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

Tribes

Being a member of an active NZ Cycling Forum I’ve noticed that cyclists tend towards rather tribal behaviour. The roadies flock together in great bunches, and have secret and esoteric rules that must be obeyed. Their legs and machines are smooth and glistening and many will have a stable a different road bikes for different occasions.

Even more complicated is the mountain biker, whose tribe seems to fracture into more sub tribes with each passing year. There are the XC racers, sneered at by others as weight weenies and jeiboys. The trail and backcountry adventurers. The freeriders and their cousins the Downhillers, which contain within their ranks the infinitely mockable grommies. The jumpers and the urban trials riders. The relatively new tribe of 29ers.
Then there are those that fall into what I’ll call the hipster tribe. The singlespeeders, with their flair for the insane. The fixie riders. The tweed riders. The frocks on bikes women. The whole vintage/retro brigade, including the loonies on Penny Farthings.

Of course amongst all these tribes there are the crossover tribes, the cyclo-cross riders, the cycle tourers, the BMXers and of course the singlespeeders must be mentioned here.

Then finally lowest on the pecking order the recumbent riders.

Often the bicycles in your shed define your tribes and (sweeping and unfounded generalisation warning here) most cyclists will only have one or two types of bikes, even if their total number of bicycles numbers in the double digits. For some, their personality becomes an expression of their collection of bikes, for other their bicycles are an expression of their personality. I believe the last is true of me.

My shed contains 6 bicycles, all different, all ridden regularly and all make me grin. I have my BMX which makes me feel like a kid again and is stupidly fun. I have my singlespeed mountain bike which has taught me how to ride better and made me stronger. I love its simplicity. I have my road bike, which to be honest is more of a winter bike, although I do love the feeling of speed and power I get from riding it. I have my full sus XC bike which is still my favourite. It climbs like a dream, is awesome on the singletrack and can handle the downhill stuff too. I have my newest acquisition, my hardtail 29er. This bike handles completely differently from all my other bikes, it is insanely fast and a challenge to ride. And finally I have my Duchess, my shopping bike. It is this bike that I ride the most. It is my car. It makes me feel free, happy and something none of my other bikes do, attractive. Strange I know. It is this bike that is leading me down a path which will mean my statement that I have attained s-1 is wrong, but more on that later.

Firstly a quick replay of the awesome ride I had on Friday at Greenwood Park before the blasting and earthquake remediation on the road up there closes it for easy access. (It is open Sundays and in the evening from 6pm). My first lap was a bit of a muppet fest to be honest, but it was great fun and by the bottom of the track I was keen for another lap. The ride up the Summit Rd is both lovely, with no traffic, and in one place quite scary, with a badly cracked rock face looming above – waiting to deposit a boulder or two on the slow rider’s head.

Not only does Greenwood Park have outstanding singletrack, the views are exceptional

The second lap was much better. The thing about Greenwood Park is that it is a lovely combination of flowing stuff and really rocky technical stuff. Only recently have I gotten good enough to ride it, previously I freaked out about the rocks instead of just keeping pedalling. I’ve discovered Greenwood Park is a mind game, everything (well apart from one rocky uphill pinch at the end that I have no idea how to ride) is rideable.

In the beginning there was a climb

After my second lap I was getting cold and having pushing my legs harder up the road my tummy was grumbling. It was just what I needed.

Ahhh, tricksy narrow rocks, you won't catch me again!

Then on Sunday, I crossed a line. On Friday, when not riding, I spent most of the day in various op-shops (pining for the quality ones in Dunedin), sussing out an outfit for a Tweed Ride. I was in two minds about going on this ride, firstly I didn’t know anyone else in this group of velocipedes (velococycsts? velotweeds?) , I always find new people intimidating; and secondly I’d been warning that joining this ride could well be a slippery slope to further bike ownership. Putting these worries aside I donned what I hoped was an appropriately period styled if not entirely tweedish outfit and cycled off on my lovely Duchess to the nearby meeting place.

