I'm glad I'm not getting paid to do this

I'm glad I'm not getting paid to do this ... I'd be broke by now.

Three months between posts is a very poor effort. I've been, um, busy. No excuses, and I'm also finally smart enough not to promise "I'll be a better blogger and post every day".

Because I won't.

But enough of the welcoming preamble! Down to the meat and potatoes.

I've started racing - on my bike, not in my rally car.

Despite being a little battered (my ego, if not my body) by my adventures in France in July, I decided a couple of moths ago it was time for a new challenge on the bike.

In Melbourne (and apparently most of Australia) summer means Crit (Criterium) season. St Kilda Cycling Club (I'm a member) hold them every Sunday morning.

As do Caulfield Carnegie Cycling Club. Southern Vets have their's on a Thursday night. There are a number of others (Hawthorn, Brunswick and so on), but St Kilda is my "home" circuit.

The idea is simple - you ride around a basic street circuit, which is usually in an industrial area so the streets can be closed on a Sunday for a few hours. St Kilda's circuit is actually in South Melbourne, although it looks more like Port Melbourne - off Williamstown Rd, near Montague St. Warehouse & small factory land. Very quiet on a Sunday morning.

Two grades at once on the circuit - E and B, then C and A. Slower group gives way to the faster group who pass on the right hand side. Can get a little messy in the tighter corners (more on that in a minute) but it seems to work.

St. Kilda's circuit is probably about 1km around - two easy corners, two that are tighter. If I was in the rally car, turns one & three would be 3rd gear (i.e: fast), turns 2 and 4 are very much 2nd gear corners (slow). Cornering at speed on the bike is a little like in the rally car: keep your head up, look for the exit not the entry. Except you're on 2 very bloody skinny tires, leaning the bike to one side, and there are 20 or 30 other people all trying to get around at the same time as you are, and everyone has a slightly different view of where the correct line is.

Here's a hint - once you commit to a line, don't change it mid corner. I did on Sunday, was soundly abused and probably deserved it.

Depending on the grade, you ride laps for, say 35 minutes (D grade) then it's a 3 lap charge for the finish. There is a sign they hold up at the start / finish line showing "3", then it's "2", then - you may have guessed it - they ring a bell for the bell lap.

Prize money for 1st to 3rd, and a promotion to the next grade.

Simple? Sound like a nice Sunday morning ride with some mates? Sure it does ..

Not happy ..

I want to write about my weekend at Phillip Island, but I'm in two minds about the whole motorsport thing - not to spoil a good story, but I blew a hole in the engine block late on Sunday afternoon.

And I'm up for a HEFTY repair bill. Well, that's not right - I'm up for a replacement bill: the engine isn't repairable.

So I'm in a crappy mood ringing around to find out the best place to source a new engine.

And when I feel a bit better in a few days, or if my numbers come up in the next Tattslotto super draw, I'll write all about the weekend. Maybe it will be a cathartic experience.

World's laziest?

I reckon I'm in the running for the world's laziest blogger ... maybe there are others that write less than I do, but they're probably resting comfortably in a cemetery somewhere.

I'm going to Phillip Island for a regularity event this weekend, so if you're all very lucky I'll have a massive off which will give me something to write about!!

For those that think I'm heading for a weekend of prune & bran eating ... this is a different type of regularity. It's a motorsport event, and I spend the weekend, as part of a team of four, doing laps of the circuit at Phillip Island.

Saturday is practice day - at the end of which each team member has to nominate both dry & wet times.

Sunday is the event, and the team that does the most laps as close to their nominated times, is the winner. One member of the team has to be on the track at all times, and there are minimum and maximum times that each driver has to meet.

But it's not as easy as just driving laps.

Say it rains .... it might take a few minutes before the track is declared wet (and your slower, wet time applies) - but the track is already wet and you have to slow down a little to compensate. And in the other direction - when it stops raining, there is a "no man's land" between the track being declared dry (and faster times applying) and it actually drying out.

In a Tarmac Rally, such as Targa Tasmania, it's unusual to see another car on a competition stage - we head off at 30 second intervals, so if I catch someone I'm going much faster, pass them, and that's it. The same if someone catches me - they appear as a dot in the rear view mirror, then they're on your back bumper, you let them pass (it's the rule) and they're gone.

I don't do lot of circuit driving, and when I do, it's usually a Club practice day: the field is seeded so that we're all in groups of similar pace. That way, in a 15 minute session you may pass or be passed once.

This event is different - there is fast traffic and slow traffic - all on the track at the same time. So I'll be passing & passed on a regular basis for the weekend. Should be fun (?)

Regardless, I'll be aiming to keep it on the black for the weekend.

The Etape's real hero

On (my) last climb of the Etape, the Col de Notre-Dame des Abeilles (which I think translates to something like the mountain pass of Our Lady the Queen Bee) I passed a woman slowly riding to the top.

I noticed her for a number of reasons .....

It's a male dominated sport, so you tend to notice when someone of the opposite sex is cycling. As a side issue, I have to say I was quite disappointed to find out the Las Vegas Lesbians were in fact from Vancouver .. It's not at all alliterative, but regardless of where they were from, they were great bike riders - I rode & chatted with Nicole (the short one) for a couple of hours during the Etape, until she dropped me on the climb into Sault;

This woman was wearing an all red outfit, so even amongst the peacock parade that is road cycling, she (sort of) stood out; for what's it's worth, my wife thinks all cyclists are either colour blind or can't co-ordinate.

At the start of the day, I was mixing it on the road with 9,500 other lunatics. When I passed her, maybe half way up Abeilles, we were at the tail of the ride, so there weren't many people around.

Mid 40's, sort of attractive (I wonder if she thought the same about me?), and doing it tough on the climb.

I didn't really think about her again until a couple of hours later.

There I was, on the laughing bus, somewhere in the traffic jam between Bedoin and Chalet Reynard (which is just after the road passes the tree line for those of you who watched the stage on TV) when, still plodding along, she slowly cycled passed the bus.

When we eventually started to move we passed her, but soon after we had to stop again, and she passed us. We overtook her a second time, then the traffic cleared and we were on our way to the top of Ventoux.

I didn't really think about her again until I passed her while I was descending (like a lunatic) to Malacuene.

It had taken me 5 hours to get from Bedoin to that point. Three and a half of them sitting on a bus, 90 minutes or so watching trucks being unloaded (and I had a beer while I was waiting). I don't know if she stopped, I don't know if she got off her bike and pushed it in the steep sections (lots of people did), I don't know if she had a beer at the place near the top of Ventoux (it was very good beer) but do I know she got to the top, maybe very slowly, but under her own steam.

Well done!

Corsican salade dressing

For my last proper meal before the long schlepp home (and endless airline meals), I'm eating in a tiny Corsican place here in Avignon: Mamma Corse.

I'm being attended to by, I'm guessing, Mamma herself. As I said it's a tiny place.

This evening I've formulated a new rule of dining: never order a wine that costs less than the average main course.

The Corsican rose` (sorry, can't get the accent working on this keyboard) I'm drinking is vile, but then it's only €12 for a bottle. Mains are €15 to 17. Maybe if it gets a little colder in the wine bucket it'll improve.

