Makes me want to go on a nice, long road ride...

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Take Two

Time is running out. The K word is only three weeks away, and I feel like I'm in stasis. My social life is eating into my training time, and now the rain has come to waylay any attempts to keep/improve any condition I may have. Drastic measures are being taken, maybe a little hint of desperation mixed in too.
Waitangi Day saw me nursing a two-day-old hangover and ten hours sleep from the previous 48, and a lack of decent food the night before doesn't help with a Karapoti pre-run. But as I'd committed to the cause, and didn't want to waste a perfect day, I slunk my sorry arse into Marty's wagon, along with Rob, and prepared to endure. Mike, JJ and Roger were already raring to go by the time we hit the carpark, and were away up the gorge while we tried to get motivated. The trail was in a lot more desirable condition than our previous attempt, but it wasn't helping the legs any. At least we were peeling off clothing rather than packing it on in an attempt to stay dry/warm. We caught up to JJ and roger on the Warm-Up Climb, and as I was giving Roger the old g'day, I managed to fall over, on a climb, in granny gear, hardly moving... it's a rare talent. At the top of Deadwood we met up with Mike, who had been smashing it up on the shop Test Enduro. JJ had managed to drop his bike while carrying it, putting a nice bend in his rim, which then became a taco when he applied his wheel-truing 'skills'. Roger rolled in and informed us that Rob had picked up a stick and snapped his derailleur and hanger, and was hoofing it back to the car. That guy is cursed, I swear. Marty and I decided it would be not too slack of us to continue on, so we tried not to hang around too much, but not ride like madmen either. I was starting to feel a bit more human, and even Devils Staircase didn't hurt too much. Marty managed to bury himself up to his knees in a boghole after being told by some punters that the middle was the best line. The Rock Garden and Big Ring Boulevard were fun, and then the last big grind up Dopers seemed to be less of a chore than I remembered it from two years ago. The descent and the ride back through the gorge came and went pretty quickly, and we were back to console the forlorn Yank in a touch over three hours. All I could think about was catching up on all that lost sleep, and how the K word is not such a bad one after all... though I'll see about that in three weeks.

Music stirs the soul...

One of the things I've missed most about not having all my possessions here in NZ is music. Yeah, I have an Ipod and a little speaker system for it, but I don't have my full CD and vinyl collection and a decent system to listen to it on. But I get by.

It's cool how certain bands or songs can take you to a time or a place in your life. Well, the soundtrack for my time here (so far) would have to be Sigur Ros. This band hails from Iceland, and on those cold Wellington winter nights, their haunting sound evokes images in my mind of what I imagine the Icelandic landscape would look like, and how the cold would feel on my skin, in my bones, and how that must influence the band to make such beautiful music. This video showcases both the music and the land. Amazing. I think I have to go there.

While watching their videos on youtube, I noticed that there was a link mentioning the Pixies, where they visit Sigur Ros's studio. Great musicians seem to respect and revere each other, and the Pixies have long been at the top of my list, so to find this connection was not entirely a surprise.

I then felt compelled to watch the great band performing during their reformation a couple of years ago, which I lamented missing out on (due to them playing Australia while I was here) back in 07.

Another of my all-time idols would have to be Bowie. In fact, his music changed my whole outlook when I discovered him around the late 70's as a teenager (me, not him). I delved into his entire back catalogue, and things would never be the same (and then the Pixies came along). Bowie is a huge Pixies fan too, and has covered their song 'Cactus' and done a pretty good job I think.

Which led me to this: a cover of Bowie's song 'Heroes' by Adrian Belew and Martha Wainwright. I remember watching this when it aired on SBS show Rockwiz. I was at Phillipa and Steve's place, it was a Saturday night and we were all in awe at this amazing performance. Phillipa's son Sam made comment of Martha's sexy aura and great voice, and I'd have to agree with his assessment.

Martha had also appeared on Rockwiz previously, dueting with Dan Kelly (without his Alpha Males). Once again, I remember witnessing this at Phillipa's house, and once again, we were blown away. Martha seems to be able to strike up an instant rapport with whoever she is performing, and her voice fits beautifully with the smooth pipes of Kelly here.


