While the annual Thredbo training camp was held the TSS took a break and headed down to Evandale, Tasmania for the 2013 edition of the Evandale Village Fair and National Penny Farthing Championships. This year was the 31st running of the championships at Evandale. The town itself is located 5km from Launceston airport and 20km from Launcestion city centre. The event is held within the Evandale Village fair and is the main drawcard once you visit the car show, steam engine show, vintage motorcycle show, bands, food stalls, markets, more bands, art show, cat show, dog show, rabbit show etc, much like the Royal Easter Show except there are around 60 penny farthings racing around. Now before you ask, no I don’t own a penny farthing, I borrow one off a collector and manager of the NSW team.

We arrived on Friday after flying in with ‘Delaystar’ from Sydney. The bikes were transported down over a week earlier via standby airfreight. Once we collected the hire car and strapped in the youngsters we headed to Evandale to register and go for a training ride. It had been 5 years since I rode a penny farthing (PF) and 5 years since I had been to Tasmania, nothing much had changed. We met the organiser, signed on and collected the ride pack. Strapped on a helmet and did 30 mins on the PF around the streets of Evandale, down the hill out of town, back up the hill and finished off the training session with 2 sprints at 80% before cooling down, all felt fine for race day. Reading the race pack (form guide on the competition) there were 61 riders entered from the ages of 8 to 83yrs old. Most riders are aged between 20 and 60.

Race Day: The kids didn’t sleep in so I took advantage of arriving early to do some more hot laps of the actual race course before we got down to business. I borrowed Dragons and Danny Boys helmet cams (thanks to you both) and took some footage of the warm up for you all to enjoy. I couldn’t wear the cameras during racing unfortunately as this footage would have been even better. The day presented some very close racing with plenty of action. There were two crashes during the day with one broken bike and one member of the crowd being taken out by a flying rider who happened to run over a mouse in the middle of the corner in front of the pub (refer footage), this shot him across the road and into the crowd. The mouse who had been residing in one of the workcover approved hay bales died instantly.

The race day is a series of different races as follows:

• The Slow race, riders must move forward at all times within a  2m wide lane, the course is 10m long. The slowest rider of each heat progresses to the next round until 4 riders remain. These 4 then ‘ride off’ for gold, silver, bronze and 4th. I managed to win my first heat then missed the second round cut by about 10cm. Final ride off placed me in 6th.
• The Slalom race, riders ride around 10 witches hats over a 50m course from a standing start. The top 8 fastest ride off for medals. I qualified in 5th at 11.35 seconds. Unfortunately I didn’t get a good start which is paramount in this event and lost the next round by about 30cms at the finish line. Final ride off placed me 5th.
• The sprint. A standing start 200m straight line sprint race. The top placed rider of 8 heats progress to the final round. I qualified in a time of 15.56 seconds to make the final round. The final round was slighly quicker and I was just pipped for third place and ended up 4th in the photo finish for 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th.
• The Relay. This is a hotly contested event and is based by state and/or country. NSW fielded 2 teams of 4 riders per team, however we were a little light on horsepower so we adopted the approach to have our slowest rider go first and we would then chase. This worked reasonably well however our slowest rider wasn’t as confident on the corners as the rest of us so we had to make up time and positions as the race went on. Another 5th place in the end.
• The Obstacle race. This is the PF version of cyclocross. The course is 100m long in one direction. The race consists of running the first 100m, carry your PF back to the start line 100m, then run with the PF wheels on the ground, then ride the last 100m to the finish. A big field started the race with the usual chaos of flying bikes and bodies. 5th place in the end.
• The national championship heats, I was scheduled to ride the last heat with the top 2 to progress to the final round. The second and fourth heats contained high speed crashes which took out one of the previous winners of the national championship. My heat was reasonably quick. I stayed up the front of the group of 12 out of harm’s way which worked well. A little sneaky breakaway in the last lap secured a spot in the final with me placing second in the heat to local sensation rider much to the crowds delight.
• The National Championship. The open category now had the top 8 riders of which contained 4 previous winners. We were introduced to the crowd and completed a parade lap. Tension was high as the gun went. Immediately James Fowler (NSW) went to the front and set a pace so high that after 1.5 laps of the 500m course we had dropped three riders, now down to 5. At this stage I was finding the pace tough but was sitting pretty in 4th position with the local sensation in 2nd position, Sean Hennesy in 3rd (VIC) and Heath Blair (Tas) in 5th position. The pace eased in the 3rd lap and that’s when the tactical battle started. There were a few close calls in the corners but somehow I managed to get myself into 3rd position as we entered the 4th and last lap. The last lap pace was even quicker and into the 2nd corner I felt the bike sliding slightly. I kept the power on as I started to set myself up for an inside manoeuvre on the last corner as practiced earlier in the morning. Sean launched his move in the corner and I was ready for it, unfortunately he had more horsepower than me as I chased hard up the final straight, passing James half way up the final straight to take 2nd place, James took third.
• Over 50’s National Championship: 2 laps of the course. Won by a New Zealand rider this year.
• Over 60’s National Championship: 2 laps of the course. Won by Peter Jones, local rider (the guy riding the motorbike in the film clip)
• Over 70’s National Championship: 2 laps of the course. Won by local rider.
• Women’s National Championship: 2 laps of the course. Won by English rider.
• Elimination Race: The last rider past the finish line each lap is removed from the race until the final 4 sprint for the placings. 3rd place in this one.
• Handicap race: Run in reverse direction, the 4 top riders were off scratch with 40 seconds delay on the slower riders. The race is 4 laps and we managed to make the top 10, 6th overall.