The salade was brilliant, with a wonderful, fragrant & sweet dressing. I need to learn how to say "how do you make this salade dressing?" as part of my ongoing French language studies.

And for Sir's main course: Le Poulet Farci (the c needs one of those underneath comas) - a baked chicken breast, stuffed with chevre and wrapped in ham. Nothing better than three animals all contributing to one plate, accompanied by polenta and roast eggplant.

Excellent. Ce Bon! Parfait!

I can't fit desert (how do they say "would Sir care for just one little wafer?" in Corsica?) and regrettably the wine hasn't improved as it's gotten colder.

But a great meal.

A long day (with a pic)

Waiting to start
Originally uploaded by ndorloff

I tackled the Etape today.

4 am out of bed, left the hotel at 5, and we were in the start village of Montelimar around 6.

The event started at 7, but we were sent off in groups of about 1,000 - I was 7017 and rolled over the start line at 7:30, with the cut off vehicle leaving about 15 minutes later - you have to stay in front or hand in your transponder.

Riding with that many people was amazing, although a little hairy on the narrow roads getting out of town.

I had a flat on the first descent (25k in) then problems with my pump that saw me riding 30k or so with a half flat front.

And I worked out how to take a leak without getting off the bike - just make sure you aim away from your bidons!

The next couple of hours went well. And I was holding my target average pace of mid to high 20's. Mid teens on the climbs, 50 to 60 on the descents.

In every village we passed it seemed the entire population was out, clapping as we passed, calling out "Allez!" and "Bravo!". Every farmhouse had someone sitting in a chair on the roadside waving and cheering.

But it was hot - the temperature was mid 30's for most of the day - and I didn't have any electrolyte replacement powder (long story, but basically I made a dumb mistake - I've been training hard in cool & cold weather and I simply didn't think to bring any).

On the third climb of the day (up to Aurel) I started struggling, and despite being hosed down by a local in the village near the top and a wild 60+k descent I was pretty much stuffed.

I was pouring the water in, but it felt like it was just sitting there, sloshing around in my stomach.

And I was sick of the taste of carbo gels and powerbars - they're too sweet if you're not eating anything else.

The next climb - Col De Notre Damme Des Abeilles - knocked me about. It was a tough climb with two false summits - you think you've reached the top, descend for a km or so, and it starts to climb again; twice. After another great descent (10k at 55 to 65 on empty wide sweeping roads) I crawled into Bedouin maybe 5 minutes ahead of the cut off time.

I had to make a decision: tackle 21k of Mt. Ventox, or pull the pin. I didn't want to spend the next two hours looking over my shoulder for the cut off car. OK, perhaps I could have handed in my timing chip and finished outside the allotted time, but I just didn't think I had the climb left in me.

I pulled over, leant my bike against a wall and walked into the nearest cafe for a beer.

They reckon 30% don't finish; unfortunately I became part of that statistic.

Riding finished, but .....

I put my bike on truck and the climbed on the sad bus. Which then took three and a half hours to climb the 21k to the summit (the finish village was on the other side, and there is only one road up).

Here's something you might be able to guess for yourself - 50 blokes who've ridden 150k in the scorching heat all sitting in a confined space don't smell very nice.

At the finish village we were treated to some very French logistics. They refused to unload more than one truck at a time; and despite truck 4 (that had my bike) arriving ahead of truck 2, truck 2 had to be unloaded first.

90 minutes after arriving at the finish village I was finally back in the saddle for a brilliant 20k run down the mountain to meet the tour company's bus.

A shower, dinner, a couple of glasses of local Rose (quite nice) and I'm off to bed.

And the mountain will still be here next time I'm in Provence, so maybe next time I'll give the Giant a better showing.

A very long day

I tackled the Etape today.

4 am out of bed, left the hotel at 5, and we were in the start village of Montelimar around 6.

The event started at 7, but we were sent off in groups of about 7,000 - I was 7017 and rolled over the start line at 7:30, with the cut off vehicle leaving about 15 minutes later - you have to stay in front or hand in your transponder.

Riding with that many people was amazing, although a little hairy on the narrow roads getting out of town.

I had a flat on the first descent (25k in) then problems with my pump that saw me riding 30k or so with a half flat front.

And I worked out how to take a leak without getting off the bike - just make sure you aim away from your bidons!

The next couple of hours went well. And I was holding my target average pace of mid to high 20's. Mid teens on the climbs, 50 to 60 on the descents.

In every village we passed it seemed the entire population was out, clapping as we passed, calling out "Allez!" and "Bravo!". Every farmhouse had someone sitting in a chair on the roadside waving and cheering.

But it was hot - the temperature was mid 30's for most of the day - and I didn't have any electrolyte replacement powder (long story, but basically I made a dumb mistake - I've been training hard in cool & cold weather and I simply didn't think to bring any).

On the third climb of the day (up to Aurel) I started struggling, and despite being hosed down by a local in the village near the top and a wild 60+k descent I was pretty much stuffed.

I was pouring the water in, but it felt like it was just sitting there, sloshing around in my stomach.

And I was sick of the taste of carbo gels and powerbars - they're too sweet if you're not eating anything else.

The next climb - Col De Notre Damme Des Abeilles - knocked me about. It was a tough climb with two false summits - you think you've reached the top, descend for a km or so, and it starts to climb again; twice. After another great descent (10k at 55 to 65 on empty wide sweeping roads) I crawled into Bedouin maybe 5 minutes ahead of the cut off time.

I had to make a decision: tackle 21k of Mt. Ventox, or pull the pin. I didn't want to spend the next two hours looking over my shoulder for the cut off car. OK, perhaps I could have handed in my timing chip and finished outside the allotted time, but I just didn't think I had the climb left in me.

I pulled over, leant my bike against a wall and walked into the nearest cafe for a beer.

They reckon 30% don't finish; unfortunately I became part of that statistic.

Riding finished, but .....

I put my bike on truck and the climbed on the sad bus. Which then took three and a half hours to climb the 21k to the summit (the finish village was on the other side, and there is only one road up).

Here's something you might be able to guess for yourself - 50 blokes who've ridden 150k in the scorching heat all sitting in a confined space don't smell very nice.

At the finish village we were treated to some very French logistics. They refused to unload more than one truck at a time; and despite truck 4 (that had my bike) arriving ahead of truck 2, truck 2 had to be unloaded first.

90 minutes after arriving at the finish village I was finally back in the saddle for a brilliant 20k run down the mountain to meet the tour company's bus.

A shower, dinner, a couple of glasses of local Rose (quite nice) and I'm off to bed.

And the mountain will still be here next time I'm in Provence, so maybe next time I'll give the Giant a better showing.

Signing on

I'm in Montelimar, the start point for tomorrow's Etape. It's also well known for it's nougat. And probably not much else from the look of it.

Don't get me wrong, it's a very pretty town, but I don't think much happens here on a Sunday.

Except today there are 9,500 cyclists in town to sign on for tomorrow's adventure.

Very few women (other than the Las Vegas lesbians), it's mostly men in their 30's and 40's, all looking fit and very few with hair on their legs.

The registration process was painless, as you'd expect from an organisation that's done this 19 or 20 times before.

