The Path Racer is Born

After last weekend’s exertions I suffered rather badly from the sleeping sickness last week, with most 24 hour periods having 15 hours of sleep in them. This makes for very short days and it is very lucky I work flexible hours and have an understanding husband and boss. In my waking hours I spent a lot of my time scrubbing rust of old bike parts, but I did manage today to get out for a lovely ride at McLeans Island with an awesome group of girls.

The time spent scrubbing was well worth it. Almost all the parts I stripped off in the “Born fettler” post have the majority of their rust removed and a shiny finish buffed up.

The Christchurch term for this bearing face is munted. Luckily the wonderful Bob was able to supply me with a replacement part

The brake levers came up well

Rather proud of disassembling the pedals and removing the rust

The faux Raleigh chain ring came up very well

I got rather bored of polishing the fully laced rims and only did the back wheel. In the loooong process of cleaning up the back wheel I discovered the inner tube was now bonded eternally with the cotton rim tape and the rim itself. I scrubbed as much rust out of the inside of the rims as possible and then got some heavy duty plastic rim tape applied and now things are looking happier. The rims exteriors came up wonderfully shiny so I was happy with that. Yay coke!

Cleaned up rear hub, luckily all the bearing faces here were in good shape

Then today came the big exciting day. The visit to Bob’s legendary shed to build it up. It was just as I dreamed. An Aladdin’s Cave of wonderful tools and beautiful bikes. I feel deeply privileged to not only have visited Bob in his natural environment, but to have his extensive knowledge and generous nature to help me build up my path racer. Not only did he assembly the beast for me, he provided parts, refaced the bottom bracket and cleaned up the treads on the frame. Legend. I cannot say enough good things about Bob and I won’t go on much more lest he blush.

The entrance to the "magic cupboard" where Bob is build his amazing bike from scratch

After a number of exciting and brilliantly informative hours I was wheeling my brakeless stead from the magic shed of wonderment with the biggest grin on my face. She is a beauty and after a brief ride up the street I discovered she rides wonderfully and smoothly. All that degreasing of hubs was worth it. Tonight I spent a certain amount of time attaching a front brake to it so I can ride it to work tomorrow.

Jobs left to be done. Get a correct diameter seat post. Get correct inner tubes. Remove hideously pink decals. Attach polished up brass head tube badge from the Mayam. Reattach the other grip and attach the back brake. Finally, and if I have the funds for it, replace the seat with something a little more fitting. Perhaps this.

And finally tonight I give you Bastian doing his best Superman impression in his sleep and at the same time inflicting that common disease cat paralysis on my beloved and patient husband.

I say patient because in addition to this beautiful path racer I managed to purchase a rather lovely old Empire cycle on tardme on Friday. It’s staying in Dunedin till I can get down there, which is a good thing for our marriage.

A Weekend of Two Halves

 Despite my recent all-consuming preoccupation with old bikes I actually managed to do a race at the weekend! Even better it was a team race and my lovely hubby joined me on the team.  We were entered as a team of 4 in the Krank 8hr race at Hanmer Springs with the effervescent Anna Ross and newbie to racing Greer Swinard. It was a horribly early start as we decided to go up the day of the race which meant a pre- 6am wake up call. Bastian provided us a distinctly unwelcome one just before 5am and I couldn’t get back to sleep after that. Bloody cat!

Monster alarm clock enjoys fresh washing

The drive to Hanmer was uneventful and the setting up and registered chaotic as I thought the race started at 9:30, but it started at 9. Lining up on the start line I was feeling flat as a pancake so when the gun went I was very glad to have Michelle to ride with and push me to go a little bit faster on the first deceptive climb. I’d taken the 9er with me for this race and as soon as we got into the singletrack I realised this was a mistake. I couldn’t corner to save my life and wasn’t carrying speed which meant I was on the brakes and working harder than I should have been after most corners.

Sooooo glad the first lap is over

There was then a rather unfortunate organisational breakdown with no marshal being stationed at the most ambiguous corner of the start loop, which was meant longer than all the other laps. Luckily a local directed Michelle and myself back onto the right track and soon we were all alone in the autumnal forest as half the field had gone the wrong way. I had more troubles with the big hoops in here and found it to be a slog. Then we were finally under the bridge and the climbing began in earnest. Up the biggest climb of the day I was impressed I managed to ride all the way to the top, but blasting down the other side I just couldn’t trust the cornering and was much slower than I would have liked.  A gentle (read slog) climb back up Dog Stream and then onto Mach 1 which was a mixture of climb and descent, then another longish fireroad climb and back to the camp. The lap seemed to go on forever and I was an extremely grumpy and underfed bunnie after an hour 16mins of riding.

