"His cry went on through the final image: the spots of raw bright blood on the earth. Blood on excrement. The supreme moment, high above the desert, when the two elements, blood and excrement, long kept apart, merge. A black star appears, a point of darkness in the night sky's clarity. Point of darkness and gateway to repose. Reach out, pierce the fine fabric of the sheltering sky, take repose."
Any ass with access to the interweb can use google, or similar to find where this passage comes from, but harder is to give context and meaning. As a quick test, as I know some of you will have read this novel, who can tell me what this passage is actually about, and what happened next.First correct answer will get a pleasant and interesting surprise. Use the email link and do your worst.
Enough of education, onto this cycling caper. This week has been surprising as to who bore witness to our grubby escapades last week. The week before I'd slipped through unnoticed and unidentified, second time around not so. Based on the enthusiastic response I will be running another roll in new territory in the near future and will extend the invitation a little wider. That particular route ridden on Sunday is a great introduction to the pleasures of riding metal roads on road bikes, with no traffic, no hazardous descents and several kilometres of flat fun. I need to get my thinking cap on.
I am planning on tackling my Northern Hell sometime soon, and I'm facing up to that with a fair degree of trepidation. I'm not sure whether it's the fact that there are 40 kilometres of metal roads in the loop, or that there are some very steep and nasty hills, or that there are a couple of sections I haven't ridden, or that it's perverse, but either way there will be a sense of satisfaction in getting around it.
One thing will be to try and get slightly better weather, although there is something of a perverse pleasure in getting filthy.
To celebrate the anniversary of my first breath, I coerced others into repeating my ride from last Sunday. Only this time, the weather didn't play ball, and as we entered the forest the heavens opened.
I could write endless verbage about how much fun it was, and how truly grubby we got, but I'll let the pictures do the talking.
After we had cleared the forest we rode the gravel road to the Woodhill MTB carpark to nab a coffee, there we were treated to odd looks, bemusement and wonder. But we were grubby and very much alive.
It is one of the blessing of the bike, the sheer freedom that it confers upon you, the freedom to go anywhere that your legs and mind will take you. The reality of the modern road bike is that there aren't too many places that you can't ride it, if you are willing.
I embarked on some pathfinding on Sunday, deciding that I was going to ride from Muriwai to Woodhill, via the forestry roads. There was some trepidation on my behalf, my Garmin didn't have too much detail for the forestry roads and I have borne witness in the past of paper roads showing up in various maps, that are nothing more than goat tracks fit for a sure footed ass.
I was also aware that Woodhill forest is quite a big place, and while there are no feral beasts that enjoy long pork dwelling in the forest, there are trees and quite possibly the hills do have eyes.
I did a little research, photographed the relevant topo maps and set out. Boldly to go where no road bike has gone before.
I had a brief taste of metal on the back road into Muriwai, then it was on Coast Road on a very rough hard surface past the golf club and into the unknown for me. I was waved through the gate into the forest by security, who were letting vehicles in with trailers and motocross bikes on board. I rode on, past a few bemused walkers, into the pines. As I continued I was passed by a couple of cars with motorbikes.
After a couple of kilometres, I was on a long straight through the forest, there deep in the woods was a motocross meet. Parked down both sides of the road for over a kilometre were cars and trailers, the revving of engines, the smell of two stroke and men in body armour. The track was firm and fast and I rolled along the narrow passage, met with a mix of looks, everything from disdain to wonder. The only near miss was a midget on a peewee 50.
After I passed through that, I had the forest to myself, it was simply sensational. I was on top of my world. After several kilometres I managed to take the correct turn and climb over the hill to meet the road into Woodhill MTB park. There, on the gate, was another security chap who was letting people in for orienteering, after he asked me where I'd come from, he was quite surprised at my method of transport.
All up it was a bit over 12 kilometres of forestry roads and no seal, and it was brilliant. I'll be going back in a heart beat.
First up, an apology from me. Due to a piece of sheer incompetence and stupidity on my behalf in a technical manner this posting is been somewhat tardy in it's delivery.
At present, for the last few days, Auckland has had a complete reversal of fortune in the weather stakes. Gone is the wet and grime, and instead we have had crisp, clear windless days. Just glorious.
On Sunday four of us had decided to go around the coast. The Croc and I riding from our respective dwellings to meet Doris and Mikeal out south, then ride the loop and then home. The mileage was serious, so we elected on a pre-dawn start. I headed out the door in darkness, with a little ice on the cars in the street, and as I rode through South Auckland to the agreed meeting point, considered it cold. But I was well dressed for the conditions, as were the others also. Maybe a little too overdressed in the case of Mikeal, who was looking like he was about to affect a burglary or armed hold up.
As we continued on, the sky lightened, but the temperatures didn't climb. Between Hunua and Paparimu I saw something I have never beheld in Auckland before, frost, grass crackling white frost that defied the sun for sometime. It was beautiful to behold, with layers of fog and and blue sky. However it was apparent it was crisp, as we rode through Happy Valley I went to take a drink and discovered ice in my drink bottle. After I announced this Mikeal proclaimed that I was a girl and was dreaming. However showing him the offending ice, and them him and the others discovering that their bottles were icing up, made up realise that it was a touch nippy.
The Croc took a couple of lap reading on his Polar HR which gave him the temperature, -3 degrees, and that's the air temperature!
The fast descent down to Mangatawhiri was the stuff of ice-cream headaches. Then we encountered fog to go with the frost, quite beautiful and surreal, reminding me of the lower South Island and the hoar frosts of Central Otago. Eventually just before we started the descent down to Kaiaua we cleared the fog, and frost and found sun. Over three hours in damn cold temperatures, a good test of gear.
While in Happy Valley, and part of a stop, Doris found this little deceased chap, covered in frost. The little vermin looks almost like a cuddly toy.
Further up the coast Mikeal punctured, the video below is a cautionary one, demonstrating several tyre changing sins, but also a method of using a mini-pump that will earn the ire of passing motorists as they make a very simple assumption with regard to your motions. I also suspect that Mikeal's use of the pump in this manner is mainly due to his sure handedness in this motion.
At kilometre 150 ish, my legs imploded and I whimpered my way home from there. All in all it was a great ride and certainly one to remember.
I know it's somewhat prurient to watch crashes, but sometimes I can't help myself. This is from that absolute carnival this morning that was Stage Three TDF 2010. These sound so much better with a Flemish commentary, even though I understand nothing, than listening to Dweedledumb and Dweedledumber that we are subjected to with the English commentary.
Here's something that is a fantastic community asset. Back in April, before I emulated a lawn dart, I was taken around this trail with Mikeal the Onanator. At that stage it was still bedding in and was in the dark. That notwithstanding it was great fun and a real blast, even when I made a nice little sideways departure from the trail and down through the pine trees.
Well worth the effort of venturing into deepest South Auckland. One just needs to watch for the cattle, as Mikeal found to his peril.
