Penguin Pants!

Let's take a little stroll.
At present I am harbouring a nasty little imp. This imp is gobbling all my creative spirit and leaving me longing. The imp has no name, he has no rhyme, he is just there stopping me, everytime I sit down to add to my mental meanderings. Damned frustrating creature he is.

I am still riding my bike, still enjoying the pleasure of rolling unhindered, the joy of familiar roads and new ones. I am still slack jawed in wonderment at the world and it's random moments of serendipity and synchronicity that it dishes up. I was rendered speechless, agog, the other evening as I pulled out of the supermarket carpark when I witnessed a shooting star, a meteor, of grand proportions arc across the firmament. It was as if I had been slapped.

I am still deriving pleasure from music, although some who know me, consider my taste in music to be, at best, eclectic or, at worst, offensive and unpleasant. Likewise food, literature, conversation still hold crisp. But creating, spinning words has been blocked, as if by an unseen and unbidden creature.

So, in an attempt to sidestep him, I shall recall a tale or two from my childhood. Not another story of cross dressing, or even learning physics the hard way, this is a collection of oddments from several visits to the Little River A&P show. First up I would like to tender an belated apology to any of the affected parties, but I'd wager they will never be aware of them.

The Little River Show, it was always in Summer, and typically warm to hot, in the sheltered valley, just off the Main Akaroa Highway. It was a permanent fixture in my childhood and youth, as a visitor and also competitor. My cousin and I ran free there, with twenty cents to spend and adventure to acquire. And adventure we did amass over several years, but we also caused amusement and consternation for others along the way.

Moment one. My parents had left earlier for the day, my uncle was charged with bringing my cousin and I home. He stopped, after the show, at the Little River Pub. We, my cousin and I, had to stay outside, in the carpark. My uncle had a company car, a Hillman Hunter station wagon, or maybe a faceless Vauxhall, I can't remember exactly, except it was a mustard colour. Two boys, time on their hands, soon roamed the carpark, what we found were preying mantises, and a number of egg cases. We collected the egg cases, a good number of them, and wandered the gravel carpark. After an hour or so, my uncle emerged from the bar, and we drove home, leaving the egg cases in his car, in the glove box. For the next few weeks my uncle was puzzled, then troubled, by an ever increasing number of juvenile preying mantises that keep appearing in his car, until one day, in desperation he opened the glove box. Words were said.

Moment two. I had a grey 12:2 pony who was fiercely intelligent and bloody minded. He would buck me off, then stand and stare at me, would bite if annoyed, could open gates and remove his halter. He was a terror, around 18 years old, but youthful in looks and attitude. One year, the Little River show, and I was standing holding the reins, while I engaged in polite conversation with a family friend. My pony, Tom, was standing behind me. After a short period there was muffled complaint and then louder protest behind. I turned to find that my pony had rubbed his bridle off, it lay on the ground, and had leisurely strolled over to a picnicing family. There he was standing on the edge of the blanket and nosing through their cake tin. I garbed him, and a hasty retreat was made.

Moment three. Another year. My cousin, yes the same one, had a golden labrador, Cass. Cass was entire, and quite a magnificent dog (the first and last time I shall ever apply that adjective to a lab). The three of us, dog and two boys, roamed free at the show. Running back from watching the woodchopping, Cass had to stop and leave his signature on a prominent spot. What he chose was a touch unsuitable, it was square between the shoulders of a chap sitting picnicing with his familiy. My cousin and I fled almost crippled with mirth, and I can still hear the yells from the chap today.

As an adult, a townie now, I am always a touch embarrassed attending shows, but I am also well aware of the traps and pitfalls that lie there, ready to lend laughter to small boys. I do hope that they still happen.

Little Wing

This is, in a most unashamed fashion, a post of love. Not just a mere tryst, a flutter on the heart strings, but a long, deeply held passion, that I hold dear, and central to my very being. It does make my every day brighter, and makes me realise that I am a very lucky man. I make no apologies for this out pouring, and, if nothing else, I want it to be a fingerpost.

The inspirations for this declaration are multiple, but were most clearly crystalised in two separate moments seven days apart.

Saturday week ago, Doris, Sid and I tackled a route of abject riding misery and pain, it was a diet of climbing, more climbing, descents and views. The climbs were invariably steep and included several feared roads around Clevedon, Brookby, Ardmore and Drury (Creightons, Jones, Ponga and West Roads amongst others, and in both directions). The day was beautiful with crystal sharp air and views to the edge of the planet.