Greer coming in after her first ever lap in a race! Great work

Luckily I had 3 hours to recover and by my second lap felt surprisingly better, plus much shorter than the first monster long one. Bike control was a little better, but I missed my Anthem still, especially since Anna had her shiny new one with her.

Michelle being epic again

Despite the course being in the opposite direction to the way I like it was still a fun day out and was great hanging out with my awesome teammates and heckling/cheering for people.

Anna and Pete enjoying the comforts of our pit site between laps

For a recovery ride I was lucky enough to have a tweed ride to go to the next day. This one was to convene in Sumner, so I gave myself plenty of time to ride there. Along the way I met up with the divine Lady Andrea and her husband Kevin and we braved the causeway in a fierce headwind together. Andrea was riding a lovely old bike from 1914 and did an amazing job powering into the wind while I made use of my gears to spin along. Unfortunately a fit of optimism had seen me strap a pentenque set to my rack and with every bump the heavy metal balls would crash about making not only an awful racket, but making the bike feel quite unstable.

Myself and Lady Andrea looking very spiffing

Luckily we made it to the carpark in Sumner in once piece and joined the rest of our finely dressed compatriots with their array of lovely bicycles. Cruising pleasantly along the esplanade we drew many an admiring glance and at the end a challenge was laid down about riding up the Taylor’s Mistake hill. I was initially apprehensive, having smashed myself the previous day and frankly struggled in the headwind on the causeway.  Plus having about 10kgs of metal balls strapped to the arse end of my bike didn’t make the idea a pleasing prospect. 

Half the group.....

 

.....and the other half

After making excuses about tiredness, high heels and weight on the back of the bike I was provoked into a duel. It would have been a fairly uneven match without the heels and the petenque set on my bike as I have the luxury of 3 modern gears, whereas Chumly had only his strength and the size of his chainring to power him up the hill. He took off like a bat out of hell, lithely bunny hopping off the curb and streaking up the hill. I had to find a driveway to go down so didn’t manage to get a sprint on at all. Halfway to the first bend and my legs were demanding I drop a gear and suddenly life was much better. I found Chumly doing the chivalrous thing and waiting for me at the head of the corner, but I continued onwards for this was a race of endurance. Halfway to the next corner I decided I had made my point and hurtled back down the hill. It was awesome fun. I’m almost tempted to take the Duchess to Halswell and see how far I can get up Kennedy’s Bush Rd on it!

Victory was mine!!!

More riders venture forth encouraged by Chumley and my sterling efforts. Note Chumley's excellent cornering form in the background

We then toured around the back streets and containers of Sumner for a while before settling in at the Thirsty Mariner for well-earned drinks and a staggering and sometimes unidentifiable array of deep fried snacks. There a plan (ill-fated for me as it turns out) was hatched to head to the Brewery. Andrea, Kevin and I headed off with a now gentle (soooo typical) tailwind speeding us across the causeway, while the others drove down to Ferry Rd to park up and join us by cycle for the rest of the ride.

Beautiful delivery bike

In no time at all we were enjoying the live music, fine beverages and witty banter at the Brewery. However dark clouds of impending doom (well deep embarrassment) were fast forming on my horizon. As we were leaving to partake of the path beside the Heathcote I came a cropper due to a combination of a sudden stop, a weighty rear end (of my bicycle) and my stylish high heels. I found myself sprawled on the ground, one shoe arching gracefully over my head and the contents of my basket strewn about me. It was incredibly mortifying. I still feel a bit sick about it today.

Pipe smoking is a very serious Tweed past time

I gathered my things and the tatters of my dignity and off we set along the Heathcote. This bit was brilliant and very challenging with gapping cracks everywhere and tight turns to catch out the unwary or those with a limited turning circle. After much hilarity we were back at the others’ cars and I was, for the third time, heading along Ferry Rd, this time with home in my sights. It was a truly marvellous day out and I can’t wait for the next one. In the meantime I have plenty of rusty bike parts to polish and hopefully a visit to Bob’s mythical shed to look forward to.

The joy of the Tweed Ride clearly evident

Crossmarks – Not the Ideal Wet Riding Tyre

In our shed at home we have a stock of tyres, bought when they were on sale. They are all Maxxis Crossmarks. That’s because we live in Christchurch and in Christchurch when it rains the tracks close. This means that I don’t do a lot of riding on wet tracks, maybe a splash about Bottlelake or McLeans Island, but nothing technical and certainly nothing rooty and rutty in the wet (ew eeeerr!).

