the side of the road is okay, the simple shared companionship of a stranger.

On the first point, waving, I'm as guilty as anyone else on the waterfront, I do make an effort to say gidday to anyone who is riding in the same direction as me and passes me or I pass them, but I'm slack about the wave. Off the waterfront and out in the wider environs I do wave. Not a big arm pumping, flailing gesture, just a hand raise of acknowledgement.

I always make a point of asking people if they are okay when they are stopped, ninety-nine percent of the time they are, but you never know. I have saved a chap from a long and painful walk home after he'd used up his two spare tubes and had no cell phone or cash, one day that could be me.
Lastly, if someone does hop onto the back of your bunch, say gidday to them, acknowledge them.

I firmly believe adding these behaviours to all rides and riders does make the world a little better.

Lastly before anyone accuses me of wanting to turn the clock back, or being rose-tinted about the past, I do know that some of the more arcane rules of cycling (thankfully gone) were just plain silly. Wanting to race with socks other than white? DNS
Swearing in the bunch? $5 fine, thank you. ( It was my right to tell the squatter who sprinted us home in a handicap race just what I thought of him and his parentage as we crossed the finish line)

Missed it?

This is bike racing at it's finest

What makes a good ride (part two)

A couple of weeks ago a group of us went for a ride through the BCL (Butter Chicken Loop). The ride was a reunion for a group that went around East Cape late last year. The ride around East Cape was sensational, as a group of comparative strangers that started in Whakatane, we worked together well, got on without exception and enjoyed four days of excellent riding.

Altogether we covered five hundred and eighty kilometres in those four days and suffered no punctures, no meltdowns, only fifty kilometres of headwinds and no road rage. What came out at the end was a pretty cohesive bunch of riders with a shared sense of humour.

One benefit of this ride is that the photo at the top of my posting "Avoid the Clown" was taken out somewhere on SH35. This picture has been the most downloaded of my blog so far, and I'm now fielding requests for further modelling work for the ladies pictured. Additionally one of these woman, Doris, is now a disciple of mine.

The visit of Tristan, wheel building genius from Wellington, provided the necessary reason for a regrouping. Unfortunately Cynthia (the other glorious model in the bunch) was unwell with pericardiasomethingarather after Warren and I had dragged her around through various metal roads a couple of weeks prior.

Most of the group were unfamiliar with the BCL, so it was a pleasant surprise outing for them. The pace was good and the conversation civil, until Doris suggested that we stage our nudie photo. She had suggested it when we rode around East Cape, and in summer that was taken as a valid idea. Her choice of setting that day was the end of the Tologa Bay wharf. Unfortunately when we got to the end of the wharf there were several parties fishing who may have viewed a nude group in less than favourable terms. So, now on the BCL Doris struck again.

Much nervous laughter followed, not the least because it was winter, cold and damp.

Up at the top of Carter Road Doris stated that she would disrobe for the shot, me being a gentleman, couldn't let her do it alone so also stripped off (arm warmers, knee warmers, gillet, thermal top, etc). The rest chickened out. Photos were taken, and unfortunately, while Doris looked quite glamorous, I've come out looking like I was channelling Gollum.

In my defence it was cold and about to drizzle, and no man ever looked good naked fresh out of damp lycra. The fact that I was hunched, white and grimacing didn't help.

After dressing and letting the others compose themselves we rolled off to finish the loop. Much laughter ensued on the rest of the ride.

Thankfully I have the only copies of those images, and I'm practising my photoshop skills. One day I will air the photo and people will wonder why Doris was naked with a man who has a passing resemblance Viggo Mortenssen on the BCL.

Peeling Frogs

The dreaded picture surfaced from the Reader from Mt Rascel. It is a little more horrifying than I first thought.

The picture was taken around the crisis point of the final stage of one of Stephen Cox's tours in the Waikato. If it had been taken five kilometres prior I would have been looking a little more like a hero, but timing is everything, and here I am pictured looking like a man about to whimper.

There are two things that mortify me in this picture:-

1. I'm having grave difficulty hanging onto the wheel of a man racing with a saddle bag. At the start of that stage, after 2 days and 4 previous stages, I bolted from the bunch like Homer Simpson after a free donut. I was quickly joined by another willing victim. The two of us worked steadily and got a lead of over two minutes on the bunch. Then I worked steadily at holding the back wheel of the other rider, then I worked steadily by myself watching the other rider ride off.
The bunch caught me on a climb at about the sixty kilometre mark, and I want backwards through them. This picture was taken shortly after as I hung on, unsuccessfully, to others who were also discarded from the race proper. After that I dribbled my way through the last thirty kilometres.

2. Who was I kidding? Did I ever think that I was going to pass myself off as the French National champion? I can barely pronounce "Oui" without making others wince. I sure as hell can't win a club race, let alone a centre champs, but here I was pretending I was Didier Rous. Plus Didier is kinda ferret like, I'm more bovine. A little fashion effort that was doomed to failure I think.


