Trust House Classic? Sure can...

'Twas a drizzly morning which greeted us today, so a decision was made to get some other stuff done while we had a chance. First stop, Masterton for some computer advice. Kedan hasn't been able to log in to his email account, and I couldn't load mp3's onto my memory stick.
The nice couple at the store soon had us sorted. I was trying to load mp4s, and Kedan had simply forgotten some of his password. Yeah, computer geniuses. $25 later we were happy.

We then headed out to Admiral Hill to catch the last climb of Stage 5 of the Trust House Wellington-Wairarapa Classic, or Tour of Wellington, depending what you read. This race has been going on since we got here, all around the area, but this was our first taste of it.

Aussie David Pell was away solo and I presume he won the stage, such was his lead. It was wet and nasty on the climb, with a few steep pinches, and the peleton was split into 4 or 5 groups, with a large number of riders pulled from the race at the bottom of the climb. Kiwi Hayden Roulston seems to have the GC wrapped up, and Aussie Brett Aitken was leading the Sprint classification. The race finishes in Wellington tomorrow. We might catch the crit after our ride, if we get one in. After lunch we hopped on our bikes and rode around to the local park and showed our formidable frisbee skills. Behind the back, under the leg, between the legs jumper, all the hot catchin moves. I didn't breathe that hard or sweat that much climbing at Makara yesterday, and I've got a sore knee, hip, and a huge graze on my thigh. Shoulda stuck to the bike. There was also a fitness circuit around the edge of the park, and we were trying to ride along the railings and logs. Tomky we ain't, although I did manage to get my front wheel up onto a railing, and balanced there for about 10 seconds. For that 10 seconds, I WAS Tomky! Over yonder was a little skate park, so we tooled around in there until I blew my rear tyre doing a sick thing on a ramp. Boy it was sick. Good fun, a bit of cross training and kept us on the streets. But I belong on the trails, and that's were we're gonna be....

Peakin' at Makara

We finally got on the bikes today, and as a nice intro to NZ riding for the K Man, I took him to Wellington's famous Makara Peak. We hooked up with Christchurchians Brent and June, who we met yesterday at the Dry Creek Trailhead, and started the long (about an hour), steady climb to the top, up Koru, Sally Alley, Missing Link and Aratihi. Halfway up we met up with 5 other riders, who were also from Christchurch. We climbed as a group, a group that was splattered all over the hill as we suffered in silence. At the peak it was the usual cloudy, windy, cold conditions, so we quickly headed back down, via the Ridgeline track. What a cool trail, pretty techy, steep, narrow and on the edge of, surprisingly, the ridgeline. At the bottom of Ridgeline, as I came flying out of the trail, two young fellas about 13 or so were watching us come down and were lovin it. They followed us down to the Skills Area, where we proved once and for all that we don't have any! But it was fun trying. We rode off drops, jumped table-tops, see-sawed and North-Shored some shit. After about an hour of that, it was time for the final drop down to the carpark, via Livewires. What a hoot. Tight, twisty sections mixed with steep fast chutes and some nasty corners. How nasty? You'll have to ask Kedan about that. We didn't cover half of what I wanted to, but tomorrow we hit it again, taking in the stuff we missed today. After cleaning up in the carpark, we drove into the city via the Botanic Gardens, and had a walk around the CBD, along Lambton Quay. We got sore neck muscles and sunburned eyeballs from all the Kiwi talent wandering about. I thought I saw Eva about a dozen times, and we would yell out the car windows "EEEEVVVVAAAAAHHHHHH." But she never appeared. Sigh. So more Makara next, then Belmont Park and the Wind Turbine, trails I've never done before, but have heard good things about. Wellington rocks.

Made It...

