After enjoying some time in Northern Italy (see a couple of previous posts), we were eager to see what Tuscany had to offer.

My Christmas present last year was a book entitled ’Fifty Places to Bike Before You Die’, mostly description of jaw-dropping A-B routes all over the world. The section on Tuscany, however, was a bit different. Rather than a route with a defined start and finishing point, the book simply suggested ‘go anywhere’. And, in my limited experience, I would have to agree with the author’s opinion.

We were lucky enough to have a personal guide for our first adventure. Paolo met us on the outskirts of Florence. Mid 40’s, fit, he led us out of town on on of his regular training loops. And what a ride it was. 78 km, rolling Chianti hills, mile after mile of immaculately pruned grape vines alternating with olive groves, lovely stretches of untouched forest – it was everything I had hoped for, and more. The pace was easy, time to luxuriate in the vistas that each new corner would bring. 5-6% gradients were a tonic for the legs after the brutality of the Bondone climb we had done the previous week. We rode through small villages with cobblestoned piazzas and ancient churches. A bit busy for the 1^st few kilometres but after that the roads were very quiet. Not that it mattered all that much – despite the fact that Italian drivers read stop signs as ‘decelerate slightly’ & believe that car indicators are supplied purely for ornamental value, they are remarkably tolerant and courteous to cyclists.

We stopped, of course, for coffee. The coffee shop meets lycra ceremony that I participated in Tuscany is slightly different to its Australian counterpart. Sitting is not allowed – drinks are taken standing at the bar and a shot of espresso is the universal drink, normally ordered with a simple nod to the barista. We had no problems standing up to drink, but our orders (a hot chocolate for Geoff, a cup of tea for me), caused Paolo to raise his eyebrows ever so slightly. The barista was less ambiguous, serving us with a manner that left us in no doubt what his opinion was of our masculinity.

We had a week in Tuscany, so found time for a few more rides, including a shorter but equally pretty sojourn south east of Florence and a cruise around the walls of the medieval beauty that is Lucca. But it wasn’t just the opportunity to ride that brought us to the region. The best cyclists in the world descended on the area in order to challenge for the right to wear the rainbow jersey, and we were there to watch them.

There were no major races to watch on the Friday so we took the chance to head to the small town of Ponte e Ema, home to the shrine dedicated to Gino Bartali, one of Italy’s most legendary cyclists. Geoff’s uncle Luigi had heard on the news the previous night that Bartali was to be awarded (posthumously) an award by Israel for his work in protecting Jews during the 2^nd World War. We were lucky enough get a picture taken with the great Francesco Mosser, who was one of the honoured guests of the day.

The blue-ribbon event of the World Championships is the elite men’s road race.  This year’s course covered a punishing 272 km. It started in Lucca, wound through the countryside to the heart of Florence then headed to the northern suburbs for 10 laps of a 16.6 km circuit. A couple of days previously we had ridden the majority of this short loop (albeit at a very different pace to the pros). It included a climb to Fiesole which was similar in length & gradient to Welshpool (6km @ 5%), a moderately technical descent that led to a straight stretch down a valley before a sharp right led to a short (600 m) but steep (average 16%, peaking at 21%) climb through the walled Via Salviati. It hurt us doing it once – I can’t imagine what it was like on the 10^th lap, with 260 km in the legs.

Weather had been superb up until the day of the men’s road race. Dark clouds, however, covered the skies when we headed off from our villa. Paolo preferred to ride rather than come with us to watch the race : a direct quote from the man – ‘I prefer to make love instead of watching people making love’. Who else but an Italian could get away with a statement like that???

We (sorry, Geoff, who is actually organised in matters such as this), had managed to reserve seats in a grandstand in the town square at the top of the hill at Fiesole. Unfortunately, the Italians had ingeniously managed to sell us tickets to a structure that did not exist so we were forced to mix it with the rest of the mob on the ground.

The dark clouds soon emptied their contents. It poured down. Non-stop. My son was dispatched to the local supermarket to scour for anything that could keep us dry – not many blokes can say they have been to Florence and the only clothes they bought their wife there were plastic garbage bags!