The photo is about 30m+ from the actual finish line of the national championship. Sean (the winner) was about 3 bike lengths or so in front of me (in red with white helmet). I was slowly catching him but not fast enough. Sean was the fastest rider of the meet.

So a fun day with one silver and one bronze medal brought home. The kids loved it and my wife seemed to have a good time too. Hopefully I will get a leave pass to ride in the event again next year.

Cheers, Brownie

5:30 AM Top of Kisso. Assembled: Van Diemen, Wilson, Andy Hulme, and this B1. Damp mist and streetlights add atmosphere to the slight buzz of adrenaline of apprehension: This ride hurt me last time.

Pacific Highway, Fox Valley Road, Commenara Parkway onto Pennant Hills road, all prelude, still searching for the all-day rythm when Andy flats, barely 15 minutes in. He swaps tubes in a pool of light from Van Diemen’s bike; mist floats eerily in the beam.

We roll through Cherrybrook, Dural and Rouse Hill, in and out of the fog, before hitching a ride with a bunch rolling along Windsor Road. It’s a handy tow for the 15 kilometres into Windsor. We play Lantern Rouge to a single file of thirty bikes snaking along the Hawkesbury Valley Way, a massive concrete structure apparently floating over the paddocks below; red blinking lights and the whole bridge disappearing into the grey gloom ahead.

Through Richmond and across the Napean — the river pools and shoals up here, rushing through constrictions and Sheoaks; the locals are out casting for bass along the banks. We stop in the car park for a bite to eat and to steel ourselves for a thousand metres of climbing.

The pace has been solid, Van Diemen — the engine room — the driving force behind our 28 or 29 average for the two hours to the escarpment. But soon, after the next short stretch along the river, the big chainrings are dropped, small cogs swapped out for bigger cogs — then the biggest cog — as we tap up through the gums and the bellbirds to the bright blue sky and Hawkesbury Heights.

The view here stretches from the north end of the Sydney basin to the south — velvety plains as far as the eye can see, still swathed in morning fog — and the city skyline far away on the horizon. But all we see are metres gained; we roll through the carpark without slipping a cleat, eyes fixed ahead, and up. Andy H slides his helium-filled Baum to the front and takes control of the long drag to Springwood.

Nine o’clock when we roll into the village and Van Diemen’s keen for eggs and bacon. There’s a moment of dissonance, a disconnect between my memory of this place — the heat and the gravity and the relentlessly crushing effort — and the idea of settling in for a gentlemanly breakfast. Vestigial traces of urgency vanish with the first whiff of toast and coffee.

