A few things from the bike shop.

I love a bitchy rant as much as the next person, this lament is from a rather disgruntled American bike shop employee, posted on Craig's List:

Woo-hoo Seattle, the sun is out! Let's discuss a few things before you fumble with swapping the unused ski rack for the unused bike rack on the Subaru.

So yes, you've noticed the sun is out, and hey!- maybe it would be cool to to some bike riding. Let's keep in mind that the sun came out of all 600,000 of us, so for the most part, you're not the only one who noticed. Please remember that when you walk into my shop on a bright, sunny Saturday morning. It will save you from looking like a complete twat that huffs "Why are there so many people here?"

Are we all on the same page now about it being sunny outside? Have we all figured out that we're not the only clever people that feel sunny days are good for bike riding? Great. I want to kiss all of you on your forehead for sharing this moment with me. Put your vitamin D starved fingers in mine, and we'll move on together to some pointers that will make life easier.

SOME POINTERS FOR THE PHONE:

- I don't know what size of bike you need. The only thing that I can tell over the phone is that you sound fat. I don't care how tall you are. I don't care how long your inseam is. Don't complain to me that you don't want to come ALL THE WAY down to the bike shop to get fitted for a bike. I have two hundred bikes in my inventory. I will find one that fits you. Whether you come from the north or the south, my shop is downhill. Pretend you're going to smell a fart, ball up, and roll your fat ass down here.

- Don't get high and call me. Write it down, call me later. When I have four phone lines ringing, and a herdlet of people waiting for help, I can't deal with you sitting there "uuuuhhh"-ing and "uuummm"-ing while your brain tries to put together some cheeto-xbox-fixie conundrum. We didn't get disconnected, I left you on hold to figure your shit out.

-I really do need to see your bike to know what is wrong with it. You've already figured out that when you car makes a noise, the mechanic needs to see it. When your TV goes blank, a technician needs to see it. I can tell you, if there is one thing I've learned from you fucking squirrels, it's that "doesn't shift right" means your bike could need a slight cable adjustment, or you might just need to stop backing into it with the Subaru. Bring it in, I'll let you know for sure.

- No, I don't know how much a good bike costs. For some, spending $500 dollars is a kingly sum. For others, $500 won't buy you one good wheel. You really need to have an idea of what you want, because every one of you raccoons "doesn't want to spend too much".

FOR YOU INVENTIVE TYPES AND DO-IT-YOURSELFERS:

- Just because you think is should exist, doesn't mean that it does. I know that to you, a 14 inch quill stem makes perfect sense, but what makes more sense is buying a bike that fits you, not trying to make your mountain bike that was too small for you to begin with into a comfort bike.

- If some twat on some message board somewhere says that you can use the lockring from your bottom bracket as a lockring for a fixie conversion doesn't mean that A: you can, or B: you should. Please listen to me on this stuff, I really do have your best interests at heart.

- I love that you have the enthusiasm to build yourself a recumbent in the off season. That does not mean however, that I share your enthusiasm; ergo I won't do the "final tweaks" for you. You figure out why that Sram shifter and that Shimano rear derailleur don't work together. While we're at it, you recumbent people scare me a little. Don't bring that lumbering fucking thing anywhere near me.

A DEDICATION TO ALL THE HIPSTER DUCHEBAGS:

-If you shitheads had any money, you wouldn't NEED a vintage Poo-zhow to get laid. Go have an ironic mustache growing contest in front of American Apparel, so that I can continue selling $300 bikes to fatties, which is what keeps the lights on.

- Being made in the 80's may make something cool, but that doesn't automatically make something good. The reason that no one has ridden that "vintage" Murray is because it's shit. It was shit in the 80's, a trend it carried proudly through the 90's, and rallied with into the '00's. What I mean to say is, no, I can't make it work better. It's still shit, even with more air in the tires.

SO YOU'RE GONNA BUY A BIKE:

Good for you! Biking is awesome. It's easy, it's fun, it's good for you. I want you to bike, I really do. To that end, I am here to help you.

-Your co-worker that's "really into biking" knows fuck all. Stop asking for his advice. He could care less about you having the right bike. He wants to validate his bike purchase(s) through you. He also wants to sleep with you, and wear matching bike shorts with you.

