Marlow wonders

Now civilised, refreshed, sleep enriched and enthusiastic I have been taking stock of Sunday's ride. I have endured my far share of mockery, even from the Highlands of Scotland, with regard to my wander up the steeper section of Kiwitahi Road.

The last time I placed a foot on the ground there was the very first time I rode the climb. It was last century, and with Warren King, I was on my steel Merckx, and he on his Bianchi. I had a 39 x 21 bottom gear, and the difference to Sunday was that climb was metal from the very bottom. It was the middle of summer, and a small brain implosion made us ride up there. I can claim that it was my foolish idea, but Warren did nothing to dissuade me from the concept.

We slogged our way up, what was a steep, corrugated and dusty climb, and just when I hit that final wall I stood, and all traction evaporated. Warren sailed on, he had a 23T, whereas I had ballast and a 21T. A brief moment and I was remounted and managed to complete the ride up the wall.

The memory of that deeply repressed moment came flooding back on Sunday, at least that first time there were no spectators to witness my humiliation, and no cameras to record it for posterity. Oh well.

Now, I am planning a fiendish course for V2, and hopefully this time, I can maintain my composure.

On the up, I turned legs over on the Iron Maiden last night, found not as bad as anticipated, that was a very pleasant surprise.

The child in me finds this video just dandy!

The Waewae Express

Sunday, The Race of Six Friends, and my dignity evaporated on the race route. A route which was of my own devising.

There are now many photos on the web documenting my humiliation, and a couple of my rather tart response to a photographer or two. So I won't dwell any more upon that, instead I should like to congratulate my team.

They, racing under the name Defy Evolution, and in Wheelworks colours, and against some fancied opposition, managed second fastest time on the day and nursed me around while I whimpered and saw stars. To add to the team's staunchness, Paul Pendrey, who had been sick all week preceding, turned in a gutsy effort and showed real metal, hanging on without complaint and suffering a four hour death ride.

So, a race report. We started well, and saw the four oxen of the team rolling steadily. Within the first forty kilometres we made good inroads on the rest of the field, and managed to survive the rough and tumble of Haruru Road that marked the demise of one of the truly strong teams. We did let Tristan Thomas off the leash several kilometres before the shop stop at Kaukapakapa to speed up the process when we had the enforced stop.

After that the four oxen continued rolling at the front, while Paul hung on, and I whimpered to the rear. A helping hand from Tristan Thomas, who endured me whimpering, ensured we stayed intact over the climbs. That was until the steep section of Kiwitahi Road, where I reckoned on walking being the better option for retaining any use of my legs for the run into the finish. Dignity was already gone, so what the hell.

After that, and in the last twenty five kilometres, there was some real digging into the bottom of the box by various team members, and we finished with a very creditable result.

From the smiles and war stories of all the teams that rolled in, it was obvious they enjoyed the race and the course, I am delighted in that. I loved the opportunity to share some roads that I really enjoy, and lay a challenge a large number of riders.
Already planning on version 2 is underway, and I have a course to rival the last one,
with different roads, challenges and terrain.

Thanks Jason, Mike, Paul, Stu and Tristan, I am in awe of you all and truly proud to say that I was part of Team Defy Evolution.

Now to go and find my missing legs.

Silent Running

I rode heaven then a section of misery last week. The misery, it was an eye-crossing piece of concrete torture that rendered me knock-kneed and gasping. Truly, I was savaged and spat out.
I am not sure which propelled me up this piece of wickedness more, fear or determination, but I conquered it.

What I am describing is a piece of road, that is a glorious climb, a near constant seven percent gradient for four kilometres, bottom half seal, top half metal, bush lined and quiet. It joins, via a short section of hike-a-bike, it's utter opposite.
Five hundred and sixty metres of concrete hell, averaging 15%, but with about 300 metres over 20% and hitting and holding 29%, it is several minutes of torture.

I rode it without stopping, but that was purely because I couldn't quite work out how to, without risking a skin/concrete interface.

