Spring is in the Air

Winter is receding into memory and the fresh breezes and warmer days of spring are once more upon us. With spring comes a flurry of planning, made of much easier by the plethora of mapping websites such as the most excellent  ridewithgps.com. With the plans we've made for the coming Audax season and talk of overnight rides from Launceston to Hobart and loops of the high Central Plateau, there should be some good riding ahead.

This weekend is the Mallee Routes ride, and thought I'd like to be up there churning out a 400, I've also just booked a three-week cycling holiday in Vietnam and money, like time, is a finite quantity. After missing the Spring into Seymour because of work commitments, it's been a thin year for rides in Victoria. I'll have to make up for it next year. Plans are afoot.

Winter is a good time to bed down gear choices too. I'm settling in new wheels on the Thorn and swapped the old rims over to the Crosscheck. New cables and a new drivetrain have given the bike a new lease of life, and will probably hold off the impulse to buy one of the new disk-brake equipped Surly Stragglers for a few years yet.

But talking about bikes and thinking about bikes and writing about bikes is all forgotten when a good ride can be had. Last Sunday's trip was to Tim's, not a long run to be sure but enjoyable nonetheless and a good chance to get some lovely photos of Tasmania at its best.

4960km so far this year.

Short term review Garmin Edge 810

Thanks to a better-than-expected tax return and the fact I'm doing a lot more miles than usual, I was recently able to justify dropping a few dollars on a Garmin Edge 810 cycling-specific GPS unit. I'd had one on my wish list for a while but at around $650 they're a fair investment. I had a look at a few of the online stores but decided that buying from a local bike shop was a better-value proposition since I would get local maps and local power adapters and could take it back in if there were any warranty issues. For only a few dollars more than the basic unit I picked up the kit with the speed and cadence sensor and the heart rate monitor.

The unit is relatively easy to set up on the bike. There's an out-front mount provided which positions the unit ahead of the handlebars, and a couple of pretty handy stem mounts too. The unit's menu system is pretty easy to understand once you've fiddled around with it for a while.

There's a lot to like about the Garmin.  The display screens are very customisable and easy to read. The backlight makes use during night riding much friendlier than a regular computer and the screen is easy to use even with gloves on.  The heart rate and cadence monitors work really well. The inbuilt navigation system is pretty neat too and I can see it coming in handy on brevet rides and tours. Battery life appears to be good and uploading data is straightforward. Charging using the supplied USB cable and moving the unit between bikes is a breeze. And the unit's accuracy is impressive.

There are a few niggles though, and some are more than a little annoying. My unit has several times turned itself off during a ride, an intermittent bug which seems to be brought on by changing screens on the move, but only now and again. The fault has happened a couple of times for no apparent reason too. It's happened perhaps half a dozen times in 400km, so it's hard to know exactly what's causing it. Secondly, the screen, rather than being glass, like most smartphones, is plastic and very susceptible to scratches.  I have learned this from unhappy experience. A thin-film screen guard is highly recommended.

Finally, I'm not overly impressed by the unit's computer and internet integration. While the Garmin can talk to a smartphone, the connection is bluetooth and is pretty unreliable. When the connection works it's relatively easy to upload to the Garmin ride tracking website but there is not integration for other websites, such as Strava. True, there are workarounds but you expect better from a premium unit. There are some other features via the link to a smartphone, such as live tracking and live weather, but they are of little practical use. There is also no ability to customise the unit through the PC, something that would be much easier than using the on-screen menus.

I've had a few Garmin units over the years, from a handheld GPS to a wrist mounted Foretrex. As a general rule, I've found them to be reasonably reliable but stolid and a bit unexciting. If you've got an Apple iPhone for example, it's not hard to think that the Garmin unit suffers a bit by comparison in terms of innovation and imagination. On the whole, I'm very happy with my Edge 810. If cycling GPS technology continues to improve at the rate is has in recent years, I see great things ahead. A GPS with an inbuilt camera for example, is something that makes a fair bot of sense and I hope is not too far away.

4731km 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.

The joy of mudguards

There are three things that make a bike complete. The first is a good generator light set, which means you have light to see by and to keep you safer any time you want to ride. The second is the ability to carry a modest amount of luggage without difficulty. And the third is a set of mudguards - which makes winter riding so much more pleasant.

There's nothing less fun than riding along in a in light rain or wet roads, getting soaked by the icy cold spray from your own wheels. Make no mistake, if you ride for a long time in  a heavy downpour you're still going to get wet, but mudguards drastically cut the amount of water hitting the rider and any riders behind. It means you don't have to stop and put on a  raincoat if you're near your destination or if you think it's just a passing shower. Puddles, wet roads and dirt roads are suddenly so much more navigable. And if you've set your mudguards up properly, your shoes stay much drier too.

There has been a fair bit of rain in Hobart these last few days and I've noticed a lot of the riders I see on the cross-city cyclepath have been absent. I wonder how many might extend the range of weather they considered rideable if they invested in a set of mudguards.

First impressions - GoPro Hero 3 Black Edition.