Full plates of food are delivered — and demolished — quickly. Coffee is loaded like avgas. We pay our bills and fill our bottles. Wilson rolls out on the front, towing us towards Katoomba.

In December, this section of the ride just would not end. One elevation after another, grinding relentlessly upwards. Whenever I lifted my head to steal a glance, squinting through the heat and the sweat, I’d see Fore waiting, patient and stationary at the top of the rise. He seemed to float magically from one crest to the next while I laboured away on my cranks.

But these are quiet reflections, ripples. Wilson’s tapping out a pace that’s ever so slightly quicker than comfortable — but it’s sustainable as long as I float through my gears, spinning more and forcing the issue less. The mountain won’t be bullied into submission. I trade heart rate for lactic acid. An occasional “ease up, big fella” goes neither astray nor, thankfully, unheeded.

We roll through Leura two and half hours after leaving the Napean over a thousand metres below — almost before realising the climbing is done — then coast down the back streets of Katoomba to Echo Point and stand in the clouds with our bikes and broad smiles.

The clouds lift, revealing Katoomba’s rough stone bluffs. When Van Diemen points his Colnago down the hill, he takes off like a missile and one by one we file in behind, pushing big gears and hunting for the slipstream. The upper mountains are dispatched in half an hour, then the long drag out to Hawkesbury Heights and the quick, hair-raising descent through the hairpins to the river.

We stop for cold drinks opposite the airforce base in Richmond, watching a Piper Cub doing touch-and-go’s on the runway.

The rest is business, pulling turns to the east. Rouse Hill, Castle Hill, Pennant Hills, all pass quietly as our legs carry us back towards Hornsby.

It’s 3pm when I tuck into a caramel sundae with Van Diemen; the Andies have rolled on for home. The sweet, cold ice-cream is a little celebration I won’t pass up: just over two hundred kilometres on the clock and a halfway decent climb by any standard. The sundae is sticky and delicious. A thought occurs to me as I’m turning the spoon upside down in my mouth: right about this point in ride, in 21 days time, we’ll just be starting up the back of Falls.

A great weekend of riding, and from reading the reports we’ll make it to the moon and back this year..

YHC was hit by a sudden rush of blood to the head and made a seemingly rational decision to ride the Fondo..Wisemans loop with the Boy , George and Wiggo.

A cool 20C at 6:30 rendezvous, George and Wiggo had already conquered GG , but the Galstone shops was a logical spot to start, and thus it for YHC it would also be a tortuous finish..

Rolling the Old Northern Rd, clear skies, nil wind, George at the front chuffing out a steady 30kph providing a draught for the lesser mortals, and all this with Georges trademark smile and gentle encouragement. YHC considers the Old Northern Rd as kind of “road to nowhere”, it goes on and on through a continuous loop of trees and short hills 50km before you arrive at the escarpment decent into Wisemans..where our lesser band of riders foraged for water but drew a blank..( anyone know of a tap there ? ) ( Mike “Wiggo” was experiencing mechanical issues and turned left for a flatter than the flat lands ride to Windsor )