After three days of trying, we are finally in the land of the long white cloud. We set out at 8am, and it was rain rather than fire which we had to deal with this time. After a couple of scares where the traffic was almost stopped and flashing lights relected off the wet tarmac, it was fairly smooth sailing to Sydney.We dropped off the hire car and lugged our bags and bike boxes up to the top floor, where we were told we actually had to be in the Domestic terminal, to get to Brisbane for our connection to Wellington. Now, we were on the top deck, but taxis aren't allowed to pick up fares from there. So a little sweet-talking to the TaxiCop, and we were on our way to the Domestic. It was about this time that I spotted a very attractive young lass, who seemed to be wherever we were... I noticed from her ticket holder that she was Dutch, and she was heading to NZ too. At BrisVegas (WTF is that?) she popped up again, and we all got talking while waiting for the flight. Her name is Eva, but she's a lot better looking than Rob! The flight left a touch early, and I slept most of the three hour trip. We touched down in the Windy City about midnight, and had to go through the unpack bike/check for dirt/re-pack bike routine at Customs. After passing with flying colours, we set about getting to our motel. I was lamenting the fact that I'd missed seeing her before we left, but when we spilled out into the cool night air, there she was, waiting. Me and Kedan screamed out simultaneously "EEEEVVVAAAAAAAAAA!!" Amazingly, she heard us. We grabbed a shuttle bus together, and when we got to our motel (the Comfort, same one me and Christian stayed at last time) I gave her every contact detail for me, Kedan, mum n' dad, email, fax, carrier pigeon and anything else I could think of! I don't expect to be hearing from her..... hehe.
Next morning, we waited for mum n dad to arrive with the car, and then I took Kedoss on a quick tour around Wellington. We stopped in at Dry Creek trail, and met a couple from Christchurch who were both riding Stumpies. We arranged to meet them tomorrow and take them up to Makara Peak, which will also be Kedan's first taste of NZ manna. Should be good, if it doesn't rain, which is predicted. Hoefully it won't and we'll kick start this baby properly.

F3... The 'F' is for F*#K!!

What is it about me and the F3 Freeway?



After spending the last few days in a futile attempt to get loosely organised (and I use the terms 'loosely' and 'organised' in their loosest of loose forms) for our foray to NZ (oh, did I mention that? Yeah I'm off to NZ for a bit. Of riding.) the K-man and myself loaded up the rental and were about to leave when the phone rang. Dad. "Have you heard about the fires blocking the F3? Well, no! Hmmm. Flashbacks to New Year's Day 06 rapidly filled my head with dread. That day was about 44c. No air con in my car. We had to turn around and stay overnight at Richy's. A nightmare, but we saved his dog. Then on our next venture south, we were stuck again on our way home when a major accident blocked the highway. Today was thankfully 'only' around the mid 30s, and we had the luxury of an air-conditioned car, so that wasn't a major concern. What was tough, was the fact that we were pissing in the wind if we thought we were gonna make it to the airport on time. Radio was saying that it was about a 3 hour crawl down the old Pacific Highway, and just as we were detoured onto it the word came through that it was out of action too.

Choppers hovered above, either dropping water on the flames or filming it for the news (we saw our car!) Keeds was walking up the road to see what was going on, and was relaying news back down the line. Well, people were just grabbing him and asking what he knew. A lady even came up to us and said "I was told you're the man to speak to" to Kedan! Then another guy appeared and asked where the race was we were going to do. I looked on in bemusement as Kedan spat out "Ara tara katara ra" or some such drivel. I quietly hoped the guy wasn't a Kiwi and required more information.

Finally we got to move the 400 metres to a point we could turn around and see the turmoil behind. The traffic was backed up from where we had been for about 10km, and people looked like they were settling in for the long haul. Our shouts of "GO BACK YOU FOOLS" fell on dumb ears, but we couldn't give a crap by this stage... we were outa there. So after three hours of sitting still and a slew of calls to airlines later, we were heading back towards home with tails between our legs and rescheduled flights for Wednesday. The chick at Virgin was really good, not like those bastards at Qantas, and even though we have to pay a bit extra for the seats, she waived the changeover fee and was generally really helpful. There are still some good employees of Giant Global Money Laundering Corporations out there after all. So now we'll have another crack at getting across the pond on Wednesday, Acts of Nature permitting. We've done the drill, now it's showtime.

*UPDATE: The 'chick at Virgin' is Tracey, and she called Kedan this morning to say that we don't have to pay anything at all to change our flights, and the same for everyone who was caught in the fires. Nice one Virgin!

EBO!!!

Newcastle's latest short, floppy-haired road racing sensation is the man (boy) they (we) call 'Ebo', Ebo!



First up a couple of weeks back he popped up in the break in the Cronulla Criterium, taking 4th behind the likes of Graeme Brown and Matt White, no slouches. It was good to catch up with him on New Year's Eve and have a few beers, showing his commitment (or is it insanity) by trudging off to train at 8 on NY morning after 2 hours sleep. Then two days later he pops up in the break in the first race of the Bay Series in Melbourne. Takes 2nd in a sprint. Gets his name spelled wrong, in several different ways. Ebling. Embling. Eblining. FFS, it's E B E L I N G. Next day he was at it again, getting in the break, winning a sprint against Gerrans, then trying to bridge across to the 3 man break alone, a good way to get exposure if ever there was one. Not content with all that, he also got his mug on SBS's Cycling Central programme, even managing to string a few cliches together for the cameras. Of course Tomalaris and those morons proved once again their ineptitude by using the 'Eblining' spelling. Nice one! Here's hoping he can take the momentum and exposure he's gained and have a good crack at it. I reckon he can.