Yesterday, after an evening of heavy rain, I ventured back into Redwoods to see if my legs were feeling any better after their run the previous day. I knew the tracks would be wet, but I felt hopeful that it wouldn’t be too bad after a sunny morning. Being the lazy beast I am I caught the shuttle up to the drop off point on Tawa Rd and headed straight into Huckleberry Hound. It was pretty dry and I had fun hucking my way down. Then I made the Best Decision Eva and decided to go down Corners rather than Little Red Riding Huck. Cornering is one of my favourite things so I felt I couldn’t go wrong with a track called Corners. It was absolutely fantastic. For Canterbury locals think Yankee Zephyr to the power of 10, without that horrid climb to get there (if you’re shuttling). Corner after perfectly formed corner caught my skittish tyres and guided them safely onto the next one. The track was a little wet (as it was my first run I actually thought it was pretty wet, but was proved wrong by my later explorations of the forest). All I could think on the way down was how great this track is and how I want to ride it in the dry. If it is the only thing I ride today when I drag myself out of bed I’ll be happy.

Corners conveniently drops you back at the shuttle pick up and I caught the last shuttle of the day back up to the top. I asked some Aussies who’d ridden the top tracks earlier what they were like and they assured me I’d “be fine” on them. Which was a nice compliment considering they’d never seen me ride. Spinning up to the start of Billy T my legs and lungs actually felt pretty damn good, and soon I was into the track and sliding all over the place. It was wet. I had zero traction. But it was still super fun. Sure I was going a lot slower than the previous day, but because control was tentative at best it was still thrilling. There were a few dabs and unplanned stops, but no crashes so all in all it was a success. I quickly decided that riding the tracks in the wet on Crossmarks adds 1 to the grading of the tracks.

Now I was off into unfamiliar territory and into G Rock. It was plenty wet, with large soak holes and deep wet chutes. It was in one of these chutes that I had a very minor crash where my front wheel clipped one wall of the chute and then wedged itself firmly in the opposite wall, forming a wheel dam in the chute. I gracefully tumbled onto the bank and thought I had just applied an extra layer of mud to my leg. I had forgotten about the cheese-grater nature of the Rotorua’s volcanic dirt and soon the mud was leaking red. ALWAYS wear your knee high socks when riding in the wet.

Soon after this little mishap I was out of G Rock and taking the relatively straightforward Chesnut Link into Rollercoaster, riding an upper section I hadn’t ridden before. All started well and then I came to a wide section that was a deadly looking rut fest to the left and what appeared to be a smooth line to the right. I rolled slowly into the right and saw that my smooth line dropped straight down before levelling out a bit. It dropped away so quickly that I couldn’t bail and ended up riding down it, sure I was going to die at any second. When I safely reached the bottom I was shouting and giggling like a mad person amazed I’d escaped serious injury and stoked to have ridden something so full on in the wet.

The rest of Rollercoast was a slippy slidey mess, but I found the little pinches way easier, which pleased me greatly.

Then it was onto Old Chevy. This is a great track, lots of climbing, rewarded with fun fast descents (well they would be in the dry), choices between challenging and less challenging lines in places, and long. Very very long. Everythime I thought I was getting close to the end I’d find myself climbing back over a ridge and heading deeper into the forest again. I began to wonder if I was lost. On I pedalled, loving how well my legs were responding to this challenge and then came my second crash of the day. Down a steep and unusually rocky section into a tight wet right hander. Unfortunately there was a bloody great stone in the middle of the track and I chose the wrong side of the stone to head down, straight into a wet patch and slidey slide slide. A tiny amount more gravel rash and I was kicking myself for not taking the rocky high line, after all, I know how to ride rocks. Finally Old Chevy popped me out at the entrance to Yellow Brick Road and I couldn’t resist heading into it. Mellow and windy, it had gentle climbs and descents and a back ground soundtrack from the Wizard of Oz provided by my slightly energy starved brain. Good times.

It was a great ride and restored my severely dented faith in my fitness and then to top off a great day’s riding, and an awesome 7 years since my wonderful husband and I got together, we found a fantastic Mexican restaurant and I got to quench my hunger on an epic burrito, and drink delicious cocktails. The burrito was so huge that I had to share it much to my hubby’s delight. And now today it is sunny. Oh yeah.

And here is the view of my monster getting a little snuggly on our return.