The Reader from Mt Rascel also did forward some other less kind photos that show me pretending I was riding for Telekom in an early addition of K2. To add insult to injury they also show me a little broken and pulling faces that would have won me a spot in the World Gurning Champs.

The net outcome of seeing these photos has once again reminded me that almost all the photos that show me cycling, have almost invariably shown a man broken or whimpering.

Where are the victorious ones? Or are they just in my mind?

Spacenauts

A chance for something different on a fine day.

This is a pictorial essay of sorts of a roll through some extraordinary parkland and reserve on the fringe of the Manukau Harbour, within 30 minutes ride of downtown.
The first section had a few walkers and a couple of twitchers, but pretty soon we had the world to ourselves.

Time, as we rolled along, was passed with tales of sunken Taiwanese fishing vessels in the Hauraki Gulf, discussion about CTB's recent dip off the end of the pontoon in the Oruarangi Creek and whether stabbing your girlfriend 200 odd times was a loss of control.
As can be seen we eventually ran out of track. Before this happened we rode on firm grass, mud, shells and rocks, we passed through axle deep water, squelching grass, and loose soil. All the time we had magnificent views of the Manukau Harbour, the harbour entrance, algae covered sand bars and constantly changing terrain.

Turning back was never really considered, the only backtracking was forced by the tracks running out completely, but not until we had ridden to the very end of them. With a little backtracking, we found what we thought would be a continuation of the loop. The track disappeared and the markers random. On we pressed, riding and walking, through the magnificent landscape. Finally we found a race and rode out it to hit tarseal not far from the airport, immensely satisfied.
If you look carefully, in the above picture, you can see Gagarin riding off to check a possible route.



Strictly speaking, these are walking tracks, and in places have immense historical and cultural value, so deserve to be treated with respect. All bar the last section can be comfortably ridden on a road bike. Pick a fine, calm day and go and explore the lesser known parts of your world.

Avoid the clown

Now for something serious and sensible. This subject is a bit of a hobby horse for me.

As any of you who ride with me for any length of time learn that I love riding in a bunch, can be bossy, like to know where I'm going, am interested in safety and general enjoyment and that I don't have a great deal of time for riding in traffic or busy roads.

The bunch ride is a great way to cover miles easily, enjoy some company, meet other riders and improve your riding. It’s a great leveller of abilities meaning that a vast range of talents and fitness can ride and train together enjoyably.

What is important is that in any bunch ride there are a number of explicit (stated and known) and implicit (taken for granted) rules. Explicit rules are things like the route, start time, pace, regrouping points, etc.

The implicit rules apply to all riders and every bunch ride and should be obeyed at all times. They are part courtesy and part safety, they are what enable a bunch to act as a single cohesive unit.

These implicit rules are:

1. Half wheeling – This is where one rider in the lead pair rides consistently with their brakehood, handlebar, front wheel or, worst case, bike ahead of the other rider they are supposed to be riding beside. Don’t do it! Simple as that, it’s rude and inconsiderate, you should ride with brakehoods level with your paired partner. If they are struggling to match your pace, ease up and ride at theirs.

2. Consideration to other road users – This is a no brainer, but it constantly amazes me how many riders fail to show any consideration for other road users. If it’s a busy/narrow road ride single file to allow traffic to pass. Holding up other road users will only infuriate them and make them less likely to display any consideration for cyclists in future. There is also a duty for the riders at the back of the bunch to inform the riders forward of them when there is a car or truck behind waiting to get past. Particularly on narrow or winding roads calling out alerts others in the bunch and everyone can move to single file easing the passing maneuvere for the motorist. The bunch can reform once the vehicle has passed. Remember it’s SHARE the road.

3. Road rules – Obey them. If you’re on the front of the bunch don’t tow the bunch through orange/red lights, do stop at pedestrian crossings.

4. Pairing up – Always pair up with another rider, don’t sit riding as a single in the middle of a bunch. All this does is mean that one of the following pair of riders gets no benefit from the draft. Once a bunch has started, usually the reformation happens after a climb. If you find yourself unpaired either move forward if you can see another unpaired rider or drift to the outside and back of the bunch. Don’t be afraid to ride beside someone you don’t know, say gidday, they won’t bite. Also don't ride 3 abreast, sillier than a bum full of smarties.

5. Pointing out hazards – There is an obligation for riders at the front to point out hazards on the road (potholes, gravel, glass, etc). At the very least pointing out the hazard is the minimum, this should also be passed down the bunch. It is a remarkably unpleasant experience to be riding along and have your front wheel disappear into a pothole. At best you’ll get a wrist snapping jolt, worst can be a crash. Pointing out glass on the road can save the aggravation of punctures. If you do ride into glass, don't serve suddenly, ride through it - a puncture is small cheese to crashing, bringing others down and the associated bark loss.

6. Bunch safety (aerobars and rocket launcher bottle holders) – Anyone who knows me knows that I would rather wear knee high walk socks than fit these to my bike, but some riders to have valid reasons for using them and training with them. So if you’re one of those riders a couple of valid points, don’t ride your aerobars in the bunch, use them when it’s your turn on the front (if you have to use them remember the half wheel and pointing out hazards rules). If you have rocket launcher bottle cages make sure that they can hold their bottles and that you can get the bottle back in with ease. A dropped bottle can easily lead to a crash for following riders.