The ferry across to the dark side, ( as the hill shadow provides a delicious shade from the gathering heat ) and a “gift of the road”..George found a spark plug spanner for his whipper snipper..yup sometimes these things just appear and you just say thank you. Once back in the groove, next stop Spencer, signpost says 25kms, but the further from the city you go the length of a km stretches..everywhere seems to take ages to reach, luckily Spencer is announced at about 10kms from Wisemans, and then you do another 15km to reach the village shops, at which there is perfect little cafe for a stop and refresh..cyclist special , coffee and bacon and egg roll for $8..and a happy snap for their facebook page..YHC merely indulged in a chocolate milkshake, but when combined with 2lts of water..$8.40. The serious climb out of the Hawkesbury valley begins a little way further down the road, temp just nudging 30C at the start, and still in a little shade, but the higher up the slope once clear of the trees and into chook hell..( pong of factory farmed chooks is quite overpowering )..temp climbed to 34C and our happy band gritted their teeth and pedalled on..( Party political broadcast..factory chook farms are just plain wrong, designed and implemented with ruthless efficiency and tellingly are the only farms I know of with 8ft chainlink wire fences with razor wire on the top..when they open the vents in warm weather, the stench is but one manifestation of the evil within)  PPB over …Mangrove mountain..aptly named, and relief found at the Corrugated Cafe on Peats Ridge Road..George now counting down the kms to home, 50 to go ( for him ) YHC another 70, nothing that a strawberry milkshake can’t fix..and coffees for the Boy and George, The Boy making this ride look easy, or maybe he just doesn’t sweat. 35.6 C on the Mt White section, George calls this “undulating..” also point of order, never ask George if a section contains a hill, he has no recollection of anything with an incline, for him the world is flat. Some flat sections you can ride without pedalling and go very fast some other flat sections you have to pedal a bit hard to keep going at a normal speed.

Pie in the Sky and for YHC the dream was nearly over, but the road was still long…a quick recovery Gatorade..and back into the heat but now it is the homeward leg, and familiar territory makes it not feel so bad, so the section to Mt Colah sped by in no time, You could hear the beers in Georges fridge calling ( but that would be a siren song to YHC ..GG with a beer in the legs..) He peeled off with grin and gusto, Boy and YHC pedalled on..Boy was headed to collect a car..Normanhurst..( no GG for him then ) but YHC made that right turn and set off with as much bravado as could muster for a gritty little climb out and home..

If it is not on strava it didn’t happen…thankfully a full and frank report uploaded with PBs and words like “Extreme” used to describe what was in fact a very enjoyable day ..many thanks to Mike, Boy and George.

BT

With alarm set for early start to try and beat the heat, and the bike prepared, it was early to bed.
After a week on the gold coast, with some quality miles chewed, it was time to do the long ride for the week, and find some hills too.

Just before nodding off, my phone pinged with a SMS from a mate of my brother, seeking some suffering. So I rang him to arrange an agreed meeting point and route. He was keen to throw in Springbrook, so I had to adjust my thinking. The planned route was Robina, Springbrook, Numinbah valley, Chillingham, Murwillumbah, tweed heads, Broadbeach.
I was up at 4 am and downed some breaky and got kitted. I rolled down the driveway to find my cadence sensor was interfering with the GPS ( I’d changed my wheels for the ride but not the magnet) so had to ride back to cut the sensors off the bike.)

Anyway I got 20 km’s in before meeting Brett at 530 at Robina.

Now Brett was an ex professional cyclist who liked to train alone… because he has limited cycling time these days, so when he’s out he is hammering the pedals….

I was feeling pretty guilty at this point, because I was wired to 160 km distance pace but we worked out a solution. Brett only had a ‘couple of hours’ while I was out for 6, so I suggested he tag along til he had to turn back, and he could open the jets on the return, sweet….

So we rolled through Robina and onto Springbrook road, which goes up a valley with rolling climbs, it took me back to my childhood passing the Mudgerabah war museum, little Nerang dam, and a picnic spot next to the river where I cooked my first damper on a stick with my brothers nearly 40 years ago…

Brett was great, happy to spin uphill…..I worked away trying to keep my heart rate down, good practise for 3 peaks I thought.

We finally emerged at the turn off well up Springbrook  after climbing 500 m, from here after a right turn the descent is technical and fast, averaging 15 degrees down over 6 km’s bringing us out in the Numinbah valley for a left turn and the beginning of a gradual climb of over 400 m to get us to the NSW boarder. This part of the ride is spectacular, with rain forest, no traffic, the incredible beauty of the Natural arch, and  the breath taking views when crossing the grid on the Qld/ NSW boarder.  90 km’s in with plenty to go. Oh and yes Brett turned back at Numinbah, thanks mate.