A Cheesecutter is the equivilent of a helmet

I was immediately welcomed into the group, and I really shouldn’t have worried. After all I had in common with these people a love of bicycles, a love of dressing up and a love of things from a bygone area. After chatting and drooling over the many simply beautiful and sometimes amusing bicycles, we were off.

I lusted muchly over these two bikes in particular, with the one on the right being my favourite by a nose

It was a wonderfully leisurely ride through the park, with the crowds entering the Ellerslie Flower Show seeming to appreciate our dapper appearance and glorious machines. On through town we were momentarily halted by the ever shifting road closures and then it was onto Pomeroy’s via the broken riverside roads for some well earned refreshments. I took mine in the form of Pimms, a most civilised drink before noon on a Sunday. Revitalised it was back onto the bikes and onto the Pegasus Arms for yet more refreshment and then off to Hagley Park for a brief, but energetic turn of speed in the form of a sprint race round the outside. I have to say my Duchess performed admirably, and was only really hampered by my need to hold my skirt down while pedalling vigorously.

The Tweed riders collection is quite diverse..

... and lust provoking

After such exertions it was back to our starting spot for the obligatory photos and more talking of the cod shite. I enjoyed this ride immensely and can say that I have been fully converted to the joy of the Tweed Ride by this single outing. In fact I have been trawling the pages of Trademe seeking an appropriate old bike to turn into a singlespeed to race at the velodrome for the next ride. Thanks so much to the Tweed Riders for welcoming me into your group. Such Fun!

Racing time!

Refueled and ready to ride

And to round off this rather lengthy diatribe here is a gorgeous photo of my monster’s black jelly bean feets. I just want to nom them.

Introducing the Duchess

As I mentioned in my last post I sold my Jamis to fund the purchase of a commuter bike. As my health slowly started to improve I really wanted to ride places rather than being trapped in my car, but I wanted something comfy, something I felt relaxed on, something I could take shopping or cruising in the park and something I could wear a dress and heels while riding. And after much searching I found my dream commuter. The 3 speed Linus Dutchie. A HUGE thanks to the wonderful Dave at Velo Ideale (here in Christchurch). Go see him if you want a lovely utility bike!

She's soooo pretty.

She’s a beautiful creature with sleek, flowing lines, leather grips and a 3 speed internal geared hub. When I ride her I feel like a princess! Since I got her I’ve treated her to a few important upgrades. I was lucky enough to win a blogging competition with actual prize money so I was able to get myself a gorgeous Brooks saddle and a detachable wicker basket. I love both greatly. The saddle is so beautiful and so comfortable (despite the dire warnings I received about butt destroying doom) and the basket compliments the bike perfectly. I’ve been taking great pleasure in biking to Mediterranean Foods and picking up yummy treats and a bottle of wine and popping them all in my basket. Then a brief cycle through the disaster zone that is the ever-shrinking central city (well, not through so much as along the edge of) and I’m home with a smile on my face.

Panniers are classy on the outside.....

Biking to work is a joy every day. Although when you’re sitting upright on a bike any head wind is a slight challenge. There has only been one thing I’ve longed for. I’ve got some lovely touring panniers that I use for doing the grocery shopping, but they are big and bulky and I don’t like leaving things in them when I’m in a café or wandering the shops (the few we have left). So I’ve made myself a set of classy shoulder bag style panniers. They fit my laptop and double as a great handbag, unlike my basket which isn’t really ideal as a handbag.

....fun on the inside. Also with handy pockets.

Not bad as a bag.

Making these babies has been a mission and I would never ever recommend that anyone attempt to sew anything more complicated than a table cloth out of oil-skin fabric. Nightmare. Broken needles, bent pins and hours of frustration. The panniers look great, but I’m still not convinced that the effort was worth it. Well, I’ll see when I head to work.