Over the last few days I've had some fun messing around with a GoPro camera. For those not familiar with the device, they're a tiny "action" video camera which comes with a waterproof housing and a variety of attachments for clamping them to your bike or helmet or parachute harness or whatever. We have a couple at work for shooting multimedia for the website so I borrowed one for the weekend to familiarise myself with the technology. While I think they've got a long way to go, they're a pretty nice piece of kit.

I played around on a couple of rides - the Bundle of Styx on the weekend and on one of my normal morning "faux commutes" up the Hobart bike track and back. Both times I got very reasonable footage. I mounted the camera to my handlebars. The wide angle lens captured the bike's brake levers -  which gives a real sense of being on a bike - and occasionally the light and front wheel. I bought but didn't try a helmet mount. From the footage I made a couple of short videos using a couple of different software programs, mainly for my own amusement. The results, while amateurish in the extreme, pleased me greatly - which is all that matters in this game because just about nobody else will want to look at your bike videos, except perhaps other cyclists and maybe your spouse for a few minutes the first couple of times before making highly sarcastic comments. I found I became a lot better at putting together my short clips with each attempt. Even though I clearly have a long way to go as a videographer, I learned a lot and enjoyed myself immensely putting the videos together. The YouTube clip below doesn't really do the high definition output of the camera justice, although it does give a bit of an idea what can be done with even fairly mundane footage and rudimentary skills.

Before I headed out I had a look at a few videos shot by cyclists and spoke to a couple of GoPro owners. There were two consensuses. First was that the chest mount harness was considered best for cycling use because that position insulates from bumps better than on-bike mounting points and because it gave a more first-person view. The second piece of advice was that handholding the camera was a good idea to capture a variety of shots, such as of pedals turning and wheels spinning, to break up the sequences a little.

First: the good. The camera takes lovely footage. The high resolution is wonderfully crisp and real. Low light performance is good, although it does get overwhelmed a little by strong lights , like headlights and street lights but generally it handled transitions from dark to light well. The camera is light and the waterproof case is a very handy addition. There is a wide range of accessories available and once you have the settings sorted, it's pretty easy to use (Although I buggered up one lot of video by inadvertently changing some settings). The sound recording capacity is pretty good for such a small camera.

Then the bad. The camera has just two main buttons which drive a very odd menu system which is hard to get the hang of quickly. The clamps for attaching to a bicycle are expensive, of indifferent quality and even when tightened the camera tends to be knocked out of position by sharp bumps and didn't fit my seatpost - another mount would be required. (The nice but expensive mounts make by K-Edge look pretty good for most cycling purposes.) The battery life was - on the near-new unit I tested - unimpressive at around 40 minutes, although I suspect we may have a faulty battery. There is no way to see the footage you're shooting or even line up the camera without putting on an additional, battery-draining LCD screen or use the woeful GoPro app on a smart phone via wifi. And there's no way to review footage on the road.

There's another slight drawback that's not the camera's fault at all. Going for a ride for me at least is an exercise in clearing my mind, getting rid of the distractions and stresses of the day. Messing around with a camera, stopping to change or fix mounts and thinking about when to turn the camera on and off is a bit of a diversion from  the main business at hand. I'm going for a ride, not making a movie. I imagine this becomes less of an issue once the novelty factor wears off and with practise.

I've got no doubt that more and more cyclists will mount cameras on their bikes in the coming years - it's fun and gives you an unmatched and highly watchable record of your ride. No doubt the technology will come ahead in leaps and bounds too - I can see a combined GPS and video unit not too far ahead - and the camera offers a good way for cyclists to record and report incidents involving motorists. But I probably won't be buying a GoPro any time soon. at $A500 I think the  top-end unit is well overpriced and I'm not overly impressed by some of the accessories which must rates as some of the most expensive pieces of plastic this side of printer cartridges. All that to one side I've had a lot of fun playing with the GoPro and reckon I might shell out for one of the superseded models - probably a GoPro Hero 2, which can be found on eBay around the $200 point.

Bundle of Styx ride.

King of the Styx

There are great rides, and then there are rides when on the way back someone remarks: "Well, at least you'll get a good blog post out of this". Although it was a pleasant ride by any stretch, The Bundle of Styx was definitely in the latter category.

In our never-ending quest to seek out and ride fresh gravel, the mission was to ride a couple of sections of forestry road we've not tried before. The starting point was at Westerway, about an hour from Hobart. We were planning to do a 70km loop, heading up from Karanja to the Styx River Bridge and then having a poke through the Valley of the Giants towards Maydena before returning on the fast downhill tarmac to Westerway. Having driven these roads on reconnaissance trips I was confident we'd have no trouble finding our way and completing the circuit. (Route and profile here for the curious.) 

Benny and Kiwi and I set out around 10.30am, and made good time of the first dirt sections. The weather was good and the road wasn't in bad condition apart from a couple of short bits which had a bit of loose rock on them. We had a short stop at an old quarry then headed on towards the Styx River Bridge at about the 25km mark.

Because I thought the roads were in pretty reasonable condition - and because Ben had had reasonable success running narrow tyres - I took along my road bike shod with 25mm Gatorskin Hardshells. Gatorskins have a sometimes deserved reputation for being quality tyres able to soak up the worst punishment, so I didn't give much thought to carrying more than the usual two spare tubes in my repair kit. And that was to prove our undoing.

