Bike shed

 

Everyone needs a shed, I'm lucky to have a wonderful space where I can work on my bikes. There's nothing quite like spending the afternoon tinkering, tuning up one of the steeds. This week I had a tyre to swap out. Although I love going to the bike shop, I have saved a fair bit over the years doing my own maintenance. Perhaps not quite as much as I've spent on tools, but I am going to maintain that is beside the point. 

Oppy 2015

It's no secret that the Oppy - properly known as the Fleche Opperman All-Day Trial - is my favourite ride. There's a lot to like about the Oppy, the challenging distance, the night riding, the company of like-minded folk on a most enjoyable jaunt. This year was my sixth Oppy in Victoria, having completed in 2013, 2011, 2009, 2008 and 2007. This year, the Tasmanian contingent in the famed Lancefield Lairs was doubled, with Hugh coming along for the ride as well.

There's always a lot of preparation for this ride for me. These days it involves packing a lot of gear into a bike box, a flight from Hobart to Melbourne and the unpacking and travel at the end. I caught up with Hugh at Melbourne Airport and we bundled our gear into a hire car and set off for Lancefield where Andy kindly fed us and put us up for the night.

The course for this ride is a matter for the each team captain, subject to the rules of covering 360km in 24 hours from 8am Saturday, at least 25 of them in the last two hours. Steve chose a familiar route, up through central Victoria, turning west and ducking briefly into NSW before a night stop and the ride back down to Rochester, with stops every 60 or so kilometres for food and a wee rest. Our team was a strong one, overflowing with Oppy and Audax experience.

The scenery in Victoria is unlike that of Tasmania. For a start, the place is astonishingly flat. We cruised along on the road to Seymour and I marvelled at how little climbing there was. I always argue it's one of the reasons cycling is so popular in the state. 

On we rolled, making reasonable time, despite more than our fair share of punctures and a broken spoke. A brief bout with an upset stomach slowed me down for a bit either side of the lovely town of Dookie, so I lived on gels for a few dozen kilometres and waited for things to sort themselves out, which fortunately they did. Aside from that, I seemed to be travelling pretty well, none of the normal neck pain I get on longer rides, and the contact points of hands, feet and bum were also going ok. 

Nightfall provided a welcome drop in temperature from the 30 degrees of late afternoon. Not long after out pizza stop we donned our reflective vests and sailed off into the setting sun. It's a nice time to be out on the bike.

The wind, which was predicted to be a challenge for us, rose a little in the night - but not so much as to make the riding unpleasant. The stronger riders took the front and the rest of us were content to travel along in their wake. The chatter of earlier in the day died down to almost nothing as the evening wore on, a sure sign we were getting weary. The final 30km into Moama is a favourite of mine, a mixture of very ridable roads and the proximity of a decent rest.

We reached our night stop at the caravan park in the very early hours of Sunday. A 3am arrival and a quick shower meant only a couple of hours sleep before the 6am departure. No sooner had my head hit the pillow than I was out like a light.

The alarm sounded what seemed like a few seconds later. A quick breakfast and we were back on our way, this time into a stiff headwind. Although we had left a few minutes late we seemed to have plenty of time to finish the last 30km even at the slightly-sub 20km/h speeds we were managing.

After the first hour or so, it was apparent we weren't making terrific time. I did some mental calculations but I wasn't overly worried because we'd had tight finishes before. Not far from town we spotted the riders from the Lair's Petite Oppy (180km) team waiting for accompany us to the finish. A few riders stopped and a few of us continued on at a stately pace.

A few minutes down the road the second group was not longer in sight - which seemed a little odd. We continued on and discussed what it might all mean. It didn't make sense they'd all dropped off the pace, it must have been a mechanical problem or a puncture. The clock continued to tick down. With a dozen minutes and less than two kilometres to go, we pulled over to the side of the road. What would this mean for our finishing hopes?

The time ticked by with no sign of our teammates of the last 24 hours and our Petit Oppy comrades. There were murmurs of consternation and debate about what course to take but we waited somewhat confident that they would be along in good time. Then the lights appeared, far down the road and drew towards us, slowly at first and then more quickly. Happily reunited we were on our way once more, the final distance being a bit shorter than we had reckoned. We arrived at the Oppy statue in Rochester with three minutes to spare. 