After the Storm

Apparently there was a significant storm in Rotorua last Wednesday. Hubby and I first noticed signs of apocalyptic style destruction on our 11km ride from the Airport to the completely awesome Rotorua Thermal Holiday Park. You may wonder why I’m noting the distance of the ride when it seems so short. Well it turns out riding that far with over 17kgs on your back in a big pack which forces your helmet forward and completely precludes you from turning your head to check for traffic while turning is something of a mission. Even more so when it is 20 degrees and muggy and you’re wearing jeans. Then having that amount of weight on your back feels like it is all being directly transferred to your seat via the hard raised seam in your jean’s crotch. I’ve put that as delicately as I can, I hope no one was offended. Needless to say I will not be volunteering to carry the heavy pack again.

I was pretty knackered after this effort and subsequent trips into town for a Zippy’s feed and crucial supplies that upon returning to our quaint log cabin I fell asleep while hubby went out to “suss out the trails”. Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, he met up with a group of Aussies and ended up doing an epic 3 hour ride and returning back to the cabin a babbling hypoglycaemic mess. Lucky beer and lollies soon remedied this and we later took the lazy option of taxi-ing into town for a massive fed at the Pig and Whistle where we caught up with the Aussies again and chatted till the early hours of the evening. I say early hours because we headed back to the camp around nine and after a very enjoyable soak in the complementary thermal pools enjoyed a rather good sleep.

Today we woke bright and early-ish and I was able to convince my hubby to take his first ever shuttle. Soon we were most of the way up the hill and warming up by grovelling up the steep little bit of fireroad that leads to Billy T where we met up with the Aussies again. Oh such heaven, the track, not the Aussies. It’s been a long time since I was in Rotorua and now I felt completely comfortable attacking the trail rather than tentatively inching along. After plenty of drops, roots, ruts and bermed corners I was at the bottom, to meet the boys who weren’t far ahead. We went our seperate ways here as I was desperate to ride Split Enz again (one of my favs) and they were hitting up G Rock.

Split Enz was just as I remembered it, fast, flowing and bermed to perfection, from there it was down the steps on Pondy Downhill, which then became a descent down a fireroad due to logging, and then popping into the fantastic Pondy New. At this point my trail descriptions get a bit blurred, there was climbing and swooping down through the forest, drops and bridges, challenging rut/root combinations and just generally awesomeness. Then it was into the second half of Rollercoaster, aptly named for its up and down nature and then with the help of some awesome local knowledge onto a new track called Moonshine. This is a slightly technical wee beastie with a number of slippery off-camber roots that test your line selection and commitment. I loved it and came out the bottom with my traditional grinning like an idiot face on.

After failing to play on Pump because of downed trees, we cruised down the road to Spring Roll where we began to encounter more and more fallen trees blocking the track. It was a fun little track and then we were on Sweet N Sour, which was a climb (and therefore not my favourite), with little challenge other than the portaging of bikes over the recently fallen. This track seemed to go on forever and I was feeling quite fatigued by the halfway point. On I ground and after what felt like an eternity (who says I exaggerate) we were out on the road and ready to tackle Dragon’s Tail. Here we encountered some slightly lost riders and with the combination of our two different maps managed to get them heading on the right track. We must have seemed like we knew what we were talking about as they thanked us with a hearty “Thank you friendly locals”. Funny. Dragon’s Trail was brilliant (apart from one particularly annoying fallen tree which required some bush bashing to get around as over really wasn’t an option). Lots of little pinches were rewarded with tight fast corners and a few drops, and just a few bits of techy rooty goodness thrown in to keep you on your toes.

From the end of this trail it was a blast down Red Tank Rd, to hook into Mad if You Don’t, where we had a brief conversation with a rider who’d spent almost an hour lost in the logged area and was quite frustrated at not being able to find any tracks. I suggested that a shuttle ride would immediately place you on the correct side of the forest to avoid all the logging mayhem and he seemed quite keen.
Mad if You Don’t flew by and I was feeling great on the bike, if completely knackered, I rode the track hard and fast and even managed a rather nice jump at one point. At the bottom it was back down to the base for some greatly needed food and delicious cold chocolate. Heaven.

Right now it’s raining outside, so hopefully it will stop sometime in the night and tomorrow will be good for riding. I’m very keen to hit up the two Huck tracks and maybe even slog my way to the top of Hot X Buns. I love it here. 

PS - That night we had the most epic pizza eva, so delicious and vast that we couldn't even eat the whole thing. If you're staying at the Rotorua Thermal Holiday Park I highly recommend ordering from the Pizza Library, or even walking around the corner and eating in. Ordering is better though because then you get to see the crazy delivery vehicle.

And finally here is the cute camp cat.

Look! Up there on the Trails…….. It’s some Chicks! Doing hucks! It’s Suuuuuuppppeeerrr V!