Heading down the steep, fast hill down to the river, I had a rush of blood and picked up a bit too much speed. Inevitably I've hit one of the larger rocks in full flight and managed to puncture both tyres at once. 

No problem, I thought, I'll have these fixed in a jiffy. The only minor problem was that on mounting one of my spare tubes, it immediately went flat from a faulty value. Ben, who was cracking nervous jokes about what might happen to us if we were stranded out in the bush, had a few self-adhesive patches, so we patched the three or four holes in one of my other tubes and put that in. It too went flat. As a last resort we used Ben's single spare tube. 

So here we were: in the middle of nowhere, 25km from the car, with no spare tubes or patches. We decided that pushing on would be foolish so we retraced our steps. That too proved to be a wise decision.

As Ben struck up jaunty songs featuring the assorted atrocities inflicted upon the stranded in these parts, my back tyre blew again. We were about 15km from the car. This time the only think I could think of was cutting the valves off the four punctured tubes and stuffing them into the tyre. Ben and Kiwi took off on a rescue mission and I limped onward. I eventually managed to make it all the way back to town.

The ride wasn't a total disaster. It was a nice day out and I got to play with a borrowed GoPro camera (low quality video here). And I re-learned some valuable lessons about how many tubes to carry and the need to carefully select your tyres to suit your ride.

3360km so far this year.

The Great Race

Photo completely unrelated, I just like it. 

About a month ago I was toying with the idea of buying myself one of those fancy GoPro video cameras. They're not cheap and the idea eventually lost its appeal when I realised that shooting movies from the front of the bike probably wasn't going to yield anything too compelling.

This morning however, I really regretted my choice. I was cruising down Hobart's bike path when I came across a middle-aged bloke on a mountain bike, knobby-tyres, backpack, obviously riding to work like me. I was on the Thorn Tourer - at a steady pace but not really in a hurry -  and slowly reeled him in. I drew level, passed and continued on my way.

A couple of kilometres on, I heard the unmistakable sound of knobbies being wound up to warp speed. It was clear my mate had found a sudden turn of speed. He flew by, out of the saddle and cranking on the gentle uphill which precedes the long descent from New Town to the Tasman bridge.

Now I was faced with a dilemma. With skinny high pressure tyres and a distinct weight advantage, it was inevitable I was going to catch this bloke on the downhill run. Passing him wasn't really an option because he was only going to come back harder and I really didn't feel like racing him. I'm only trying to get to work and I don't want to get there all sweaty and tired.

I gradually reel him in again, closing the gap to about three bike lengths as we approached the barriers at Bay Road. My mate grabs a massive handful of disk brake and suddenly washes off a all his hard-won speed and flops through the barrier like a giant MTB-riding fish. I audibly click through a few gears so he knows I'm breathing down his neck.

Out of the barriers he rises from the saddle again, like a young Eddie Merckx, but without the speed, classy bike, fitness, or handling skills. We're up to speed again, but his shoulders are heaving with the strain of pushing the big gear against the gentle headwind. Surely, he thinks, he must have dropped the fat bloke on the red tourer. But how would you know?

And then he pulls the ultimate rookie move, something I've never even seen before. He starts looking back. Short glances at first, the longer wild-eyed looks. There's nothing furtive about it. He's actually turning his head and checking to see if I'm still there, whether I'm winding up to take him out. It's like the middle of a medal round in an Olympic sprint, except he's dropping speed and he's looking over his shoulder waiting for The Move. But it's never going to come. Part of me wants to drop down a few gears and put in a comical burst, but to do so would be to break the unwritten but immutable rules of the commuter race and I doubt I could keep a straight face. Instead I must sit a few lengths back, condemning my new mate to holding his pace, lest he submit to the ultimate humiliation of being passed again.

The end, when it came, was the usual anti-climax. Around the Cenotaph, he turned right toward the Aquatic Centre. Whether he was planning to turn right, or whether it just offered some welcome relief, I'll never know. Such is the nature of the Great Race. Some video would have been golden.

(I know I've written about The Great Race before, particularly the use of the Passive-Agressive Shadow Technique. But this guy was so good I just had to share.)

2591km so far this year.

Cockpits of Audax

Over the last couple of months I've noticed a couple of really spectacular Audax handlebar rigs that I just can't resist sharing. I'm a big fan of keeping things simple, but on a longer ride you're going to need lights and a GPS and so on. Everything for a purpose and all close at hand, the setup refined by trial and error and experience.

Check this one out, lights, computer GPS, handlbar bag. Not bad.

Then there's this: video camera, computer, GPS, light and snack bag, all nicely mounted and close at hand. I like this setup not only because it lets you film as you ride, but because the handlebars remain relatively uncluttered.

Of course my own setup is a work in progress, but a handlebar bag and a light mount on the bag support keeps things elegant. I have my eye on one of those fancy cameras and maybe a GPS, so no doubt things will change over time.