Another year, another most memorable ride.

1703km so far this year.

Audax Wuthering Heights 150km

Stunning riding through tall forests on the way back from Bronte Lake.

Each year a talented and handsome ride organiser, who I shall call Chris, runs a ride that centres on a fishing lodge at Bronte Lake in the central highlands of Tasmania. There's the option to ride 150km up and back or 200km each way with a night of convivial company and tall stories in between. Sadly last year I missed this ride and was determined not to do so again.

Unfortunately the weather bureau intervened. The forecast Saturday was for heavy rain, including thunderstorms. Not I'm not saying I was looking for an excuse but the idea of getting up at 5am to ride 150km uphill in the rain didn't appeal as much as perhaps it should have - not matter how keen I am to get some miles in. 

Leaving Bronte Lake on the short stretch of gravel.

As it turned out, the forecast was disappointingly wrong. Hugh and I caught a lift up to the lakes with Chris, passing the trio of diehards as they ground up the final steep climb. Purely out of courtesy, we didn't crack a beer before their arrival but instead rode out to meet them and escort them in after their hard day's toil. There followed a night of superb food, a few drinks and apparently some snoring in the bunkroom.

By agreement, the 200km lads set off an hour ahead of us for their out and back loop with the intention of catching up up later in the day. Nathan and I turned our wheels eastward and enjoyed warm and warm conditions as we swooped through the gorges and valleys on the way to Ouse, where we ate our fill of roadhouse tucker.

Long downhills and open country in the Derwent Valley.

Underway again, Chris passed us on his way home and informed us that Hugh was breathing down our necks. He caught us at the end of the long and very pleasurable descent into New Norfolk and the three of us made a happy paceline to the finish at the Cenotaph. As I'd left my car at Chris' house, we had 10km to go, which made for the perfect imperial century for the day, as Hugh demonstrated his superior fitness and all-round athleticism by outpacing easily me on the final hills. All the same, I was happy with what was for me a solid day in the saddle. 

A superb ride, thanks to Chris for putting it on. I'm been to travel both ways under my own power next year. Some video highlights below.

879km so far this year.

Ash Dash 2013

A group powers away from the Silver Hill control.

One of the great pleasures of being involved in Audax cycling is being able to play the role of ride organiser once in a while. I love riding, but running a ride is a uniquely enjoyable and rewarding experience in a way I would not have suspected until I took over the running of some events from a previous organiser. One of these is the Ash Dash. Also known as the Annual Seven Hills Dash, this 210km ride traverses the biggest hills around Hobart in a single outing. It's a formidable day in the saddle and attracts only the toughest of local riders and the occasional daring interstate entrant. The Ash Dash ranks up with the Alpine Classic in Victoria and Fitz's Challenge in the ACT as one of Australia's hardest one day rides. I added a 120km option this year, although both rides are challenges with 4071m of vertical in the 210km event and 3032m in the shorter distance.

Happy riders at the Kaoota control. Only one more hill to go.

The ride takes a bit of organising, but online entry has made life so much easier. We had a respectable 23 starters this year and most entered beforehand so I was able to be very precise about how much food and drink I needed to buy for the supported controls. Saturday was spend shopping and then taking the food to the Woodbridge control for the volunteer there. Sunday night was spend on paperwork, including sorting out a running sheet so I knew where riders were likely to be on the course during the day and the opening and closing times of controls. I run the start, finish and one control myself and set up and pack up another control, so there's a bit of running around to do.

Plentiful uphills means downhills in spades too.

Sunday is a somewhat long one for the organiser with more than 13 hours separating the start time and the cutoff and a fair bit of driving, but it was made most enjoyable by the unfailingly cheerful riders who were clearly having a good time despite the challenges of the day. The weather was kind, not too hot for most of the day and the wind wasn't too much of a problem on most of the course giving some riders a welcome push up the final hill towards the finish. Even the rain held off.

What was most remarkable was the speed of this year's event. The first rider was around he course in nine hours, including stops. The last rider was barely over 11 hours. Last year the last rider finished at 8.20pm, whereas this year I was on my way home by 6.30pm, which seemed a little early. The volunteer who was to run the second-two hour shift on the final control turned up just as the last rider was passing through .

