Roots and mushrooms

Moving me and my family to England to live presented many problems, not least was the prospect of being without my beloved mountain bike for up to 3 months, while it made its way, along with the rest of our belongings in a shipping container to the UK.  Thankfully, the airline we flew with allowed us a few extra kilos because we were “emigrating”, so this meant I could pack and bring my bike.

Having recently read a “How to” article in Australian Mountain Bike magazine about packing a bike for flying, I was armed and dangerous with a little knowledge.  The article said it would take about an hour to pack, so about 3 hours later my bike was sufficiently packed and padded inside a cardboard box, ready for its maiden flight.

After landing at Heathrow and clearing immigration, it was a nervous wait for my bike box.  I had visions of it coming out looking like it had gone 7 rounds with Mike Tyson.  It was the first piece of our luggage that came through, and from a distance looked like it survived the trip without a problem.  Closer examination of the box revealed that a crank arm had punched its way through the cardboard, but thankfully this did not pose any future problems.

Having arrived with the usual jetlag and suffering from being cramped in a tin can for 20 hours, it was great to unpack my bike, put it all back together and go for a quick blast on the afternoon we arrived.

The first thing I noticed on my maiden English ride was the amount of spiky things that just love to rub against you on the trails.  Stinging nettles and blackberries are common everywhere.  Rubbing against a stinging nettle is like rubbing against a hot iron.  And blackberries leave you looking like you’ve just tried to pick up a feral cat.  My legs and forearms were left bleeding, and my shins stung from the nettles, but it was great to spin the legs and fill the lungs with some fresh country air.

Since I arrived, I’ve managed to get out fairly often, and I have discovered a nice network of trails close to home.  It is a nice feeling to leave the house and be on-track within 5 minutes, instead of having to drive an hour before being able to ride.

Funky mushrooms

Which brings me to the title of this post.  Roots and mushies (mushrooms).  They’re everywhere around here.  I’m not sure which trees the roots belong to, but judging from the size of them, they’re from the maturer trees that line the trails here.  They stand between 5 and 10cm above the ground, and they generally face side-on to the direction of the track.  This is perfectly fine in dry weather, but even heavy dew makes these roots as slippery as the slipperiest thing on earth.  If the side lugs of your tyres slip even a millimetre on them, everything suddenly falls away from underneath you, and you’re on your ass.  As for the mushrooms, well, they are just plain funky (see picture).

So even though the trails around my house are not exactly extreme, or even that techincal, the threat of falling on your ass because of slippery roots, as well as the constant bombardment of stinging nettles and blackberries, means I still have to be vigilant on every ride.  The big plus with all the blackberries around is that even if I do have to change a tube mid-ride, I can get a decent feed of juicy sweet fruit, right where I stop.  And apparently stinging nettle soup is nice, but I’m not that keen to pick them, for obvious reasons.

Bittersweet Ending

I managed to get out for a ride in the Hills on Sunday afternoon, my last mountain bike ride in Perth. The next dirt riding I will do will be in *sunny* England. You see, my family and I are moving to Newbury in England at the end of the month. While I am sad to leave behind the excellent riding in Perth, I am equally excited about discovering new riding opportunities around my new home.

To end my Perth riding adventures, I decided to ride a couple of my favourite trails, so that I can leave Perth with fond riding memories (so as you can imagine, I didn’t end it with a 100km slog along the Munda Biddi Trail).

My trails of choice in fact started on the Munda Biddi, but then diverged on to the wonderfull flowing White Tag track, then on to the very fun Blue Tag track, then on to the fast and challenging Scorpion track.

White Tag is a trail that I love as much for its different environments as for its flow. One minute you’re riding through sparse Jarrah forest, then through low-lying ground covered in thick sedges, then you pop out into fantastic pine forest. All the while, the bike is hardly ever vertical because of the constant flowing corners, many of which are bermed. Thankfully off-camber corners are kept to a minimum, and in some places it is possible to let go of the brakes completely and just carve your way through the corners. Fantastic!!

Then on to the much used Blue Tag track, which holds a special place in my riding memories as the first Perth Hills trail that I tackled, way back when I was riding my mighty Apollo hard-tail. Because I have ridden this trail so much, and the surface is so hard packed, I find that I am pedalling flat out the whole time. Exhausting but exhilarating, because of the high speeds.

After crossing the bitumen, it’s on to the brilliantly constructed Scorpion trail, complete with some extremely difficult trail features like log rides leading to hip-high flat landings, which thankfully have a great chicken-line around them!! I have two favourite parts of this trail, which are both great for different reasons. One is a ride-through of an ancient, and huge, burnt out tree, where you actually ride through the centre of the still-standing trunk. The other is the massively fast pine tree section, where a trick of the local topography makes it seem like you are riding slightly uphill, but in actual fact you are riding slightly downhill. Absolutely brilliant!!

All up my last runch in the Perth Hills took less than an hour, but I am really happy I managed to ride my favourite trails. To the guys and girls who build these trails, I take my hat off to you. I only hope that the trail pixies in England have learned the same trail-building techniques as you.

6 Hour Wrap-up

A couple of Sunday’s ago my mate and I competed in the annual Jarrahdale 6 hour race. The results and photos of the race are now in – finally I have found “a” photograph of myself with a race number attached to the handlebars.