Oppy 2013

Team Modus Oppyrandos pose at the Oppy statue in Rochester

It can be a long hard ride, The Oppy, as if I needed a reminder. The Audax Australia Fleche Opperman All Day Trial is named after Australia's greatest endurance cyclist Sir Hubert Opperman and requires riders to cover a minimum of 360km in 24 hours. The Victorian event is always well attended for a couple of reasons: it is very well organised and the surrounding countryside is generally pretty flat which makes for pleasant riding. I've said before that the Oppy is one of my favourite rides, mainly because of the camaraderie in the bunch and the pleasure of night riding in a small group. It's also a good chance to catch up with so many of the wonderful Audax community. This was my fifth Oppy after rides in 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2011.

This year's edition, for me at least, was tough. We had a smaller bunch than usual, five instead of the normal dozen or so. I felt fit, but in reality I think was a bit underdone because of the lingering effects of a chest cold I caught after the Alpine Classic week, which also meant I hadn't done as many miles in training as I probably should have. For some reason I just couldn't get comfortable on the bike either, which is odd. It was my first 200km+ outing on the Thorn and while I've done over 2000km on it in shorter rides I don't think I have my set up quite perfect yet. And then there was the wind, more of which later.

The course we took is a familiar one which we've ridden successfully before. We had a strong team and excellent support from Bill and Pete - ever-smiling and ready with delicious and welcome food at every  checkpoint. Steve's superb organisational work before the ride meant everything ran super smoothly. We even had favourable winds from the south and south-west for much of the course.

The first couple of hundred kilometres of the Oppy are generally pretty easy in my opinion. You settle in on the bike, burn off some nervous energy and get a feel for who well you're going to go when day turns to night. It's only after dark that the ride becomes a test of the mind and the legs.

The St James control is around the 200km mark on this course. Ken, who has ridden this course several times during his own glittering Oppy career, reckons once you make St James, you're know you'll finish the ride. For me, that was where the doubts began. Until that point, I'd been going well, enjoying the  scenery and the lovely little country towns we were passing through. Once out of St James we turned west and the battle began.

Now it's fair to say that the other riders in the grandly named Modus Oppyrando team were made of somewhat stouter stuff. For most of the remainder ride I found myself sheltering from the wind on someone's wheel, hanging on for grim death. Now and again I'd drop off the pace until someone noticed and the group would ease up until I was back on. I can't say I seriously entertained thoughts of abandoning but several times it did enter my mind how nice it would be to hope in the support truck at the next stop. Everyone has flat spots during a long ride, but mine seemed to drag on forever.

We reached our long rest stop at Echuca around 2.30am for a couple of hours of blessed sleep before we were back on the road for the final 30km to Rochester, where a heroes welcome and slap-up breakfast awaited. Our numbers swollen by the ranks of the Petit Oppy riders, I again sat in the bunch and made up the numbers. Always a welcome sight, the main street of Rochester couldn't come too soon.

It's a testament to the strength of the other members of the team that our average speed was comparable to other years when we rode without an adverse wind in the final stages and when there were a lot more people to share the work at the front. To enjoy Audax riding is to enjoy a challenge, and there was plenty for me at the Oppy this time. Even so, I'll be back next year for another crack.

1640km so far this year.

Styx and Stones

There aren't many Mondays when I sit at my desk with a big smile on my face, but today is the exception after a sensational weekend of dirt road touring. For a few years a group of us has been talking about tackling a ride from Judbury across the Wellington Ranges to Maydena. We've spied out routes on Google Earth, swapped GPX files between us and talked about it a fair bit, but never got around to actually tackling the journey. This weekend just gone we finally had a crack.

There were four takers for what looked like about a 65km ride. After a flat start, the next ten or so kilometres is a steep grind out of the Huon Valley. I set off half an hour early because I'm a slow climber and I didn't want to slow the others down. After a long, slow ascent (which included a couple of stints on foot) I finally reached the top and rolled over a couple of smaller hills to take a break close to the top of the range at about the 16km mark. Tim,. Chris and Keith arrived about ten minutes after I sat down.

From here on, our progress fell into a predictable rhythm: a rough, rocky descent followed by a steep rocky climb. Chris and Keith were on mountain bikes, well suited to this sort of riding. Tim and I were on road bikes with fatter tyres, which made for some interesting challenges. At one point on the first descent Tim zoomed past me with his back wheel bouncing comically off rocks along as we both hung on for grim death in the rough conditions.

Once we'd reached the first major turn it was a more of the undulations before the lovely long descent to the Styx River where we had lunch in the gorge near the bridge. A finer lunch spot would be hard to imagine. After lunch and topping up our waterbottles from the river, there was short sharp uphill and then about 10km of fast flat riding with glimpses of the Derwent Valley farmland through the trees. But all good things must come to an end  and soon enough we were heading upwards again, on Cassions Road heading over the ridge to National Park. After the heat of the climb, the descent from the top was one of the highlights of the trip, a little-used road with lovely views which had the added benefit of taking us out within a couple of kilometres of our destination around 3.30pm- the National Park pub. Beers and steaks were consumed with gusto before an unsurprisingly early night. We'd covered  71km in five and a half hours of riding time and climbed around 1900 metres (6200 feet in 44 miles for the not-so metrically inclined.)