The Silver Hill control. Food and drink to satisfy the hungriest of riders.

The great benefit of having run this ride for a couple of years in a row now is that I'm constantly getting ideas about how it might be run better which I'm keen to put into practice next year. Thanks to everyone who helped out with the running of the ride and thanks to all the riders for their feedback on this year's event. I hope to see you all again on the second Sunday in December next year.

6907km so far this year.

Central Plateau Gravel Grinder - a quick lap of Tassie's frozen heart.

Setting out into the weather on Sunday morning.

We were creeping up the hill near Hermitage when the ice storm hit. There was a sprinkling at first, then 'hey, some hail' and then suddenly we were being pelted by small chunks of windblown ice mixed among a hefty downfall of freezing rain. I pulled up my rainjacket collar and raised my hand to shield my face from the stinging onslaught and looked back at Ben who was doing the same. There was nowhere to shelter and nothing to do but to press onward. Within moments were were wet and cold and resigned to a having a Very Bad Time. But as quickly as it came, the squall was gone and we were on our way again. So passed the only unpleasant five minutes of the best weekend's cycling I've done in years.

Leaving Waddamana for the big climb of the day.

In the middle of Tasmania lie the central highlands, a barren, mostly treeless swathe of high country dotted with pretty little lakes beloved of fishers and hunters. The Australian Antarctic Division trains its expeditioners in these parts, the coldest part of Australia's coldest state. The seed was planted when someone showed me their plan for a 150km loop near here a couple of years back. Then the idea morphed into a single day dash 'Over The Top', from Bothwell to Deloraine, a distance of about 130km. Finally it became a 200km two-day circuit from the town of Ouse with an overnight stop in Miena. The ride is about 95 per cent unsealed roads. (Our eventual route can be found here.)

The dates were pre-ordained by leave and rostered days off, although the forecast was not promising. Cold temperatures, rain, snow and wind do not make the best riding weather. All the same, Benny, Kiwi and I set off from Ouse at 9am on Saturday ready to take what came our way. All three of us rode steel bikes, lightly loaded. Two of us sported mudguards hastily fitted in the days before.

Ben admires the view not far south of Miena.

Our route took us through pretty farming country from Ouse north-east to Bothwell. Route-finding was made much easier by uploading a pre-plotted course to my Garmin 810 which squawked well in advance of every turn we needed to take. Our first day saw a big gain in height and we were riding uphill from the start, the tough ascents compensated for by the long descents through hidden valleys containing impossibly lovely sheep farms and willow-lined streams. Though it was cool, the rain held off. We had a snack at Bothwell before pushing north for a while on the Highland Lakes Road, one of the few sections of sealed road we would encounter on the trip.

Less than an hour later we turned onto the gravel again, passing through Hermitage and its pack of chained and very vocal hunting dogs and the momentary bad weather then climbed steadily alongside powerlines leading to the hydro electric village of Waddamana. There was a thrilling and scenic descent before we rolled past the well-preserved old village to our lunchstop at the power museum staffed by a delightful volunteer who was knitting following the Australian Football League grand final on the radio. We ate our lunch on the steps and took a quick tour of the museum, the only people to sign the visitor's book in three days.

Kiwi powers through the forest.

The climb out of Waddamana was around 400m over 4.5km and was tough. Ben and Kiwi patiently waited for me to plod up the hills all day and this climb was no exception. The steepest bits had a couple of us on foot. But soon enough it was over and we were thinking of the beers and the meal awaiting us at the pub in Miena. The cold westerly wind picked up as we regained the highway for the final push. Here I began to tire a little, though the final hill was soon passed and the road flattened s it passed the shack community at the southern end of Great Lake. We had covered 110km for the day on seldom-ridden dirt roads, climbing more than 2200m. Strava called it 'epic', I'm inclined to agree.

A hot, fast and filling meal was consumed and some beers downed in short order and we settled in for the night in the bunks of a fisherman's cabin. It was sufficiently cold outside to deter anyone from taking advantage of the shower block and the heater ran all night.