The riders whizzed past quickly, most of them looking pretty non-plussed despite the atrocious conditions. The clues were there, however, as the lap tally mounted – each time they rode up the hill the peleton was smaller and smaller. A few proud riders, dropped from the main group but still determined to finish the race for their country, bravely battled on. The majority of the pros, however, including most of the pre-race favourites, retired to the comfort of their buses before the final few laps.

Ironically, we knew less about what was happening in the race than we would have if we had stayed in Australia and watched it live on an internet stream. It was very difficult to identify individual riders – race numbers are only worn on the rider’s back, almost impossible to pick out in a big pack in stormy conditions. Even working out the nationality of riders was a challenge – most jerseys now have sponsors’  names displayed more prominently than their country (Australia = Jayco, England = Sky…). The Italians were quite distinctive, I saw Cav hurting on one of the early laps & I think I saw Cadel at one stage too.  Simon Clarke was the outstanding Australian, of course. We had managed to pick him as the sole survivor by about lap seven or eight and we gave him a big cheer as he held it with the best (7^th place – what an outstanding effort!)

After the penultimate lap we headed down the hill in the hope (unrealised) of being near the finish line at the end. The crowds had thinned considerably by this stage, with most of the remainder huddled around TV’s by the side of the road. Everyone was soaked, but all seemed buoyant, there wasn’t any overt drunken yobbish behaviour, all in all a great crowd. It was, despite the weather, a really fun day.

 

 

Back to the real world now. The latest file on my strava log, when I get around to uploading it, will have the mind-numbingly boring title of ‘commute’. And the most memorable moment of that ride? Leaving the city via Victoria Ave to join the bike path beside Riverside Drive, to the sound of  ‘get off the #*$#Ing road & onto the path where you belong’ from a driver, who proceeded to accelerate off into the distance (all of 50 metres), where he proceeded to sit behind the long queue of cars banked up at the next set of lights. While I rode past.

Welcome back to Perth.

PS for those who can’t be bothered reading my drivel but can understand pictures (and I realise, unfortunately, that by definition this excludes virtually everyone who has survive long enough to read this), I have finally managed to insert some snaps into my previous post – https://southperthrouleurs.com.au/2013/09/24/uwct-championships-trento-italy-50-54s-race-report/

1,600 registered riders. 3 hills. Sorry, 2 hills, 1 mountain. Welcome to Trento for the final of the UWCT UCI championships.

The Australian flag was flying proudly, with over 150 names on the starting list. Perth provided a strong continent, including, just like South Africa 12 months ago, a disproportionately large number of SPR riders – myself, Dale Groves, Alison Ramm, Gerrard Ghosein, Mark Schneider, Tom Barratt, Anna, thers too – apologies if I have left you out?

Weather for the day was perfect –  low 20’s, a bit of cloud cover, cold enough to be just a bit uncomfortable at the start line in short sleeves, but not enough to make you seize up on the long descents and not hot enough to cause overheating on the long climbs.

The beautiful Piazza Del Duomo was the site for departure. Not too sure how many of the 1600 were present but it was pretty crowded and a very colourful site. Marshalls directed us into clearly marked areas according to our age categories. I enjoyed spending a few minutes catching up with my fellow 50 – 54 year old Perth mates, including Dale, Malcolm Miller, Carl Poingdestre  & my Cross Apples friend Mike McCormick, amongst others.

The race wound through the streets of old Trento for a 7 km neutral zone – very sensible, given the large starting contingent (148 registered in our age group), the narrow roads & abundance of road architecture. No need to warm up, that was what the neutral zone was for, I thought. Mike & I were chatting casually down at the back of the group when suddenly I realised that we were looking pretty lonely – crank up the pace, when I looked at the Garmin profile later that day I saw that I hit 47km/hr @ the 1 km mark of the ‘neutral’ zone – welcome to Italy, new boy!

With a pack as twitchy as this I thought that being down the back was not such a good idea so I started to work my way up, choosing a line close to, but not in, the gutter.

2 minutes and 52 seconds after the start I heard a loud bang. Sounded like it came from my back wheel.