When I got to the top, I had the world laid out before me, and I was spent.

Go and try it, but from my own painful experience a 39 x 26 is far too big a gear for that sort of stupidity.

Email me if you want directions.

And, with a finger prod in my direction, the friendly Amerikan sent this, something to render you agog!

Plains Milky Way from Randy Halverson on Vimeo.

Jingle-jangle

Well, my pretty things, how have you been?
I have been immersed in a variety of things, everything from piscine pursuit to cycling feverishly. I have mastered the art of making custard squares, thus proving my earlier prediction to be ill-founded. The only drawback to making them at home, is that the need to be eaten in short order, and since they are ever present for me, I seem to fall into a consumption trap.

My riding, it has had a few wonderful moments. Last Sunday a few of us sallied forth, out west, in the sunshine, to allow me to introduce a few new souls to the delights of Kiwitahi Road. We rolled up to Helensville, via Old North Road, stopped for a damn good coffee and slice there, then rolled back down towards Woodhill.

Before Woodhill, off SH16, exists Kiwitahi Road. The first time I tackled this, many years ago it was summer, dusty and loose, the road was unsealed from the turn at SH16 until it emerged on the top at Old North Road. I suffered mortally that day, and even had a small moment off the bike in the cutting towards the top where it hits 16%. My 39 x 21 gear, just being too large.

Now it is sealed for almost the whole of the first part of the climb, up until the road pitches up in the cutting, then there are a couple of kilometres of metal. The climb itself is 1.5 kilometres at an average of just shy of 10%, the views are excellent and it is traffic free. It is a most rewarding climb, with a rolling top, where one can see miles up the mighty Kaipara Harbour, and right back to downtown Auckland.

Given recent weather the metal was close to perfect, smooth and easy to ride. All of my travelling companions gave it the big thumbs up.

Even Mikeal the Thundercat.

Conjuring Monsters

The following pictures tell a story. Firstly, to those who thought that this would be my next post, you are dead right, I'm not quite that perverse.

Back, earlier this year, I imagined this particular loop up, and was eager to ride it, but at the time of it's genesis the roads needed some rain to soften them and move some loose metal. Well, we have had the rain, so there really was little excuse for not tackling this loop, my Northern Hell loop. Not finding any other suitable excuses, I decided to tackle it on a fine day.

In planning the loop, I knew that most of the roads were back roads (major part of the appeal), that there would be little traffic, that there was a lot of metal, and a few climbs. I also factored in a shop or similar at about the 60 kilometre mark. I was right of two of those assumptions.

The loop is 125 kilometres and I had reckoned on about 40 kilometres of gravel and metal roads and about 1500 metres of ascending. It starts pleasantly out of Silverdale with a series of small climbs, all under a kilometre in length, with only one having a gradient greater than 10 %. The first lot of gravel is after 15 kilomtres and is a gentle descent, then down a valley, back up another, then a climb, then a steep descent, all pretty smooth, scenic and a little shy of 17 kilometres in length, good stuff, even though it's tiring like riding a windtrainer. One car and a truck in a that leg.

Then a few kilometres of quiet rolling seal before hitting a piece of road that both MapmyRide and a car trip about a decade ago made look quite smooth in profile and not too challenging. Wrong! It started with a climb from sea level up to 200m, the followed a ridge line, a very narrow, exposed road that dropped and climbed several times, before a long, steep, winding, rough and corrugated descent back to the seal at Kaipara Flats. No rest on that 16 kilometres and a bit of fatigue.

It was then that I found my assumed water station wasn't to be, so with a bit of a rationing process going on, I figured I could make the next 40 kilometres without too much hydration, although there was a small argument with myself that I could add about 5 kilometres on and detour into Warkworth for water. That would have been cheating I felt.

The next 24 kilometres were pleasant seal with the exception of one horrid little climb that hit 20%, the climb over Woodcocks hills was lovely, as always, and the descent was fun (first and, as it turned out, only sealed descent of any length in the day), all too easy I thought.