Morning dawned crisp and overcast and after a couple of toasted ham and cheese sandwiches and a breakfast pie from the local shop we were on our way again. Though rain looked possible there was little wind and there were fewer hills on the gravel Malborough 'Highway' so the going was much quicker than the day before. The scenery was starker too, more alpine compared to the forests we'd traversed on Saturday. I kept stopping to take photos which kept me well off the back of our small peloton. We rested at the shop at Bronte Park for a drink and to top up our supplies of chocolate for the last leg of our journey which we were hoping to complete before we needed lunch, as there were no other facilities on the way.

Heading across Stockyard Flats past Dee Lagoon.

The best of the ride came right at the end. We raced along past Dee Lagoon an into some stunning farming country before turning off towards the locality of Strickland. Here the road turned downwards and for a good 20km we were able to sit back and coast, dodging the rock on the descent through the pine plantation. Kiwi suffered a trio of punctures here on the rougher road. Reaching the highway we turned east and picked up a tailwind to propel us down the last six kilometers of highway to the car, thrilled at the stunning finish to the ride.

Gravel rides are becoming more popular worldwide - I suspect in part thanks to a desire by cyclists to seek out quieter and safer roads. We saw perhaps half a dozen cars on the dirt sections on Saturday (the grand final would have kept many inside) and maybe a dozen on Sunday. Even if we caught a lucky weekend with the weather and the traffic, I know I'll be heading back to the central highlands for daytrips and longer rides. It's stunning country and well worth a visit for the intrepid cyclist.

Nearing the highway to Miena near Shannon.

Dodging potholes near Bronte Park.

Dee Lagoon

Onto the highway for the final run into Ouse.

5,311km so far this year.

Milestone reached.

It has been a much better year on the bike for me this year, so good in fact I have just surpassed the 4008km I rode last year. And along the way I've also managed my 300th post on this blog. To celebrate I'm having a rest day!

To all who have shared this online journey with me, as well as the many journeys in the real world, I hope 2013 is treating you well too.

Getting Lost and Crashing a Lot

Picton River Bridge.

It's pretty hard to get lost and die in the bush. Most people, no matter how badly prepared they are, seem to muddle through ok and find their way home. You have to go to extraordinary lengths - like not taking maps or having a clear idea of where you are going to make sure of having a real adventure. In that pioneering spirit Ben and I tackled the Picton River loop on the weekend.

There was a minor series of fuck-ups to begin with. We started a bit late due to a miscommunication. At the Tahune Airwalk we breezed past the ticket-selling lady saying "We're just going up the Picton" so we didn't have to pay admission. She didn't bother pointing out we were heading the wrong way. Even before leaving the premises I managed to eat shit when my front wheel lost traction on the wet boardwalk and I went down hard. At least I got my hands out.

We set off at a good clip on a nice piece of track heading in the right general direction. Pretty soon it narrowed and it became apparent we were on the Airwalk's purpose-built mountain bike track. No big problem, except we were on road bikes and Ben was sporting 28mm slicks. Soon it was his turn to eat shit in the mud. Sadly I was too busy trying to hang on, but I'm assured his high speed crash could only have been more spectacular if there had been flames and a small explosion on impact.

Ben, not crashing. 

Once Ben had come to terms with the pain in his crash-injured leg, we decided we were heading in the wrong direction. Navigation was complicated by the fact that for some reason my bike computer was reading roughly twice what it should have, making it hard to know how far we'd gone. Doubling back we eventually found a faint track which took us out to the road we'd been looking for - about 800m from the start.

We set off on the fast, smooth surface, bounding up a few gentle undulations as Ben looked for the turnoff. We went past, "I Think This is It Road", past "No, This Looks More Like It Spur", before arriving at the "No, I Think It's This One turnoff - which happily it turned out to be.

Stunning tall forests.

As befits all grand adventures, the destination was well and truly worth the effort.With a little rain and fog about the old Picton River Bridge is a very atmospheric spot. The bridge is condemned and is probably not real safe even to walk across, but very scenic nonetheless. We stopped a while to soak it all in and put some more elaborate touches on the long-planned but highly unlikely to ever happen "Shitterbike Rafting Trip" - which is slated to begin at this spot - before heading back on the opposite bank of the river.