Don’t know what I hit (it was a cobblestoned road) but whatever it was it was sharp – my rear, brand new Continental Grand Prix 4000 had a slice across it from bead to bead like it had been cut by a guillotine.

I sat by the side of the road, took the wheel off and chatted to the Italian policeman guarding the (empty) petrol station where I had stopped. He looked rather bemused by the experience but we had a nice conversation, me using my best Italian (non-existant), him with his best English (non-existant). Wave after wave of cyclists went flying past us. I displayed my wheel to a variety of escort vehicles, including police motorbikes, camera crews, the race commissarie, a couple of ambulances & the race doctor’s car, to no avail. Eventually a service vehicle pulled off to the side. The mechanic leapt out of the car & quickly fitted a replacement wheel for me. I tried to help him but was quickly brushed off – I wasn’t aware till then that the news of my mechanical prowess had spread internationally. Pretty soon he was gone and I was back on the road.

I must confess that I felt kind of important for a very brief period with the mechanic attending to my bike. In retrospect I wished that he had given me a push off like they do for the pro’s, and a kilometre or two @ 50km/hr holding onto the car whilst he ‘adjusted the rear brakes’ would have been a real bonus but alas it was just me & a long, straight, lonely road. I could see a bunch about 250 metres ahead of me but they were a big pack, probably 20 years younger than me, and I knew I had no chance of catching them. Looked behind me I  saw a procession of vehicles with what I thought was a smaller group of cyclists, so I pedalled along at a comfortable pace, waiting to tag onto them when they caught me. I kept on looking back – maybe there weren’t any bikes there after all?? After a few kilometres a motor bike came up beside me. It had a red flag on it. Hmm, that looks a bit suspicious. I think I now, officially, the Lanterne Rouge.

I ‘time-trialled’ the rest of the flat but at a fairly gentle pace given that I knew I was in for a very long day. The initial 3 km of the 1^st climb was accompanied by the constant presence of the motor bike escort and I was starting to get a bit depressed about having to spend the whole day listening to the drone of its annoying engine. As we neared the first village we came across another unfortunate by the side of the ride fixing a puncture – I offered him a ‘good luck’, passed over the Lanterne Rouge banner, and was off up the rest of the hill on my own.

Despite it being the earliest & shortest of the climbs there were a few people suffering already and I gradually picked off some stragglers. When I hit the steeper, 12% segment of the climb I quickly realised that my replacement wheel only had a 25 tooth cog – the 27 that I had bought in anticipation of the pain of Mt Bondone was now in the service vehicle and I would have to grind my way up the steeper segments – not what I wanted, but there was no alternative now.

The 1^st descent had a couple of very fast sections with some tricky corners thrown in. I was tempted to push myself a bit given how far behind the field I was, but was brought back to a very sobering reality at the sight of passing no less than 3 ambulances attending crash victims on the way down.

The drop back to the valley led into a 32 km, flat section that I knew I had to find friends to help me work with. A young Danish rider finished the descent a little ahead of me and I worked up to his wheel and we quickly formed an alliance. A few km’s down the road we caught 2 more Danes who also joined in – thank God we sent them Princess Mary. The pace wasn’t what I had hoped for but, at an average speed of 40 km/hr for the flat part of the course, it was far quicker than I could have managed solo. The spells at the back of the roll gave me plenty of opportunity to top on food and fuel. Unfortunately 2 more ambulances and a scattering of sore looking cyclists sitting forlornly on the side of the road reminded me that, if the worst thing that was to happen to me was a blowout on a safe section of the road, then it was still going to be a good day.

The 2^nd climb, a bit over 11 km @ 7% for 760 metres altitude gain, is, I think, roughly equivalent in gradient to the short rise of Welshpool (bus stop to service station) but 6 times as long. It hurt, particularly knowing that this was just the warm up for the big fella. I grabbed some water at the feed station at the top, managed to get most of it in my bidon on the short but blissfully flat ride along the shores of Lago di Cei then prepared myself for the next descent. Again, sadly, I was forced to slow to get past yet another ambulance attending a fallen rider on the way down.