As anyone who rides mountain bikes will tell you, the surface you ride on is very important, and ultimately determines your overall speed and enjoyment. Western Australia is the home of pea-gravel (see picture, and yes, it is as bad as it looks – a bit like riding on half-sized marbles, interspersed with sand). The days leading up to the race were wet, with the race day being bathed in perfect sunshine. These were going to be perfect conditions for fast (and fun) riding.

There was a big field (300+ riders) and my mate was doing the first lap. He started in the final third of the pack and was severely held up by all the traffic. I rode the second lap, and the field had spread out quite a bit by that stage, but I did manage to pass (and be passed) by quite a few riders. I measured the lap distance at 9.2km, which I confirmed with another competitor, but the race officials deemed each lap to be 8.55km (who knows, but going by the lie-detector strapped to the bars of my bike, I averaged 16km/h on my first lap, which I was stoked with).

We continued with our single-lap race plan, and the only hiccup came at the end of my first lap, when I got to the transition area and discovered my mate was nowhere to be found. People all around me were loudly suggesting I should do another lap (screw that, I was buggerred and needed a rest). Eventually my mate sauntered over to the start line – my speedy lap time had confused his peanut brain. Thankfully he is a strong rider and was able to make up for his indiscretion.

Eventually it got to the end of lap 8 and we still had 1.5 hours to go. We started talking to each other in the transition area about getting 10 laps in, 11 at a pinch (our original target was 9 laps). My mate went out for lap 9 and put in a scorcher, but even if I was able to do a quick lap myself, there was no way my mate could pull off a lap as quick as what would be required, so I just cruised the last lap (lap 10).

Again, I was extremely impressed by the camaraderie shown amongst the racers, with more please’s and thankyou’s than ever. At the end of the day in the “Team of Two” category we were 41st (out of 66 teams), and 96th overall. Best of all I had an absolute blast riding as fast as my legs will carry me, over some of the very best trails WA has to offer.

On a side note, I reckon I was privileged to race with one of Western Australia’s (if not Australia’s) most up-and-coming riders, Reece Tucknott. This kid is only 14 years old, and was simply blasting everyone on course (and doing it without pissing anybody off, which was a bonus). His team narrowly missed taking out the “Team of Two” category, coming second to a couple of blokes who were probably 3 times his age, but with a bit of endurance and wisdom in this kid’s legs, he is going places.

Why do I bother?

I always come last (or so close to it that it doesn’t matter).

Another MTB race over the weekend, and another wooden spoon for the mantle piece. So I am forced to ask myself the question “Why am I doing this?”.

If I do a bit of navel gazing, I see that when it comes to competitiveness, I must have been standing behind the door when this “spirit” was dished out. To put it bluntly, I don’t give a rats arse about not coming first.

BUT (note the emphasis using capital letters), I am passionate about not coming last. The very thought of coming last at something raises my blood pressure. So, if that is the case, then I am just as happy not winning as I am at not coming last.

My last 2 MTB races have seen me place in the last 5 at each event, so on a personal competitive level, I am kicking goals. However, if I really put some grey-matter into it, I must be racing for more than just the placing.

So what is it that motivates me to participate in races where I know I’m going to be close to last?

Here’s my top 3 things I love about mountain bike racing:

1. The competitive banter on the start line. As I’ve already said, I’m not a competitive person, but I love hearing and engaging in the bullshit that gets spoken on the start line; “hey mate, your front tyre is looking a bit flat” is a favourite. The nervous energy that seems to engulf even the calmest people brings out some excellent jest.

2. Being photographed by professional looking photographers. This makes me feel like a superstar, even though I’m usually sweating like a Sumo wrestler when the flash pops, and probably looking like a crazed loon with a look of extreme pain on my face. I say probably here, because even though these professional looking photographers take pictures of me and post their images on the web, I’ve never EVER seen a photo of myself at a mountain bike race (I put this down to my sweat-stained grimace not being attractive enough for the internet).

3. The mid-race encouragement from the speedsters. I am always in awe of the “elite” riders who pass me like I’m standing still (I’m not far off being stationary most of the time during a race). You can hear their wheels hammering over rocks and obstacles, then the call of “rider” from behind, which tells me to get out of their way while they zoom past. Of course, they could leave it at that, but I really love it when they give me a bit of encouragement: “c’mon, keep pedalling” or “keep going, you’re looking strong”. Even though I know they are lying, it tells me a lot about the person who has just passed me, and I really get a boost from it.

So why do I bother participating in mountain bike races? Because I love it, that’s why!!

6 Hour Training (Generally) Ontrack

I’ll be riding the Jarrahdale 6 Hour with a mate, in a team of two. I am told the track is about 9.5km, so the target is to ride a minimum of 9 laps (assumption we average 15km/h between us), barring mechanical or biological breakdowns.

I’ve left myself a pretty short period to get in shape for this event. There is a very good reason for this.

Time. Or more appropriately, lack of it.

I often wonder just how much better I would be if I just had TIME to put into training. Prior to my effort at the Karri Cup late last year, I spent a lot of time training, to the detriment of my home life (unhappy wife and a child who barely recognised me). And I still only managed to finish in the back half of the field (8hrs 1min to ride 100km, average ~12.5km/h).

I take from that a bit of a Homer-ish lesson. “Can’t win, don’t try”. Well, maybe not going to that extreme, but there is another lesson there, I believe. Know your limitations, and work within them.