The road back featured even fewer of the gentle undulations of the other side. Since we now had a rough idea where we were going, progress was a lot faster and we were back at the Airwalk in fairly short order, where a couple of chicken burgers quickly eased the pain of our exertions. With all the detours we road about 25km and saw not a single car.

Some days were just made for riding.

Hope it's the same where you are.

3979km so far this year.

Dovernighter

Outbound route: 84.0km, 1694m climbing. Return route: 67.4km, 1024m climbing. 

Me and Kiwi tackling a climb on the Woodhooker Highway Photo: Ben.

In the forests of Southern Tasmania lurk miles and miles of gravel logging roads. During the week they're the playground of massive speeding log trucks but on the weekend they're generally free of traffic bar the occasional lost tourist and the odd woodhooker seeking to scrounge a trailer-load of free firewood from under the noses of the forestry folk and the prefect destination for the adventurous cyclist.

Ben and I had been talking of a trip to Maydena, no mean undertaking at 80km, strung together by my mate Keith from long experience of these wild roads and careful gazing at satellite maps online. Sadly I'd had to cancel at the last minute because of illness and Benny and some of the lads from Bottles and Chains decided to tackle the mythical Dovernighter - a long lope through the forests and ranges that stretch from Judbury to Dover, a journey that takes in just a few hundred metres of sealed road. I mapped the route on RideWithGPS and hoped I might come good in time.

By Saturday I was feeling a lot better and after completing the Dash of Honour without major mishap I decided I'd be ok for Sunday's ride. I loaded the Crosscheck with two small panniers and a handlbar bag and hoped the load wouldn't be too much for the climbing that lay ahead. The lads had breakfast in Huonville and I met them at the Judbury Hall where Kiwi fixed a problem with the back tyre on his stylish hardtail mountain bike. The first ten kilometres rolled under our wheels peacefully and we  spun up the Dennison Range, the first of the days hills and one which I particularly dislike for its length and steepness. 

The hill beyond the Denison Range took up to the Ta Ann verneer mill and the bridge over the mightly Huon River, swollen from recent rains. We took a break and had a bite to eat before setting off on the section Ben calls The Woodhooker Highway, a broad smooth, gently uphill road which the trucks from the mill use to get to the main road at Geveston. It was on the last climb up to the Arve Road we realised that we were in for a long day in the saddle.

A late lunch was had at the side of the road before we remounted to tackle what I had perhaps undersold as a 200m climb to the high point of the ride. It turned out to be a bit closer to 450m. The general truthfulness and accuracy of newspaper reporters was called into question as Mischa and Kiwi disappeared up the grade and Benny taught me how to put new emphasis on old swear words as we wheeled our bikes each corner to reveal even more climbing. It wasn't until 3.30pm that we were at the summit.

From that point on, my memory told me that the ride was basically downhill and I was happy that on this occasion I was correct. Winter days in Southern Tasmania are short and we were running out of daylight, so we donned shell jackets and got on with the riding. We zoomed down the seemingly endless descent, dodging the larger rocks on corners and dared glances at the stunning mountain scenery as we went. In an hour we covered more distance than the previous three. In time we reached a sign proclaiming 14km to Dover - further than we might have hoped   though that leg too was mostly downhill and as  darkness neared we were able to crank out the short distance into town without major difficulty, though we were all pretty pleased to see the pub. Several beers and a big feed followed and we settled in for the night in the near-waterfront house Ben had arranged for our accomodation.

The holiday Monday morning found us not quite as fresh as the day before, but an easier ride beckoned, for we'd decided to take the Esparance Coast Road home. Leaving our digs, we stopped for a hearty breakfast at the Dover takeway store and pedalled through the crisp morning along the water, marvelling at the views. And they only got better. After cresting a couple of large climbs we settled into a pattern of repeating undulations, delivering us breathtaking views over the D'Entrecasteaux Channel and the Huon River and taking us through pretty little settlements of holiday shacks. Only the odd behaviour of one driver who seemed unable to pass a line of cyclists riding single file marred a perfect morning of riding.