Line up in your number group - I'm 7017 - sign the paperwork and they give you an envelope.

Next stop, collect a t-shirt.

Next have your timing chip activated.

Then collect your back pack, containing a few freebies, and the official part of the day was completed.

There is an area setup displaying, and of course selling, all sorts of things that a cyclist might need for tomorrow. From a $15,000 Trek bike (the same one as Lance rides) to a pair of socks.

I managed to remember to pack both my bike & socks, so I didn't really need anything.

I wanted an official Etape jersey, but by the time we got here they only had Small and Very Large left.

I wandered around looking at and listening to all the people - lots of English accents - collected a few freebies (a nice Skoda hat & a Tour de France mouse mat) and bought a great ice cream: two scoops, peach and pear.

In the end I succumbed to a little shopping: A new helmet; a copy of Rouler magazine (bike porn at it's finest), a wind breaker (don't want to get cold on the 20k descent tomorrow) and a classic Molteni / Campagnolo jersey, just like Merckx used to wear.

Now it's back on the bus to Valence, watch the end of today's stage into Verbier, and get to bed early - I'm getting up at 4am.

Tintin

(The French pronounce it TanTan).

In the middle of a roundabout in Provance - it's the rocket from Tintin's Destination Moon!

I stupidly ate a baked spud & roast veggies for lunch (and it was delicious) then went for a 40k ride an hour later.

I spent the first 30k trying not to spew my guts out, then came good (around the time I saw the rocket).

I stopped to take the pic, then had to hammer for 10 mins or so to catch the bunch.

Seems to be a good group - mainly Aussies, a couple of great blokes from Canberra, Phil & Mick, who were on the train with me, and a lovely lesbian couple from Las Vegas (OK, I'm just assuming they're lesbians, but the short one is very butch).

Heading South

I love good infrastructure.

According to the GPS on my BlackBerry (techno nerd? Me?) the TGV I'm on is rocketing along at about 290 kph. And looking at how slow the cars on the autoroute look - having driven on French roads, I reckon they're probably doing 130 ~ 140 kph - it certainly looks like we're going bloody fast.

Guess what ... the train was scheduled to leave at 9:42 and it did. Connex, take a lesson please.

I'm heading south to Valence, where I'll be collected by BikeStyle Tours, the group that has arranged the accommodation, entries for the Etape, and most importantly, the transfers to the start village and the bus home from Ventoux.

There are a couple of guys from Canberra, Phil & Mick, in the carriage with me. With their bikes. On the same tour as me. We've chatted a bit, sized each other up, and in a very Aussie, self depreciating way, all down played our training and how well we might to do.

I'm a little concerned about the weather on Monday - the forecast is for low 30's. If I'd been training in the heat it wouldn't bother me, but my last few hard rides started at 3 and rose to maybe 12 degrees. I guess I should start my pre event hydration today, rather than rely on just a couple of glasses of water on the morning of the ride.

Liberte, egalite & a bit of shopping

We had a very French holiday yesterday.

Headed off in the morning to see some of the Bastille Day parade along Champs Elysee. Along with about 500,000 others.

We ended up in a side street, near the Arc de Triompe, with the kids hanging off the fence of the Quatari Embassy to see what was going on.

When the parade finished we wandered off down Ave de Friedland, which it turns out is one of the streets that the Army was using to marshal it's vehicles for their return to base.

So we ended up with our own private parade.

The dress uniforms - from the tank drivers with their snappy cravats, to the Elysee Palace guards with their swords - were amazing, and to a man (and the occasional lady solider) they all looked very proud to be taking part.

We grabbed a bite of lunch and then hit the shops for a few hours - the kids all bought new sneakers, and the boss ended up with a new pair of Jimmy Choos. Apparently between the sale price and getting the detaxe back, they were almost giving them away.

Dinner was excellent, we went overboard on bivalves: oysters then moules & frites, with an, um, interesting Corsican white (better than North African red).

By the time we'd finished eating, it was time to scale Montmartre and stand outside Sacre Coeur to see the fireworks.

And I reckon nearly everyone who was on Champs Elysee that morning had the same idea.

If you want to see fireworks from a crowd, you need to be tall. I'm not, and my kids certainly aren't either.

Someone decided to climb on the dusty Renault that we were standing next to. So I lifted the kids, carefully, on to the bonnet just as the show started.

I spent the next 20 minutes listening to fireworks while the kids told me what was happening. And 3 kids and a couple of adults on a Renault was nothing compared to the 20 or so on the transit van across from us.

We stumbled home after the show and collapsed into bed.

A very French holiday indeed.

In an old house in Paris ...

In an old house in Paris all covered in vines, lived 12 little girls in 2 straight lines.

OK, maybe this isn't the house that Madeline lived in (she was the smallest one) but we're having the sort of fun that Pepito could only dream of.

It's the Tour de France's rest day, so I had to find something to do for the afternoon other than sit in cafes, drink beer (carbo loading?) and watch bike racing.

So we headed to Parc Asterix.

Not as many rides were as on topic as I would have liked - where was the chariot racing? Roman bashing? wild boar roasting? Nonetheless, we had fun, stood in lines (long lines), went on rides, saw the dolphin show (no, I don't know if ancient Gauls had dolphin shows) and just hung out.

Hanging out has to be the second most popular sport here - after cycling that is, well, maybe it comes in third after smoking.

It's a hanging out country.

I'm sitting in a park, hanging out, pecking this on the BlackBerry, while I watch one of my kids play a pick up soccer game with some French kids. No language barrier when you're 9.

Did I mention it's 9:30 pm?

We've just stuffed our faces at one of my favourite places in Paris - Chez Omar. Home of cous-cous like your mother never made. Moroccan pastries to stretch you belt and North African wine that tastes like what you'd expect North African wine to taste like.

Tomorrow it's Bastile Day, and I hope to see a parade and some fireworks. In the meantime, I'm going to ease the belt a notch, listen to the band playing in the park and watch my kids play.

Vive la France!

Inspector Clouseau would be pleased .....

My bike got a little knocked around on the flight from Melbourne to Nice.

Nothing too serious, one of the gear / brake levers was broken. Easy to fix, you just need the parts.

Surely in a cycling obsessed country this is a minor problem. You wish.

Sunday was out - nearly every shop is closed, and anyway I went to Grasse to watch the TdF.

Yesterday morning after a quick google, I found a cycle shop in nearby Cannes, put the bike in the car, fired up the GPS and off we went.

Except it was a MOTORcycle shop, and the only BIcycle shop he knew of was closed on Mondays. We found another shop in his yellow pages and headed off. 45 minutes later and 5 km up the road (have I mentioned the traffic yet?) we arrived to find it was closed on Mondays.

Later in the day I tracked down an open bike shop, near Grasse, maybe 10 km away. Off I went. They were open (I'd checked first), but they only stock Shimano parts and I ride Campagnolo.

They suggested another place, 15 minutes away in Pegomas who should be able to help, but they were - wait for it - closed on Mondays (and why not, I'd like to have Mondays off).

So Monday repairs were out of the question.