Turning East at Ahuroa to go over to Puhoi, more gravel. Ah, that was interesting. The valley was lovely and the metal spare, but the climb was stiffer and higher than I thought it would be and the descent was tough, rough, tight and damned hard work. Finally hit the seal after 11 kilometres of gravel and also encountered my first puncture, a pinch flat. Changed that and rolled into Puhoi and a well deserved shop stop.

Water, V and raspberry licorice on board and it was the final leg, up and over Krippner Road to get home. Krippner road is quite steep and is sealed halfway up, then the fun starts, it climbs up to 180 metres and includes one kilometre with a greater that 11% average gradient, hitting 16% on the metal, it was quite an effort. Across the ridge before I swept down Monowai Road and back to seal there was a lot of loose metal on the road, some quite large and a very rough surface. It was here I got puncture number two, front wheel this time. Another pinch flat.

Changed and the last push down, and as I hit the seal, after another 14 kilometres of gravel, I had puncture number three, another rear pinch flat. Luckily I was, for a change and partly out of preparedness, carrying three spare tubes along with some glueless patches. After that it was all seal, apart from about 600 metres of gravel descent on the Waiwera Road.

I got back to the car with huge satisfaction. It was a challenging ride, with little rest and some very hard riding at times. The majority of the climbing was on gravel, likewise the descending was a gravel, hence little rest there. My estimated figure for gravel was out a little, and was in fact 58 kilometres of metal/ gravel roads out of the 125 kilometre total. I was also a little shy on the ascending with a total of 2048 metres gained (remember K2 is approximately 2300m and over 190 kilometres). It is a very tough loop.

The flat tyres have an interesting observation. I was riding good quality clinchers (newish Vredestein Fortezza Tricomps 23mm), initially pumped to 115 psi with a standard tube in them. These are very much a favourite tyre of mine and have proven to be robust, but with a good quality ride. The tyres are unmarked from this ride, but the three tubes that punctured all show several small snake bite marks, as well as the punctures, I suspect that there were several impacts that pinched the tubes over the course of the ride, (certainly the second rear tube had less pressure in it due to the use of a hand pump) and it was the resulting thin spots from the early pinching in the ride that punctured after some time, as opposed to a puncture at the time of impact. Additionally the leakage was quite slow, and the holes quite small, compared to a usual snake bite type puncture. That both rear punctures happened within a few hundred metres of exiting gravel (and the transitions from gravel to seal were quite smooth), I think may just be coincidence. Next time I will ride 25mm Continental GP4 Seasons, hopefully that addition volume may save some wrist action.

So, who's keen to join me soon, when I tackle it again?

The loop.


The Profile

The neck I want

"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.

I will report back in due course

Beating a path

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.

Thanks Mikeal, Doris, Greg and Tony.

Arthropod gravity traction

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.

Wasclely Wabbits

Well, the drought has well and truly broken. This week I got the green light from the Orthopod that, in his own words, I could now do anything. My clavicle is no longer busticated. It is healed.
To celebrate I rode my bike in the great outdoors. My first ride was pretty gingerish, but confidence was quickly gained.

That morning was the morning after the downpour of Tuesday and the paths and roads were covered in all manner of leaves, grit and gravel. The pics below were taken post ride, and my bike was clean before the ride.


On this particular ride I rode the new bike path between Henderson town centre and the rural part of Henderson Valley Road. Waitakere City Council are to be commended for this path, it is wide, well surfaced and a pleasure to ride. Except for one little hazard, as one exits the back of the Corbans Estate there is a slightly off camber left hand corner. This corner throws you off line as you enter a bridge, and instead of being firmly on the bike section of the bridge, you can find yourself on the slippery metal grate. In my case I had to make a hurried grab for the bridge railing to stay rubber side down.

Waitakere City Council also deserve another bouquet for finally putting a decent surface on the bridge across the Henderson creek on the North Western Cycleway. The surface now is firm, has excellent traction and doesn't squirm like previous matting. Well done.