And my major limitation is TIME. With work, fatherly duties and husbandly duties I have very little time left for training duties. Basically, I have only a few hours a week (at maximum maybe 7) where I can spin the pedals and improve my fitness for riding/racing (that includes travel to and from trail heads, which is why I have put more focus on interval training and gym sessions this time).

So the plan was to begin (in earnest) my training this week (I started on Monday), and try and get my 7 hours training in each week for the next 4 weeks. I plan to basically train right up until the event, with a day or 2 off prior to the race. So I am doing a combination of riding on the wind trainer (2 x 1 hour sessions/week, before work), gym sessions (2 x 1/2 hour sessions/week, after work) and trail riding (1 x 2 hour session/week, sometime on the weekend, plus travel time of about 2 hours). This is carefully planned to avoid any “disappointment” from the better half.

Already I have a spanner thrown into the cogs this week. I have met my goals for the wind trainer and the gym, but the fatherly and husbandly duties have once again taken precedent this weekend, so no trail riding time for me this week. I might be able to swing an extra long trail riding session next weekend. We’ll see.

I just hope I don’t let my team mate down on the day.

Rant On Energy Gels

All energy gels taste like crap!! Well, that's my opinion anyway, and I'm sticking to it. I hate them with a passion.

The first time I opened and swallowed an energy gel I thought "this can't be right - I can't even swallow it properly". Never mind the taste, that unfortunately kept repeating on me for at least an hour. I thought to myself, "maybe it's just this brand - I'll try another one".

Unfortunately, the next gel (different brand) was even worse, leaving such a foul taste in my mouth, that every second gulp of water I took from my CamelBak, I spat out.

I read recently about some guy who was trying to make his own gels out of rice syrup, fruit juice and salt, but the amount of salt that he was suggesting made me think twice about trying the recipe. I'm certain the quantity of salt he was suggesting was either wrong, or if it wasn't, then you would be doing your body a serious dis-service.

I'm certain that there are better ways for the "average" rider to fuel their escapades. Personally, I've found that breakfast drinks and baby food are great. Yes, I know, I said baby food!! But hear me out - there are now "squeezy packs" of blended fruit on the supermarket shelves, some with ~ 1000kj per serve. They claim to be 100% fruit, and they taste INFINITELY better than an energy gel.

The breakfast drinks are pretty good too, some claiming to be equivalent to a decent bowl of cereal. Plus, if they are chilled, the taste like a shop-bought milkshake, which is really nice out on the track.

The best thing about both these options is they are liquid, and you body will digest them easily. This means you don't have to eat the equivalent of half a loaf of bread to get the energy to keep riding. By the way, I've tried eating lots of solid food before riding, but if you are pushing yourself, the urge to spew can be a bit off-putting. Liquids don't make you feel so crook.

Of course, transportation of breakfast drinks and baby food while you are riding is always going to be a problem, and I have found that these "fuels" work best when you are carrying a backpack (the CamelBak is great because of the multi-purpose role it serves). These are also great if you are doing a multi-loop ride where you have the opportunity to stop and grab one from the esky when you feel like it (eg, shuttles or multi-lap endurance racing).

Don't get me wrong, energy gels have their purpose, and I appreciate the racing fraternity love them for being so light, convenient and energy-laden. I still carry at least one energy gel with me on long rides, just in case (like I carry a snake bite bandage, just in case). But my preference is to leave the energy gel slowly go out-of-date in my backpack, and consume something a little more natural and palatable.

4 Hour Enduro - Kalamunda

The flyer for this race promised a relatively flat course for this years 4 hour enduro. I have learnt (from bitter experience) that unless you are riding around a basketball court, nothing in mountain biking is flat (otherwise the roadies would be there in droves - "sarc").

The name of the "4hr enduro" game is simple - ride as many laps of a 6km loop as possible, in 4 hours. I really like the 4 hour format, because it is short enough to do it solo, which is a great test of my mental and physical fitness (all of which were lacking on race day, seeing as I did next to no training for this event, and I was beginning to seccumb to a lurgy that my young son kindly brought home from the viral incubator, AKA school).

The start was manic as usual, with 100+ riders taking to the pedals at once, and all having to ride across a narrow bridge within 500 metres of the start. The field quickly spanned out from this point, and I was off for my "recce" lap of the course. Having never ridden this track before, my race plan was pretty simple. Lap number 1 would be my reconnaissance lap, showing me where the fastest parts of the course are, so I could gain time in these areas. Anything that involves an up-hill is always my slowest point (I am not ashamed to engage super-granny gear to get to the top). My plan was to then come into the transition area, get a heap of carbohydrates into me, then hit the track for 2 fast laps. This would mean that, barring a mechanical or biological failure, I would be set to reach my target of 7 laps in 4 hours (I was counting on 30 minutes laps, with about 30 minutes of rest stops throughout the race).

The first lap went off without a hitch, and there were plenty of nice downhill sections where I could lay off the brakes and pick up some serious speed (~50 km/h) while catching my breath for the next uphill bit. My second lap I went out pretty hard (in hindsight a bit too hard) and knocked out a 23 minute lap. The third lap was significantly slower at 27 minutes. I then stopped at transition for about 10 minutes and took in some more fuel, then went back out for laps 4 and 5, both around the 28 minute mark.