After a punishing Saturday, I wasn't overly confident about having the legs for the trip back and was contemplating riding into Hobart and catching a bus home. But Keith came up with a "shortcut " via Bushy Park which gave the appearance of cutting out out one of the big climbs. (Keith's shortcuts are somewhat legendary for generally being longer and harder than the original route. Despite this, people continue to be sucked in.) We were soon off on the fast tarmac descent to the roadhouse there for morning tea. The climb that followed was another of the trip's highlights - a pleasant six or so percent almost all the way to the top, a 500m rise over 10km. There followed a thrilling descent and the inevitable steep climb. By now though I was in a rhythm and though it was a slow one, I was confident nothing much was going to stop me. The others were kindly waiting at the top of every climb.

The final 25km retraced part of our route from the day before. We knew there was a substantial climb in there, so after refilling our waterbottles from the Plenty River were set off to spin up to the top. Around this time there was a bit of mist in evidence around the top of Rimons Hill - the landmark that signalled the final descent. Soon enough we were there and I coasted down with my brakes on most of the way to check my speed as the others disappeared into the distance. Once on the flat we cranked out the final four or so kilometres into Judbury. Sunday turned out to be longer in terms of distance at 76km but with "only" 1833m of climbing and slightly faster in terms of average speed.

All in all it was a challenging although most enjoyable weekend. After learning more about the limitations of my current setup, I think I'll whack some fatter tyres on the Crosscheck and consider maybe upgrading my brakes. I'm slowly getting fitter and I ramp up my riding this year, upgrading the engine is always cheaper and smarter than upgrading the bike. I'm looking forward to many more expeditions like this one.

For anyone interested in retracing our route, the GPS tracks of our outbound journey is here: http://app.strava.com/activities/43671351 and the return trip here: http://app.strava.com/activities/43824110

No post, just a photo of my bike.

Been busy with work and riding lately. Makes for a neglected blog. 

Home from Alpine week

After a week of very enjoyable cycling, it's back to earth for me. The Alpine Classic again demonstrated why it is the best cycling event in the country at the weekend, I got in heaps of miles and even had the odd beer or two.

For those who don't know, the Alpine Classic is a series of rides put on each year by Audax Australia in the town of Bright, Victoria. As you'd expect from the name, there's a bit of climbing involved in each of the distances, which range from 70km to 250km for the one-day rides. I was a bit surprised to learn that this year is the fifth time I've been to the Alpine, after visits in 2007, 2008, 2009 and 2010. I've ridden the 130km ride twice (plus one DNF) and the 200km once.

Given the unfortunate demise of the Semaine Federale, several people got together to run a series of rides over the week preceding the main event. It was nice to be able to get some miles in, some brevets up and to explore some of the countryside around Bright. There is plenty of excellent riding in the area and not all of it involves heading up massive hills. I was glad to knock off three 50km and one 100km ride as part of a plan to get myself back into some sort of form ahead of the upcoming Mallee Routes, which seemed to work ok.

Another good thing about getting to Bright a week early is that you get to see that atmosphere build. Over the course of the week more and more riders arrive and by about Thursday there seems to be more bikes than cars on the roads. The polished concrete floors of the Bright Brewhouse clatter to the sounds of cleats as people enjoy a post-ride beer and the supermarkets of people being far too fussy about what they eat.

Alpine week is also a great chance to catch up with many old friends from epic rides of years gone by, to embellish tales of grand feats and to plan new ones. For those of us getting ideas above our station, seeing the legendary Matt Rawnsley receive an award for 100,000km of Audax rides at the club AGM helped put our own achievements back in perspective.

Bushfires this year meant the Alpine Classic had to be rerouted to take in multiple climbs of Mt Buffalo. While this was a bit of a shame, it also meant a new challenge, with those entered in the 200km and 250km ride enduring three ascents in the summer heat. I was happy enough to make it up once.

For me, the highlight of the ride is always the experience at the finish. After coming down that narrow lane to a round of applause when I finished near the end in 2010, I've always spent an hour or so cheering in the last riders. It's great to see the elation on people's faces at the reception - unlike the finish on any other ride I've been on. The cheers for those near the very end are always the loudest. And that's how it should be. Can't wait for next year.

592km so far this year.