Today The Crocodile and I braved the elements and knocked out three hours in pretty average conditions, oddly on a route that is normally pretty well traversed by cyclists (The Ridge Road loop) we didn't see a single other cyclist, they must be getting a touch soft me thinks.

The great thing about all this rain is that the metal roads will be getting well bedded down, and with a few more miles under my belt, I can go and tackle some blazingly great roads in Rodney District. Truly I can't wait.

The Best of Fall

The weekend that has just passed contained brilliant Autumnal weather and superb riding. I stacked in the miles and am starting to feel that I may be a cyclist again.

Saturday's ride with Warren and Serge was unbeatable. The route was varied (and at Serge's insistence we saved ourselves from State Highway 16). The first part of the ride was entirely on very quiet country back roads, no traffic and a glorious, windless day. The picture below tells the story.


One of the odder sights of the day was The Grim Reaper. This fellow was found in the middle of nowhere, and cuts quite an impressive figure in the rural environs.


We even managed to ride some metal roads in honour of the Queen of the Classics. For a change Serge was quite happy about the experience. The two kilometres of metal being in very good condition and passed quickly.
Here's one exiting the metal.


And the other.


The reward for the metal road was this view, the Tasman Sea stretching out bluely. Please excuse the crooked horizon, was taken while riding.
Note to The Crocodile:-
When you and I rode this road last year, we encountered thick fog here, and all the way along the top of this ridge/cliff. You were unbelieving as to how close the sea was, or that we were even close to the ocean. Later you looked at maps and saw where we were. But, at last, I get to show you the view.

Sunday dawned the same, so I took the mutt to the dog park. The upper half of the North Island is suffering a drought, and here is reasonable evidence of this. Normally this face of Big King is green and lush, here it's anything but. There is also a very happy dog in this photo.

Later I entertained myself by riding Scenic Drive in absolutely unbeatable conditions.



I did, however, make a fundamentally stupid decision and decided to ride up Duffy Road after I been over the top, and climbed up out of Bethalls. The 26% grade ripped my legs from me, and I whimpered.
It took quite some time to regain any sort of pedalling composure.

Lastly, here's a piece of very shakey phone camera video work showing the hidden delight that is Chamberlains Road.

It was a very good weekend.

The cur that bites

Enough is enough I say. So, while I suffer my way back to fitness after a weeks off the bike, and a bit of extra ballast gained from various celebrations, I dream of things to ride when I'm fitter. I have written of the following loop before, have posted photos of some of it's glories, but I have hidden it's true course, until now.

So, here it is, in all it's glory. Come April I will be riding this puppy. I'm hoping that between now and then there's a little precipitation to allow the loose metal to migrate from the surface. All going to plan I will be fit enough to go and pound around these roads and hills.

I haven't ridden them all, but I have driven them at various times and can imagine that it will be a tough day in the saddle with a variety of terrains, surfaces and possibly winds to make for a testing ride.

If anyone beats me to ride this loop as it is, good on you, but please let me know how much you enjoy it, and take some photos of your misery.

Without further delay, here it is:-

Northern Hell

Careless dogs

I'm torn at this time of year, as always. There's the want to hold onto a rapidly slipping Summer, tempered by the fact that Autumn brings some glorious days, cools starts and beautiful weather, but the days get shorter, lights are needed and suddenly I start ferreting about for arm warmers.

The upside is that there's a possibility of rain and that will suddenly mean that the hot, dusty metal roads that I cherish will be rideable again. This long, sustained period of dry weather we have had has been a boon for road riding, but it makes the metal roads pretty horrible. All the metal comes to the surface, lurking like marbles. The dust and dirt I couldn't care less about, but one of the pleasures of these roads is dragging others through them , seeing and hearing their delight as they ride roads they wouldn't drive normally. When the roads threaten their ability to even stay upright, then the chances of getting them to enjoy them are slim.