We headed off first thing this morning - well, the on holidays in France version of first thing, about 9:45 - to the shop in Pegomas. He was happy to fix it, but it would take a week as he didn't have the parts and would have to get them from the distributor. He suggested a shop in Cannes that might be able to help (it was the one we'd driven past yesterday that was closed) and off we went.

Same story, happy to help, but didn't have the parts. And very kindly called a shop in Le Cannet (5 km, 25 mins away) who - wonderful - had the parts!!!

This was the shop the motorcycle shop had suggested.

We arrived, and yes they were very happy to help. It will be ready tomorrow afternoon. No chance of today? I was given the Gallic version of "sorry mate, we're flat out" along with a shrug for good measure.

So I'll pick it up tomorrow after lunch.

And I'll be adding a gear / brake lever set to my travel kit.

Yes, I think Inspector Clouseau would be pleased.

Stage 2 - roadside report from Grasse.

My bike got a little knocked around on the flight from Melbourne. It's not too bad, and I'm not too stressed about it - any bike shop should be able to fix it.



It was Sunday yesterday, and in France nearly everything is closed, but we had more important things to do than worry about fixing my bike - Stage 2 of the Tour de France went through Grasse, about 15k from where we're staying.



I checked the road closure times, put some of the kids in the car and off we went.



Grasse is a pretty hilltop town, and we wandered around the centre for an hour or so, had ice creams & cold drinks, then found the TdF route and settled in to wait.



We sat on the side of the road for about 2 hours. There is a sponsor's 'caravane' that leads the Tour - 20 or so float vehicles, throwing things to spectators (the kids got a couple of caps), and keeping people interested while they wait.



I was starting to wonder this was this a smart thing to do - one of the boys was looking a little heat effected - when Le Tour arrived. A breakaway group of 4 (who survived 'up the road' until a few Km from the finish) flashed past, followed by a fleet of team & official cars.



5 minutes later, 176 cyclists flashed past. I saw the Saxo Bank team leading the peleton; I saw Lance; I saw Cadel, then they were gone.



We packed up, headed for home and a swim in the pool & a cold beer.



What a great day!!



Tomorrow I have to get my bike repaired.

I love to travel

This is what long haul travel looks like - there is always a school group (or a sporting team) flying on the cheapest tickets possible killing 6 or 7 hours dozing in an airport halfway to wherever they're going.

I'm not going to bang on about how boring long distance travel is, or how airports have become shopping malls, or how bad the person sitting across the isle always smells - these are the givens of travel.

I'm pecking this on the BlackBerry while camped out in Dubai airport - we're nearly in Nice, which will be very nice (sorry).

It a longish connection here - 4 hours: we've looked at shops, eaten Maccas (tastes the same as at home) and wandered around. Another hour or so and back on the 'plane.

I'm planning to be roadside on Sunday for Stage 1 of the Tour de France. It's passing about 15k from where we're staying, so we're all heading for Grasse to find a spot to watch the peleton whiz past. I'm excited, even if the kids aren't.

What’s an etape ?

The correct definition is “a stage of” so an Etape du Tour is, in simple terms, a Stage of the Tour de France

The Etape du Tour has been running for almost 20 years … each year the organisers select a Stage of the Tour de France and turn it into a mass participation event. No point selecting a flat stage (anyone can ride on the flat!), so they pick something with a few ups & downs.

This year, it’s Stage 20 – 167 km from Montélimar to Mt. Ventoux.

4 climbs along the way – all enough on their own to get a Saturday Cyclist working hard (and bragging about them over a coffee at the end of his ride):

Côte de Citelle 5.2 km at an average of 3.9% gradient
Col d'Ey 6.3 km at an average of 5% gradient
Col de Fontaube 4.7 km at an average of 4.3 % gradient
Col de Notre-Dame des Abeilles 7.8 km at an average of 4% gradient

And then, about 150 km (and 4 solid climbs) after rolling out of Montélimar, the participants are given a final challenge for the day – ride Mt. Ventoux, the Giant of Provence. 21 km of climb at an average gradient of 7.6% (average means some of it isn’t quite that steep, and some is much steeper).

Cyclists love climbs – almost anyone can ride for hours on the flat, but once the road kicks up, you start to separate the real riders from the pretenders. All of a sudden having the latest team kit doesn’t do anything for you; it stops being about how much your bike cost, or where you drink you post ride coffee, and starts being all about riding the bloody thing, and getting to the top with some pace & style.

The Tour de France is usually won & lost on climbs, and as it’s the world’s biggest cycling race, it’s climbs have become some of cycling’s Holy Grails.

There’s L'Alpe d'Huez - 21 hairpin curves leading up a ski resort. Length: 13.9 km. Gradient: 7.9%

There’s Col du Tourmalet. Length 18.4 km. Gradient 7.7%

Or the Col du Galibier – maybe not so steep at an average of 4.5%, but it climbs for 42.8 km to a lung busting altitude of 2,645 m.

A suburban footballer might dream of playing on the MCG, the weekend hacker can fantasise about the Back Nine at Augusta, but cyclists can, and do, ride these hills. They’re all on public roads, and weather permitting, are open (and free) all year round.

Mt. Ventoux is one of the real classics of the Tour climbs – at 1,912 m it’s highest point in Provence. It’s big, it’s mean, and it’s famous. The Tour has finished at the summit just 7 times before.

English cyclist Tom Simpson died just shy of the summit in the 1967 Tour; In 1970, Eddy Merckx (the greatest cyclist ever, bar none) rode himself to the brink of collapse while winning the stage. He received oxygen, recovered, and went on to win the Tour.

This year, the Mt. Ventoux stage of the Tour is the second last, and most commentators are saying it will decide the overall result. I won’t be surprised if the Texan is in the first bunch across the line.

The Etape is happening almost a week earlier, perhaps so they can clean up the mess of collapsed cyclists in time for the race; and I’m going to be lining up with the other 9,499 participants on the start line on early Monday 20 July.

The organisers are expecting that 30 to 40% won't make the finish line.

So maybe Etape really means 9,500 or so lunatics trying to recapture (or create) past glories by pretending they were once Tour de France standard cyclists.

I don’t think it’s a malaise isolated to France - you can scratch the skin of most Aussies and you’ll find someone that reckons they’d be at Olympic standard in their chosen sport with 6 or 8 weeks fairly solid training, and maybe a couple of less stubbies on a Friday night.

Have I been training? Have I what!

The lazy blogger

I've realised I need to make a bit more effort with this blog.

Twitter is easy - I can happily inform whoever it is that listens to me at least half a dozen times a day that I'm catching a tram, what I'm having for lunch, that it's Sauv Blanc O'clock, or how many Km I rode that day.

This blogging thing is a little more complex. I feel I should be putting serious & worthwhile things on paper, rather than the frivolous nonsense (a tautology?) that I Tweet about.

And I seem to have lost my way a little - the intent of the blog when I started it earlier this year was to chart my preparation for the Etape du Tour in late July, and of course, the event itself. I've hardly mentioned cycling; instead I've been banging on about motorsport.

Bad luck, it's my blog, so until someone start paying me for 500 words at a time about a specific subject (as if) I get to pick what I write about.