From here I descended again loosing the 400 m in a few km’s before rolling into Chillingham. This area is spectacular forming the rim of the volcano now known as Mount Warning.  PowerAde top up, and water filled before off again to Murwillumbah . This area was familiar having rowed on the tweed river between Murwillumbah , Condong, and tweed heads at school, they were the days…The sugar cane area is flat until  a climb through Terranora before descending into Tweed heads and then the familiar drag along the coast to Broadbeach for breakfast.

The hinterland is amazing, I’m hooked!

ride time 5 hours 51 minutes, 155 km’s. 2000 m vertical climb. Suffer score on strava ‘extreme’.

Cheers
Van Diemen

http://app.strava.com/activities/35877297

A HNY to all ER’s, their significant others, families and respective accountants.

A brief report of a quality vastly inferior to the standard now accustomed for ER foreign correspondent reports – apologies up front for that.

Plans were hatched about a month ago between Beebs*, WBA and myself for the potential for a canter in Beebs’ backyard – the Adelaide Hills. RTG too expressed interest however was rostered off South Australian family duties this year. Both Beebs and WBA are Adelaide-region locals from way back.

* for those newer members who haven’t yet met Beebs, he’s President of the South Australian Chapter of ER, having relocated home from Sydney a few years back now. He’s one of the few ERs who have been able to escape with providing their own ridename. Longer lived members will lovingly recall Beebs’ first email to the group regarding his thoughts on Alberto. Beebs is doing 3P (again) with us this year, so yet another reason to sign up pronto….

So the stage was set for a NYE spin. Designated meeting point with Beebs…. atop Greenhill Road, about 15km from town of which Strava suggests around 7km is climb (ave 5% or so). Departure time shifted from 5am to 5.15am at last minute as we know WBA likes his sleep.

Another cloudless sky delivered – as seems to be standard here – WBA weaving us through town around the waifs and strays from the night before – noting with great accuracy the judges’ chambers where he cut his legal teeth and still has his initials etched on the benches.

Only a couple of vehicles spotted on the drag up the hill to the meeting point – one cyclist going past but no appetite to chase down (sorry Clutters). A few minutes behind schedule prompted a WTFRU text from Beebs…..responded with “we’re near the top when we find out where it is”….

Eventually we found our man; still with Mallee Bull strength in whippets clothing; De Rosa champing at the bit; has got himself acquainted with a power crew of locals including his 37 year old neighbour he’s “domestiquing” in her prep for Ballarat shortly….watch this space.

Beebs took the reins for a spin of about 65km through his backyard. Absolutely sensational. Great roads, quiet, tree lined sections, plenty of opportunities for pain uphill or pinning the ears back going down. Beebs being the consummate gentleman guided us through some sharp downhills but regained elevation gently – the reverse route would have been a much different story – leaving ample opportunity for discussion and dissection of all matters important in the lives of three young practitioners of the pedal. Couldn’t ask for better.

Coffee absorbed at Stirling – alongside an electric power bowser which we assumed was for WBA’s Di2 – and a quick drool over an Eddy Merckx steely being piloted by a fellow practitioner sitting closeby.

Thence onward/upward to Mt Lofty – 180 degree views down over town and far beyond – mugshots below:

We bid Beebs thanks and farewell and headed off for a 15km downhill roll back to town – on bike path for the majority – and dreamt what it might be like to have all of this on your doorstep…..

[as an aside, I went for a drag up to Mt Lofty myself this morning, where the Egg and Tomato was recognised by a fellow cyclist……a mate of Schleck’s from Artarmon no less….needless to say, recruited]

[another spin with Beebs planned for tomorrow morn – excellent – WBA unfortunately on family duties. Lobbster, will be trying the Corkscrew; cleat covers will be carried]

Great to read about so many being out and about on the pedals over the holiday period……take care out there and watch out for fellow cyclists trying to slingshot.

Yours in spreadsheets.