7. Flat tyres/ mechanicals/ mishaps – These all happen, the bunch should stop and, where appropriate, lend a hand. Riders also have a responsibility to ensure that their bike is reliable, they have decent tyres on in good condition and they have spare tubes. Going for the mileage record for tyre wear is not a practise that should be part of bunch rides, the constant punctures that are part of such attempts will lose you riding partners faster than BO and Tourettes.

8. Choose a bunch that matches your ability – nothing is worse than the café racer who wrecks a ride by riding at a pace that shreds the bunch and leaves a trail of gasping victims. Don't be that clown.

9. If you are the route planner for the bunch, you are responsible for everyone's safety, choose your routes carefully, avoid areas of conflict with other road users as much as possible. Generally speaking there are a variety of roads available to ride on , and some of them will be a helluva a lot safer than others. Choose them, they are more fun to ride, safer and a lot less stressful.

By using these simple rules the bunch will be an enjoyable, fun place to be and don’t be afraid to remind other riders of these rules and their obligations to others in the bunch.

Reputation Protection

There has been some questioning as to the identity of the man with the hand in the last post. To clarify that, the individual pictured was not a house guest of mine, is not Tristan, the wheel building genius, and was photographed in his own home. As further proof here is a picture of Tristan (about to inhale a pie).

What makes a good ride (part one)

Firstly I need to speak of the sin of Onan. Recently I was forwarded this picture. On first sight it shows a miscreant engaging in an act that is normally reserved for private places and not on your dearly beloved's sofa.

Technically this individual could not have committed the sin of Onan, because Onan's sin was spilling his seed on the ground. I have it on good authority that there was no soil in the room and the individual pictured did not wander outside and scare the neighbours. However in the broader, more current usage of the term onanism, I think he's guilty.

Just remember, my spies are everywhere, ergo one should always get the Love Glove out in a private locked room.


Onto more important matters than debating masturbation. Yesterday I enjoyed a great training ride. One hundred and forty eight kilometres of windy, damp, dirty pleasure. It had all the qualities that mark out a great ride:- company, quiet roads, scenery, a well planned loop, a shop in the right place and the smug sense of satisfaction that comes from riding in roughish weather that stops most others from venturing out. The gods also smiled on us, when the only puncture of the day was convenient enough to occur within a kilometre of the food stop. Also, as we rode, we could see large rain cells, rainbows and squalls, and we only really went through one. The roads may have been wet, but there was no traffic, and the weather was great to watch.


After starting with a bunch of eight, gaining one more in Manukau and then losing five at Alfriston, that left four of us to complete our chosen route. Our Wellington visitor, Tristan and I were fortunate enough to time our lap on the back to coincide with the block headwind on the Aka Aka straights. Messurs Junior and Troup certainly earnt their raspberry licorice there.


We also enjoyed a battling return through South Auckland with cross headwinds. Tristan maintains that he was tired at about one hundred and fifteen kilometres, but I don't believe him. The reason for my doubt is that when we entered old Papatoetoe he still wanted to go to Hunters Corner and look for Ladymen. I'm sure that he can find them Wellington, and not when he's in full lycra and covered with road film.


The ride will do all of us good, and bodes well for the next big one in four weeks time.

Dealing with disappointment.

Last night I cleaned my bike, partly out of necessity and partly because I didn't want to get caught out by wheel building genius Tristan, who has come to stay for a few days. The thought that the house may be messy, there are tools lying around and the lawn is unmown is okay. What is not okay is having a grubby bike.

So there I was out in the night with brush and detergent filled bucket contemplating various random thoughts, when it hit me. The blinding thought that keeping a bike clean in Auckland at this time of year is a challenge. Truth be told it would be easier to keep my Russian bride in the back shed and safe from the prying eyes of my spousal unit than keep my bike clean. Unfortunately I don't have a Russian bride because Serge, recently returned form The Motherland, has come up pretty short. Not only did I let him sip tea in my house a few weeks prior, I let him ring my dearly beloved to ask if he could eat some of her freshly made baking that we found in the kitchen on the return form a Sunday ride. In return Serge promised me a Russian Bride. Shortly after that Serge left for Moscow to fulfil his bond.

Alas, we know the outcome, my two weeks of eager anticipation of Mrs Somethinganova were in vain.

One of the downsides of not having my new Russian Bride is my inability to satisfy a persistent denizen of another super power, Amerika, who has been asking repeatedly for some gratuitous womanly photos on this blog. As I kindly pointed out, this is a serious organ and there is no place for anything gratuitous (apart from my naturist that I asked for in an earlier post, and on that count I'm still waiting), but he's incessant. I had a few thoughts about Russian Bride and my interest in photography as a way of meeting this request, but that's kind of difficult now. I wonder if he'll accept a picture from a 1950s National Geographic?

(This image ain't mine BTW)

At least my bike is clean and shiny now.