Also appearing on Rockwiz was NZ singer Anika Moa, possessor of one of the best voices and the cutest dimples and facial expressions I've ever seen/heard. This song will always have a place in my heart, and will carry me back to these shores, no matter where I may be. Music is a powerful force, and can take you anywhere you want, all over the world, and through time, without leaving your chair.

In Command, flat out

Sliced bread was undoubtedly a great invention, but as I reported a little while back, adjustable seatposts are just that little bit better. A few weeks after initially running/rocking a Joplin, we got word that the Specialized Command Post was about to hit our shores (which considering the diminutive size of this country, is no mean feat). There's nothing at all wrong with the Joplin, but the blurb on the Command Post said it was a bit lighter, and of course that's all I need to base an outlandishly expensive purchase on. Everyone else in the country must've had the same idea, or believed the hype, as the whole huge shipment of fifteen (!) posts sold out in a matter of hours. The due date for the next lot was late March. I could wait, but could Mike? Of course not, so armed with a tip-off from Fraser, he tracked one down at another store in Levin of all places. (If you are unfamiliar with Levin, it's not the end of the world, but you can see it from there.) But they ended up selling it before he could get his grubby little hands on it. Then, out of the blue, the two that we had put on backorder turned up. I promptly sold my Joplin to Magnus, and took command. So Sunday was the test ride, and it works as advertised. It has three positions rather than the infinite adjustment of the Joplin, but the 'Cruiser' position (30mm drop) is awesome for technical but not-too-steep-stuff, like on Deliverance. Also new on the Stumpy is a Ritchey Carbon flat bar that is on test for SPOKE. It's got a 10 degree back sweep, similar to most riser bars, but without the rise (obviously). I thought it might be a bit too XC for my bike, but I'm impressed how good it feels. It kicks forward from the stem, so the sweep doesn't put you too far back like some other bars. The test ride of choice was up Rollercoaster, down Deliverance, then to the summit of Makara and down into Wahine. I don't know if it was the post, the great condition the trail is in, or my superior bike-handling skills, but I cleaned Deliverance for only the second time ever. There was a German invasion along too, with Magnus rocking his Joplin and Jan on the comeback trail after his attempt to have two elbows on the one arm. As he screamed like a baby when he got some leg cramps, I can only imagine the shrieking that must've occured when he snapped his arm in half. After the ride and a quick coffee it was down to Lambton Quay for the Tour of Welly criterium. On Yer Bike's own Michael "Hammerin" Naylor was getting spat out of the bunch after getting tangled up in a crash, and he looked resplendent in his new/my old helmet. The weekend was nicely topped off with a few beers at Macs with Claire, Magnus and Rob.

Krapapoti

It's inevitable that in the lead-up to Karapoti that you're gonna have to do a reconaissance ride. Weeks ago, Mike had decided the time, and last Sunday would be it. As the day drew closer, all eyes were on the Wind Guru with trepidation as the winds were to be howling and the rain to be pouring. Mike kept his optimism high, as did JJ, while I was my realistic (read: pessimistic) self, predicting that the day could be a wet and muddy hell. Only time would tell. Rain heavy enough to wake me up fell during the night, and text tennis was being played between all in the morning. Mike and his crew (JJ, Jamie, Roger, Grant and his dad) were packed and going, while my crew (Magnus, Paul and Marty) were still debating the merits of risking drowning in an infamous Karapoti boghole. Paul, being the mental case that he is, predicted that the rain would be lighter in the mountains... Marty, Magnus and I derided him, with good reason. Paul should leave the comedy to his brother. As we got closer to the Akatarawas, it was teeming. But we were there, and with every chance that race day could be the same, we headed off up the gorge. It wasn't long, about fifty metres in fact, before we were covered from head to toe in mud. Now Karapoti isn't exactly know as a fun ride, it's pretty much all fireroad, and most of that is granny-gear climbs that seem to go on forever. Magnus got a flat at the bottom of the Warm-Up climb, and waiting for him at the top we were anything but warmed up. Next up was the Deadwood climb, longer and steeper in places, and at the top the rain was getting heavier, and we weren't even close to halfway. We decided to cut our losses and turned around and pinned it back downhill to the carpark, tails between our legs. Mike and his crew had decided the same thing and were already packing up by the time we got back, after returning via a shortcut. By the time we drove back to Welly, the sun was shining but the wind was nasty, so we weren't too unhappy about our decision. Well, I wasn't anyway, and somehow felt like saying "I told you so"... but I'd never do that. The plan is to go and have another crack this weekend, but with the Tour of Wellington winding up with a criterium in Lambton Quay on Sunday, it seems like watching others suffer might be the better option.