Some rain will let the loose metal sink into the surface of the road, and make for a far more friendly experience. Plus, I hope that a whole lot of people watch the spring Classics and have an urge to go, get filthy and banged about on short steep hills and rough, narrow roads.

Junior and I rode the BCL on Saturday, meeting a tardy CTB on Carter Road. The humour on the ride came on the Kelly's Road descent, where I made a small excursion down a grassy bank due to the greasy roads. The damp of Sunday morning was the first time there was any moisture of substance on these roads for quite some time, net result was not a huge amount of grip.

As my back wheel starting sliding under braking, it flashed through my mind that it was several years ago that I met tarmac on this same corner in the wet, and maybe I was about to repeat the mistake. Thankfully I kept my head and merely exited stage left, stopping on the grassy bank. Junior was suitably amused. The adrenaline compensated for my fading fitness on the next climb for some time.

Cornfed

Damaged beyond fixing with clearcoat and duct tape, methinks. These were the major casualties from last week's lie down.

On the up, the frame, fork and steerer are all unblemished.

While I'm sitting waiting for the meat pie on my hip to heal, it's immensely frustrating that the Classics season has kicked off, and I can't go and pound around similar roads in empathy. Sunday's KBK was superb, and a great ride from Rolly for fourth. I liked the bit in the race report that described the riders as struggling to go 20 kph due to the ferocity of the head wind. Watching the video coverage was just pant's wettingly good. Well worth checking out Steephill.TV for all the belgium video and photos.

My own experience of these sorts of conditions has always been at the bottom end of the South Island, and there were several times like that. Being in a race that's doing 16kph one way and in the 60s the other with driving rain is good for the soul. The cross wind sections were just hang on for the ride.

In honour of these races, I'm planning an epic myself, the route is in the final stages of being announced, likewise a date. It will be approximately 120kms, have around 35kms of metal and quite a few nasty little hills. Apart from 6 kms of a main road, all the rest of it will be on back roads. Tentatively I'm thinking mid April, for two reasons. One, the area is damn hot and dry at the moment and provisioning is limited on the route. Two, the roads need a damn good amount of rain to shift some of the loose metal. It will be a drive to start point type ride, but the drive is less than 30 minutes from Auckland.

Here's a tease:-

Sparklemagic

Jorge's most recent comment about my use of vice grips for purposes of self-pleasure, while completely untrue, has got me thinking. As a complete aside, I do have on very good authority that Jorge has a strangely pleasurable use (in his opinion) for sash-clamps and kitty litter. Never, ever let this man in your home workshop, or for that matter near your BBQ.

Where my trail of thought has gone, inspired by Jorge's fictions, is towards the seven cardinal sins. I thought about how they apply to me, and how I can share them, hopefully in the cause of education and elucidation.

No, I'm not going to give you an unbridled rifle through my history, the nasty stories of mooing girls, the sordid tales of amoral women, or my time as the cell mate of The Beast. Okay, all that was imagined, but a worthwhile imagining it is. No, I'm merely going to relate how they apply to me in a cycling context.

Lust
Rarely do I do it now, but riding through summer pedestrian traffic always inspires lust in me. That sort of head snapping lust that only summer dresses and warm temperatures can inspire.

Greed
I'm greedy for more quality miles that I can hold dear. The ride with Junior up to Woodcocks, avoiding nasty weather, having a tailwind for miles and getting home smug, that sort of thing I am greedy for. I can slog miles in darkness and precipitation to be fit enough to go and enjoy a ride like that, then not be happy with just that ride and want more.

Envy
Any man who gets close to Milla, oops in a cycling context, any man who lives near any of those wonderful metal roads in Rodney District. If it was me, I'd have a dedicated bike to rip around on those roads on wet days, coming home covered in grit and as happy as Milla's dearest.

