The Human Speedhump

Last night I raced in B grade at the BioSPORT crit.
Again, good numbers on the start line and it was reasonably steady. The average speed until 500 metres to go was 42.2 kph, not bad given the wind.
All was going peachy, until the final lap and second to last corner. There, a rider decided to try and enter the trunk of a car that had been parked there all race.

Then two others who managed to pull up and avoid the vehicle decided to ride across the pack at zero mph. I was about 10th wheel and feeling frisky, suddenly I am facing an impending T bone. So I grabbed a handful of brakes, bike bucked and suddenly I was sitting on the road. In the panic stopping I had blown out the front tube and rolled the clincher...
Horror moment as I realised that there were approximately 50 riders still behind me. So I assumed brace position and copped 115kg man in back along with his bike. Then another one after that.
The chap who hit me, made excellent use of me as a crash pad, and walked away unscarthed. Unfortunately his frame not so, and it was unmarked, apart from a big crack in it.

Me, bark off hip and elbow, cut finger, bruising and a bit sore today, but nothing broken.

Bike, broken Kestrel bars, both wheels bent (rear one from someone riding over it), front rim is knackered with a kink in the rim wall. Right shifter scuffed, RD scuffed, saddle scuffed. Otherwise all okay.

Bibs wrecked, glove torn.

I'll hopefully be back on the bike in a couple of days and racing again next week. There's going to be some yummy scabbing!

Thanks to Mikeal, Doris and CTB for lightening my spirits afterwards, even if I did drink enough ethanol and tell enough lies to ensure a solid night's sleep.

Why it hurt

Here's the report from Mikeal from the Wellington to Auckland Race, with profiles and his usual succinct comments.

Rimutaka Hill Climb - Stage One Not as bad as it looks and includes downhill into Featherston

Featherston-Masterton Stage 2 = LUMPY!!!


Masterton-Pahiatua Stage 3
Pahiatua-Palmerston North Stage 4 Tough!!!


Palmerston North-Hunterville

Wanganui-Kakatahi

Paparahas
Kakatahi-Ohakune Fucking awesome stage, Fields track!!!
Ohakune-Turangi Pihunga Saddle
Turangi to Taupo - boring yawn not worth showing - had Hatepe and that's it!

Tokoroa to Hamilton Great country for riding
Hamilton to Glen Murray (Gem of a ride so close to home and hard too!!!)
Glen Murray to Pukekohe via Tuakau - YAWN!!!!!

Being Boiled

Some more outstanding riding results to hand. Mikeal, he who pulls his own trigger, and Doris took part in, and completed, the Wellington to Auckland cycle tour. The tour is organised by Steven Cox, and having taken part in some of his races before, I know that it would have gone up every sodding hill between rhe start and finish cities, as well as any bit of road with a good cross wind.

Anyway, these two raced the event and turned in a brace of good results. Doris was second in her age group and third woman overall, Mikeal was fourth in age group and twentieth overall. Well done both of you!

I did wonder through the week, how many times Doris told Coxy, or someone similar in a position of race power, that she hated them, or F$%%# HATED THEM, or that they could orally clean something delicate.

Well done both of you!

Caught in a trap

It's not everyday that a man acts out the metaphor, but last week, on Wednesday CTB did.

He was one of the game souls who started the inaugaral Kiwi Brevet . An feverish trial of inner strength, endurance, sheer bloody mindedness and cycling. It was eleven hundred kilometres of riding around the top half of the South Island, a mix of roads and terrain, just madness of the best sort.

CTB rocked up on his cyclocross bike, and four days later finished the event, in third place. The next day he had to go and have his backside re-skinned with plastic skin.

Well done fella!

I'm looking forward to catching up for that beer and hear the gritty tale in full.

As an aside I did raise the prospect of me doing it next year over dinner last night, surprising it got the tentative thumbs up.

Career Opportunities

A tale from the high seas from the weekend just past.