A few quick calculation in my head, and I was thinking "if I pull my finger out on lap 6 and 7, I might have enough time left for an 8th lap". While the mind was willing, the body was not, and laps 6 and 7 were my slowest, at around 29 minutes each (I would have had to do 25 minute laps to have the time up my sleeve to complete lap 8). I was feeling pretty rooted after I finished lap 7, and I was stoked that I had reached my goal - and was really only about 10 minutes away from exceeding my target.

On the mental side of things, the thing that I am most proud of myself for is not walking ANY sections of the track. There were at least 3 sections that were difficult uphill "pinch climbs" (1 was especially tough), but every time I came to them I made a decision to "ride not walk" - my lowest gear had a pretty good workout on these sections, but I'm personally stoked that I didn't get off the bike.

Single Track Thoughts

How good is it when you find a track that you’ve never ridden before, AND you find it is well maintained and well thought out.

I really like trails that are about 15 minutes in length, and that demonstrate purposeful use of the area’s geography. For example, I love it when contours are used to the advantage of the rider, with long slow downhill sections, followed by a slightly steeper climbs, followed again by a downhill section (obviously designed to keep the rider pointed downhill for a maximum amount of ride-time).

Then there is ample opportunity to add trail obstacles on these downhill sections (eg, log overs, rock gardens, jumps, berms, etc), leaving the uphill sections clear of these features. This obviously translates to a track that is better ridden in a single direction, but then again, the track will be designed to be ridden “one way”.

Side note: My personal favourite is riding through pine forest, especially on a hot day. The smell of the fallen pine needles really pushes me on, and no matter how hot or tired I feel, that smell really gives me a lift. Plus the added bonus of a naturally “lumpy” landscape, and the surface is usually great to ride on (hard packed or slightly sandy, just perfect for sliding around corners).

My hat comes off to the trail makers who continue to make me happy, and keep my life sane.

Race 1 – 2.5 Laps of Turner Hill

The rain at the beginning of the week promised to keep the dust settled, something that is very important for someone who rides close to the back of the pack. However, a few days of nice sunshine put pave to that idea, and I was quickly enveloped with a thin veneer of mud at the start of the race (a combination of sunscreen, sweat and dust). Fortunately, the riders in front of me quickly disappeared out of sight in their quest to get to the finish line before me, leaving me to quietly contemplate this AMAZING track all by myself.

The only straight parts of this ~12km loop are a couple of short firetrail sections – the rest is just a whooping good time. I rode over more logs and rocks that I could count, and even managed to ride a few of the more technical trail features, like a couple of gap jumps and a great burnt out half-log.

I came across a young guy who had had a pretty bad fall (looked like he failed to negotiate the landing of a particularly fast gap-jump) and stopped to render assistance. His main concern was his flat front tyre, but my main concern was the obvious bump on his head and the trickle of blood oozing from it. He assured me he was OK, so I lent him my pump and a spare tube, and was on my way.

I was very surprised at the number of pinch-flats people were getting out on the track. I still run ‘tubed’ tyres (as opposed to tubeless tyres), but I still had no problems with flatting. I generally run about 40psi in the front and about 30psi in the front, which I find gives me a great balance between grip, bounce and puncture-resistance.

My heart rate monitor said that I averaged 90%HRM, but I distinctly remember looking down and seeing 102% at one stage. Needless to say, I was absolutely rooted at the end, and I don’t think I could have turned another crank if you’d have paid me.

While I was having a shower I noticed a beautiful chain-ring love-bite on my right calf, something that I had not even noticed during the race. Obviously caused by the small off I had, caused by some drop-kick who had stopped ON TOP of an obstacle, which meant that when I tried to cross it, I was pushed off, and managed to do a complete roll, with bike.

I don’t want to check my placing, because I know it will be close to last – on the positive side, it’s people like me that make the fast riders look even better.

Under lights

Last night was my first foray into night riding. I bought a set of NiteFlux lights about a month ago, but haven’t had a chance to use them in anger yet. I read on the Perth Mountain Bike Club website that a regular ride happens each Wednesday night from The Dell carpark, so I rocked up there at 7pm ready to “ride the night”.

There were six of us in total, and I was by far the least fit amongst the group. This being my virgin night ride, I was also the most inexperienced. Because of this I was at the back all night, and I reckon I swallowed a bucket full of dust in the process.

I was amazed just how much difference losing peripheral vision made to my riding. Because my field of vision was restricted to the beam of light emanating from by helmet-mounted light, I could not actually see the obstacles that were passing beneath my bike (this was because I was focussing on obstacles further up the track). Because I couldn’t see the obstacle under the bike, I found myself smashing into obstacles, instead of caressing the bike over them. This was quite hard on my wrists and shoulders, and I hate to think the damage it was doing to my bike (I’ve only just had the fork repaired).

All this was extremely off-putting, and for the first hour I found myself constantly stopping on top of minor obstacles (like small logs and rocks), stuff I’d usually either guide the bike over, or simply bunny hop. Once I got used to the lights, I found it easier to roll over obstacles, but not being able to see the obstacle pass under the bike with my peripheral vision was difficult to adjust to.

All up it was a 2 hour ride, and the group was extremely kind to me, stopping at major intersections and letting me catch up (thanks guys). By the time I got home and removed the mug from my nose and lungs, I was completely stuffed and had one of the best nights sleep in a long time. Can’t wait for the next night ride ….