- You're not a triathlete. You're not. If you were, you wouldn't be here, and we both know it.

- You're not a racer. If you were, I'd know you already, and you wouldn't be here, and we both know it.

- So you want a bike that you can ride to work, goes really fast, is good for that triathlon you're doing this summer (snicker), is good on trails and mud, and costs less than $300. Yeah. Listen, I want a car that can go 200 miles an hour, tow a boat, has room for five adults, is easy to parallel park but can carry plywood, gets 60mpg, and only costs $3,000. I also want a unicorn to blow me. What are we even talking about here? Oh yeah. Listen, bikes can be fast, light, cheap and comfortable. Pick two, and we're all good.

ABOUT YOUR KIDS:

Your kids are amazing. Sure are. No one else has kids as smart, able, funny or as good looking as you. Nope. Never see THAT around here.

- I have no idea how long you kid will be able to use this bike. As it seems to me, your precious is a little retarded, and can't even use the damn thing now. More likely, your budding genius is going to leave the bike in the driveway where you will Subaru the bike to death LONG before the nose picker outgrows the bike.

- Stop being so jumpy. I am not a molester. You people REALLY watch too much TV. When I hold the back of the bike while your kid is on it, it's not because I get a thrill from *almost* having my hand on kid butt, it's because kids are unpredictable, and generally take off whenever possible, usually not in the direction you think they might go. Listen, if I were going to do anything bad to your kids, I'd feed them to sharks, because sharks are FUCKING AWESOME.

I hope this helps, and have fun this summer riding your kick-ass bike!

3227km so far this year.

Painting the Town

Looking at my 20-year-old track bike hanging in the shed on the weekend I decided it was time we got reacquainted. I've only ridden it once - on New Town velodrome - since I've been in Hobart. Clearly time for another go.

When I rediscovered cycling four years ago, I did a series of rides on this bike on tracks in Victoria - Kyneton, Castlemaine, Coburg, Brunswick. Various distances and mainly for fun, but I also did a series of solo full-pelt 60 minute time trials.

I'm a bit tired of riding the same stretch of road every morning so today was time to see whether I'm still up to my old hour mark: of 30.14km set in March 2005 . Hey, I'm slow - no apologies. I know never going to touch Chris Boardman's 56.3km/h, but I would like to knock off Herni Desgrange's 35.3km/h set in 1893.

What I grandly call New Town velodrome really just a tarmac track around the football oval. I'm guessing it's about 400m long with a slight bank. Like many basic tracks of its type it has a definite hill in it. They're so common in old country tracks I wonder if they're not a perhaps a design feature: there always seems to be a drop through the corner before the finish line. Perhaps it's to speed up the sprints.

There was nobody else about when I rolled out around 8am. A three-lap warm up and a few minor seat adjustments and I was off. Five minutes in, my average was a respectable 32km, although my heart was telling me it wasn't going to be a pace I could hold for an hour. After about 15 minutes the first urges to quit set in and I was bargaining with myself to go on for until at least half way.

An hour alone going flat out on a track bike is a bloody long time. I was slightly undergeared so I was spinning like a bastard down the home straight but still had to jump out of the saddle on the line every lap to crank over the uphill part of the track. Thirty minutes in I was about 40 metres ahead of my old time, but I was still working far too hard to last. My heart rate was sitting around 170, which is way faster than it goes on road rides.

My rough plan was to keep it steady until about the 50 minute mark and lash out from there, so I concentrated on getting my heart rate down so I didn't blow up. I watched my computer as my average pace dropped a a tenth of a kilometre of an hour every few laps until it hit 29.9km/h. I was definitely flagging. I picked it up a bit. My plan became a five-minute final sprint. A couple of triathletes turned up and started doing some laps so I had a couple of marks to chase, although the five minute sprint wasn't going to happen. About three minutes before the end I was buggered, trying to reel in one of the riders, reaching for every last scrap I had.

As the hour rolled by I checked the computer: 30.07km. Damn, 70 metres short of my record. Heart and lungs screaming, legs not so bad. The record is intact for now, but today was still my second fastest ride ever. Not bad training this track riding, it might even speed me up a little. I think I'll slip a smaller cog on the back hub and have another go in a week or so.

(Top photo is an iPhone GPS track of the epic ride. Speaks volumes for the unit's accuracy!)