We allowed ourselves a coffee break in the weak winter sunshine at Geeveston and again 20km later at Huonville, where Ben said goodbye and the three of us turned to Judbury. The last 15 kilometres are familiar roads for me and after bidding Mischa and Kiwi goodbye it was only the final 200m of vertical to home that tested my legs before a welcome beer and soak in the bath.

It may not be a ride I do that often, but the Dovernighter turned out to be just as good as we'd hoped. Now Maydena beckons.

Mischa cranks out the last mile to Judbury as the sun sinks.

First day ride profile: the third hill is the big one. 

The 2010 annual report.

So another year is over. Hope your 2010 was good, though it won't go down in the annals as one of my better cycling years. I manged 5036km which is my lowest total since 2005.  Generally I aim for 7500 or so and manage 6000. Still, I'll never argue mileage is measure of fun.


In my defence, there were a couple of things which held me back. I skipped the Opperman All Day Trial this year, so there's 360km of the missing 1000km straight away. I also spent November in China where I didn't have access to a bike for most of the month. Then there a the run-in with a Metro bus in April which meant I no longer had the nerve to ride in what passes for peak hour traffic in Hobart. As a result of that, I spent a lot more time in the gym this year instead of on the road.


Enough of the readings from the Big Book of Excuses; my 5036km came up in 264 hours and at an average of 19.02km/h. I'm 2km/h slower this year, not because of the ravages of age, but because I'm riding a lot more hills and a lot more gravel so it's hard to compare with years when most of my riding was fast road commutes. I passed the 30,000km and the 1500 hour mark since resuming riding in January 2005. I managed 144 rides, or 2.19 a week. It's the first year in five years my weekly average was under 100km, at 96.85km.


On the bright side, I cracked my first thousand-kilometre month in September, with 750km in one lovely week of the "Tour de Nord", including a memorable 300km one-day ride in the Mallee Routes. Reviewing the year's photos I remember a touring weekend up at Deloraine and plenty of trips out along the dirt roads of the Tahune. I also (just) completed the 200km Alpine Classic and the Winter Challenge and had my first go at bikepacking. 


On the topic of this blog: there were 27 posts in 2010. I had 6,700 visitors from 81 countries, Australia and the USA being the most frequent and Panama, Latvia, Mozambique and Iceland among the dozen or so with one visitor each. Visitors came directly, via Google searches (Schmidt Edelux, "flying with a bike" and "STI gears" being the most common search terms)  or via the websites of dear friends in the international randonneur community. Cheers to the folk  who arrived here after searching for "slowest up a hill" and "morbidly obese cyclist".


Who knows what 2011 has in store. I've set myself bold goals here before, which I always seem to fall short of, so I'm going to refrain this year. But to everyone who wanders by here from time to time, wherever you may ride this year, may the the wind be at your back through the whole of 2011 and beyond.


66km so far this year. 

Out along the Huon

There's a big river that runs not far from my place and a heap of logging roads through the tall forests on either side all the way south to Geeveston and beyond. Since moving here I've only ventured out there once, but I've been keenly aware I've been missing out on something. Ben and I had a crack at the southern forests today with fat knobby tyres on our Surly Cross Check cyclocross bikes.

We set off with the dim plan of following the river down to a tourist attraction known as the Tahune Airwalk, have some lunch and ride back. It's about a 40km round trip and reasonably flat. I had a bit of an clue how to get there, but there are no up-to-date maps and Google Earth is only so much use. We made good time and picked up some unexpected road signs counting down the distance to the Airwalk, counting it down from about 20km out. We crossed the Huon on the bridge near the Ta Ann veneer mill and pedalled on. After a while we didn't see any more signs, but we hadn't passed any obvious turnings and it never occurred to us we might be on the wrong track. Never mind, of such stuff are adventures made.

After about 25km of a planned 20km ride we came to a T-interesection. Airwalk 15km right,

Geeveston 8km left it said. Bugger, we're miles out of our way. Which way to go? We decided to press on regardless, climbing a long and arduous hill I've noticed form the car and vowed never to tackle on a bike. Never mind, some lovely descending followed and we counted down the kilometres to the Airwalk in pretty quick time with 45km on the clock by lunch.