Another Aussie who I had chatted to as we rode past the lake joined me for the 9 km leg back up the valley to Trento. We picked up a couple more groups en-route but the rest were either unwilling or unable to work at the front so it was just the two of us driving the pace through to the base of Monte Bondone.

I had never ridden up a mountain before. In my touring days I had crossed some pretty high passes on a heavily laden bike so I had some idea what to expect, but touring was always at a gentle, ride-all-day pace and the climbs hadn’t come at the end of 82 km of hard racing. Bondone doesn’t give you much change out of 20 km at a gradient between 7 and 9% (with some pitches up to 15%) so it was going to be a hard climb no matter what the circumstances. I had tried up till then to pace myself in order that I had enough energy left to hopefully ensure I didn’t fall off my bike half way up but I started the ascent with no idea of how much energy was going to be required. Time to settle in at a pace that I thought I could survive, just enough to have me breathing uncomfortably and my heart rate at about 85% maximum.

It was painful. Really, really painful. Not that it was much consolation, but I knew the suffering was being shared by all on the road – no one got to the top without digging deep, both physically and mentally. A few riders were sitting disconsolately at the side of the road. I thought many times about how easy it would be to turn around and roll back down the hill – there were no prizes for me at the top, I didn’t have to finish the ride. But I struggled on, trying to digest a mouthful of banana here, a sip of coke there from the volunteers that manned the 3 feed stations on the way to the summit. Every kilometre or so I would click my gear lever, hoping in vain that my 27 had magically reappeared back on my cluster & I didn’t have to grind through the steeper turns. I was cheered by the sight of a few friendly faces en-route, including Alison, Dale & Mike, really great to have a brief chat with them. There was plenty of camaraderie amongst the climbers and I offered lots of encouragement to riders I passed and received lots of inspirational comments back. The country you were riding for didn’t matter here – we were all in this together.

Agonisingly slowly, the kilometres ticked by and eventually the 500 m to go sign appeared. This doesn’t sound far on the flat but it was still a tough push to the finishing line. I crossed under the banner a bit teary eyed, my head full of a mixture of emotions & feelings – exhaustion, elation, pleasure, satisfaction, pain and pride, but mainly relief that the race was over and I could finally get off my bike.

There was a fine contingent of Aussies at the top, all equally exhausted but happy to have accomplished the challenge. Alison & Dale did incredibly well considering they had come straight off a very taxing tour of Northern Italy. Mark Schneider & Jerard backed up strongly after their time trials, with Jerard, I think, posting the fastest time amongst the WA riders.

The numbers? 112 km of cycling, 43 km of these uphill and almost 3,000 vertical metres gained. My time of 4 hours 44 minutes gave me 707^th place out of the 825 riders that finished the long course & 101^st out of 118 finishers in my age group. The DNS & DNF lists were not published so not sure how many didn’t make it to the final banner. If I subtracted the 12 minutes I spent on the side of the road from my time, I might, I think, have been the 2^nd Aussie in the 50-54’s contingent to cross the line. Other, stronger riders may also, however, had mechanical issues so my potential best position is only conjecture? Irrelevant, too, given what happened to Carl.

Carl Poingdestre is a lovely chap who usually rides with the Uno Coglioni group. Not sure how often he has riden with SPR but I know he has done a few fast Thursdays & I am sure he is known by many club members. I raced with him in South Africa last year & had a few chats to him prior to this event. He had trained really hard in the hills, is a strong climber and was in fine form leading into the event. Unfortunately, he was one of the casualties on the first descent – not sure what happened but 3 or 4 riders went down together and Carl hit a rock wall at high speed. The most accurate news I have at the time of writing is only 3^rd hand, but I have been told he has a fractured vertebrae ‘but can feel his feet’, was in intensive care and was to be operated on late on Sunday night. If anyone has any more news on his condition that is appropriate to place on a public forum, please post in reply to this – I am very keen to know how he is going. Good thoughts and prayers for a speedy recovery for Carl please, readers.

The UWCT championships are now over.