Mark/Satnav

it was a ride that was almost never to be. a constellation of work, family commitments, and roadworks up the blue mountains was looking like my long-held plan of a ride to katoomba was going to stay that way; a plan for another time. fortunately, happen it did, and so it was at 8.15 on a friday morning B1/m and YHC found themselves with butterflys in their stomachs and 200km of tarmac in front of them. on good advice from ian, and some google mapping by B1, we headed west for pennant hills, castle hill and bella vista, joining the M7 bike path. we were lucky enough to hop on the back of 3 riders, making good time to the M4 turnoff at eastern creek. the mountains were in full view by this stage. cutting a blue/black line on the horizon, an ever present reminder of the toil to come. silent, omniscient, inviting.

and so to the climb. B1 was troubled with a loose headset early on and spotting a bike store in blaxland, got it tightened. on greeting us, the store’s owner said, pointing vaguely to B1’s peugeot beauty, “that’s vintage”. “yes, she is” blushed B1 in reply. i was quick to assure B1 that the owner was remarking purely on the steed and not the rider.

we had sailed through easily up to now but the temp started to rise with the climb. up to 38 celsius and with a westerly in our faces, it wasn’t long before we were haloed with salt and our lips dry. it didn’t drop below 30 degrees the whole time we were on the mountain.

3 sisters arrived 2 hours later. photos were taken (attached). a quick snack at cafe 88 in katoomba and the descent was on. a water stop and after being spat out the bottom of lapstone hill onto the M4, a swim would have been just the ticket. looking at the nepean river beneath us, B1 suggested a quick dip. ever the timekeeper, i declined. maybe next year B1. roll on gentlemen, roll on.

what felt like crystal cranking going west, now felt like riding through molasses heading east. a change in wind direction meant a gusty headwind, sometimes head-on, sometimes cross, but always against us. cursing at the gusts as they battered us, there was nothing to do but ride. and so we grabbed our handlebars and fell into it. like a daydream, or a fever. km after km of riding upstream, straining for a view of the M7, and north out of the headwind.

dry, dirty and sore, we finally rolled onto the M7 bike path, stopping for some HTFU pills in the shade of an overpass. B1’s feet were giving him trouble, and the pills seemed to do the trick. electing to go up pennant hills road we drove for home, flicking onto the pac hwy at hornsby. exhausted, we pointed the front wheels in the direction of home, and like old nags that have travelled the way a thousand times, our trusty steeds wheeled us to the front door.

looking back, curiously neither of us felt we had conquered the mountain. but do you ever? someone, somewhere has always done it faster. perhaps the victory is in you conquering you. a vindication your fears were nothing. a battle against the devils on your shoulder, or between you and the road – a battle you did overcome. and it is in that struggle, in that heat, exhaustion and in the camaraderie of your fellow riders, that you discover the difference between riding a bike and being a cyclist.

PS: If anyone wants a good read over the holidays, get your hands on Paul Fournel’s “Need for the Bike”. Also in French. It is, quite simply, the best book on cycling I have ever read.

Apologies to Godspeed You Black Emperor.

Dear Brethren of the Pedal..

I rode today… and I liked it a whole lot. Had a great time, and getting the Strava Kudos from you all, just makes the ride all the more sweeter.

Now let me take a moment and say, I rode today, albeit with a starkly different twist than the normal ER model for writing. One thing I’ve learned over time, is that the ER brand is hard to define at the best of times. We ride hard on the commute, yet only as fast as the slowest rider. So if anything we tend to act as a dichotomy of different neo-philosophies… but more on that later.

So how did I ride today? Well… I rode slowly. I looked around and smelled the roses while I rode. I made a concerted effort not to go fast. I think my avg speed was under 20 kph… which is how I like it!  Never the less, the climbs up the gorges were tough no matter what speed you do, and the weather was very hot.

I left the house after 8:00am. A little late for this time of year, but welcome change from the 5:30-6:30am starts that are de-rigour during the week. I love riding my bike in the heat, but am aware it sends my heart-rate very high. I am much more cautious in the heat as you would need to be.

I applied the brakes during every descent… and loved it. I saw a goanna in the wild, and I said hello to it.

I stopped in the valley at Galston Gorge, and said hello to the turkeys/chickens, that congregate at the Walkers intersection. I saw no walking enthusiasts.