Karri Cup 2010 - Tall Trees, High Hopes

This is my account of the Karri Cup, an annual 100km mountain bike race, held over the Labor Day long weekend, in Northcliffe, Western Australia. I had been preparing for this ride for about 10 weeks.

About 400 riders took part in the race. I was in the “veterans” group (35+ years) which accounted for 131 riders. The race was broken into 4 stages, with each stage timed and approximately 25km long. This meant you could stop and have a rest at the end of each stage (fantastic!!!).

Saturday (day before race)
After fulfilling family duties on Saturday morning (the usual running around), I picked up the hire car. I must admit, I was expecting something a bit bigger than a Suzuki Swift, however the colour (red) more than made up for the size deficit. At least it would be miserly on fuel. All packed up, I kissed the family goodbye and headed south for the long weekend. I had a 4.5 hour drive ahead of me, so time to settle in to some relaxing tunes and watch the country-side slip past.

About half way to Northcliffe I was running through my race equipment in my head, when I remembered what I’d forgotten: my water bottle for the bike. Oh well, as part of every “race pack” there is always a water bottle thrown in.

I got to Northcliffe just in time to collect my race pack (NO WATER BOTTLE - SHIT!!!) and hear the race briefing. Then I headed out to the local sports oval to set up camp. The race begins and ends at the sports oval, and they allow you to camp at the oval - very convenient. I woofed down a heap of pasta and meat sauce, followed by a couple of beers (all in the name of carbo-loading of course), and hit the sack about 9pm (lots of beauty sleep needed for this cat).

Sunday (race day)
Up at 6am for a leisurely pre-race breakfast of a massive bowl of muesli, washed down with a litre of Gatorade. I had made my decision overnight not to worry too much about not having a water bottle along the way. I had my 3 litre Camelbak, and as part of the “fully supported” nature of the event, I could have a bag of stuff dropped at the stop points along the way (basically at the end of each stage). In the bag I packed some frozen water, a container of Gatorade powder, a cup and some high energy food (bars, gels, etc).

Stage 1
The race started at 8am, and I got away in the first quarter of the veterans group (position 41 at the start line). A lot of people passed me early on, and by the time we got to the first section of single track (3.5 km’s up the road) there was gridlock. We all had to walk the bikes for about 10 minutes until the log jam cleared, and then it was clear riding in some very nice single track. The first stage was 31km’s, which I expected would take me about 2.5 hours, and took in a fair bit of open farmland, including a barrelling downhill section across open paddocks. Because there was no specific trail through the short grass, you had to pick the best line. Unfortunately my line took me straight into a massive pot hole, where I finally found the end of my rear suspension stroke (a solid thump from the shock let me know I’d bottomed out).

About 1 hour into the race I stopped and ate an energy bar, which was part of my nutrition plan for the day. I needed to keep my energy up throughout the day, and this was my one planned energy stop, apart from the scheduled stops at the end of each stage.

I was keeping a close eye on my heart rate as I was pedalling, and trying hard to keep it below 85% of maximum. This proved to be very hard on the hills, and I averaged 87% over the distance, which took me 2 hours and 34 minutes. I arrived at the end of stage 1 feeling pretty good, and had a 20 minute rest, gulping down a cup of Gatorade and some more high energy food. I also topped up my Camelbak, which I had nearly emptied.

Stage 2
I began stage 2 at 11am, and headed out on mostly fire trails. This was a 22km stage, and I hoped to finish it in less than 2 hours. A very interesting section of low heath with some great single track kept me smiling for a few kilometres, until I started to cramp in my left leg at about the 45km mark. I swore loudly at the trees for about a minute, and then the cramp eased, much to my delight. My main hope was that I could keep drinking enough Gatorade at the stage breaks to keep the cramps at bay.

I finished the second stage in 1 hours and 23 minutes (well under my 2 hour target), but I was starting to feel pretty tired. The temperature was beginning to really heat up, and must have been at least 32 degrees by the time I stopped at 12.20pm for lunch.

A quick look at the heart rate monitor showed I’d worked pretty hard on this stage (average 86% of maximum), so I couldn’t wait for a nice cold drink of Gatorade and a leisurely lunch. However, all good plans have a hiccup, and my bag of stuff had NOT been picked up from the end of stage 1 – no Gatorade – AHHHHH!!! I immediately knew what that meant – lots of muscle cramps in the final stages. I decided that I would eat a heap of food at the lunch break and hopefully there would be enough salts and minerals in the food to stop some of the muscle cramps. I also guzzled loads of water to try and replenish the sweat that was dripping out of me.

I was assured by the race organiser that my bag of stuff would be at the end of stage 3 waiting for me – I hoped he was right!!

Stage 3
I began stage 3 at 1pm, with 24km’s in front of me. I was expecting to take about 2 hours for this stage. The track started on a difficult and rocky valley section, with a couple of creek crossings thrown into the mix. A small off at a creek crossing reminded me how important it is to get the gearing right BEFORE you try to ride over an obstacle.

Unfortunately the decision to eat a heap of food for lunch was a bad idea. My stomach began to cramp (not badly, but it was evident) and I was tempted on more than one occasion to stop and jettison the contents of my gut. However, that thought quickly left my head at the realisation that if I stopped I would be enveloped by March Flies, which were about the size of a 20 cent piece, and they bite - hard. Any stopping meant being covered in these things, and potentially losing a heap of blood, so I had incentive to keep pushing on.