I am really glad that I came to Italy. I have had a spectacular week in the high Dolomites with my mate Geoff and then some great times in Trento with Mike & his wife Barbara. I am grateful that I have been blessed with good health and have the fitness to tackle a ride like the UCI final. I finished the race intact. Anything could have happened – my tyre blow out on a descent could have been disastrous and I know I am a similar climber to Carl so I could have easily been close to his wheel when his group went down. I have finished my 2^nd final with a lower placing but just as much of a sense of achievement as had after my ride at Pietermaritzberg last year.

It would have been impossible to have done this trip without the unwavering support from my wonderful wife Robyn & fantastic son Brendan. They have indulged my passion with patience, not complaining about the 0430 wake ups (OK, not complaining much), putting up with my failure to do anything remotely useful around the house (I shudder to think what the list-of-things-to-do is going to be like when I get back) and generally being the best family anyone could ever wish for. I am very grateful that they are able to join me later this week in Florence.

As we drove away from Trento  I looked up at Bondone and said to Geoff, ‘I don’t look at that mountain thinking, gee, I really wish I could ride up it again’. I fear, however, that the memory of the pain will fade and I will look start dreaming about the next challenge.

 

Did someone mention the 3 Peaks??
PS – have some pics that I would like to insert into this post but the internet connection at this hotel is relying on one of the transmitters installed by Marconi himself. Have put a couple of the shots from the finish on facebook. If I can find a better connection I will add the shots to this post later

Mark Schneider taking the corner in SPR colours, UWCT Final, Trento, 20 Sep 2013.

The Schneiderman looked in good form.

The TT was over a 24km course, picture was taken at about 17km, start of quite a serious climb towards the finish. the You can see the start of the climb in the last picture. Temperature was mid 20’s. Lots of Aussie’s in the race. Gerard & Tom rode later in the day, didn’t get to see them (or any of the other SPR riders).

Haven’t had a chance to check the times yet.

Road race is on in 2 days.

20 years ago, my mate Geoff was basking in the afternoon sun in a meadow with his then girlfriend, now wife, Amanda. They were camping at Campitello, a pretty village in a valley in the Dolomites. It was a glorious afternoon. The menu was fresh rolls, local cheese & salami. The beers was staying cool in the icy mountain stream nearby. The peaks were bathed in sunshine. He told Amanda, ‘we must come back here again’.

What he didn’t tell her at the time, however, was that the ‘we’ didn’t include her.

Move forward to 2013. Geoff & Amanda are happily married. They have 2 beautiful children. Their eldest son is studying for his year 12 exams. Geoff has riden the Amy Gillet in Victoria & done well enough to qualify for the UCI final in Trento in September. I, too, qualified in Victoria. My boy is in Year 11, and the UCI final is 2 weeks before the term break. We were faced with a dilemma – stay at home and work, missing the final or take the whole family away, which involved taking kids out of school at a critical time in the education or leave the wives to look after the kids and go on a boys’ holiday in cycling nirvana??

Tough decision, but somone’s gotta do it.

2 tickets to Italy, please.

As soon as Geoff knew that Trento, at the southern end of the Dolomites, was the venue for the UCI final, he started nagging me about a route about 150 km north called the Sella Ronda. Despite my reservations (haven’t you heard of tapering???) he insisted we book accommodation near the circuit to ensure we could ride the route. His early efforts to secure a place paid dividends when he discovered a few weeks later that we were scheduled to arrive in the region the day before one of only 2 days in the year that the route is closed to motorised traffic.

Googling Sella Ronda results in lots of articles about the skiing route around the massif, but a deeper search  on roadie sites will find stories with introductions like ‘if you could do one ride before you die, this is it…’ and the like. Having just completed the circuit, I can only echo these sentiments.

The Sella massif is a spectacular outcrop of granite in one of the most spectacular parts of the world that I have been to. There are 4 ways of getting around it (OK, 5, if you include driving a car..). Skiing is what the route is most famous for, with a series of chair lifts giving you the opportunity to do four massive, different descents in a single day. It is a mountain biking (and a walking) mecca, both of which take advantage of the gondalas & lifts, which seem to run all year long. And there is road cycling, which is why we are here.

The last segment of the drive up from Venice gave us a small taste of the ride to come. We were lucky enough to have clear blue skies as we drove up the Passo Pordoi. The monument to Fausto Coppi at the top of the pass called for an obligatory photo stop then it was down the hill to our chalet on the outskirts of Canazei, only three km from the start of the ride.