Wrath
Contrary to what some of you may believe I am rarely afflicted with wrath. I may be opinionated, but rarely experience wrath. I do feel wrath deeply with broken glass and littering, I felt the glimmerings of wrath on Saturday seeing carelessly discarded race food wrappers on the course of the K2, that's just simply unacceptable. I also felt a twinge of wrath towards so many arrogant or ignorant riders at the K2 who failed to acknowledge or thank the marshalls. Volunteers, the marshalls, without them the day wouldn't happen and a lot of them spent the day in a fluoro vest with a flag in biting wind to make the day safe for us, the riders. In that case, two words "Thank You" from the riders goes a helluva a long way, but as I noticed in the various bunches I was in, I was one of the few who offered anything. That created the stirrings of wrath in me.

Gluttony
One only needs to look at my glossy pelt, seal like figure and lycra threatening form to realise that Gluttony is a true cross for me to bear. Or should I say Beer? Okay, I'll have another, and some cheese and salami, chorizo, wine, ravioli, yorkshire pudding, prawns, doner kebabs, fries, naan, caramel slice, Hello Rosie, pain au raisin, brioche, beef wellington, cannoli, vanilla glazed donuts, goobers, larb gai, lenzil zupper, refried beans, deep fried bacon wrapped cheese stuffed jalapenos, indian pale ales and then there's time for dinner. Gluttony is my ever present friend.

Pride
In my case, it's pride in working out a training route that may break me, or someone else, and then the satisfaction of seeing to made so. There's nothing quite like seeing someone broken and miserable, not because of bunch pace or a hammerfest, but purely by the roads and route. That inspires an unholy pride in me. Mikeal's Coatsville Conniption springs to mind

Sloth
My Spousal Barnacle could write an epic to rival War and Peace on my sloth, but rather than let her get the upper hand, I'll confine it to the phrase that inspires fear in me "Alarm Clock". A warm bed, a gentle awakening and an unhurried rise should be mandatory in my world.

So, there are my seven sins, apart from those I'm a blemish free soul.

Shimmering and white

First up, deep, deep lust .

Ok, for those nervous that they'll click on the link and get another naked Milla or similar, that won't happen, this is completely safe for work, and won't have your non-riding workmates crowding around to perve, or asking you to forward the link...but hey! you never know.

Here's a few pics from the day after Saturday's epic, it dried quite hard.





Last up, The Mars Volta and The Horrors at the 2010 Big Day Out, what a curate's egg that is.

For those of you not familiar with either of them, here's a taste or two

The Horrors - Sheena is a Parasite


The Mars Volta - Cygnus...Vismund Cygnus Pt 1 (Live)

Doctrine of Misery

Sometimes it's the little things that count.

Mikeal, he of the glad-handedness, devised a plan of subversive suffering. This plan of his was fermented from the cosy warmth of his automotive and not while on two wheels. The plan was in equal parts sublime and stupid, as such it grabbed my attention. He proposed that we venture down to the Coromandel, ride the Tapu-Coroglen Road, then The 309 Road and ride back down the coast to the start point. A brilliant plan, with metal roads, the highest road crossing of the Coromandel and then one of the few roads in New Zealand that rental cars are banned from (along with The Ball Hutt Road and Skippers Canyon Road). This had my sort of silliness all over it.

A day was set, and we had a company of four, Doris, Mysterex (who was soon to go trans-gender and, additionally, suffer name reassignment), Mikeal and myself. Apart from Mikeal, who was on his cross bike, the rest of us were on road bikes.

The plan was that Mysterex would be collected by me, he and I would drive to Thames and then ride at pace the twenty kilometres to Tapu, to meet Mikeal and Doris who had driven to that point. We would then ride the loop and Mysterex and I would then ride back to Thames, leaving the others with ninety kilometres under their belts and Mysterex and I with one hundred and thirty.

The day dawned a little damp, and started, for me, inauspiciously, as I arrived to collect Mysterex in the pre-dawn to find him still deep in his scratcher. He arose, pronto and was shambolic. As we drove down the southern motorway I endured the soundtrack of clanking spoon and ceramic bowl and the stench of milk and weetbix as Mysterex inhaled his weetbix.