Bobbo was getting very hot, so I slowed down even more, and kept a steady pace. I loved it. I twisted my head around at every opportunity to see what was going on in the bushland. This beats focusing straight ahead… as I was looking at the majestic views as I pedaled my way through my thoughts.

My thoughts ran free… mostly thinking about writing this email… an example of a random thought receiving expression in an action post ride.

I rode by myself… which I love. I was alone in my thoughts. Had no worry about going too slow/fast with another rider. I rode and searched for that quiet place inside myself… I found it only 15 minutes into the ride… and lost it again, 2 hours later when I got home.

For you, my brothers and sisters of the pedal… you might also have ridden your bike today, however you did not ride like me.

Have a great break… and will see you again mid jan.

Cheers

/Bucky

Congrats to the Founding Fathers of this great group.

To celebrate the SA Chapter held a mini Cogal last evening. The story goes something like this….:

Nick aka Gaynor arrived in our fair state (founded by free settlers, not convicts…)

I collected him from his hotel – no less than the Hilton mind you, home of the TDU. We tackled the frenzy of Adelaide’s peak hour – two sets of traffic lights as descibed by Gaynor. Ascending the mighty Lofty ranges, Gaynor had that look of anticipation mixed with fear. Some 20 minutes later we are in the man cave setting him up on the super Colnago EPS. It nearly died of fright as I tried to affix mountain bike pedals to such a thoroughbred steed.

Gaynor had mentioned SatNav and spreadsheets a number of times in the car, and then proceeded to take photos of my hidden man cave, within the man cave….the jig was up. I put two and two together. Gaynor might be posing as a marketing/sales/strategy guy, but he was indeed a forensic accountant. SatNav had sent him over to follow up unpaid ER affiliation fees and check out the books.

I gave nothing away that I knew his game, but plotted on what part of the hill he would meet an “unfortunate end” once out riding. We were both in the Egg & Tomato so even late into dusk we had no need for lights. With my evil plan in place I chose not to set Strava going – I wanted no record of this ride…

Once fitted we mounted and wandered our way through Piccadilly Valley and beyond. Down to Aldgate, past the resident Rhino (it’s true???) back up the valley and a quick regroup at the front of the Stirling Hotel before the beast of Mt Lofty beckoned. Gaynor was starting to flag and my time to strike was nigh. Once at the summit we took a few quick happy snaps to show Le Bullet that it really was an easy climb.

The descent now upon us, Gaynor must have seen the evil glint in my eye and kept so far back that attempts to foil his investigation proved unattainable. Besides, to do so would have been troublesome with new photographic evidence now recorded. Besides – I couldn’t hurt the Colnago.

Home at last after spotting a few Koalas we imbibed in some liquid refreshments to rehydrate. Unfortunately this turned to a few more, so by the time we had showered and changed and arrived back at the Stirling Pub for dinner the kitchen was closed. So much for local hospitality, we chose to continue with the re hydration approach with some Twisties supplement – dinner of champions.

Gaynor now considering betraying SatNav and moving to the SA Chapter. The lure of inaugural Secretary proving too much.

He did however mumble something about needed to purge himself of the SA diet or Jenny would have kittens. He then followed he need a Chippo Roman (sandal) massage to recover, so Sydney may ultimately win…

Good to fly the flag with a mini ER peloton over here.

Beebs

With my wife Kate, confined to a hospital bed for the foreseeable future with a pregnancy complication, I was far from focussed on this year’s Highland Fling 100miler event, held on the 11 November in the Southern Highland region of NSW. Things, however, were under control in hospital and Kate urged me to head down to the Bundanoon race village and take some time out to have a bit of ‘fun’ in the sun and dirt. So after a few short hours sleep in the car, I was lined up, ready for a long, hard day in the saddle.

I was in fairly good shape and being a few kg’s lighter, I was hoping it would equate to an improvement on last year’s performance even though I had not been on my MTB in over 6 months thanks to a new roadie.

At the Fling, the 100milers are sent off together with the non-elite 100km competitors which means the opening sector is pacey but reasonable. The legs felt good but my only issue was my back, not being used to the MTB position, it was already seizing up and at the first transition area I took my full 5mins allowance (given to all competitors to allow for trains, as the route passes over a rail crossing) to stretch the back out and load up the water bottles.