A week in Bright

A few years ago, Audax Australia put on a week of very enjoyable rides starting and finishing in the Victorian town of Bright in the lead up to the Alpine Classic. Sadly, for reasons I'm not entirely sure of, the Semaine Federale en Australié is no more, for the time being at least. That is a shame as events like this seem to take a few years to build a following. In its place a bunch of Audax types has put on a week of regular Audax-style rides, and I've flown up to join in the fun.
One thing about Victoria in summer is that it's hot, very hot. This is particularly noticeable if you've arrived from the cooler climes of Tasmania. After a few days of unaccustomed riding from the airport on Saturday and around Lancefield on Sunday, I decided to take a chance and try the 100km ride on "Bright Monday". There were around 20 other riders on the various distances from 50km to 150km, many of them familiar faces from Audax rides of years gone by.
The pace from the start was a bit of a surprise, we steamed out of town on the Great Alpine Way at around 30km/h, meaning we were in Myrtleford in an hour. Most of the other riders stopped for morning tea at the bakery, but I was keen to push on and get as much of the ride done as I could before the hottest part of the day. It turned out to be a smart decision.
Up and over the hill past the Gapstead winery and down the other side I was feeling strong and was at the halfway point at Everton in a bit over two hours. Turns out halfway was well over 50km, more like 57km. I scarfed down a bite to eat and got back on the road.
It was warm now, even hot and I could feel myself flagging as a gentle headwind knocked a couple of km/h off my speed and the overhead sun meant little shade from the trees alongside the rail trail. Happily once I crested the hill, I was quickly refreshed by the downhill run and lunch at the bakery at Myrtleford.
Lunch over, the full heat of the day was making itself felt. The temperature was in the high 30s and a short rest rest stop was in order at the old Eurobin station where I was able to take my jersey off and soak it in some water for at least some temporary relief from the heat. Some of the following group caught up to me here and I expected their company along the remainder of the ride back to Bright, but I was also keen to keep on track for a decent time for the day and sadly didn't see them again. All up I covered the 115km in a little over six hours, five not counting breaks. For someone who is not all that fit at the moment, I'm pretty happy with that result. I should be a good week of riding, as long as the temperature doesn't top 40!

326km so far this year.

2012 was not one for the ages

It's not that it has taken me this long to get around to doing my annual review of my past year's riding, it's more a case that 2012 wasn't really anything for me to crow about. I've long since given up setting goals - given how infrequently I tend to hit them it's a bit of an exercise in futility. For what it's worth, here's the year that was in a nutshell.

All up I rode 4,008km last year. That's somewhat consistent with my result in the previous couple of years, which are themselves down about 2000km on average because I'm doing a lot less Audax riding in Tasmania than I did in Victoria. (Something to do with the terrain!) On the bright side, my average speed is up a shade from 19.6km/h to 20.3km/h, which might be a sign I'm getting faster or it might be assign I'm not doing as many hard rides. Or neither or both, who can tell? There were only 68 rides, an average of 32km long. I blame work. I didn't have time to train for the Alpine Classic, which also meant I wasn't fit for the Oppy. As it ended up I couldn't get the time off work anyway. Does it sound like I need a new job or what? As a plus I finally cracked he 40,000km mark since I took up cycling again a few years back. Some people probably do that in two.

What is interesting is how small the daily and weekly differences are between good and bad years, of couple of kilometers a day or a handful a week. Something to keep in mind in 2013.

Lazy, unoriginal and wrong

I can still remember reading the first anti-cyclist troll column I ever encountered. It was in the pages of the Manly Daily around 1984. It was around the time of the triathlon boom, when there was an increase in the number and visibility of cyclists on the roads and some bright spark whose name I have long forgotten trotted out the arguments we're all now well familiar with. I wrote a letter to the editor and received a reply that it was the columnist's job to be controversial.

In the years since I've read the same tripe dozens of times. The formula is the stuff of lazy journalism. Pick a visible minority and trot out a bunch of ill-informed stereotypes based on a personal grudge and a blinkered view of the world. It used to be religious or racial stereotypes, but those sorts of hateful opinions are now frowned upon so the lazy columnist bereft of ideas must find other groups to deride. Fat people, the poor, the unemployed, the young; the list changes from time to time, but the intent and effect are unchanging.

Daniel Meers of the Gold Coast Bulletin (@danielmeers on Twitter) is the latest to have crack at the genre. His effort is a nice try, but he has nothing new to add, all the long-discredited arguments are there: the registration furphy, the claims of universal lawlessness, the cry unsupported by any evidence that cyclists are a danger to all and sundry, the suggestion that roads are built for the exclusive use of cars to travel at speed from one place to another, the call for radical action: in this case a ban on cyclists altogether. Indeed Daniel calls for a "war on cyclists" and even makes a thinly veiled threat that motorists must "win back the roads" before "something bad really happens".

By their own behaviour on the roads, the overwhelming majority of cyclists and motorists are able to get along just fine. The motorist (and I am one of those as well) is lavishly catered for with an astonishingly well-resourced and ever-expanding network of roads paid for by all taxpayers. Only a tiny minority feel disinclined to share or behave in a courteous fashion.

Daniel says there's a mob of louts every morning, causing havoc on the roads in his area. What a good journalist does is grabs a photographer, gets out of bed a bit early and gets the story. Talk to the aggrieved  locals, talk to the cyclists and get some photos of them breaking the law.

Daniel says the cyclists hold him up a few minutes as he drives three kilometres (!) to his morning jog. A good journalist doesn't allow personal interests to influence his work, particularly not a petty nuisance like being slowed down for a few minutes a day. Maybe that's a good sign there's no other injustices on the Gold Coast deserving of his attention and this level of outrage. Somehow I suspect those few minutes he's lost isn't time he was using to research a cancer cure or even put into polishing this particular column.