3,123km so far this year.

Sunny Sunday cycle

One of the consolations of this time of year is the Perfect Winter's Day. Tasmania has a reputation for lousy weather which is largely undeserved and the depths of winter can turn on some real pearlers.

Today was one such day. Apart from some early fog which quickly burned off it was clear this was one of those days to make the most of, with plenty of sunshine and not a breath of wind. Nicole and I loaded the touring bikes in the back to the ute for a quick drive down to Cradoc for a lazy 35km Cygnet loop. The plan was a meander along the river and over the hill into Cygnet, stop for coffee and cake then complete the loop with the short ride back to the car.

For the unhurried, the lightly-trafficked Cygnet Coast Road along the Huon River provides lovely scenic riding, first through vineyards and then along the waterfront with views across to Franklin and down towards Dover. Along the way we found a little beach that will be perfect for a picnic stop on a future kayaking trip and spotted plenty of lovely houses and weekended with great water views. We turned upwards along Wattle Grove Road. On a cool day a steep climb is a good chance to warm up and the low gears on the touring bike mean you're not working that hard while the scenery slides past. There are lovely views of the little farmlets up the valley and back down from where we'd come. A moment's pause at the top and then down the unsealed Forsters Rivulet Road for a long roll down into Lymington. By now were were both getting hungry and looking forward to a feed at the Red Velvet Lounge.

But such delights were not to be. Cygnet's two better coffee shops had closed for winter at the same time so we repaired to the Schoolhouse cafe for a very decent toasted sandwich and a flick through the papers in the delightful yard. Back on the bikes, the beauty of this loop is that there's only a short ride over the hill back to Cradoc and downhill run back to the car. A lovely day, we certainly made the most of.

3,093km so far this year.

Busch & Muller Seculite Plus Rear Light

Cool dark winters breed bike light geeks: Tasmania turns me into one every time around this time of year. I've posted before about the joys of dynamo lights, only now have I got around to getting one for the back.

I bought a Busch & Muller Seculite Plus (the lower light in the pic to the right) which was about $35 from Abbotsford Cycles. It was to go on the back mudguard of the Cross Check but fiddling around with it I decided that with a bit of effort and an old light bracket I could get it on the commuter/road/audax bike to make a nice backup to the battery light. I do most of my miles on this bike and you can't be too visible at night in my opinion. After considerable messing around with the wiring I managed to get it working. ok (An earth wire is needed to complete the circuit, which can be a bit hard to do with a frame with carbon bits. I ran a length of twin core wire from the front to the back, and tied the 'spare' end off on the metal part of the light bracket.)

The final result is pretty neat and with the lovely efficient Schmidt hub, turning both lights on seems to have no effect on forward speed. The Seculite has a standlight which burns for about three or four minutes after I've stopped. The only drawback is that it doesn't have a flash mode. But you can't have everything.

I tend to run both front and rear on all the time. It's a good match for the Edelux front light. Being LED lights, I don't have to worry about bulb life either. Now I'll just have to buy another for the Cross Check!

2,952km so far this year.

Still alive.

2640km so far this year.

Rex the Runt

Self proclaimed "weak hypocritical sleaze" and lightweight Melbourne radio commentator Rex Hunt has been found guilty of reckelessly causing injury to a cyclist in a road rage attack. Good.

The former policeman was so enraged by a confrontation with a cyclist he emerged from the comfort and safety of his four-wheel-drive cage and broke the man's finger. Now he was to perform 100 hours of community service.

Hunt has a history of bizzare behaviour. Who can forget when the former policeman was sprung paying for women to help him live out his sad sexual fetishes in public?

2,331km so far this year.

The Cheesecake Run

Most weekends I don't get much done at all. I might chop some wood. I might do some work about the house, take the dogs for a ride or tinker with a bike or two up in the shed. If I'm feeling extra motivated I'll cut out some of the bracken ferns that seems to occupy about half of the the 25 acre hilltop we live on. But if the weather isn't too foul and even if I do nothing else, I always find time for a Cheesecake Run.

The Cheesecake Run begins at my back door and ends at DS cafe in Huonville, where the cheesecake is. As much as I have a favourite ride, this is it. It's undemanding and if I'm riding the North Huon Road it generally means it's the weekend and I don't have any great demands on my time, so it's hard to be in a bad mood. I take the Crosscheck because its fat tyres nicely soak up the bumps of the dirt backroads and ride in shorts and a winter jersey.