Part of the reason for the almost silence on the cycling is that the preparation has been, for anyone other than me, a little dull. There are only so many times you can hear about my efforts up specific climbs, or how my average cadence has improved over the last few months. There are some days I don't think my cycling coach even wants to hear about it, although he's enough of a professional that he'd never show it.

So I guess I need to do one post about the entire preparation - but I don't feel like it today.

An off

Lots of fun spending the morning gardening here at Winton. Those ripple strips can be a little slippery, and the infield is surprisingly muddy.

The only damage is to my pride - it was bad enough having an off, but to do it twice in the same session takes a special type of driver.

Back on the horse shortly (next session is in 45 minutes), and I'll probably smash my lap time as well - out of frustration as much as anything else.

Motorsport!!

The wrap up

It was an amazing week.

The last two days were tough: we covered over half the competitive distance, and most of it in the rain. We backed off the pace, took it a little easier, but still managed to achieve our dry times in the wet.

The worst stage was Queenstown - 99 corners on a slippery, greasy road ... On one side a rock all, the other a plunge to the valley below. I get the steering crossed up a couple of times, but we got through. The stage claimed one of the event's overall favourites, Kevin Weeks in his Lamborghini Gallardo - over the edge, and they needed the rescue team to cut them out of the car.

We hit better than needed times on all stages, so we achieved our Targa Trophy.

We did cop the penalty for passing too close to a chicane, which cost us about 5 placing in the overall standings, but we still managed to win our Class.

And now I've returned to life with speed limits and school pick ups. I guess my dream of becoming a professional race driver will have to remain just that.

Just a quick note

We weren't penalised for passing too close to a chicane. No mention of it by the officials, so either we got past before the 200m board or the person manning that chicane didn't know the rule.

Either way, we're clear.

Day 3 was great.

Some tough stuff to start the day - first stage was wet, the next two were intermediate, along with a couple of the a'noon stages. It's an obvious thing to say, but the car behaves differently on wet roads! Some bits of these roads almost never dry out - between low temps and overhanging trees there are traps for unwary drivers hiding on corners.

And in the afternoon, on a 10k stage - a double catch! Not only did we catch & pass the car in front of us (a 911T), but the one who started 30 seconds in front of him as well (a Mini Cooper) and all in 6 and a bit minutes, on damp roads. We were on fire that stage.

Long tough day today - 450k or so of total driving, and one of the best Targa stages - Cethana. 37.5k of twisty, windy stuff mixed in with a climb, a descent and some very fast bits.

Can't wait!

Relived.

I've just woken up and checked the results website - no penalties for car 713.

Very relived.

Today the pace and difficulty both increase.

And it's raining.

It's going to be a fun day.

A nervous wait

A number of Targa's competition stages have chicanes added - they are there to reduce average speeds, slow you down on very long straights, and to add to the difficulty of the event (trust me, it doesn't need much help).

The chicanes are temporary (or the locals might get a little upset) and made of those red or white road works / crowd control barriers. I guess they're a metre and a bit tall and maybe 3m long.

So, three barriers, right entry, go left, right exit. At the end of a long straight and you're at full noise as it approaches - 300m, 200m, 100m - brakes, clutch, blip accelerator, change down, get through and get back on the power. Easy. You wish.

Chicane rule number one: don't hit them. It costs a 5 minute penalty along with paint, panel & ego damage.

On one of the first stages we cleared the chicane by 2 or so centimetres. And since that one I've been treading a little softer around chicanes. I'd prefer to drop a couple of seconds getting through rather than thump one and have it cost 5 minutes.

Rule number two is don't pass another car within 200m of the approach side. I didn't know about this rule until late today.

Car are started at 30 second intervals - if the cars in front & behind you are moving at the same sort of speed as you then you should have the stage to yourself. But if you're a bit quicker then the car in front you might get to overtake; a little slower than the car behind, you might be overtaken. It's one of the most exciting parts of Targa: passing someone who's doing warp factor 5 while you're at warp 6. And the overtaking rules are simple - you get caught, you let them through.

Now mix Chicane rule 2 with the Overtaking rule.

We had almost caught the car in front of us as we were coming towards a chicane. I thought we'd be hugging their back bumper by the time we all arrived at the chicane and they'd let me through as we both exited.

But 400m or so before we got there he moved left, off the racing line, and signalled me past. So I kicked it hard and went for it.

Very heavy breaking into this chicane - I came in way too hot - through we went and one with the rest of the stage ... Which went blisteringly fast (by out standards).

We were chatting with the car we passed while waiting for the start of the next stage - it's always polite to say thank you after passing. And they mentioned that Chicane Rule 2. I hadn't heard of it.

I'll admit I haven't read every single paragraph in the Supplementary Regulations. Do you drive a car? Know every detail of the road laws? Same sort of situation.

I've looked at provisional results on the web site and no mention of a penalty.

So now I'll have to wait until the morning to find out for sure one way or the other.

Drive like you stole it ....

Before I tell how well we did today, if you're looking for a cozy pub, with good food and great atmosphere, give the Royal Oak in Launceston a try. Corner of Tamar & Brisbane, and an excellent front bar. Cold beer, and no pokies or other distractions.

So, today was Day 1. A little odd that we've been here since Saturday morning and Wednesday was the first day.

Targa Tasmania make the first two days "easy". Maybe a better way to describe it would be "not crazy hard".

The Base & Trophy times (see below) are set for reasonable speeds - the idea is to ease crews into the first couple of days so nobody drives off the road trying to make a target time before they've warmed up and gotten comfortable in their cars.

And that's exactly what we did - got settled into the car, and got used to each other's company again.

Base time is sort of "scratch" or "par" but you don't score any points for going faster, only lose them for going slower. So if Base time is 5:00 there isn't much point in going through at Warp Factor 5 and doing the stage in 4:00. By the same token, you don't want to be any slower than 5:00 if you can avoid it.

We have to be under Trophy time to get a Targa Trophy (which we're trying to get).

Base time is set for the entire field, Trophy times vary by Category.

Both get quicker over the course of the week. The times shorten and the average speeds go up. By the end of the week, Base time is set at something like a 130kph average. Doesn't sound that fast if you're cruising down the freeway. Now try it over a 25k winding goat track of the country road, up and down a mountain - and throw in a couple of almost U turns into side roads to make it a little more enjoyable. This is serious stuff.

We 'cleaned' the first three stages - in other words, under Base time. And we comfortably hit Trophy time on all nine stages.

There were a few messy corners, along with a couple of gear changes that I'm not all that proud of, and I reckon Scott isn't claiming a 100% success rate with his calls.

But overall, a great day and we drove it like we'd stolen it.

An easy day.

Today was Prologue Day.

A "hurry up and wait" sort of day.

Our report time was 9:08:30 (we were 20 minutes early) and expected departure time was something like 9:25.

We were the 115th car to leave - today the field left Silverdome and also started the Prologue in numerical order - so at 115 we were almost half way through the total field of 275.

50 something km later we arrived on the start line in George Town. This is the only stage that we get to drive in a convoy before we compete on it. It's a 5km street stage with a few twists - through the library car park and around the wrong side of a round about to name just two.