Oddly, what the Gold Coast Bulletin doesn't realise is that cyclists buy papers too. Bike shops are paying advertisers. Alienating a section of the community isn't a good way to increase either credibility or readership. As this most recent, larger and more lasting bike boom is upon us, those who don't ride a bike for recreation or transport commonly have a friend, a brother, a sister, a son or daughter or workmate who does. The last two editors I've worked for have both been cyclists. The newspaper where I work had written plenty of positive stories about cycling as have many others. It's a more nuanced and informed and refreshing approach compared to what the Gold Coast Bulletin - appropriately enough sometimes known as "The Bully" - is reaching for here.

We have a right to expect more of our senior journalists and a right to pull them up when get it as wrong as this. It is worth noting Meers has copped a fair pasting in the comments section and on Twitter. Even Robbie McEwen has joined in. Every single argument he raises in this forgettable effort is well and truly refuted by his readers. It that's not a sign the world is changing for the better, I don't know what is. 

3796km so far this year.

Ash Dash 2012

Pelverata Saddle is the toughest climb of the day

The Ash Dash is one of Tasmania's best rides, 210km taking in some of the most epic climbs south of the city, with glorious views over farmland and rivers and ocean to temper the suffering of climbing 4600 metres in on outing.

The ride, which has been running for many years, wasn't organised by Audax last year although I'm told a few intrepid riders did the course on their own. I stuck my hand up as ride organiser this year for two reasons: firstly to gain some experience running events, secondly so I didn't have to ride the bugger. I was a lot fitter in 2009 than I am now, and even then I found it a challenge.

The task was made much easier by the fact that I had four volunteers offer to help out to help me with the ride. That meant we could have three fully staffed checkpoints, which makes life infinitely easier for the organiser who doesn't then have to dash all over the course opening and closing checkpoints as riders pass through. Most riders commented that the reception and support at the checkpoints was the highlight of their  day.

Heading up to Vinces Saddle.

We had a shade under 20 entrants for the ride - including a quarter of Lancefield Lairs who flew down from Victoria for the event. The weather forecast was good, with moderate temperatures and a little rain predicted. In the event there were only a few drops on the course during the day.

I left home at 5.30am and set up the my little folding table at the start at 6.15am for early arrivals. There were none of course and the last ten minutes before the ride was a flurry of entry forms and payments going one way and cue sheets and brevet cards the other. We ended up starting a few minutes late.

I headed out onto the course to take photos, catching most of the riders as they went over Vince's Saddle. Everyone was travelling strong, although there was a wide spread between riders even at that early stage. I raced to the supermarket to buy the remainder of the food for the controls, then headed to Silver Hill where Heather was chatting to a group of Southern Pedals riders who were passing through on a training ride. The first arrivals weren't far behind and Chris arrived, picked up the supplies for the Woodbridge Saddle control and left to greet the riders at the top of one of the hardest climbs of the day. Then I wandered off to Kaoota to meet Stephen and set up that control and wait.

Frank looks glad that Silver Hill is behind him.

And wait we did. After chatting for a while, I set off looking for the lead group. They were still 20km out, suggesting the 30km average speed which dictates the control opening time is simple not achievable on this ride, even with some pretty sharp riders out on the course. They covered the distance in pretty quick time and the control sprang into life, which meant it was my turn to go and set up at the finish at Salamanca Place.

The finish should be called "The Control of Smiles" because looking back on my photos, everyone has very broad grins - either at the joy of completing the challenge, or perhaps just because the pain has stopped. At any rate I was kept busy with riders arriving from 3.55pm right through to two minutes before the official cutoff of 8.38pm.

Happy finishers.

We've had some very helpful suggestions for next year: cold drinks at all the controls, route marking on the day, and adding the road numbers to the cue sheet. The entry fee will likely go up a smidge, as will the allowable time limit, to reflect the extra 10km this ride covers, None of them sound too difficult so hopefully we can incorporate then without too much trouble. I'm very keen to add a shorter option too - I'm going to have a think about a 110km or a 120km route which starts a little later and takes in a couple of the existing checkpoints. I'll also investigate electronic entry to avoid the last minute rush on the morning.

Thanks to all of the riders for taking part and their feedback, and hearty congratulations to our volunteers for making this one of the best Audax rides I've been involved with in recent years.

3763km so far this year.

Dearie gracious me.

I'm calling it, the cycling revolution has finally jumped the shark.

I work in the mainstream meadia, so I know only too well how easily someone's dumb idea translates from some lightbulb moment in a news conference to something uninformed and shallow and useless with a photo on page seven. Feast your eyes on this junk, it's what happens when the Canberra Times unleashes its "Lifestyle and Entertainment Reporter" on recreational cycling.

If you are a woman and would like to find a husband, then you should invest in some Lycra, preferably with a splash of neon to be on trend for summer, and sensible underwear which doesn't give you a VPL [visible panty line], according to co-owner of The Cyclery, Jayson Clarke.

Now I'm one of those old school hacks who thinks that "lifestyle and entertainment reporters" aren't real journalists, but apparently it has been decided that we're going to address the crisis in the newspaper industry by giving up on hard news and feeding people lightweight garbage like this.

The same colour jersey and shorts must be worn, or at least look like they should be worn together. "You don't drive a Mercedes while wearing a BMW shirt, so when it comes to your outfit, wearing a different brand or kind of jersey to your shorts is a no-no," Clarke added.