It was for a mate's stag do, we were up at Leigh staying the night, and the afternoon was to go out on a chartered boat, catch a few snapper or maomao, drink some beer and tell lies, before going back to Leigh and wrecking other's nights.

The boat was priceless. It was filthy, badly maintained and a complete shambles. The skipper gave a sloppy safety briefing, introduced the two deckhands (one male cro-magnon, one female untouchable).

We set out, just off shore the skipper drops the pick, cuts the motor and it's fishing time.
Normally on a charter they have some tackle, hooks, sinkers, etc. The role of the deckhands on charter boats is to look after the customers, rig gear, bait hooks, clean the fish later, etc.

But not on this boat.

So, first up the tackle box was a shambles, no sinkers of any consequence, and a manky hook collection.

I'd taken two of my rods, and we had several other rods as well. Also, on board there were two baited rods set to go. So, one of our chaps grabs one of the baited rods, and gets promptly told by the deckie male that rod was his and to hand it over. We then had to fend for ourselves. We had to rig our own gear, bait our own hooks, remove our own fish (when we finally caught some)
A bit of scorn and vitriol was dished out to the deckies, who just ignored it and carrying on fishing from the best spot on the boat.

The fishing where we were anchored was worse than poor, but the skipper didn't care until we got stroppy, then he moved to another small reef.

By now the deckies had buggered off up to the bow to get away from the stream of snide comments. Next thing, they are drinking bourbon and coke, throwing the cans overboard and smoking dope.

The fishing was still average.

So, one of our chaps tells the skipper we were hungry, so skipper fires up the BBQ and starts cooking up the sausages, steak, etc that we supplied. As soon as the first stuff is cooked, the female thing comes back and makes up a couple of tasty combos in the buns, places them on plates and get's asked if that was for us. Ignores that and retreats to the bow again
to eat OUR food.

The fishing was still crap.

Eventually, we fished for 5 hours and caught 2 maomao and 6 smallish snapper, pitiful really.
Motoring back in, two of us set to and cleaned the fish (normally the deckie's job), when we get into port the female deckie asks if she could take a couple of the fish. Understandably this request got a negative response, so her, the other deckie and skipper got damn hostile at us.
It was wonderful.

The evening that followed exceeded the day for encounters with strange people.

Larus dominicanus

First up, an update of sorts from Sunday's ride.
Here's the route, Doris's Day of Destiny . I've taken it from the Lincoln Road, Universal Drive intersection in Horrenderson and finished it at the end of the new motorway at Maioro St in New Windsor.
Here is the profile, it is from Balmoral, back to Balmoral, so includes the NW Bikepath, etc.
I have also discovered today, that one of the riders on Sunday is a scavenger, like a seagull. On arriving in Titirangi, said rider raced over to the Hardware Cafe where Warren and Serge sat,
and grabbed the portion of brioche that Serge was yet to consume. They then, in their own words "Scarfed it". Interesting behaviour, I do hope that they don't adopt other seagull like habits.

I raced tonight, in the bioSport Crit. I rode B grade. It was great fun, and I had a blast. Thanks to Greg and co for organising these races. A good size field, fifty eight riders, reasonable pace, and thoroughly enjoyable. Unfortunately, I also proved to be inadequate for a member of the female sex.

I had mentioned to Gael, from Solo, that I could lead her out for the final sprint. Gael is a damn good rider, and had won the previous week in the face of some stiff competition. So, tonight I rolled around the race mid field, comfortable and happy. With two laps to go, I made the move through a lap to get much closer to the pointy end of the race. As I passed Gael around the start of the final lap, I told her to jump on board. All good, so far. Turned into the finish straight, position, not bad. Gael yells "Go, Go, Go" and I mentally respond, my body doesn't. I was completely tapped out, and going a speed that wouldn't be out of place at a Senior Citizen's Zimmer Frame Race. It was appalling.
Faced with that handicap, Gael did very well to get around from behind the lumbering behemoth that was me, get up to speed and run it very close to finish second.