Stumped

Well a new year is upon us once again, and it's shaping up to be a good one. New bike, New Zealand.... the Stumpy is amazing, I've been having too much fun to actually tell all 4 of you readers about it. It's surprisingly light, pedals as well as the Epic, and soaks up the rough stuff like a sponge soaks up something. I was gonna say cat piss, but I didn't think that was appropriate. Anyway, it's good. Dare I say it.... the perfect bike? There, said it.



So it's off to NZ again in January, this time for God-knows-how-long. The K-man is flying the mission in the Starship Laser this time, and there's a little posse of Newcastle lads heading over, by coincidence, in Feb. Freemo, Quaino, Bistro and Bower-o will be hitting the North Island, so we plan to be in the South at that time, by coincidence.



Well Happy New Year to all 4 of you, cue tumbleweed and wind....

Stalled...

Yep, the ol' blog ain't what she used to be. A combination of too much work, too little riding, and not much else happening led to a downturn in production of, well, 100%. But things are picking up, so here's a bit of a rundown of minor events past, present, and Monday.

New bikes, new bikes everywhere!


Tis the season to be buying cool shit! Col picked up a new Epic Carbon frameset and immediately set about to Colinize it by adorning it with pre-dirtened (I think I just made up a word...) parts. But in an incident that shocked the veterans cycling fraternity and heartened the mechanics at work, Col's beloved and mystery-shrouded piece of string was somehow misplaced in the excitement of the union of frame and filth.

Not to be outdone, Christian popped for a new road bike, and has a new mounno on the way. His roady, an Opera, came in a frame size which was a touch too big, and looked like a kid's bike with the seat pole slammed down (apparently, this is what he said...unfortunately I didn't get to laugh at it or him). But now he's got the right size, so opportunity missed.



What happened to my Epic? It's all in bits! There's bits of bikes everywhere at the moment, on the garage floor, in boxes, and on eBay. Why? Coz it's out with the old girl, and in with.....



The New!! Yesiree, that's mah noo girl. Perfect NZ bike. Did someone say NZ? Another tilt coming up soon, a bit longer hopefully, but I might have a new little word-related venture in the pipeline. And that's all I know.... news when it comes to hand...my hand.



You want a spoon with that? Never a contender for beer of the week, this one. Steve brews a pretty good 'homie' usually, but this wasn't one of them. It tasted like it looks...fizzy. And that's what you get for helping a mate out woith a singlespeed conversion!

Ok, that's it for now, I'll add some links and stuff when I get some time, which could be this weekend with it pissing down and no bike!

Watch this space......

Flung

I hate computers. I'd written up a bit of a blurb about the Fling, but then my computer decided that it was hungry. So briefly, a good weekend away, the race was the most painful I've ever done, Deano kicked ass again, Col loaded up and did the same to me and Scotty, Andrea pit-bitched to her usual high level and I've just stopped aching now.

Col finds a spot on his bike that is not covered in dirt, tape, string or zip ties. Or he's stashing some of his 'special tablets' for later in the race.

Deano wonders if he takes another crap in his knicks, will anyone notice?, while me and Col attempt to qualify for the 2007 World Stare-Out Championships.

In a bizarre coincidence, our numbers were exactly the same as our ages in dog years.

There's those wankers again! (Was what I heard someone else say.) The guy in yellow is checking out Deano's arse... worth a look too.

Scotty hits the front at 10 metres, before fading to 237th after the first km. The guy in yellow tries to keep sight of deano's arse. He didn't. Worth a try though.

He may be a sick, twisted human, but Deano can ride a bike fast for a long time. And he has some weird mates.

Scotty realises 100m from the finish that he could've saved an hour or two if he rode with his hands on the bars.

Next year's poster boy? Maybe for this.

580 dog years + 110 kms x 3 = 0.

Port-folio

Lollapalooza it ain't. A small turnout added to the laid back feel of the race and the weekend. And if there's only ten riders in your grade, you're top-tennin' that shit.



It doesn't go as fast as I thought it would. 110? My car can do that.



This guy gave us bogus directions to the race then kept following me around saying he wanted to be in the blog. Not happening. And stop calling me.



Freemo ran one SPD and one flat to aid cornering on the predominantly right hand turn oriented track. It was working until it stopped working, costing him the race, and any semblance of credibility he may have been clinging to.



There were some wankers there who thought they were a team of some sort, but only one of them could ride. The other one finished ahead of me too. I can't ride.



There they are, told ya! *Guess which one can ride. **Now look at the other one. I can't ride.


*Did you guess which one can ride? Yes, it's the guy taking a crap in his knicks!
**I think the other one might be a woman.