With such a dramatic entrance I feel I’ll need to write a rather good entry to do justice to the brilliantness of the Super V in Wellytown last weekend.  My lovely friend Michelle provided me with a much coveted GE Bodybag to transport my bike (and to be honest also taught me the skills to ride the Super V), so much thanks to her.

I got up at the abominable hour of 5:50am on Saturday and loaded bags into car and bike onto rack and we were off to the airport. It was the work of moments once there to remove the front wheel, insert the fork and brake spacers, put the bike into the bag, carefully insert the front wheel and then pack my shopping bag of clothes etc inside. Want one of these rather badly.

The flight to Wellington was nice, with some gorgeous ground fog adding a mystical element to the sunrise. Soon it was a smooth landing in Wellington and in no time I was meeting the lovely Jo (thanks for picking me up so early) and we were on our way to her house.

We had time to spare so plenty of chillaxing and catching up (and cat snuggling) went on. Then it was on with my rather stunning (read hideous) interpretation of a skin suit and off to rego. The weather in Welly was perfect and after checking in we were soon loading our bikes onto the shuttle and heading up the hill with a mad Irishman driving. Unfortunately there was a little holdup as the road we were using was also being used for a longboard race.

Chick shuttlez

These crazy boys, men and a couple of hardcore chicks barrel downhill, round corners and over bumps on brakeless death machines. Crazy! It was actually pretty fun to watch and gave me the chance to introduce myself to my sometime boss, and superlative photographer – Caleb from Spoke.
When we finally made it to the top we were all soon off down the hill on the extremely long course. The first few hundred metres were by far the most technical and I quickly discovered my front brakes weren’t quite bedded in yet as I skidded and slalomed down the damp steep grass.  My first run down the hill was pretty tentative, I’ve never ridden these trails before and there is plenty of exposure on the right hand side of most of the track so all the blind left hand corners were taken at quite low speed.

Photo: Shane Wetzel. The less said about this the better

After the first stretch of down we were soon into the rather unwelcome climbing section. It just seemed to go on and on and a couple of the pinches were so steep I couldn’t ride them. Oh well. The lower section was bliss, really fast and swoopy, weaving through tightly spaced trees, some fast flowing corners, some tight slow switchbacks and lots and lots of down. By the bottom my back was killing me, but I was grinning and I’d come down in about 43 minutes, fairly standard for the majority of the field.

With the course being that long Jo and I agreed that one practice run was enough so we sat down to some lunch and chatting. I met loads of cool chicks and we talked on and on about bikes for the next hour while enjoying the sun. My idea of bliss.

Photo: Caleb Smith

Then it was race briefing time, numbers were allocated, toilet stops were made in the bushes and shuttles were loaded. Up the top the views were stunning, but a rather biting breeze had us cowering in the lee of a large concrete structure till it was our turn to go.

A stunning Wellington day to be riding in the hills

As I rolled off the line onto the dreaded slippy grass I immediately knew my front brake was working perfectly now and actually felt in control. Confidence up I gathered speed and felt that amazing feeling you get when you’re one with the bike. I could tell I was going much faster and did my best to power up the climbs. I still had to run a couple, but I knew I was giving it everything so that’s ok. Down the stretch called Rollercoaster I was flying, not literally, no jumps for me, but as on the first run I overcooked the speed into the turn and ended up track standing millimetres from the turn arrow. Bugger.

At this point I could hear the brakes of the woman behind me and I knew she was reeling me in on the ups so I really dug deep. Not deep enough though and I was gutted when she called to pass just as the climby bits were nearly over. As I struggled up the last bit she put a small gap in and I thought to myself “You better be fast on the downs lady or I’m going to have to repass you.” And as it turned out that’s exactly what happened. Once all the climbing was over I was completely in the zone and riding right at the edge of my comfort zone. It felt awesome. I made a muppety repass and soon I was reeling in the woman in front and passing her. By the time I got to the bottom I wanted more. I’d taken about 3 minutes off my time and was a stoked little chicken.

Photo: Caleb Smith, thanks for making me look comparatively good! You truly have the madcore photo skillz

As the final riders came in Jo and I loaded our bikes into the car for a quick post-prize giving get away and I was glad to get out of my not very flattering, but fun outfit. Note however that bike shorts under jeans are not really very comfortable. The prizing giving was amusing and I was very pleased to come away with a souvenir  bottle of home brew for travelling the further to attend.

I was shattered, it’s the first time I’ve raced that hard for that long in a couple of years and I loved it. That evening was spent catching up with the lovely Jude and Shane, and snuggling with Cinti. In fact today’s cute kitteh pic(s) are of the lapnapper himself. Cinti is a super friendly, playful, purring machine and I loved spending time with him. Jo is lucky to have such an awesome man in the house.