Well done Gael.

Mental note to self, be gallant with things I can manage - doors, puddles and seating.

Doris's Day of Destiny

Last Sunday, I enjoyed several minutes of being hated by a woman. She told me that she hated me, she even used a very strong modifier to the sentence as she told me that she hated me. It was good.

Mikeal, he of the self imagined donkey punch, and Doris are going to race the Wellington to Auckland next week. As such, Doris wanted a bit of an up tempo hit out to gild the lily. She had asked for a roll around the BCL with Junior and I. I am always happy to oblige these sort of requests, but had added that I wanted to add a couple more hills into the loop.

And this I did, adding in another three climbs of reasonable length and some little pinches to cause pain and suffering in between. All of this tacked onto the tailend of the BCL and giving an Eighty kilometre loop with Eleven hundred metres of climbing.

Then I spread the invitation wide. Come the day, we had a group of ten, perfect weather and a morning of fun ahead of us.

Unfortunately our group was thinned to nine on the first climb with the quiet drift off the back of Mr Parker, the result of some slightly up tempo pace which did stretch the group a little. Up the next climb, again the pace was strong, and three of the males were adrift at the top, but Doris, who is made of stern stuff and has great form at the moment, was still attached.

Over the next couple of climbs the pace was sensible, with a couple of stragglers. The group lost another member, after the Glengarry Road pinch, who had to head home to complete domestic duties. That left eight of us.

On Konini Road Wayne Hudson started the fireworks, Mikeal (who was definitely not Sid Too that day) then attacked. That sparked Junior and The Crocodile to warm their engines a little and leave us mortals alone and battling it out for the minor placings. Doris was firmly attached to my rear wheel and may have muttered a few epithets at Wayne for his insolence on the slope.

Serge and Warren opted out of the final and opted for the coffee stop at Titirangi, before the final plunge and the last two climbs. That left six of us. Some fresh and some less fresh. As we pulled up Victory Road, with it's 1.7 kilometres at an average of 7.5%, the group was split by Mikeal, Junior and The Croc going ahead to do battle. Me riding tempo, because I didn't have any other option, Wayne altering pace a little, and Doris attached firmly to my wheel.

It was here that Doris started to tell me how much she truly didn't care for me, and that she wasn't feeling kindly at all to me. There were several sentences with the F word and hate in them. It was good.

The final climb was just tempo, as I suspect that a few of us were a little broken. We made Titirangi to see a smiling Serge and Warren, who were promptly told by Doris how much she hated me.

This was a gratifying result.

In the afterglow, all was smiles and forgiveness.

I'll post the directions and profile for the loop shortly.

Well worth doing, and even better if there's some emotion shown on the road.

Where the wild things were

As mentioned a couple of posts ago, I went to the Kumeu Hotrod Show. I'm not a petrolhead, but I do have a bit of a hankering for muscle cars and fine craftsmanship.

This show ticked all the boxes there for me. The crowd was a pretty friendly bunch and were there for a good time, so what's not to enjoy? Plenty of amusing sights, a few West Auckland Waterfalls, a few good Tramp Stamps and the day was all positive.

As a plus, being up close and personal with dragsters running is a visceral experience and does something base to me.

Here's a few pics from the day.

But Holden Caulfield Lives On

All morons hate it when you call them a moron. - Holden Caulfield.

Today I rode with the Solo bunch. What an utter pleasure riding with those riders is. Sociable, courteous, caring and run with a velvet fist. Thanks guys and girls, I'll be back.

On Wednesday, I had a predawn ride with Mikeal, the man who shuffles his own deck. Hence forth him will have the additional honorific of Sid Too. The reasons for his new second title are as follows:-
Arrives in the dark with two bottles on his bike, we are about to ride and he mentions that he has no water in either. Better yet, he does have some drink powder in one. No water, but drink powder...How yummy would have been dry raro and salt?
Back light won't go, we ride down the road, and as we round the first corner backlight is ejected from the bike. Stop, pick up the pieces, carry on, sans one battery.
On return I find missing battery, no wonder light didn't go, battery had rust and corrosion on the anode.