There is, of course, that the owners of the bike shop were having a huge laugh at her expense, but nonetheless, what bemuses me is this: what service is this article to readers who might be thinking of buying a bike? 

There are two types of people who have a $16,000 road racing bike as recommended in this piece. There's the elite athlete (who doesn't pay for the bike anyway, and the clueless whacker with too much money. I wonder which category Jenna Clarke falls into? For that money, you could buy four or five fine superb bikes, any one of which might stand a chance of having more than one use: riding at top speed on smooth roads in fine weather during the day with a load no more demanding than a half full waterbottle. (Don't get me started on the fact most of the people who ride these type of bikes in fact don't race and have lamentable bike handling skills and very poor road manners.)

There's a hint in there too about how the many in the cycling industry will forever be at the mercy of boom and bust. If you think recommending a $16,000 bike to a novice rider is going to bring people rushing to your door, maybe you don't deserve to be in business. When cycling is no longer "the new golf" I can see a lot of these sort of bike shops going broke.

Ah, what the hell, I'm going for a ride. In my shorts and T-shirt on my old steel bike. Maybe I'm just not serious about cycling.

3659km so far this year. 

My stretch of glory

The North Huon Road:  a fine stretch of gravel.

For almost every cyclist, fast or slow, competitive or commuter, there strikes the occasional desire to test the legs. For most of us not of the lyrca clad set, who entertain no illusions of Tour de France glory, the urge may seldom be strong enough to rise much above our normal pace, save for the occasional sprint through the orange traffic light or the rise from the saddle up a sharp hill or the sly pursuit of a another rider on the morning commute.

Those moments, competing with no-one - barely even ourselves - are all about the joy of propelling oneself down the road at an interesting  pace for a few moments or a few minutes. That racing spirit need not be strong, nor last for long, but it is there.

Similarly, for each of us there is a stretch of road, so familiar, ridden so often that we regard it almost as our own. Every bump, each turn, every hazard and rise is mapped is so deeply ingrained in our minds that each run along them can be done almost asleep.

For me, that stretch of road is the North Huon Road. It's one of the nicest stretches of gravel road around this neck of the woods. There's little traffic and the surface is usually smooth and fast. Roadies normally turn around just before this bit without realising what they're missing, lest their shiny plastic bikes be shaken asunder by a peril we lesser mortals cannot even perceive.

So imagine my surprise when I set up a segment on Strava for my favourite slightly downhill homeward gravel stretch, to find that I was within spitting distance of being the king of the North Huon Road! Normally I'm well down the leaderboard on popular segments, thanks to a combination of a lack of ability and a lack of caring. But on my own damn road, against just 15 others how has passed that way before? I had to be in with a shot!


I made my move coming back from the shops the other Sunday. The stretch is only 5km long and with the commuter bike locked in on the top chainring, a gentle tail wind and a bit of effort I was able to hold onto an average of 31km/h for the distance, coming in two seconds under ten minutes and knocking 30 seconds off the previous best. I think I've left myself a little room for personal improvement too. That's just as well, because I can feel the hot breath of a competitive neighbour one the back of my neck, trying to take back what it rightfully mine. But for for now these fleeting moments of glory are mine. I am the king of the North Huon Road.

3504km so far this year.

Mountain River Meander 2012

A rider prepares for the start.

The Audax club in Tasmania is a small one, with about eight regular members. In recent years we've been going through a bit of a quiet time, with the departure of a stalwart long time club president and ride organiser. Last year we didn't run a single ride, partly because we missed the deadline for the club calendar.

This year is a rebuilding year for Audax in Tasmania. The rough plan is to hold enough rides to boost rider participation and to increase that number over each of the coming years. That's the theory anyway, here's hoping it works out.

The Mountain River Meander 100km was our first ride for this year, coming on the first weekend of the season. With four pre-ride entries and excellent weather, it wasn't a bad start at all, considering there are rides in the more populous states that only attract one or two riders. Four riders is half the club!

After the newbie ride organiser (me) sorted out entries and brevet cards and maps and cue sheets,  Andrew and Frank new Audax rider John and I set off at 9am down the Huon Highway and out through Judbury for the first leg of the course. We stuck together, which made a pleasant change for me because I'm used to riding alone. By Tasmanian standards it's a pretty flat and fast course with only 750-odd metres of climbing and oly one major hill of 150m. We stopped in Huonville for a quick break before heading out along the Cygnet Coast Road, one of my favourite parts of the ride. We hit the lovely burger cafe at Cygnet before tacking the dreaded Balf's Hill - which since I always hit it with a full stomach and cool legs is never fun. Once over we zoomed back to Huonville, spreading out only along the final grind up the highway to Mountain River, where I flagged a little in the headwind and dropped back a little. We covered the course in about five hours 30 minutes, including about an hour of breaks.

All in all it was a delightful ride in very pleasant company. I hope to run it again next year, having fixed a couple of minor issues with the cue sheet and maybe added a slight diversion or to to make sure it's over the magic 100km mark - my computer registered 99.3km - another 700m should not be hard to find.

3455km so far this year.