After travelling the course (at the speed limit - the road was still open to the public) we lined up in the local park (quite a sight) and waited about an hour and a half before the first car went out. We were given lunch, and we wandered around in the autumn sunshine and chatted with other crews. A relaxing way to kill some time. Wouldn't have minded a beer as well, but ...

Not only is it a "00" event (as is all motorsport), but a number of Tassie's Finest were waiting for us at the start line. And everyone - drivers & navigators - blew in the bag.

Then a line up for the start and our turn was approaching.

Helmets.
Intercom on.
Harnesses tight.
Gloves on.
Lights on.

Roll to the start line and watch for the lights. 10 second light. The 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ... Go! Welcome to Targa 2009!

Scott was calling the corners: 5 left into 4 right, tight right 3, 150 m, and I was doing my best to take it a little easy. Maybe 6/8 of flat out.

And before we knew it - about 4:13 later actually - we'd done a lap of George Town and our Prologue was over.
The Prologue is only for bragging rights and seeding the field for Day 1's start order: the fastest cars go last.

So if you've go little or no chance of being at the sharp end of things the best strategy on the Prologue is to take it easy. Don't break the car - it's a long time from there to Hobart. Don't make fools of yourselves in front of a big crowd - if you're going to have an off, do it where do one can see it.

There are a couple of other reasons for going a little easier - a low start number means you start early day. I'm fond of a lazy start to the day, but I'm here to drive, and I want to get out there. And if you start early, all being well and if the Gods of Motorsport are smiling, you get in early at the end of the day.

So we didn't bust the car, we just drove quickly, and all went well; in an hour or so I'll get a text telling me our report time for tomorrow.

Radiator problems

This morning we headed out to Symmons Plains raceway - maybe 20 minutes from downtown Launceston - to give hot lap rides to sponsors. I was assigned a couple of Vodafone people.

But first up, a few laps to familiarise myself with the track - it's a basic loop. At one end a cranking left hander, almost a U turn, the other end is a long left sweeper. No issues with the tight left, but the long one had me bluffed, and I managed to do some gardening on the first lap (a small off). No obvious damage (other than my ego).

I've driven on race tracks plenty of times, but always mixed in with traffic of similar speed. A very different story when the track is full and there are put put cars like mine and brand new EVOs and a GT3 997 Porsche or two.

A couple more laps, I was getting used to being passed VERY quickly and time to go back in to collect my first passenger.

The cabin of a race car is not very roomy and it took a few minutes to get the big fella strapped in and comfy. If his breathing (we were using the intercoms) was anything to go by, he was a little nervous.

I was explaining everything as we went around, calling the speeds and telling him what gear we were in. On the second lap, heading up the back straight I asked "have you ever had a Lamborghini pass you when you were doing 160K? No? Then watch it as it passes us on your side". And it did, like we were standing still. And then they threw out the anchors for the end of the straight and it shot a massive burst of flame out of each exhaust. I reckon he'll be telling that story for a while!

Back in to the pits, got one big guy out and started trying to get one very big guy into one very small race seat. He was bolted in and we were about to head out when I noticed steam leaking from the bonnet and the gauge was almost off the scale.

Not a good thing.

Cut the engine, opened the bonnet and it was obvious that the radiator was cooking.

A group of experts gathered and the consensus was that I'd done the head gasket, although there were none of the usual signs, like milky oil.

As the car was cooling down we found the chief scruitineer who gave us extended time to get back to Launceston.

We finally tracked down a tow truck and while we waited we refilled the radiator and decided to start the car. And it seemed fine. So we cancelled the tow car and headed back to Launceston.

Temperature gauge exactly were it should be the entire time. Into a servo near the Silverdome, who flick passed us to the auto electrician.

I run a second radiator fan - the car tends to overheat on hot track days, probably because it never gets proper cool down time.

Mark at Carswell Auto Electrical (I can highly recommend them!) worked out that one of the fans was tripping the fuse. No problem we were moving, but a big problem when we were stopped. We've decided to run with only one fan - I'm not worried about overheating, especially with the weather we're expecting and we can sort out the dud one back in Melbourne.

So from a head gasket (which would have put us out of the event) to a minor fan problem and we're now ready to go for the Prologue tomorrow.

And I don't need any more excitement like this!

Petrol!

We're competing in Late Classic (81 to 90) in the 2.0 to 2.5l category. There is an outright competition (we have no chance whatsoever) and a handicap event (not sure how many in that group, but not many - maybe only 3 or 4).



Today was documentation and scrutiny.



Tuesday we've got the prologue stage in George Town. We don't start the race proper until Wednesday.



Tomorrow we're at Symonds Plains - the local race track - I volunteered to do some hot laps with local kids as passengers. Which meant I got to select our documentation & scrutiny time for this morning.



And I picked first available slot at 9:00.



Got there a few minutes early, we were first in line and all done by 9:20. Last year I had a middle of the day slot and they were running late and it took forever.



I'll post another photo later in the week when it's full, but I took this when we were the only car in the Silverdome - quite a sight.



Then a bit of stuffing around, decals on the doors, and we're in the middle of nowhere doing recce again.



It rained nearly all day, but we got through most of what we wanted to do, including taking a look at Cethana, one of the classic Targa stages: 40k, up and down a couple of big hills, lots of very fast sections mixed with tight, tight corners.



After Cethana we had an interesting stop in beautiful Wilmot, Tasmania, where the one & only service station isn't open after 2 on a Sunday afternoon. It was almost 5 when we pulled in, the petrol light having been on for 50k or more of hilly terrain. I called the RACT - there was no way we were going to make it to the next town, but as we settled in to wait we noticed someone in the closed General Store / Post Office / Petrol Station. They kindly opened up, sold us a tank full and we were back on our way.



About 550k of driving, nearly 9 hours in the car, now it's time for something hot to eat and cold to drink.

A solid day ....

We arrived in Devonport on the Spirit of Tasmania (not sure if it was I or II ... there isn't much difference) at 7:00 this morning.

I had a crappy night's sleep - the crossing was fine, but the boat was noisy and I kept waking up to the hum of diesel engines.

A minor hiccup just after we disembarked: Scott realised he'd left the recce notes in the cabin. A call to Spirit, we found the security office and half and hour or so later and we were on our way to Launceston.

Here's a tip: service stations in little towns in Tassie tend to be closed in the morning on Anzac Day. Didn't run out, but the petrol light was on for longer than I would have liked.

A quick breakfast in Launceston, then we did the odometer calibration, found the serviced apartment (it's ok, but just), got the hire car and with a few delays we were off to do some recce by about 11 o'clock.

We managed to cover all of Day 1's competition stages and a couple from Day 2 & 3.

We've got a Hyundai Something to do recce - we're not allowed in Targa cars on the course within 3 weeks of competition starting so we've had our recce sponsored by Hertz' rally division instead.

Some interesting corners, all now marked the our pace notes, but nothing too scary - provided it stays dry.

Today was a wonderful day for a drive around northern Tasmania: sunshine but not too hot.

Until early this evening.

Now it's raining.

Maybe raining is an understatement. It's more like "Noah, is that ark finished yet?!".

2008 was a dry Targa. If I had a choice, so would '09, but unfortunately it's not up to me.

New toys!