Within about 45 minutes I started to get muscle cramps in my left leg again, and they kept going, on and off, for about an hour. I’m sure sailors would have blushed at the words coming out my mouth on this stage.

This was a hard, soul searching stage, made even more difficult by the oppressive heat. On more than one occasion I questioned my decision to keep going, but I was determined to finish this race. I just kept turning the pedals, one after the other. I knew I was going pretty slowly, but the alternative was to walk and have the blood slowly sucked from me by March Flies. Hard, hard, hard.

I got to the end of stage 3 in 2 hours and 1 minute, and my heart rate monitor said I had averaged 84% of maximum. No wonder I has feeling stuffed.

But behold, there was my bag of stuff. I tore into it, and swallowed 2 big cups of ice cold Gatorade. A guy who was in obvious pain from cramps was looking longingly at my Gatorade and ice water, so I let him have a drink. He kindly offered me some Neuro-fen which I gladly accepted. Ten minutes later I was feeling pretty good (drug induced, of course), so I gulped down some food and saddled up (I was starting to sing Raw Hide on the last stage, hence the horse vernacular - pehaps a bit of delirium setting in).

Stage 4
Stage 4 was exactly 25km’s, which I hoped to ride in about 2 hours. I left at 3.30pm. This stage is almost a repeat of stage 1, except it missed a 6 km single track loop near Northcliffe. The Neuro-fen helped me forget the pain, and I was absolutely loving the track and the scenery. There were long sections that were just brilliant to ride – short uphill and downhill sections with long flat (and hard packed) fire roads in between. It felt like I was flying along these parts of the track. I was even thinking to myself how great life is, especially watching the massive Karri trees whiz by.

I got to the farm paddocks again, and this time I had to push back up those lovely hills I had ridden down earlier in the day. This was really hard work, and there is absolutely no shade out in the fields. My thoughts turned a bit dark again. The guy who’d given me the Neuro-fen caught up and we rode together for a while, discussing the absolute stupidity and un-naturalness of riding 100km in a day on push bikes. A couple of hills in this section got the better of me and I had to get off and walk (and do my version of a Hungarian slap-dance to keep the flies away).

My bike speedometer clicked over 100km about 2km short of the finish line. I couldn’t help myself – I stopped and kissed the ground and let out a yell of delight – I’d finally ridden 100km in one day.

I finished the last stage in 2 hours and 1 minute (ironically, exactly the same time as stage 3) and I rode into the finish line with a smile from ear to ear. I immediately headed to my tent for a cold beer and a lay down.

Overall, my stats looked like this:

Total ride time – 8 hours and 1 minute
Total distance – 102 km (according to my speedo)
Total calories used - about 10,000
Group position – 104 (out of 131)
Average speed – 12.4 km/h

Cost of participating in the race - about $300 (all up)
Feeling when I finished the race - PRICELESS!!

Pea Gravel – Hell’s Tarmac

My final preparatory ride for the Karri Cup saw me take on the Munda Biddi track from Mundaring out to Carinyah, a distance (on map) of 80km return. Left from the trail head at 6.30am.

Decided to bypass a pinch-climb along the “Pipeline track” in favour of some very nice single-track around Mt Gungin. Re-established contact with the Munda Biddi at the Perth Observatory, then managed to take a wrong turn onto some very sweet flowing single track, which suddenly turned into some very steep and rocky trail. I passed some guys coming up this section, and I was glad I was not turning their pedals. Me thinks I might have stumbled onto the very secretive track called the WHORE (I now know why it is called that).

After getting back onto the Munda Biddi again, I arrived at the Carinyah campsite after about 2.5 hours riding. I was still feeling good, but I was a bit concerned by the amount of fluid I had left in my pack. In total I took about 5 litres (3 litres water, 2 litres Gatorade), and I was already half way through the water and about 1/3 through the Gatorade, and it was getting hotter (the prediction was for 37 degrees). Also from past experience I know the profile is more uphill on the way back, which means more fluid is needed.

I started heading back about 9.30am, and immediately found SHIT LOADS of pea gravel. This stuff is horrendous to ride through, especially if riding uphill (downhill you can’t steer, uphill you can’t pedal). I then decided to take a few shortcuts on the way back, and bypassed some really sweet single track in favour of getting back to the car before my water ran out.

As it was, I ran out of fluid about 5 km’s from the car, and limped into base with my tongue feeling like the bottom of a budgie cage. I was also so hungry I could have eaten my front tyre. All up about 6 hours in the saddle, and about 72km's on the speedo, which I think just about readies me for the Karri Cup in 2 weeks time – can’t wait. I’ve never been this cycle-fit before, and I’m really looking forward to putting it to good use in a 100km race.

Forken problems

The saga continues with my suspension fork …..

Got a call from the boys at Malaga Cycles Saturday morning. They received and fitted the compression damper Friday arvo, then pumped up the fork. Got in Saturday morning, and no air left in fork. Re-stripped it down and found that the press-fit fitting at the bottom of the air cylinder is leaking air - fu@#^**^%%$$!!!

And, it turns out the original compression damper fitted to my fork was the WRONG ONE - me thinks my fork was built on a Friday arvo before a long weekend!!

That is 3 separate and individual catastrophic failures on a single fork at the same time. Never before seen by Malaga Cycles, who are a Rockshox dealer. The nice boys at MC lent me a fork so I can at least ride (Tora 318 solo air - heavy but working, at least).