OYB XMAS BBQ Ride

Xmas in January is a concept that's new to me. But last Sunday the Big (and Lady) Kahuna hosted our work xmas get together at his house up on the Kapiti coast. Both our stores got together for a barby in the afternoon, but first Simon from the Paraparaumu store took us on a ride around his local stomping ground. The Welly crew was represented by myself, Josh, Mike and JJ (Josh Junior) while Simon was the only Pram man. Ex-roadie sandwich-eating beautiful men were represented by Fraser.
While I like riding, what I really wanted to see was the eels being fed just up the road at Ngarara, and I petitioned hard for us to abandon the mountains in favour of morays, but I was duly ignored. Natalie, Karen and Keisha got to enjoy the spectacle though, and by all accounts, it is a show not to be missed (or was it witnessed?) a second time.


It was good to get out and ride some different trails though, even if most of the 'trails' were either road or fireroad. There were a lot of long climbs, and the views of Kapiti Island were pretty damn impressive.

Everyone had a go at getting up this short, snotty rock face, well everyone except me (bad knee/taking photos...) and Fraser (too pretty/roady...). No one made it.

Josh was riding the shop test Enduro, and took on the persona of a rad all-mountain rider... well, at least the face of one.


We got to ride for about three hours, and when we got back to Kamp Kahuna it was a quick dip in the sea (brrrr) and jet ski-ing for the brave/stupid. The spa seemed like a better option.
The rest of the OYB team and hangers on turned up during the afternoon, and as usual the Big Kahuna put on a great spread, some beers were consumed, and a good day was had by all.

You're never too old to learn...

Every other Tuesday night, I put on my tweed jacket with the leather elbow patches, fill a Thermos with Earl Grey and drive the Rover 3500 to the designated home of one of my fellow members of our esteemed Book Group. As a big fan of the brilliant British television show of the same name, I was hoping that the participants and scenarios would be of the same ilk (i.e Dutch and Swedish footballer's girlfriends, transplanted Americans and frustrated housewives) but sadly instead it's more the domain of 70 year old widows, accountants, drama students and science teachers (who also choose the Rover as their preferred mode of transport). And much to my chagrin, most of them are there to actually read books and then discuss them. We each get to pick a book, so I was somewhat shocked yet pleasantly surprised when Doris (God bless her hand-darned socks) picked the 'Whizzkids [guide to] Bikes'. As we each need to have a copy of the designated tome to peruse at our leisure over the impending fortnight, and suspecting that Doris had dug up her copy from beneath dozens of Dominion Posts and English Womens Weeklys circa 1956, I knew I (and the rest of the group) would have a difficult task to procure our very own 'bibles of bike advice'. Luckily for me, I happen to be befriended by tight-fisted, unimaginitive and lazy friends, and it was to this end that Josh came up with a completely serendipitous Festivus gift for me. Yes, he had managed to find the Whizzkids manual! Actually, he didn't so much as find it, but had it thrust upon him by a flatmate, who in turn had stumbled upon it in one of Wellington's many second-hand thrift stores, no doubt buried beneath a pile of New Ideas of much the same era as Doris'. Displaying a similar gift-giving torpor as I myself am wont to employ (I'd given him the copy of 'Death Cults' that K-Man had left behind back in 07, and which had been buried not under old newspapers, but old free Real Estate guides from the previous two years) he had simply passed it on to me while passing it off as something he had actively sought-out and put a lot of thought into. Ok, he did tell me the true circumstances of it's aquisition and admitted to it being a "shit gift". But I saw it differently. In fact, I thought it was one of the best gifts I'd received in recent Festivus memory; much better than the tighty-whitey underwear from Mike, or the wind-up kangaroo that Josh had bestowed upon me last Festivus, which promptly broke after only one trip off the edge of the table. Plus I'd probably be the only member of my Book Group (besides Doris, of course) who would actually have had the good fortune to read it and would be able to critique its many helpful tips. After all, the WhizzKids professed that after reading their book, that I'd be able to "beat the experts at their own game". And as I am supposed to be one of these so-called 'experts', I look forward to beating myself at my own game, something I've miserably failed to achieve despite decades of trying. I can't wait to peruse some of the other titles in the series too, as I've always harboured a burning desire to be a detective or a magician. Maybe Doris has them buried somewhere....