I bought a Tryedog system today - wireless temp & pressure sensor for my tyres.

No more getting out of a warm, dry cabin and fiddling in the cold & rain with a pressure gauge that never quite wants to go on the valve stem. This year, we're doing it the modern way.

It took about 6 minutes to install - 2 minutes to read the manual and 1 minute for each corner of the car.

The photos are crappy, but you can see the rear left (R. L.) sensor and the display showing 31.5 all around. And yes, I know that's a bit high, but the car is sitting in my garage, not on the start line. I'll be running around 28 degrees cold, depending on the weather.

Next step is easy - in about an hour, we're driving to Port Melbourne, getting on the Spirit of Tasmania, and sailing to Devonport.

 

A couple of ticks on the to do list

They might not be the best photos I've ever taken, but I'm smiling when I look at them.

Fire extinguisher is refilled and certified - they're good for 12 months, not 2 years.

Decals are done - this is the one on my bonnet (or is that obvious?).

Tomorrow is tyres.

Friday is checking everything one last time and then Spirit of Tassie sails at 8pm.

Disaster prevented ....

OK, the nice people at Wormold are going to recertify my fire gear tomorrow.

I was lucky - it needs to be recertified, like all pressurised fire extinguishers, every 2 years. And I had in installed in early 2008, so it shouldn't need it until early 2010. When I was picking up the car, I wondered aloud "when does the extinguisher expire?"

So we checked.

And it needs to be checked in Jan 2009, because it was MANUFACTURED in Jan 2007 and installed in Feb 2008.

It could have been an issue - if the scrutineer had noticed it on Sunday (and I reckon he would have), I would have had to find someone in Launceston to do it, or I might not have got a start. Horrible way to miss out on an event I've been looking forward to for nearly a year.

Anyway, that problem is behind me now.

Next we have to have the new decals put on the car (I'll post photos once they're done), new tyres (Thursday or Friday), and a few comfort items, like a spare fire proof balaclava .. It's one thing to wear a smelly balaclava under your helmet for a day on the track, quite another to wear it for 5 days running. Yuck.

I'm sure something will try to bite me between now and Friday, but I'll keep you posted.

Preparation continues

I'm collecting my rally car this morning; after Sunday's very successful shakedown session at Sandown it's been for a spanner & fluids check: making sure that everything that should be tight is, and checking things like my break pads to make sure they've got plenty of 'meat' left in them.

And I needed a new windscreen washer pump and a label for my driving lights. Little things, but they make the difference between an easy drive and a frustrating one.

We've just discovered the on-board fire extinguisher is out of date. So I'll finish this post after I've found someone who can certify it for me ASAP.

A change of pace ...

Today I've swapped 2 wheels for 4 and dragged my rally car to Sandown for it's final shakedown session before I head to Tassie for Targa (http://www.targa.org.au) next Friday.

It's a Maserati Club practice day - I'm very proud to be both a member and on the Club's committee - but not many members run Maseratis.

Lots of Porsches, EVOs, Skylines,Lancers, BMW, an Aussie Race Car series car (go Ruth!), Jags, a couple of Peugeots, Alfas, a very fast Gemini (!), an Ariel Atom and other interesting odds & ends.

Mine is an early Porsche 944. First year of production. Not all that fast, but beautifully balanced and nimble in the twisty bits. Pity that Sandown is more straight than corner, but every bit of practice helps.

http://www.targa.com.au/Competitors/comp_admin/comp_images/uploads/vehicles/3045_1.jpg

A number of people had offs which motorsport for "leaving the track when you didn't intend to". No one was hurt, and they clipped a minute here & there from some of the practice sessions and it didn't slow things down too much.

I only had one incident - someone in a big sedan who was much quicker than me on the straights, but had to start breaking WAY BEFORE I did ... so he was leaving me behind on the straights while in the corners I was almost ramming his back bumper. It's not a race, and there is no passing on corners or under brakes, so he SHOULD have let me through. But he didn't. So I bailed out of that session. I wasn't going to wreck my day, or my car, getting mad about some idiot who didn't know what he was doing. He'll learn (I hope).

And I was 4 seconds faster by the end of the day - an EXCELLENT result.

Ok, it didn't quite go to plan ..

Cycling in a group has all sorts of rules & laws – some are 'written', some you have to learn the hard way, and some are, well,  just obvious.

And the most obvious one is that if you want to ride with a group, you have to go where the group goes.

This morning, my plan was to head into the Dandenongs and hopefully conquer (Ok, ride) Donna Buang. So I met group of guys for coffee at 6:45 (yes, cycling is an EARLY morning activity). I only knew one of the them, but, again, it's one of those things about cycling – if you can keep up, and ride in a bunch (more on that in a minute) - you're welcome. And my being there made a group of 6, so when we were riding 2 abreast no one was stuck talking to themselves.

I tried to steer the decision towards doing my ride, but majority ruled and instead of East we headed South along Beach Rd.

I guess it's a bit like sex – as long as you're enjoying it, does it really matter if you're not doing exactly what you want?

Bunch riding is great – the time & distance fly past as you chat about ... well it's usually about cycling. And  group always moves faster than an individual, especially this individual. So we motored down to Frankston (40k) a few kilometres an hour faster than I would normally ride. Then some hills, coffee in Mornington, some more hills, some sprints (I won one of them!), and then a solid ride home.

It turned into one of those rides that it doesn't matter how far you go, the last 5K is a MAJOR EFFORT. I sort of     hung on, and with the aid of a few very well timed traffic lights, managed to arrive back within a minute of the rest of our little peleton.

More coffee (three for the ride – it goes well with cycling and early mornings) and then home – 125K, at an average of about 30kph (fast for me), and maybe 600m of climb ... Which of course means 600m of fast descent.

And the rules?  You have to learn to sit side by side, and just off the wheel ahead. Ride in a straight line. Maintain the pace. And when it's your turn on the front of the line – do the work or get out of the way. And have something interesting to say.

Heading for Donna Buang

Ok, I've worked out the mail to blogger thing (not at all difficult). So that's one less excuse (not being near the PC)  for not blogging.

I've set myself a huge hurdle to get over tomorrow – I'm aiming for an almost 200 km ride, with a 16.8K climb in the middle: Mt. Donna Buang.  Elevation increase of 1080m, which means it's an average climb of about 6.5%



And there are a coupe of hills in the way between home and the base of the climb.

I'm not worried about the climb(s).

I'm not worried about the distance.

I'm a little worried about doing both together, but I need to get this under my belt well before July.

So now that I've bragged about the effort I'm going to put in tomorrow, I'll have to post some stats when I get home .... Maybe after the shower & something to eat!

Testing

Just testing the mail2blogger thing.

Slack, aren't I!

OK, I've been lazy, slack, and generally hopeless. Yes, I've been meaning to blog, but things, important things, keep getting in the way.

The dog had to be walked, the kids taken to school, and I had to take my beautiful wife on holidays for a couple of weeks - we had a great time, did lots of eating & drinking, and saw some great sights. And thanks for asking.

So, my mid march resolution is to get blogging!!

Even if it's a few crappy lines like this, "explaining" why I've not been writing interesting, on topic posts, I'm going to be more regular. I promise. (I hope).