The boys will get onto the Rockshox rep this morning and see what they can do. According to them there are 3 possibilities.

1. Brand new fork sent my way, for the pain and angst cause by what looks like a factory f*ck up.
2. Brand new replacement bits sent my way, at no cost.
3. Two fingers raised in my general direction, because I bought the bike 2 years ago.

Will keep you posted ...

Rigid SS with flat bars and V-brakes - hell on earth

Remember the problem I had with the fork (blew a seal), well it turns out it is more tragic that this. The compression damper is also buggerred, so needs replacing. Of course this means the Trance is spending a week in the bike shop getting fixed.

So, out comes the mighty Apollo (LSX 1.2 to be precise). Purchased back in the late 90's, when rear suspension was for motor bikes, and front suspension was only for high end bikes. Yes, this was a higher end bike back in the day (it came complete with VERY ordinary - by todays standards - Mojo forks).

Recently I removed the old suspension fork and replaced it with a CroMo rigid fork purchased from a flea market. I also decided to make it into a cool single speeder, complete with flat bars and V-brakes, just perfect as a "house bike".

Well, now it is a rigid single speeder, with flat bars and V-brakes, AND with some chunky knobbies, all ready to shred some trails. It actually looks pretty good; almost "retro". Kind of reminds me of my very first mountain bike.

I had an itch to ride some single track over the weekend (sick of bitumen and 4wd tracks) and decided on a Sunday blast around Mt Gungin.

My wrists are still sore from the pounding (and having to pull so hard on the damn brakes), and my ass feels like I've been sharing a prison cell with Bubba. But .... there was a certain amount of accomplishment knowing I rode ~30k's of pretty rough single track on a rigid SS with flat bars and V-brakes.

Holy hell, what a difference front and rear suspension makes (maybe I'm just spoilt). I'll never bemoan the 4.2 inches of travel on the MIGHTY Trance again ...... EVER.

Kep Track and Back

Instead of boozing and listening to Cold Chisel on Australia Day (yesterday) I decided to take on (what I thought was) a 100km ride from Mundaring to Bakers Hill, along the Kep Track (Kep is the local Aboriginal word for water, and the track follows the water pipeline).

To keep me motivated, I invited a mate, Fabian, who is an absolute bike-riding animal. Left home at 0530, arrived in Mundaring by 0615, where I worked on stretching my left hamstring for about 10 minutes (this is undoubtedly the tightest muscle in my body, and needs a good stretch before I ride). Fabs turned up around 0645, and we hit the track. The Kep Track is generally considered an easy ride (minor gradients), but it is the length of the ride that tests you.

Rode to Wooroloo (25km, 1.5 hrs), took in some food and an energy gel, and then headed to Bakers Hill (17km, 1 hr). From Wooroloo to Bakers Hill, there was a section of track that is frequented by horses (lots of them), about 3km in length. Horses break up the track surface, and leave about a half inch divot each step. The dual suspension MTB could not keep up with the bumps, and all the jarring was transferrin via the seat into my lower back. VERY ANNOYING, but thankfully the track took a slight down slope on this section, so I was able to stand up and absorb some of the bumps in my legs (hmmm, don’t I have to return on the same track??).

Got to Bakers Hill, where we engulfed a couple of meat pies (very famous pie shop in “Bakers” Hill), and swallowed as much liquid as our bodies would allow (the temperature was climbing steadily, getting close to 30 deg C). I refilled the Gatorade bottle and the CamelBak bladder, and started back to Mundaring. A quick check of the Polar, and I had already ridden for 2.5 hours, with an average HR%Max of 78 – pretty good, and I was still feeling comfortable.

NOW, what I haven’t mentioned is that the Kep Track from Mundaring to Bakers Hill is slightly down-sloping, so we were able to keep a reasonable pace with reasonable exertion (remember, my HR%Max was 78). Heading back was a VERY different story. Slightly uphill, almost all the way.

Remember those horses hoof prints; well they are MURDER when you have to sit in the saddle and pedal through them.

Side point: would the world really miss horses if they were to suddenly disappear – I mean, do they serve any other ecological purpose, other than recreation???

By the time we got to Wooroloo, my back was starting to spasm. More food and another gel, and I felt a bit better, but then the leg cramps started. By this time, the temperature was starting to rise to the mid 30’s, and I was in a dark and nasty place (plus I had a pounding headache).

I was cursing everything around me, including the persistent little flies that were trying to drink the sweat and salt off my face. With a little bit of encouragement from Fabs (“c’mon buddy, move those legs” was his favourite), I managed to push through the cramps and blinding headache back to Mundaring. It was then that I looked down at the handlebar-mounted lie detector and it only said 85km – WTF (a reassessment of the map today reveals that number to be true – I had miscalculated the distance).

Another look at the metrics for the journey back from Bakers Hill and my average HR%Max was 89. Bloody hell, no wonder I was fugged on the way back. Nonetheless, we still managed to make it back in the same amount of time as getting out there (2.5 hours) so I was pleased that I was able to raise the effort level even with the extra obstacles on the way back (uphill, cramps, headache, heat, hoof divots, flies, etc, etc).

Blew a seal

"Hey, Polar Bear, have you been eating an icecream?"

"Nah, I just blew a seal..."