A lovely feed was had and some directions gleaned and we were back on the bikes along the fast and mainly flat dirt roads back towards the car. We spotted the veneer mill through the trees and decided to take a shortcut when the road turned in the wrong direction. Often this is a bad idea which leads to backtracking, but a section of pretty cool singletrack took us to a broad but shallow river crossing which we forded with the bikes before pressing on again.

Back at the mill, it was simple navigation and an easy ride towards the car. Undeterred by a flat tyre about 5km out we rolled back down the dirt to the end of a very enjoyable adventure. I'm a little disappointed I haven't spent more time checking out these largely traffic-free roads in the past, but now I've had a taste there's some pretty cool trip plans forming in my head.

5755km 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.

A spring in our steps

Spring into Seymour is one of the most enjoyable rides on the Victorian audax calendar. It's a flat fast ride between the picturesque country towns of central Victoria. I rode the 200km version in a bit over eight hours last year and loved it. So I was determined to return, despite the move further south. So I put the bike in a bag and jumped on a plane.

The weather on Friday was appalling, but Saturday dawned crisp, still and clear, as per the forecast. Lancefield Lairs and Oppy teammates Steve and Andy and Ken were also signed up for the 160km/100 mile ride.

We set off at a fair clip and maintained it all day. The tyres were humming as we zoomed along. There was a fair bit of chatter and laughing of the usual topics: riding techniques, frame materials, gear choices, politics, the weather and absent friends. We rolled along the quiet country roads in a small bunch with a trio other riders who left us when we stopped for a short break at Nagambie. Onward we pedalled, enjoying the conditions, the company and the odd walk across old wooden bridges with deadly gaping gaps between the planks. The day was fine and we were having a great time.

We saw the trio again at Murchison, and then briefly at the delightful Lockley Pub, which they left about ten minutes before we did.

It's funny how the competitive urge flares. We had pretty much made up the time deficit at the secret control about 20km out, which they left in a hurry about two minutes ahead of us. We were rolling along nicely after that, but it was pretty clear Steve wanted to chase down the group ahead. Every time the pace eased he'd roll through on the right, eyes focussed down the road. Eventually we could see them in the distance. And reel them in Steve did: rolling up the road in a big gear and closing the gap about 10km from the finish. We stuck together after that, although there was a pretty funny touring bike sprint for the imaginary finish line.

Any day spent on a bike is a good one, but there are some rides that you remember fondly for years. The Oppy will be one of them, and so too I suspect will be the 2007 Spring into Seymour. What fun we had. And we completed the 160-odd kilometres with a riding time of 6 hours and 39 minutes. How we rock.

4,092km so far this year.

The simpler the better.

The single-speed rocks! I rode the green beast every day this week, racking up perhaps 150km on my daily commute. And it's fun. I can even feel the slight gain in efficiency through not having the derailleur gears. My commute is pretty flat so it doesn't present that much of a challenge and I can carry what I need in my shoulder bag which keeps things nice and simple for the odd day I don't ride. Hmmm, might be time to move the panniers back out to the shed.

The bike reminds me of the single-speed bikes of my youth in the days before BMX. They were heavy backpedal brake monsters, bombproof and heaps of fun.

I'm going to stick with this bike for a while because I'm enjoying it so much. No doubt there's a bit of a novelty factor there, but my times to and from work are about the same despite losing a little bit of top-end speed. The fatter tyres make the bike paths far more manageable too. The beauty of this machine lies in it's simplicity. It's testament to the fact that bikes are getting too fiddly and complex.

Sadly the experiment will end in a couple of months with my move to Hobart. I'm thinking of an eight-speed internal hub for the hiller southern city.

I just noticed that I've passed the 10,000km mark for this burst of cycling. Yay me!

1,441km so far this year.

Points in the Karma bank

Rode the single speed in today as an experiment: is it possible to do a dead flat 20km commute on a single speed bike? It turns out it is, how very surprising. I might flip the hub over tonight and ride home fixed. Fun, fun.

The other reason was to pick up a couple of geocaches which turn out to be not far from my route. My caching total now stands at 12. Early days yet - there's heaps more I can reach by bike on my way to or fro.

About halfway in I came across a bloke on a road bike with a flat tyre and stopped to help him. Patched his flat tube and had him on his way. He kept offering me money, but it wouldn't be a good deed if I took cash would it?