Fair justification for a new title me thinks.

Back on the horse

Life is almost back to normal, and I can start filling in the gaps on the interweb that I have been forced to let slip. This slippage was entirely due to working every given hour to get the house ready for sale. This weekend it hits the market and then a new chapter begins.

Here's the shameless advertising bit.

I did take a couple of breaks for an hour or two over the past few weeks, and went to a couple of events. These pics are from the Noth Shore Grand Prix, what a great event this is, well done Peter Ulmer. Excellent racing, huge crowds and beer delivered to me on request by Sid. It was also great to catch up witha few people I haven't seen for quite sometime.

The other event I went to was the Kumeu Hotrod Show, and I'll post pics from that in a day or two.

My riding has been meagre, although I did throw in a soul enhancing roll around the Karekare/Lone Kauri Road loop early one Sunday. When fit it's a great circuit, when less than fit, ridden at one's own pace, it's still a great circuit. I came back refreshed and ready for more plastering, sanding, painting, tool throwing mayhem.

BTW these pics are available to all, like all the others on here, but if used, remember the Creative Commons License thingy. If any of the riders pictured would like a copy, just email me, also I do have a large number of other pics that I'm happy to share from this event.

Steve Crow will be booking a cruise on this ship.

This morning as I consumed my breakfast I was idly reading Wikipedia. The above screen dump is taken from their description of the picture of the day.
Click on the above to read, or go here to read it in full (although it may well be changed PDQ).

Loading one's parrot.

The new year has started, with a hiss and a roar, much busyness for me. The weather has lent a kind hand to this, but it has been a time of true sweat and toil.

The pox has departed from the household and only a few scabs remain to remind the midget of his affliction. These, too, will pass.

Sunday was my first ride of Two Thousand and Ten. It was approximately one hundred kilometres of rolling bliss with Junior. We traipsed around the Ridge Road circuit and added in Wairere Road and the Bethall's Quarry for good measure. The weather was ideal and the ride was honest. It was truly good for my soul.

We did encounter a rapidly rising spring tide on the Norwestern bikepath, which we watched with fascination as others rode through the sea water across the bike path and the still advancing tide, before we took the plunge and rachet pedalled our cautious way through. Arriving home the hose was used damn quickly to remove any salt water residue. I have encountered a few similar high tides on this particular piece of path before, but never sat and watched the rapid rise. A few days earlier, the Mistress and Commander had seen a school of Kahawai in close there on a rising tide, and on this particular day, it also looked "fishy". Fantastic to have that sort of wilderness as part of the inner city.

A recent discussion with a magazine publisher may bear fruit, with some possible landscape photography work for moi. Normally I wouldn't mention this, but I need to to place context around Mikeal's strange statement. Not only is he rapid of the draw of his own weapon, he is an exhibitionist. I was aware of this, nothing new there, but when, in passing, I mentioned that I may be undertaking a bit of paid photography work in the field, he asked if "I would like to have a naked man running through the scene, and could he be that naked man?" I answered negative, so he asked again, he didn't ask for payment or the like, so I'd hazard his motivation is somewhat disturbing.

Today, there was a massive ray of sunshine cast upon my day. A couple of months ago the front riv-nuts loosened on my Cannondale (only 6 months old) and as it was examined I noticed some paint issues and possible frame issues around the riv-nuts. The original retailer who I bought the frame through dropped the ball badly in terms of customer service when I sought assistance (It needs to be stated that there was a change of store ownership/management and when I originally bought the frame the staff at the store were excellent and a pleasure to deal with). After getting no response at all with said retailer, I took the issue to Planet Cycles on Dominion Rd. There Pete and Steve got onto the case, spoke to the NZ Cannondale dealer, W H Worralls, and the Worralls rep sorted out the riv-nut issue. Worralls stated they would examine the paint issue and advise me.