I was pedalling (hard) on the wind trainer this morning, and I suddenly got that sinking feeling, from the front of the bike. I have a look down and the fork is totally deflated, and there is fork oil all over the stanchions. Sh.t.... Talked to the boys at the LBS and they reckon it could be the air and oil seals. Bummer. Worst of all they say I have to get it sent to the east coast for repair. Bugger that. I called around a few bike shops, and it turns out Malaga Cycles can do the repair for me tomorrow. Fantastic. It'll probably cost me a couple hundred dollars to fix, but cheaper than a new fork, and best of all I'm not without a bike for the weekend.

50 k's

I dragged my ass out of bed at quarter to 6 yesterday morning so I could get in an early ride before the heat of the day set in (the temperature reached a maximum of 43.7 degrees C). There was also a fairly consistent wind of about 25 km/h coming from the east. My aim was to string 2 of my normal rides together, to make a 50 km loop. I first rode West past Lake Monger, then Lake Herdsman, then down Hale Road to the coast. I then turned South and rode past City Beach to Swanbourne, then I turned East (yes into the wind unfortunately) then rode past Claremont Showgrounds, Subiaco and Northbridge, until I got to Burswood. I then turned back West to ride along the South Perth foreshore to the Narrows Bridge, then finally turned North to head back home, via Parliament House. All up, about 2.5 hours in the saddle, and almost exactly 50 km. I averaged 77 HR%Max, with a peak of 89% (there were a couple of small hills into the wind that really pushed me). I was very happy at the end of the ride that I felt so good – minor leg soreness, but nothing long-lasting. Most of all I was very happy that I had managed to stay hydrated – I drank almost 3 litres of fluid in 2.5 hours (2 litres of water and 750 ml of Gatorade), plus a good glug of water as soon as I got home. My fitness is definitely improving, which is very good. The next challenge will be a 100 km ride along the Kep Track, from Mundaring to Bakers Hill, return.

Spinning

I have recently (in the past 6 months) discovered the fantastic-ness of spinning (sorry for making up that word, but I couldn't think of another more suitable one). Spinning is simply pedalling at high revolutions, or cadence (in my opinion, anything above 80 RPM is spinning).

Why spin? Well, I'm sure there is a lot of physiological science to it, but I have found that if you spin the pedals at high cadence, you actually use less energy than "mashing" the pedals. In general, this means selecting a lower gear, and aiming to keep at the same speed as if you were in a higher gear.

I have recently purchased a heart rate monitor (in the last month), and interestingly I find that my heart rate is about 10% higher if I'm "mashing" the pedals, rather than spinning. I'm told that when you spin, you are adding less pressure to the pedals on each revolution. The amount of pressure you exert on the pedals directly correlates to the amount of oxygen your leg muscles require to be pumped from your heart/lungs, and this corresponds to your heart rate.

So, all this means that high gear mashing means you maintain a higher heart rate, and therefore tire quicker than if you are low gear spinning (especially noticable over longer distances, say > 50km).

Another intersting thing I have noticed is that maintaining deep breathing generally keeps your heart rate lower than shallow breathing (when working at the same intensity). I guess this is because there is more oxygen feeding the muscles, which in turn puts less pressure on your heart to pump more oxygen.

Who'd of thought there was so much science to riding a bike (I secretly love it!!).

Night riding

Well, looks like I am about to join the fraternity of night riders. I have long wanted to ride at night with my mates, but the prohibitive cost of a decent set of lights deterred my interest. It is pretty hard to justify to the wife an outlay of $400+ for something that keeps me away from home more.

Lo and behold, my old favourite bike-gear-website Chain Reaction Cycles have done it again - this time they've extracted a mere $95 from me for a set of NiteFlux lights (VisionStick). These little beauties have a 15 watt halogen AND a 4 watt LED, with 2 batteries, plus handlebar and helmet mounts (all for less than a hundy). How good is that? Ironically, this is an Australian company, and it is cheaper to buy their products from a UK website, than from their own website.

I know that I am not doing the Australian mountain bike industry any favours by purchasing my goodies overseas, but when you can get it for a quarter of the price overseas, why wouldn't you? I am not that altruistic that I need to feel "good about myself" by buying my stuff on home soil.

Interval training

I recently borrowed a book from a triathelete mate of mine, which sets out a 24 week program for competing in an "ironman" tri. No chance of me doing that, but there is a great section relating to riding, which goes into depth on interval training.

I've never attempted "intervals" before, but I borrowed another mates wind trainer (called a "turbo trainer" in the book) and have selected a set of intervals from the book, and am getting into them. So far I have done 4 sessions, spread over 2 weeks (don't want to overdo it - sarc) and I already feel stronger on the bike. As well as the intervals, I'm also doing 50-70km per week on a combination of road and dirt, as well as a couple of gym sessions. I'd dearly love to do all my training on dirt, but seeing as I don't have vast amounts of time available to me, I do about 2/3 of this on road (I love slicks on my mountain bike - it goes like the wind, and looks great too).

Bring on the Karri Cup in February.

42 Degrees

That is how hot it is predicted for this Sunday, and I was planning in putting in my first 100km ride as part of my training for the Karri Cup in late February. Not likely if it's going to be that hot!!

I think I'll keep it to an early morning ride ~50k's, maybe taking in the coastal ride, then around the bridges in Perth. That will still give me a few kays under the belt, and hopefully keep me from baking int he heat.