The first two kilometres of the ride is a real heart starter, a screaming twisted 200m descent on a washed-out dirt road, before things settle down for the roll into Judbury. From there it's a lovely gradual downhill run which winds past the little houses and farms and orchards alongside the Huon River. At this time of year it's extra special because the leaves on many the trees have turned their various hues of orange and red and the whole place looks like an autumn postcard.

The road itself doesn't get a lot of traffic. I might be passed by half a dozen cars in a 35km round trip and I'll get a wave from maybe half the drivers. It's rare to have someone pass too close, in fact I can't remember it happening at all. I've seen a few other riders on the road, more lately, and the banana skins I see tossed at the side seem to indicate this ride is becoming more popular. I had a lovely ride into town with a West Australian couple the other week, who marvelled at the beauty of the area and said they were planning a move here.

The road seems mainly downhill so even though I'm seldom inclined to rush, I tend to move along pretty quickly. If I find myself going too hard I stop and take a photo or sit up in the saddle and see how long I can dodge the odd pothole no hands. The sealed road starts about 8km from town so the small stones stop pinging of the inside of my mudguards and there's only the gentle hum of my tyres from the Third Rock apple shed onwards.

After about half an hour I'm generally in Rangelah, which isn't much more than a little village and an easy downhill run on the sealed road into Huonville. If I'm feeling energetic I might turn north along the little creek past an old sawmill. At any rate I'm at DS Cafe in under an hour for a sugar hit. Most days I meet Kev, who rides in on the Huon highway from Mountain River, which isn't quite as nice a trip, but any day on the bike is a good one.

Oddly the way back seems downhill too for some reason. Unless the wind is howling down the valley off the Snowy Ranges, I can make good time home. The final hill is the kicker - that 60km/h downhill run becomes a granny gear grind on the way back up, although it's a good test of where my fitness is. A final roll down on the grass to the house and that's the Cheesecake Run, just about the best 35km I ride all week.

2881km so far this year.

Schmidt Edelux light

Winter is upon us. The days are short, the nights are dark and the year-round cyclist's thoughts turn to lighting. For the last couple of weeks, I've been using the Schmidt Edelux LED front light. I'm a bit of a lighting geek and I reckon tried just about everything but this light has me mightily impressed. The Edelux is a worthy successor my E6 halogen light which was for many riders for many years the gold standard in dynohub lighting.

I love dynohub lighting, no batteries to think about, it's simple and efficient, just switch it on. The drawbacks with the old E6 light were its tightly focussed beam pattern, the lack of a standlight and the need to change bulbs every hundred hours of use or so. I always seemed to burn out a bulb on a dark road on a rainy night in the middle of winter. So the Edelux, which addresses all of these problems, comes as a welcome development.

I first used the new light during the Oppy. Many of the others in the team were using Ayup lights, which have become something of a fad in Audax circles of late. Although everyone was raving about their Ayups, I reckon the Edelux was every bit their equal, minus the need to carry spare batteries.

The test of a good light is that you don't notice it, in the sense that it doesn't detract from your ride and that was how the long night of the Oppy went for me - there were plenty of other things to concern me! The beam on the Edelux is a lot wider than the E6, lighting up a good portion of the road. The standlight is a great addition, and runs for ages even after only a few wheel revolutions. The light is small and stylish. And I never have to worry about burned out bulbs again. Those few cyclists who use dynamo lights have waited a while for the lights to catch up with the LED battery lights, but the wait has been well worth it.

The hill climbers of Google Maps

I found this idly looking for another route to ride to work. Immortalised on Google Maps, the faceless cyclist will forever be climbing the lower reaches of Mt Nelson - a timeless digital monument to his own endeavour and inspiration to us all. At least he looks like he's doing it easy. OK, so heading up Mt Nelson isn't like grinding up the Col du Tourmalet on a cold and rainy day with panniers on, but hey, we must all find our own mountains to climb.

1770km so far this year.

Oppy 2009

Third time's the charm. Though outbreaks of sanity cut our numbers from the 12 riders who rolled out last year to just nine, the Lancefield Lairs had a superb ride in the Fleche Opperman All Day Trial.