The other guys had flown through the transition zone and I was already isolated as I headed out for the first lap of two of a 53km loop. I had no idea of my position in the 100miler event either as we were all mixed up with 100km competitors but I started to pick up some guys and groups and eventually hooked up with one 100miler competitor, Paul Schroder.

He was going through the single-track sections at a fair old pace and I was just happy to be able to hang on after such a long time off the MTB but as we raced through the twisting single-track I heard fast-approaching traffic from behind, Ed McDonald.

Now this is the strange thing about MTB, I was thinking I was flying when I was hanging onto Paul’s wheel and judging by the speed at which Ed joined us, I thought once he passed us, he would be gone. However, when he did come past, I went for broke and I tried my luck at sticking on his wheel. To my utter surprise I was able to hang on!

Once we got out of the single-track and onto the dirt roads, I felt a bit more comfortable and tried a few turns at the front, however, Ed was so strong and kept on coming around and I was finding it harder and harder to do my turns. We headed up halfway hill and I was determined to hang on to Ed’s pace up the steep 3km climb.

As we went over the top, it was just Ed and I as Paul had dropped off the pace. We soon gathered a few 100km competitors though, who tailed onto us as we drove on to the transition zone for a second time. At transition we caught Mike Blewitt but again I took my time to fuel up and get fresh bottles so I hit the second lap well down on Mike and Ed who had flown through transition and were working together up front.

I could just make them out as we made our way down a dirt road and I pushed hard to catch up to them before hitting the first technical sector. I was still totally in the dark as to my position and a bemused Mike answered my question of how many guys up ahead, with ‘no-one, this is it’. Over halfway and I was in the lead group of the Highland Fling 100miler!

Through the following technical sector, Ed started to open up a gap on Mike and I and as we exited onto the open road again, he was gone. I rode up to Mike and had a quick chat before taking my turn on the front but quickly realised Mike was struggling, so I pushed on and caught back up with Ed on my own.

Ed and I hit a short but steep incline called ‘The Wall’ together but a small error made me lose my balance and I had to hop off and run up most of the climb. I knew it was important to keep with Ed as I would have someone to follow through the next technical section, however, I just could not get up the hill fast enough and in a blink, Ed was into the single-track and gone.

I was on my own now and just had to ride to my abilities and with what I had left in my legs as the cramps and fatigue set in. I was struggling to say the least. Stopping at an aid station to have a few orange pieces, I didn’t even have any energy to reply to words of encouragement from the volunteers (sorry about that and I really do appreciate the support), all I could do was focus on pushing each pedal one at a time.

I was sure I would be swamped by guys as I crawled up ‘Halfway Hill’ for the second time, barely fast enough to stay upright and I literally limped into transition for the third and final time.

I had to take a little time out as I doused myself in ice water, put some oil on my chain and got some food. I was taking such relief that I hardly noticed Paul come in only a minute down on me and in third spot. I was just hoping like hell, he was feeling as bad as me.

As we headed out onto the final sector of the race back to the finish, it was clear Paul wasn’t feeling quite as bad as me. I tried a brief bluff as I ‘hammered’ up the first single-track climb but Paul was having none of it and as we hit an open road section he powered past, the cramps in my legs halting any ideas I had of following.

It was hard seeing a guy ride away like that but I was still on the podium, even though I had no idea how close the 4th placed guy was. The closing 32km turned into a time trial as I drove on as hard as my body would allow, just below the cramp threshold in an effort to guard my third place. If I was caught, I was caught, but I was going to make it as hard as I possibly could for someone to catch me. My breath was short and shallow, my heart-rate had dropped, I was cramping everywhere (even in my hands) and I didn’t feel like drinking or eating. I had well and truly bonked!

Fortunately I had enough to hold my position and I crossed the line absolutely spent for my first podium placing in a MTB event and over 10mins quicker than last year. Have to be happy with that.

Simon F