1,291km so far this year.

Photo by n8agrain on Flickr

Motoring on the motorway.

Check this out: is this the longest downhill run you've ever seen or what? I try to ride to work from wherever I'm living, although at 70km from town via the freeway I've not attempted it from here before. Last weekend the chance came up.

This is the ride profile off Bikley. It was every bit as good as it looks. I think I might have worn out my top chainring!

Junk debunked.

I picked up a new term from spending too much time to the lycra brigade* - "junk miles". I hadn't heard the term before. It refers to miles on the bike that aren't quality training, that aren't making you faster and fitter or the like. I suspect that by that definition, most of the miles I do are junk miles. It's a funny way of looking at things.

The idea has been bouncing around in my head for days, niggling me. Perhaps I should have a more structured training program, perhaps I should have a coach. A coach!

Riding home yesterday, on a seemingly endless gentle incline with the wind at my back and the sun shining, the obvious occurred to me: if you're enjoying yourself simply riding your bike, there's no such thing as junk miles. And if you're not enjoying yourself, why ride?

* road racers.

811km so far this year.

Bunches Down the Bay

It was a great day for a ride yesterday and a great ride was had. The Bunches Down the Bay was a real treat. After a longish break from Audax rides, it was good to be back in the saddle again. It's a mainly a flat ride down the eastern side of Port Phillip Bay - from Parkville to Portsea and back.

I set off with the bunch at breakneck speed, suspecting I might regret my early exertions later. It's always a danger when you don't ride your own pace. But the carbon fibre and lycra brigade dropped me up the first set of hills and I was able to settle into a bit more of a rhythm. Besides, as is normal, I caught most of them at the 75km checkpoint.

Since I was feeling good and wasn't taking long breaks at the checkpoints to avoid warming down, this pattern repeated throughout. They'd catch me, I'd sit in for a while, get dropped, then overhaul them at the checkpoints. Oddly though, the bigger group didn't catch back up in the last 50km, and about 15km from the end I found a quicker wheel to sit on and was dragged along to the finish.

A very satisfying ride, more so for the fact that I did my fastest century yet - 3 hours and 59 minutes for the 100km and just over six hours for the 150. Now to get ready for a very different ride: 200km around Lake Eildon next weekend. It's all part of the buildup for the qualifying rides for next years Paris-Brest-Paris.

3,947km so far this year.

Surfers chase the perfect wave, I suppose the cycling equivalent is the perfect ride. They're probably about as rare. A flawless winter's day today, a dazzling blue sky, about ten degrees. A slight tailwind all the way. A cheery greeting from everyone I passed. All the muscles working in concert, an effortless gentle spin all the way to work.

I should take a photo. A day like today is something to remember the next time I get rained on as I toil into a headwind in the dark.

In other two-wheeled excitement, my old track frame should be back from the powerdercoaters tomorrow with a fresh paint job. I've ordered a new crankset from the UK and my audax licence is apparently sufficient for me to be allowed into Melbourne's flash new indoor wooden velodrome to do some lazy laps at $5 an hour weekday mornings on the way to work.

2,961km so far this year.

The Lancefield Lazy Legs has been run in wonderful central Victorian winter weather. A cold +1 degree start and lots of early fog to keep things interesting, but a fun fast ride through some wonderful scenery. A reasonable turnout too - easily 30 riders by my estimation. I hung on for about 40km, but was dropped by the bunch in the hills about 20km out out of Tallarook. No biggie, I'm used to that and I knew I'd see them again.

I managed to keep my break at Tallarook short and after stripping off all my winter kit and stuffing it in my saddlebag and my already bulging jersey back pockets, had my brevet card stamped and set off again shortly after arriving. A nice and slow run along through the first 20km of undulations saw me caught by a group of four who provided, someone to chat with, some wheels to sit on and a good pace back to Lancefield. Apart from some minor knee pain probably caused by pushing big gears uphill, it was a sensational day out on the road bike with some great people. A productive day for me means 111.67km in 4 hours, 56 minutes at an average speed of 22.4km/h, all powered by a big breakfast, a Mars bar and about four litres of water.

2,690km so far this year.