This was my third ride in the Oppy. The rules are simple: ride for 24 hours, cover a minimum of 360km, finish in the home town of Australia's greatest-ever cyclist.

Our route this year took us north-east from Tooborac in central Victoria, through Seymour, Euroa and Violet Town before turning north to St James, west through Numurkah to Echuca and finally south to Rochester. Long story short: a top ride. Just eight kilometres before the first dick joke, happily about 230km before the bad singing started and 50km more for the shocking poetry recitals. It's hard to imagine better conditions for riding: a sunny day, a clear night and no wind.

We were met every 30 or 60km or so by our faithful crew of supporters and fed, watered and generally looked after. A bare 20 minutes later we were back on the road. We managed to gain about 20 minutes on our schedule during the first part of the ride and held that margin the whole time. We somehow even picked our pace up a little once darkness fell, which meant we earned a glorious two hours sleep on the dreamy soft floor of the Echuca football club.

Words don't explain the pleasure and challenges of this ride well. The highlight of the ride for me (apart from the company) was the long, flat ride under the stars on a crystal clear rural Victorian night. There's something magical about being part of a tiny peloton threading its way along quiet country roads at night. I was a lot stronger this year than in previous years, so my only low point was about 15 minutes in the wee small hours when I felt a bit weary and felt like consulting the Big Book of Excuses. A bit of food seemed to spark me up.

The finish is great fun: there's a band and the traditional photos with the Oppy statue. Then it's off for a well-earned breakfast at the Rochester Football Club and the speeches, the reunions and he traditional reading of Oppy's letter about the first running of event. For my money, this ride is one of the finest on the Audax calendar. Long may it remain so.

The top photo shows the Lair's Oppy team, the Lair's women's Petit Oppy (180km) team and our support crews at the Oppy statue in Rochester.

1615km so far this year.

Every week should be Bike Week

I loved Bike Week. I rode in four events, and covered 277km in nine days, which isn't bad. I managed to ride in four events and every one was a cracker.

The Cygnet Loops was a ride I'd always wanted to do and the Wellington Challenge I've already had a bleat about. I narrowly missed getting caught in a huge rainstorm after the Judbury family ride on Saturday, so that was a win. And last Sunday's Century Ride was a ripper too.

I've done this ride twice before, both times in a shade over five hours. While I'm not overly competitive, I always like to improve over time, so I was hoping to cut my time to under five hours.

After the usual police-escorted start, the brave and the bold took off like lycra clad rockets. I settled on drifting slowly back through the field, grabbing the odd wheel when I could. About 40km in, the bunch I was riding in sort of disintegrated and I spotted a some riders in the distance and set off after them. After a long pursuit I fell in with a trio of blokes who I spend a pleasurable hour or so into Richmond before they stopped for a drink and I pushed on. Another bunch I caught fell apart at the bottom of Grasstree Hill, but I was still going fine. Even the climb didn't give me the trouble it normally does. To my surprise I was back at the start in 4 hours and 15 minutes - 50 minutes faster than both my previous attempts at this ride. As an added bonus, the rain which had been threatening all day help off until the finish. A fitting finale to bike week. Now for the Oppy!

1132km so far this year.

The World's Slowest Hill Climber

There are five people in Hobart right now who are probably too stunned to speak today - five tortured souls whose every utterance is broken by racking sobs and rolling tears. Their long silences are punctuated by cries of `Why? Why?'. They can't eat, sleep or work, poor souls. Life holds no joy. For they have been beaten by the World's Slowest Hill Climber.

Yes, these five people have been measured against the mountain and found wanting. You read it here first: I beat five people in the Mt Wellington Time Trial on the weekend.

Now I'm a glass half-full kind of guy. Many people would look at the result sheet and suggest I came 144th out of 149 starters. But I would counter that I probably won the 100kg plus division. Regardless of the fact that I was passed by elderly and disabled riders (and worse, people on mountain bikes) on the gruelling 20km long 1,250 metre ascent, the people who finished ahead of me were all elite racers and were probably even trying to boot. (I won't even mention cycling's terrible doping problem). I just wanted to finish without stopping for a heart attack on the way up. The photo above makes me look far more gritty and determined than I actually was, which is nice. So I finished, had a nice ride, enjoyed the views and I've got a time to blitz next year. I'd call that mission accomplished.