As we descended Twilight Road towards Clevedon, I had eased ahead of the others on the winding, damp road, and as the road opened on the flat and I rolled along I was suddenly aware of a small flock of Kakariki immediately above me, travelling in the same direction and slightly faster. Maybe a dozen in number, an entourage for me for a brief period before they veered away and across a hedge, leaving me bound to the tarmac. Their cruciform, whirring vibrance in the sparkling air, they were winged emerald treasures.

Then, moment number two, this Saturday, I had to marshall at the Time Trial on the waterfront. Marshalling at the far end of the course, St Heliers, is not without it's benefits, in spite of the need to be there before 7 am. The principle one of those is a fabulous bakery in Kohimarama who have a selection of freshly baked goods and pastries, excellent coffee and staff with wit and manners. I am able to nip in and gain sustenance before I go and stand, with cone and flag, in Vale Road.

This particular morning, the sun was just over the horizon as I drove the waterfront, the harbour like a millpond, and the promise of a beautiful autumn day writ large. But, after some pangs of envy watching boats heading out (and realising that I get my fair share of on water time), when I rounded the point to St Heliers, there, in very close, was a reasonable school of kahawai chasing their breakfast in the shallows. It was a wonderful sight, there, within arms reach of the footpath, in front of homes, and unnoticed by the other souls out riding, driving and walking, I wanted to get out and yell and point at the small wonder of it. But I suspect people would think I was mad.

Instead, I held it close, a little guilty at that, and told others of that little wonder that I witnessed over the weekend.

But these two events, and many others are etched deeply in my mind, making for a place of retreat and repose, with deep sense filled memories, that tide me over in moments of darkness.

Seeking Scar

This morning as I ambled back from school, after delivering the Spawn of my Loins to his place of daytime incarceration, I was seized by an idea. Actually, I need to go back a step and deal with a small matter. My son loves school, he positively enjoys it, and for more than just eating his play lunch and getting the odd ball colliding with his happysack. By his age, I had come to dread school, just the sheer boredom of so much of it, apart from my standard four year with Mrs Burke, when I was ten years old.

Mrs Burke, who had a severe, blonde bun, also had a husband who worked as a pilot for Air New Zealand. She was encouraging and could be extremely stern, but did have the wonderful idea for the school concert of staging Camelot. She modified the lines somewhat, and took a veritable chainsaw to the plot, but the highlight of the show was me, well for me and my parents at least. It was staged in the old Halswell Hall, a barn of a place, sort of both dusty and damp, drafty and heated by several inadequate bar heaters from the exposed rafters. But it did have an elevated stage and a curtain.

For Camelot the cast, drawn from my class, were in costume. I was in a red dress, made up like a harlot and with two black rubber balls stuffed down the front of the dress, I had more bust than Pamela Anderson and probably about as attractive as the murderous, red caped dwarf in Don't Look Now. I got to sing about three lines and had a peck on the cheek from a fair knight (who was a girl). It was stardom, and saved me in the class from my usual distractions of seeing how long I could silently hold my breath, whether I could master whistling with cupped hands or adding up the number of letters in other pupils names. It was a good year.

Anyway, my idea today as I sauntered home, was just how useful and wonderful it would be to have a prehensile tail. Don't scoff! It would be immensely useful. Think, it's raining, you are leading the dog and talking on your mobile telephonic apparatus. At the moment, as you are, a regular biped, you have to either cease one's conversation using the dispenser of radiation, or let the mutt run free. This is where a prehensile tail would be invaluable, it could hold either the umbrella, the phone or the dog and life would be peachy.

I can also see a use on the bike, no more crashes with one hand stuck rummaging about in back pockets trying to find that last morsel of food to stave off a whimper, with one's tail one could keep both hands on the bars and comfortably search one's pockets, or even more devilish, the pockets of others for sustenance.

I mentioned this idea to my minion after school today, he was mortified, mainly because, even though he had to admit it was quite useful, it would be damned embarrassing for him at school to be known to have a father who is slightly mutated and happy about it.

I'll flag the idea, as I want him to continue to enjoy school, and not rely on being in drag to make the school day interesting.

The monkey halo

Today I received a phone call from my twin brother. Oh alright, the man who should be my twin brother, but as some of you know, I have no fraternal relations, it’s just more that at various times he and I are more than a little alike, mainly mentally, especially in our love of things childish and our shared ability to irritate some folk.

Granted that one of us got looks and one of us got charm, it would be a damn well sighted mother who could tell that we don’t spring from the same hewn rock.

Anyway back to the phone call, without any preamble, Mikeal, my twin, tells me he watched a documentary on Cousin Jeffery this morning. It’s not every day that one gets a phone call to chat not every day that one gets a phone call to chat about serial killers and it was a reminder that I have been far too serious of late.