The shop ride

I know 3 weeks between posts is too long, but hey, I've been busy! Just don't ask what I've been doing, because, well, I really needed to sit on a couch for an hour, take my kids to the beach, drink beer, each cheese, drink wine, go to Dreamworld, have a nap in the hammock, eat dinner with friends (more beer, wine & cheese), and a few other things that I don't remember .... and that was just yesterday.

I've been on a couple of bike holidays in Europe. Fully supported. Expensive. 4 and 5 star hotels each night. All I had to do was pedal. And it didn't matter if I didn't want to do that, because there was always a guide waiting with the van to pick me up if I was a little tired, feeling lazy or drank too much at lunch - or all three. Great hotels, great meals, really good riding.

And the best thing - on the days we changed hotels, all I had to do was dump our luggage at reception in the morning and then the ommpa loompas would scurry away with it only to have it reappear in the afternoon in our room at the next hotel.

The guides were great - lots of local knowledge, and they didn't seem to mind that I have a near total inability to follow directions. I'm one of those cyclists that is never lost, he's simply looking for a different way to get where he's going. 

But the fully supported ride wasn't what I had in mind when I decided to bring my bike to Byron Bay. Sarah & I and the three boys (all future TdF champs!) headed north just before xmas for a month of doing as little as possible (see the first paragraph for an idea of a typical day). 

From past visits (without the bike - I've never travelled with it before) I sort of know the area, but I had no idea where was the good riding was.

So the morning after I arrived it was off to the bike shop to ask if they had a shop ride. A what? A ride arranged by the bike shop (good for business) or sometimes uses the bike shop as a start/finish point. Usually made up of a group of local riders - they know the good roads, and equally importantly, where the good coffee is. 

The bike shop in town looked blankly at me and said "give the shop at the industrial estate a try.

So I did.

"No shop ride mate, but there is a group that rides from the clock tower a few times a week - Tuesday & Thursdays at 6 am, Saturday at 6:30. Watch out on Tuesdays - it's very fast,  a real 'take no prisoners' ride".

So there I am, ON HOLIDAYS, it's 05:15 Tuesday morning and I'm stumbling around in the dark, trying to find my bike clothes without waking anyone so I can get out the door in time to get to the Byron Bay clock tower a few minutes before 6:00.

When I arrive there are maybe 8 or 10 guys there, all very friendly, everyone introduces themselves (I promptly forget all their names), they all ask where I'm from, where I'm staying, and how long I'm in Byron and then it's 6:01 and we're off.

For those of you not familiar with the Byron Bay geography, the road out to the highway is 6km long and fairly flat. The group is moving at about 28 ~ 30 Kph and I'm thinking "this is fine, I can hold this pace all day". 

Just before the freeway there is a little rise and suddenly I've gone from the front of the peleton to just off the back. No worries, crank it up a little, catch the back of the bunch as they head down the freeway on ramp - and that's when they really started pushing. 45+ Kph and we're only 6k into a 32k ride.

I hung on for a couple of minutes and then did the rest of the ride at my own pace - they're all quicker then me, and I'm on holidays, and they've all got a home ground advantage and all the other slow rider excuses. I had a great ride to Brunswick Heads. Rather than ride into town, I turned around at the freeway bridge, and headed back towards Byron.

The group, who had gone into Brunswick Heads, caught me just before they turned off the freeway for the 6k back to Byron. I did my best to put the power back on, but, as if to rub my nose in it, I was dropped for the second time on the same ride.

Thursday was sort of easier - the group takes the (undulating) Myocum Rd into Mullumbimby and then back by the freeway. 43K. 400m of ascent over maybe 3 or 4 climbs. I not only hung on, I managed to win a couple of hills.

Just an aside - these aren't races so there was nothing to win, but then no friendly sporting event that two or men participate in is a race or competition is it? Of course it's not.

The locals who were riding seem to be about evenly split between people still working and those who have given up the daily grind. Hence the early starts - it might be paradise around Byron, but people still have to get to work. 

Saturdays start a little later - 6:30 - and go a little longer - usually 80k - and finish with a coffee. Did I mention that it's hilly around Byron? Not French Alps hilly, but some great 3 and 4 km climbs, like the day we did Willson's Creek - 1,200m of ascent in a 75k ride.

Saturdays were much more relaxed rides, more chatting, easier pace, some incredible scenery, and a coffee in Brunswick Heads to give us strength for the ride along the freeway to Byron and the race from the freeway back to town. Remember it's 6k: don't go too hard too early!

And I settled into a nice rhythm - get left for dead on Tuesdays, a quick hill ride on Thursdays and a longer, hillier ride on Saturdays.

In 5 weeks I rode about 800k, climbed nearly 6k,  covering ground that I would never have found without local help. Great riding, a very friendly bunch, good coffee (and gorgeous girls working at Conti in Brunswick Heads) and because they know were they're going, very little traffic to contend with: we did most of the miles on quiet country roads.

A big thank you to John, Charles, Chris, David (who I kept calling Len), Len, Stuart (who crashed his new bike second ride out), Doug, Glenn (who I called Dean), Jason, Harry (don't try to out sprint him - he races A grade), George and a couple of others who's names I'm sorry I've forgotten. 

Wilson's Creek hill profile. A wild twisty, bumpy descent with speeds of upto  70kph. Only took Charles a couple of weeks to get over the road rash.

Here goes ...

OK, it's the middle of January and I'm still on holidays (or vacation for anyone in North America). I've manage to arrange 5 weeks of doing nothing - and I'm loving every minute of it. 

We're in Byron Bay,  which I think is one of the most beautiful places I've been to, and I've done some travelling in my time. Amazing beaches, great town, good restaurants & pubs, lots of eye candy - it's part of the backpacker trail - and some great cycling (if you like steep hills). 

I've been promising myself that I'd start a blog for a couple of months, and with another 10 days or so before I get back to the office I've got some time on my hands, so there is no point putting off until next week what I could start today!

If you've managed to get this far (thank you!) you might want to know a bit about me and what I want this blog to be about.

I'm 46, live in Melbourne - the one in Australia, not Florida, look it up on Google Maps- I'm married to Sarah (13 years this month) and we have three handsome sons - Josh (11), Ari (9) and Sacha (7). 

This blog is going to be about me and my adventures on two wheels, although I'm sure the odd cute picture or funny saying from the boys will make it into print as well.

I've been an exercise cyclist (not a transport cyclist) since my early 20's. Never been all that fast, love watching cycle racing, but not into participating (although that may change), just one of those guys you see on a Saturday or Sunday, in Lycra, sweating up & down the road and looking a little like they're trying to regain their lost youth.

I've started on a quest to improve my riding a couple of months ago - back in about September - so I want to record where I get to and how I get there. I suppose this blog is as much for me as it is for everyone (anyone?) that reads it.

My next couple of posts will be about the riding I've done in the past, the bikes I ride, my current goal (Mt Ventoux in France) and how I plan to get there - the training, not the flight.

I'm hoping that as I post a a few more times, and my creative juices get flowing, that this will become a sort of "Fear & Loathing in the Saddle" but perhaps with a few less drugs.