(Ride photo from Clive Roper Photography.)

948km so far this year.

Found my tribe.

The most important thing during Bike Week is to demonstrate cyclists are ordinary folk, just like you and I.

The Banana
Originally uploaded by Velovotee
From the Sydney Body Art ride.

888km so far this year.

The bargain bikes of ebay

I'm a pretty constant lurker in ebay looking for bargain bike bits. I've often got a project in the shed which needs a part or two so I put in a lot of silly low bids, some of which bear fruit. One thing I have noticed is that the demand for old parts is growing strongly and so are prices. The sad truth is that no matter how much we value our rides, sometimes we delude ourselves about their true value.

Check out this gem. For only $130 you can be the proud owner of a 'vintage' bike which looks like it's spent the last 20 years at the bottom of the river it's named after. No tyres, no brakes, a saddle that looks like it was used to absorb an IED attack and rust galore. But hey, it's old and it's a single speed so some fool might buy it right? But you'll have to pick it up yourself from Hobart, there's no chance of the seller extending himself to ship this gem of antiquity, possibly because it weighs 80kg. Why, why, why on earth has nobody placed a bid on this bike? You heathens of Hobart.

Oh, you want something roadworthy? For a mere $92 (at current bidding) you can get your hands on a sought-after Repco Traveller Road bike? Equiped not just with gears, but a ''gearing system" and tyres that "will need eventual replacement" the seller does kindly point out that the the Traveller "is making an encore in Victoria now as a popular vintage bike". Among whom? The mentally deranged? And why not in other states? No shipping on this one either cycling archaologists, you'll have to take the station wagon to Glenroy.

But why spend $130 or even $92, when for just $5 you could pick up a "Vintage Malvern Star bike single speed fixed project"? Never mind the fact it looks like it might have been ridden into a car and has a saddle that would cause irreversible injury, this one also has tyres. They're flat, but what do you expect for $5? Bid early, bid often.

854km so far this year.

Damn lies and spreadsheets.

I was entering my commute into the bikejournal tonight and wondered whether I'm getting faster or slower over time. One wonders. There's opposing forces at work here: firstly I'm riding more, secondly I'm getting older. Which one wins? (I'll leave aside the fact I moved from flat Victoria to hilly Tasmania halfway through.)

As it turns out, the question is more complex than I would have thought. I assembled all my ride data into a single spreadsheet. There lies the details of more 500 rides totalling more than 1,000 hours (two more milestones just recently passed!). OK, how to proceed? I'll graph the buggers!

The first graph is ugly. It doesn't show anything much at all. The regression line for my average speed is flat. Odd. Ok, so I chuck out the 20 slowest rides, clean the data up a little. Now the curve slopes down. It's just barely detectable, but it slopes down. Hooray: I'm getting slower over time.

But wait. The graph shows a bunch of slow rides in July and August last year. Hang on that's when I was fanging around Beijing on the folding bike. Surely those rides don't count? Out comes July and August 2008. And guess what? The curve is upward. Just slightly, but upward. Grotesquely enlarging the graph makes the slope steeper. Cool. But by how much?

Very close analysis reveals the regression line through my rides slopes upwards from 21.85km/h at the left hand end to 22.0km/h at the right hand end. Over four years I'm 150 metres faster an hour. So if the old me raced the new me for an hour on an Olympic velodrome, he would be be close enough to yell abuse but wouldn't have lapped me. Still, any progress is good.

In the end, there is no real answer. Five years after getting back on the bike I'm fitter, happier, healthier and more handsome - all things numbers can't measure. The moral of the story is as always: ride for fun. They haven't yet made a cycle computer that can measure that.

711km so far this year.

Flying with a bike.

Every now and then I like to post something useful on this blog, even if it's by accident. Today's lesson is how to pack a bicycle for air travel. There's probably more than one way of doing it - this is mine. Use it as a guide. You may well be able to improve on it.

Flying with a bike is a nerve-wracking experience - it's really easy for something to go wrong. I travel from Hobart to Melbourne with a bike about half a dozen times a year and unless I take the utmost care something always seems to get damaged. Usually it's the paintwork but I've also had brake levers damaged and derailleurs bent. Here's how to avoid the worst our nations' baggage handlers can dish out. Click on the photos to enlarge.