I was going to write about the company AquaBounty and their AquAdvantage® Fish, a frankenfish made by splicing trout and tilapia genes into salmon to produce a fish that grows twice as fast as non genetically tampered with salmon. But I would only make your eyes glaze over, so instead, do your own research and be mortified at what the future may hold in terms of food production. Oryx and Crake is upon us.

Instead, I shall dwell upon the miracles of the Turkey Deep Fryer. A friend had been given of these contraptions, by some friends in the States Initially he viewed this thing with contempt, but on Saturday night he decided to try it. He and I were both extremely leery of it, as it is a pretty rudimentary device, and we had both seen the videos of the frozen turkey put in deep fryer and what happens. It's a large contraption, and 8 litres of oil filled it about 1/4! So we donned welding gloves and goggles, and cooked potatoes, a chicken and some sausages. The sausages cooked in 3 minutes! The chicken and potatoes were done 25 minutes. They were crispy, brown and looked like a million dollars, and they were not greasy and very, very tasty. Now I want to use it to make donuts. mmmmm.

Squirreling

I need a handful of snatched summer memories to get me through the damp and dark of winter. Yes, I have a large number from this past summer, and also previous years, but this weekend just been dispelled the threat of the pending autumn and stayed my fears of the looming winter. I am happy in all seasons and weathers, but I do especially love the heat of summer.

On Saturday, with no Stunt Monkey to be accountable for, I packed my faithful furry friend into the car and went for an explore. I had limited time, and I wanted to see Destruction Gully. Nestled halfway between Huia and Whatipu on the northern side of the Manukau Heads, it's steep country with bush and views.

The track down rolls along a ridge, then plunges, the last thirty metres are steep with lengths of hose to hang on to. The bay itself is small rocky, with very deep water in close and a clear view of the Tasman Sea. It reeks of large water dwelling life forms and has that wonderful mix of beauty and danger. I shall return with more time to try and ensnare some of the underwater critters.

On Sunday, it was a glorious morning, windless, clear and sunny. Junior and I rolled out south, took in Hunua Gorge and then back via Clendon and the airport and a new route up into town. It was just magnificent riding. My legs, when I got home, were loaded and tired, and I was content.

One odd note was the prevalence of unfriendly, or ignorant riders. As we rode around the airport, and Mangere Bridge there were numerous riders, and inspite of us waving madly, saying "Good morning" and smiling, very, very few even acknowledged us, several making a studied examnination of their front wheels or the paddocks to their left. We did ponder our invisibility, but realised that we were visible after a warning toot from an impatient fat man in a Pajero.

What is with this new found lack of common greeting? Walkers will say hello, runners will smile, cyclists are just blank?

That minor grizzle aside, it was a great weekend, and one to store for those wet, stormy days ahead.

Backward apparatus

Sometimes the weather is just a damn aggravation, and today was one of those days. The grand plan was for the first of the long rides to kick in and a few of us venture out to Aka Aka. The last two trips out there, in the depths of winter have been wet, windy affairs, so an autumnal roll would be lovely.

It would have been lovely if the weather wasn't quite as hideous and all and sundry wisely called it off. So instead I rolled about out west. I was starting to feel a little complacent and smug about the conditions, until a decent squall hit me, soaked me and blew me up rises, and the wisdom of not venturing south was shown to be correct.

Maybe tomorrow, summer or even autumn will come back and riding will be back to a warm dry affair.

VCA 2010 RACE RUN from changoman on Vimeo.

Living proof

Christchurch, I may joke of the place, have a less than flattering moniker that I apply to it, but this week, I have been saddened and made grim by the events in Christchurch. The earthquake, in a few brief moments changed so much and it is still incomprehensible for me.

I have been lucky, my family and friends down there are all safe.

On Wednesday evening my niece and a friend of hers flew up to escape the dreary horror, and get some sunshine and respite. I collected them from the airport. The scene at the airport was quite surreal, with large numbers of police, victim support and civil defence staff. Many of the travellers arriving from Christchurch can best be described as refugees and were looking quite scared/bewildered/relieved/sad. It certainly rammed the human cost of the events home to me.

I have had some real moments of sadness in seeing the ruined buildings, many of which were an integral part of my childhood and youth, they always appeared to be robust and impregnable in their stone and masonery construction. Something to stand for ever.

Now those crumbled wrecks are proving to be some very pointed reminders to my past, and things that have been lost.

Quite odd, as I bear little fondness for Christchurch. But gone forever are the places I roamed as an angry teen, places of groping teen angst, music and mischief.

I will probably go down sometime soon to give a little comfort and assistance, but at the moment I'm not needed there.