Arriving in Thames did little to assuage my concerns as to Mysterex's powers of organisation. There we met Mikeal and Doris, who were collecting packs and bottles from us before motoring on to Tapu. In very short order Mysterex had a pile of clothes spread across the road outside the Thames police station, was a half-dressed man, had a cell phone in the gutter and, horror of horrors, was going to ride a road bike with a saddle that could have served as a wharf buffer for the QEII. The saddle was round, white and had a cut out, it looked like it should have been bolted to a posh toilet.

At that stage, with a large and serious riding day, with no short cuts, Doris, Mikeal and myself all looking on bemused, Mysterex jumped aboard the bike with the plushly upholstered ring cushion, rode it in a couple of quick circles to test that it was up to the task and realised his seat was too low. Promptly he was renamed Sid, as in Ice Age, the enterprising sloth.

Sid was also concerned about the hygiene of the bladder of the camelback that Mikeal was lending him. Mikeal assured him that he'd cleaned it carefully with his bare hands. Sid was dubious. A quick reset, both bike and mental, a tidy up of the tornado strike and he and I set off up the coast to met the other two, who were motoring up to Tapu.

Thankfully things passed well from there. The climb up the Tapu road, through soft rain was the equal of any road I have ever ridden. Winding up through the mist, it was a road that is without equal. We stopped to visit a massive kauri, a short walk up some steep stairs, it did require a footwear change. It was here that we gained witness to, the now renamed, Sid's second satorial disaster. He had, in his rush, taken his wife's jandels. Let's just be kind and say, that apart from an urge to cross the gender divide, no man would ever slip those particular jandels on.
The kauri was magnificent, and well worth a visit, I would strongly urge all to go and visit it, it's majestic beauty made me all too aware of the things that I forget when I am in cities.

From there, we rode on climbing to the day's highpoint, and started the gradual, fasr descent towards the eastern side of the Coromandel. It was part way down this descent when we were witness to a moment from Doris that I thought was going to result in toy throwing. She was uncomfortable with descending the long metal section and not enjoying it one bit. Her face, when she caught up (Sid was still there with her, so not completely slow) was like she was chewing wasps, and petulance hung large in the air. Thankfully, it passed and the road flattened out. As always Doris soldiered on , and she did a helluva a lot better on the truly horrid descent of the 309 Road, which I hated.

After a small interlude of sealed road we were back on metal, and the 309 Road loomed. The valley is long and climbed gradually, then suddenly it pitched up and climbed in earnest. The surface, unlike the previous metal road, was soft and sapping. It was a damn hard climb up to three hundred metres. The descent was a little less fun than the last, and required a modicum of caution.

A brief stop at the cafe at the watergardens, letting Sid raid the cake cabinet and dispense knowledge to Canadian cycle tourists as where to purchase sheepskin saddle covers, and we were down to the coast again. Two painful climbs later, and a tail wind laid up nicely for us made the flat coast pass easily.

We all witnessed Sid's well developed grasp of technology. On the descent of the 309 Road, he suggested he ride ahead and take a video of Mikeal and myself descending the metal. Here are his three efforts, unedited and in full.







The upside of the ride is boundless, it was a challenging route that I'd recommend with a couple of caveats.
We were, to the best of my knowledge, the first to ride road bikes over the Tapu-Coroglen Road and the 309 Road. It is a hard ride, and the climbing on soft metal roads is sapping, but the rewards are well worth it. The caveats concern the amount of metal (45 kilometres), two long metal road descents and the lack of shops, provision or bail out points. It's not a ride for the unprepared, apart from Sid.
Like most metal roads, they are best to ride in spring, as the loose gravel has been pushed into the surface of the road. It's also not a ride for the unfit.
As such I can thoroughly recommend it, and truly hope that others will ride it, as well as follow Mikeal's lead and create, and share, damn interesting, well thought out rides.

Thanks Mike for the brilliant day out.