Allow about 30 minutes at each end for packing and unpacking. You'll need a cardboard bike box. I've tried soft-sided bike bags, but I don't recommend them. Hard cases are available but they're expensive and easily damaged themselves. Boxes have given me the least trouble. You can buy a box from one from the airlines for about $20 or you can get one for free from your friendly local bike shop. The advantage of getting one from a bike shop (apart from the price) is they usually also have a few little bits which can come in handy: like plastic dropout fittings to protect your forks from being crushed together and inserts to stop the wheel axles from poking through the box. (You can just see one of these at the bottom of the the photo to the left. It's round and black.)

Once you've procured a box and removed any protruding staples, you'll also need some packing tape and small knife, a smaller box so oddments don't get lost or float around causing havoc, a pedal spanner, some allen keys and about three metres of foam pipe insulation: it's black foam tubing which you can buy in hardware stores. About $20 worth will last you a few trips.

Ready to go? Take some of the tape and mark your saddle height so you're not messing around trying to get it right out later. Remove the seat post and saddle. You might need to tighten the seat post clamp a bit to make sure it's doesn't come loose and be lost in transit. Remove the wheels. Take the quick release skewers from the wheels and put them in the small box. Remove the pedals and put them in the small box. (Putting them inside a plastic bag will help stop getting grease on everything else.)

Once this is done, it's time to add some protection. I simply cut some pieces of the pipe insulation to length and slide them onto the forks, brake levers and crank arms. Cut a piece to fit the right seat stay and tape it in place. You can tape the chain to this piece to stop it flapping around as in the picture to the left. Cut lengthwise slits in the remaining insulation and tape it in place so it protects the main tubes. I also tape a piece under the chainset to protect it and the box from damage.


Once this is done, remove the stem cap and stem fixing bolts and lift the handlebars clear of the steerer tube. (You may need to secure the steerer - I use an old stem part to keep it all nice. Tape will work in a pinch.) Rotate the handlebar assembly so it's parallel to the forks with the brake levers facing forwards. A couple of big rubber bands can be useful to hold the handlebars in place. Replace the stem top cap and bolt so they don't get lost. Pop the lot into the box.

Find the back wheel and carefully wrap the cassette in a rag, taping it in place if need be. (I usually let a little air out of the tyres so they're less likely to blow out in transit.) Pop an axle protector on the non cassette side and put the wheel in the box so the cassette side is facing inward. Repeat the process for the front wheel (though no cassette obviously).

Made sure the small box contains the following: your allen keys, the pedal spanner, a left and a right pedal. The small box will usually fit neatly on top of the seat stays and seat post and saddle sit on top of that. Now is the time to check - very carefully - that nothing metal is rubbing on anything else metal and that nothing is likely to shift too far in transit. Use spare insulation an old rag or expendable clothing to protect the bits from each other. Keep in mind the box will very likely be dropped or laid flat and have luggage placed on top of it and may well be upside down at some stage.

Some airlines which carry bikes are pretty relaxed about the weight. Virgin Blue, who I use and recommend - count sporting equipment as 5kg of your 23kg checked baggage allowance regardless of its actual weight. Handy! This means it makes some sense to pack other items in your bike box too: shoes, water bottles, empty panniers, filthy clothing and so on spring to mind, but don't take the piss and remember you will have to lift or carry this box yourself at some stage. 15kg is good, 20kg will stretch your arms. I don't recommend putting your helmet in with the bike, it's very likely to get damaged.

When you're happy with your effort, tape the big box shut. Write your name and address on the sides, whack on some fragile stickers for a laugh and you're nearly ready to go. Advanced students tape a piece of string to the box with their knife attached and drop it inside through one of the carrying holes so they've got a easy way of reopening the box at the other end. Put the unused packing tape in your carry on luggage for the return voyage and you're away.

Some final tips. Get to the airport in plenty of time because you're going to have to check in and then take the bike to the oversized baggage department which is usually some distance away from the check-in counters. Keep the weight down, particularly if you're too stubborn or cheap to hire a luggage cart at each end like me. And if you're hiring as car, making sure it's a hatchback makes it much easier to transport the bike at the other end. Good luck!