Mumbling

Most of the time I steer clear of the whole debate around drugs and cycling, but every so often something comes along that makes me smirk. The Tui billboard at Greenlane is one such thing.

For my overseas readers benefit I shall go and take a photo sometime, but in the meantime I will explain. Tui is a brand of beer, as a beer it's about as pleasant and fun to drink as Miller, in other words I'd rather drink tepid saline drip water than consume it. Their billboards have a tag line of "Yeah, right!" and have a statement that changes on a regular basis that the "Yeah, right!" relates to.

While generally the Tui billboards are less than funny or biting, this one sits well with me. What it says is -

One nut,

Seven Tour de France victories.

No steroids.

With the tagline - Yeah, right.

What made me smirk even more was this little video -

Birds had bank accounts

I realised the other day, as I rode in the dark, that I had failed completely to provide any sort of summary of my year for 2010. A list of the highs and lows, the wins and loses, what songs moved me, what books made me ponder, what films I had wept at, what food satisfied. Most remiss of me, but rest assured now, I'm not about to trot any of those hoary old lists out now, especially since it is February.

Instead, I want you, yes you, the reader, to tell me of your favourite piece of road to ride. What it is that makes it so pleasurable, why return and whether you drag others through zealously. It doesn't have to be a piece of road you train on every week, it doesn't even need to be in your town, but it does need to be a piece of road that tugs at you.

For me there it a long list of such roads, but if I had to list the definitive five I should have a crack at it now. This list is in no particularly order.

Dunedin to Waitati - A big, steady climb either way, long fun descents, fantastic views and quiet, traffic free roads. The vista on the top is as good as anywhere in the country, and it's a ride that lends itself to solitude.

Carter Road, Auckland - A steady climb that is not steep, can be ridden in almost any state of fitness and has real satisfaction as it unfolds. Plus it's bush lined, so the wind really doesn't maul you, there are often people walking who will say 'Hello", no traffic to speak of, and always some great native flora and fauna.

SH35 from Opotiki to Waihau Bay - It's just a ribbon stuck to the coast between rocks, beaches, pohutakawas and hillsides. No glass, no pot holes, ever changing views and a real sense of remoteness. It is a road to savour.

Scenic Drive, Auckland - In the pre-dawn one can watch light creep over the city, see moths and insects, listen to the daylight dwelling forest members wake and not see a car for it's length. The climbs are frustrating, but enjoyable, not steep, not truly long, but relentless, and after ramp number X, if one has been silly and pushed too hard, can be gruesome. The winding shelter of the forest makes amends, and it's a truly satisfying loop from the city.

Woodcocks Road, Auckland - Hard to get to, not hard in a directional sense, but hard riding, Woodocks road is sublime. Scenery, surface, shelter and reward, it has it all.

So, there you have some of mine, tell me yours.

Is this machine recording?

The cicadas have started in earnest, with their glorious deafening song. I had a hint of it on Wednesday as I rode Scenic Drive in the pre-dawn. A glorious ride, with Tui, Kereru, Kotare and Riroriro as companions. The cicadas were there, but not truly on song, still just hinting at what was to come.

This morning, it was as if the switch had been flicked on. In Birdwood Road, Massey they were deafening. Just a wonderful accompaniment to the bath like warmth of the dawn. Then for the rest of the ride, around Whenuapai and back into town, everytime there was any cluster of trees, there was song.

A cluster of trees, a glade if you like, a thicket, a copse - all such English terms, and to my mind they completely fail to capture that raw essence of New Zealand bush, with it's verdant growth and tangled underside. Nothing gentle there.

I love this time of year, the humidity and the prickling of one's skin as you start to exercise. It's foreign to where I grew up, and I welcome it every year.

Otherland

To quote Carl Sagan - It is better to light a candle, than to curse the darkness.

Here's a few of last night's photos of Tamaki Drive at the top of the tide with water inundating the road, wind howling and drizzle ripping through. It was a fantastic place to be.

For once, and it's not that often that it is the case, the Olympus E3 was top of the heap and envy of a couple of other dSLR users there. With it's weather sealing that is as good as anything else available, I was free to roam and make the most of the conditions. There was one chap with a decent Canon 7d, but he was trying to use it wrapped in a towel and plastic bag, not ideal. His envy of my freedom was vocal.

To see other images of the night go here

Entropy, a measure of my uselessness

A long time between drinks for me here. If I could supply adequate reasons as to why I neglected my online spawn I would lay them out now, but I don't have any, apart from a sheer creative block and an enjoyment of summer.

Sunday just been, Doris and I knocked out a close to perfect point to point ride, Auckland to Leigh. The almost part comes from the section from Warkworth to Leigh, but I'll come back to that shortly.