Belgian Cyclocross National Championship 09

Looking back

Another year is done and dusted. Time to make resolutions and then forget about them, or push them to one side, or not make them at all. I usually go with the latter, as it saves the effort of actually thinking of something that I want to do in the new year, or more aptly saves me from thinking about all the aspects of my life that could do with brushing up. I'd rather just keep doing whatever it is that I'm doing, proficiently or otherwise. And it's not so bad, when I look back at the last year there's been a fair bit going on, and not much of it at all bad. The year started off about as well as it could when Josh and I headed up to Vegas for the New Year, and had some great rides with Ratas, who I was just getting to know. It would turn out that he's as sick and twisted as myself and a lot more rides and good times would be had. February saw the first of many bike purchases among our posse as Mike got a new Stumpy Expert which would eventually morph into a Pro and then an S-Works carbon, somehow avoiding a marriage break-up in the processs. Lots of new trails were revealed around the city, including Wainui, Belmont and a heap of singletrack tucked away in the hills on the way to Makara. I got to catch up briefly with my old friend/workmate Ebo when he was in town burgling the KOM jersey at the Wellington Tour.
There were more new bikes when Josh got his Turner Flux, I traded my Tarmac for a Roubaix and the Stumpy was upgraded for a new model. Mike put his new machine through its paces with a great ride at Karapoti while Josh didn't have a day he'd like to remember. I got down with Kate and James and the crew at Summerset which was a good blow-out-the-cobwebs mission. If there were any cobwebs left, I completely drowned them in a weekend of many beers and no gears at the NZ Singlespeed Nationals in Vegas, where I put my new TriCross to good use after selling my trusty Langster to Chris The Courier, who stormed to a 6th place after consuming not much less beer than me. Josh got a new Tarmac and the late summer evenings saw a couple of Wellycats alleycat races which were pretty fun. Fun was not something I'd describe a three-hour sitting with one Henry Rollins as, more like a aural barrage to be endured, even though everything he said held us captive. Everytime I rode around the Bays, or on the trails with views like this, I was reminded why I love Wellington so much and why I'm still here. Winter started to set in, and Ratas somehow convinced us that getting up at 5.30am a couple of mornings a week in the cold would be a good idea, and though it may not have been good for our bikes, it seemed to do the trick for our fitness later on. Maybe Australia would be warmer, so off I went for a three week holiday, which coincided with Le Tour and getting some wisdom teeth out in between catching up with my family, friends and cats. I put the winter training to good use with some successful races at the Whaka 100 and the Welly 12 Hour, but managed to crash before the Makara Peak Rally and not get to race it for the second year running. The lay-off meant for more beer consumption, good preparation for Ratas' Festivus celebrations, a great way to finish up a pretty decent year. If 09 is as good, then it'll be not too damn shabby either. Happy New Year to all my friends on both sides of the ditch!

Festivus: Bikes, bats, balls, beers (and Bolts!)

Festivus 08 turned out to be a great day. Ratas had it all planned out, a ride in the morning and eating, drinking and being merry in the afternoon.

Of course the Bays were calling, and the views of the city were great as always.

Karl was getting a little bit over-excited about the Pohutakawa trees in blossom. They do look pretty spectacular though, and apparently if they are in bloom before Festivus then we are in for a good, long summer.







The Petanque was hotly contested and the skills were finely honed. The front yard proved to be a better surface than the back.





The Ratahi's back yard isn't exactly ideal for cricket either, but we kept the Kiwi/Aussie rivalry alive with the usual Aussie dominance prevailing, until I managed to injure myself (again) and had to administer some more hop-based painkillers. Of course the 'underarm incident' was dragged up during the game, by Claire who isn't even a real Kiwi!



On the way over I was following this bus, which reminded me of my cat Bolts back in Aus.



I'd bought a bottle of red in his honour also, and I wondered what the little fella was up to....



Well he was filling my seat and eating prawns apparently!

I hope everyone had a good Festivus.