517km so far this year.

The benefit of the doubt.

Remember the prick who swerved into a bunch of cyclists on a highway in Sydney last year? Well, a convincing story has earned him a slap on the wrist.

Ambling through the Alps.

Riding a bicycle long distances in summer is a good way of learning some valuable lessons. At this year's Alpine Classic I learned, once again, that riding up big hills on extremely hot days is a testing experience. But it is curiously rewarding.

The Alpine is unlike any other series of Audax rides. For starters, it attracts just under 3000 riders. The level of support on the ride is nothing short of extraordinary and the mountain scenery and atmosphere in Bright are both wonderful too.

My day started off farewelling the endless hordes of 200km riders at 6.20am before heading off in the 130km bunch an hour layer. No major dramas on the first climb of Towonga Gap nor on the ascent of Falls Creek, both of which I tackled at my normal slow pace. Although Falls Creek is a long climb, it's not overly steep and I was able to pace myself to reach the controle at the top just before noon without having over-extended myself. By now the full effect of the summer sun was beginning to tell. The descent from Falls is delight - as most descents are - and within 15 minutes I've undone 90 minutes of climbing and was on my way back to Mt Beauty.

The climb back over Towonga Gap is the hardest part of the ride for me - it's the steepest climb of the trip and is fully exposed to the sun. There was no breeze. I stopped every kilometre or so to get my heart rate down and enjoyed a lovely cooling spray down from the volunteers at the water station halfway up. At this end of the field all the riders are suffering. I stopped to help a bloke who'd broken a spoke then was back to the grind. The top never comes soon enough.

From there it's downhill all the way to Bright. About 5km out a group of six blokes riding together swept through and I jumped on their wheel for the quick roll to the finish line. The Alpine is the only ride I've been on where there's a band playing and a crowd cheering and clapping as you finish, which I find rather delightful. Then it's just a matter of parking the bike in the rack, punching the clock and heading to the brewery next door to the park for a rehydrating pint or four on the grass with the people who've already finished as you swap tall tales of your rides and wait for mates still struggling out on the road in the 200km event.

Happy just to finish, I was slightly slower than my last finish at this distance in 2007 - 17.8km/h rather a than 17.9km/h average speed. I must be getting older. I'm happy with that: it comes out as a shade under seven hours of riding time. If I rode a few more hills in preparation next year I'm sure I'd do even better.

If you've never done the Alpine Classic before and can get to Bright in January it's an experience I can't recommend enough. The ride itself is great and the carnival atmosphere that infuses the entire town for the three day weekend is just magic for the keen cyclist. Long may it continue.

467km so far this year.

The Alpine Classic in photos.

Once more into the hills.

Every audax cyclist I know has been busily training for the Audax Alpine Classic. It's on this Sunday in Bright, Victoria. It's one of the best organised and well-attended rides in Australia and is stunningly scenic to boot. Not that the 3,000 odd participants will be there to admire the scenery.

The full ride is a brutal 200km with 3000m of climbing in four major climbs, all the heat of mid summer. There's lesser distances for lesser mortals, including the 130km which I'm attempting for the second time. The shorter distance means I only have to face two steep 600m climbs and a long and steep 1400m climb up to Falls Creek. I finished just inside the cut-off time in 2007 but my bid for the 200km last year was thwarted by the effect of a lingering hangover.

Some people go nuts for this ride. My friend Steve has ridden 700km so far this month - including a week's training in the Victorian Alps. NancyBoy has been training flat out for months. They'll suffer like everyone else - this is a ride of suffering - but at least they'll go faster.

Before I even set out, I have plenty of excuses this year. My training has been less than stellar. (I ride for fun, so the idea of training is a little alien to me anyway.) I don't have the physique for hill climbing. After a tough November and December I had a couple of easy weeks and have only just turned my mind to the punishing hill climbs that lie ahead with six days to go! I could use all the training I can get, although there's a limit to how much I'm going to get between now and Sunday. Two maybe three good rides?

But I have to do something. This morning I parked the car halfway up Mt Wellington and pretty much coasted the entire 14km to work. All day I'll have that 500m climb hanging over my head. Hopefully a couple of decent hill sessions will help. It has to be better than nothing right?

248km so far this year.