The section from Auckland to Warkworth was just magical. The weather was perfect warm, windless and high overcast. Traffic was negligible, and the roads superb. I would rate the road through Woodcocks, from the SH16 turn off at the Kaipara end to Warkworth, as good as any other road in the Auckland region. The seal is good, the scenery pleasant, traffic light and it has a climb and descent combo that take some beating. The only caveat to this part of the ride is the section from Kaukapakapa is tough riding with a couple of solid to steep climbs, dead seal and a feeling of a slow leak. This is mitigated by what was behind, what lays ahead, and a magnificent view over the Kaipara.

The less than perfect part of the ride, was the section from Warkworth to Matakana, no shoulder, seal that abrades your nether regions and erogenous zones and lots of traffic, there's little to recommend here. The last leg from Matakana to Leigh is slightly better, but punctuated by short, leg stealing climbs.

The bright side is the reward of some of the best chips and donuts you can find from the Leigh fish and chip shop, eaten on the grass under a pohutakawa.

Takes some beating, thanks Doris for the company, it was a wonderful ride.

'Tis the season...

It must be the stress of the festive season, but there has been some odd behaviour of late in the interweb.

This little contact popped up in my mail account this morning and started messaging me, so I tried the David Thorne approach, failed to be anywhere near as witty, but here it is in it's banal totality:-

jennyjbwrgirl: Hey

S: HI

jennyjbwrgirl: hiya sweety how r u...glad you finally messaged me!!!!

S: Ahhh, I didn't you messaged me.

jennyjbwrgirl: Was starting to think no body wanted to talk with me...So whatcha ya up to sweety?

S: Not much, just reading A Brief History of Time

jennyjbwrgirl: Im just hangin out..I have the place to myself, my roommie left on vacation for the week so I get to play around in my thong...lol

S: How do you play with one jandel?

jennyjbwrgirl: So what you wearin cutie?

S: A full latex suit with frilly manties

jennyjbwrgirl: I know we just met but im really turned on right now...Its just a little naughty fun on my camera...You UUP for it dude???

S: No, my dog is eating my shoes so not at the moment.

jennyjbwrgirl: k my cam is ran thru a chat network to keep the Yahoo kiddos away from me so dont worry if you dont have a web cam or yours won't work ok? I gotcha hooked up baby!

S: Will it be painful?

jennyjbwrgirl: K here's the link to my cam it's http://www.x.se/gduc go there and you should see me, accept the "free invite button" before it expires, I use this site so neither of us can be filmed

jennyjbwrgirl: ...?

S: I have twenty three scallops to cook right now, and a mouse that is chewing a hole in my baking, what do you think the most effective rat bait is?

jennyjbwrgirl: KK, put in your details,first and last name, make sure you write your right b-day k?

jennyjbwrgirl: Where did you go?

S: Will that provide me with a full detailed pest eradication programme, or does it require retraining to fit the suit correctly?

jennyjbwrgirl: credit card, debit, or ATM is to verify you're an adult...I had to do the same thing myself... cant show tits and pussy to children..you know?

S: I had an issue with my neighbours cat barfing all over my back deck, was dreadful. What is the best cleaning agent in these instances?

jennyjbwrgirl: k let me know when u get your username and password from the site and make sure you use that to sign in with and type it just like as they gave it to you with hyphens or whatever just make sure it lets you in

jennyjbwrgirl: Where did you go?

S: Sorry I was just chasing a feral animal of unknown providence from my kitchen, it smelt of glue and asthma inhalers. Do you think I should try and stop it escaping into the wild?

jennyjbwrgirl: ok u in yet babe??

S: The other day I caught two people picking apricots, what should I do?

jennyjbwrgirl: k when u login click on the second page, and I'm the pretty brunete! You will have to guess which one i am! ( I have a suprise for you)

S: A surprise, will it be donuts. I love donuts.

jennyjbwrgirl: I'm sure its pretty obvious who I am, hope you hurry!

jennyjbwrgirl: ...Hello?

S: I'm going as fast as I can, but my manacles are a trifle restricting

jennyjbwrgirl: Im still waiting for you talk to me in there, Im going to get off of my yahoo messenger so just message to me on that site :=} can't wait to show you what i have for a surpise

jennyjbwrgirl: Hello??

S: Superb, will it be a jigsaw? I need a new one.

S: Oh, and can you arrange for a chap to come and visit to repair the little hole left in the floorboards by the last visit from Bob the Pegleg?

She signed off...

Deeper Well

And so to the Women's race in the Rabodirect New Zealand Criterium Championships.