Today, Steve from Planet Cycles rang me to tell me there was a replacement frame sitting in Planet Cycles for me. I'm delighted and over the moon.
No fuss or drama, just good honest service from Planet Cycles, Worralls and Cannondale.
Thank you all.

Smoking Vulture Crack

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

From Meditation XVII, John Donne 1572–1631

The past week has seen strange things come to pass.

On the dawn of the Twentythird of December, being the morning of the shortest night, Mikeal and I rode up Scenic Drive to the top of the Waitakares to witness the dawn. The ride up, in the predawn was magical, a warm, humid morning. We rode at an easy tempo to the sound of birdsong and growing light. Unfortunately the dawn was grey, but it was still worthwhile to gaze over the still slumbering isthmus.

I suspect that Mikeal was a trifle disappointed, not because of the dawn, or the ride, but because he appeared to have a desire to beat me. He harboured some strange and irrational fear that I was going to try and kiss him as the sun rose. Maybe it wasn't fear, but none the less he did mention several times that if I tried to kiss him that he would beat me up. I have no desire to kiss him, even in the romantic dawn light, but the idea of being beaten has some appeal.

Riding through the predawn in summer is something that is pure, unalloyed pleasure, especially over the Christmas/New Year period when the roads are deserted.

The pox has hit my house hard, with Mini-Me being covered in spots, now scabbing, a ripping temperature and a sense of misery. Thankfully, it's passing, and will never visit him again.

The Crocodile has embraced his moniker truly, as has his family. A Christmas day photo shows him sitting resplendant in a shirt given as a gift. On the front of the shirt is a crocodile, sort of cartoony, green and toothy. Tres cool! I'm looking forward to the team kit and skin suit.

Recently I wrote of strange search terms that lead to this place, a new one has surfaced -"Buttock Spreader". I can trace the phrase to a dialogue between myself and Jorge the Purient that I posted, but what makes me curious is what was the searcher really looking for? I may enter "Buttock Spreader" into google, just to see where it goes, but my mind suggests that it may not be too wholesome.

On that note, I'm signing out for the year.

A dew drop on the face of humanity

So, my posting has been a bit sluggish of late. I can blame a variety of things, seasonal silliness, fatigue, a four day trip to The Village Of The Damned, more fatigue, writer's block, the list of reasons are endless. So, now back behind the keyboard, I feel guilt, guilt that I have left a gap of several days with no outbound missives and no inward correspondence.

Tonight is the shortest night of the year. As a quirk of the earth's orientation the sunrise times are already later than last week, but the sunsets will continue to draw out, with the latest still another four weeks away. Good news for the evenings, bad news for my morning riding.

Tomorrow morning, Mikeal (he of the quickdraw), Doris and myself will set out in the pre-dawn darkness, to reach the high point of Scenic Drive in time for the sunrise. It will be glorious riding through the growing light, with birdsong as company in the bush clad walls of Scenic Drive. I can't wait. With the mixed cloud we have had today, I'm picking the dawn to be spectacular, a great way to welcome in the slide to the winter solstice.

The trip to The Village of The Damned was fun. Yet again I realised how fortunate we are here, in the upper North Island, weatherwise. On Sunday, while down there, a Southerly front came through and ripped a good ten degrees from the temperature in the space of minutes. The next day it was still barely in the teens temperature wise at midday when we left, and it's supposed to be Summer. It was a relief to get back to sub-tropical Auckland.

The plus side of the visit was that the Kaos Kreator got to do some good, old fashioned country things, played in hay, rode horses and quad-bikes, learnt to crack a stock-whip, had his first go on a motor-bike, played in the creek, caught cockabullies (although he was a little underwhelmed by the size of the fish there) and got to see his yours truly rid the country of one pesky possum. Positive stuff for a small boy, that is pretty difficult to provide in a city.

Only real drawback to all of this, is that he now wants a motorbike, some cattle and a pony. That's going to be easy to accommodate on a small suburban block.