The bitumen route around the mountain is about 55 km long, about the same distance as the City of Perth Great Bike Ride. Both events are held on closed roads. Similar in many ways. Differences include the following – The Sella Ronda is in a World Heritage area, 3 of the 4 climbs are Cat 2, just about every corner brings an ‘oh my God’ vista into view, the roads are well maintained, the descents include some scarily good sweeping curves and sharp, cambered corners that you can take (on the Sella Ronda Bike Days) without fear of oncoming traffic. And it is free.

The forecast for ride day was for storms in the afternoon so we made sure we were on the road as close as possible to the road closure time of 8.30. First ride post re-assembling the bike after the flight revealed a few odd squeaks & a bit of adjustment to the seat height was required, but it wasn’t long before we were on the ascent for the 8 km to the 1^st pass of the day.

The gradient on this, and all subsequent climbs, was a steady 7 – 8%. The strava profile of my ride looks like it was drawn with a ruler, a tribute to the Italian engineers who obviously decided years ago that this was the most appropriate angle to build the roads on, no matter what the terrain. Because of this profiling, the rises or descents were always steady, without precipitous climbs or drops, this despite the cliff-like nature of some of the terrain we passed.

We were pleasantly surprised by the lack of (cycling) traffic on the roads. Not sure why, maybe because it wasn’t a massed start event, so cyclists were free to join anywhere along the 55 km circuit at whatever time they pleased, maybe the predicted bad weather kept the locals away? Previous reports of the ride talked of thousands on the route but we always seemed to have plenty of room on the road, and the descents in particular were blissfully unencumbered. As a descending conservative, I relished the opportunity to test my bike skills on carefully designed corners, both hairpin & gentle, particularly enjoyable in the no-motor-traffic environment. Some of the drops will live in my memory as my most special moments on the bike. Welshpool Rd will never be the same again.

 

Passo Campolongo, the 2^nd and shortest of the 4 climbs followed the first descent relatively quickly & easily.

Passo Gardena was a bit different. I had decided up till then to take the Sella Ronda at a comfortable pace – the last time I had tried to push myself (SPR long hills, Sunday 8^th Sep), I developed some knee pain and, with the big race on in a week, it all made sense to take it easy.

Until the guy on the Trek went past ½ way up Passo Gardena.

Despite our relatively gentle approach to the ride, Geoff & I had passed heaps of riders but no one up till then had passed us. This wasn’t, I am sure, a reflection on our strength or fitness, more a snapshot on the type of rider who tackles the route – I think the serious riders wait until they can do the ride under racing conditions. They rock up for the Maratona Del Dolomiti, an annual amateur race that attracts over 9,000 riders, lured by the attraction of the Sella Ronda plus 2 more loops of closed roads, a total of 138 km / 4,190m vertical compared with our humble 55 km / 1,790m…

We let Mr Trek go, commenting as he disappeared up the road on his sculptured legs and the ease with which he rode. He looked young, and strong.

Then I got a bit itchy.

The top didn’t look too far (I forgot that a distance that looks-not-too-far vertically is not the same as a distance that is not-too-far horizontally). So I said to Geoff, ‘I am going to have a crack at chasing Mr Trek’ and headed off. After the 3^rd hairpin bend, I could still see him. After the 5^th, I realised that, given my eyesight, my chances of seeing him again were very slim. I did try to push it to the end of the climb, but it was a sobering lesson to me how humbling this sort of country can be. Memo to self: don’t try and launch an attack 5 km from a summit, no matter how confident you feel.

The fourth & final pass, Passo Sella was not as long as Passo Gardena, but the previous climbs made the gradient feel a bit steeper than my Garmin was telling me. It wasn’t till the next morning, when we looked closely at the photos taken at the top, that we realised what a special climb we had been privileged to ride up – ‘Nibali’ was painted on the road  in the background of our picture, presumably a legacy of recent climb done by the great man and his mates.

I am eternally grateful that Vincenzo chose not to post his time on Strava.

If you ever, ever get the chance, ride the Sella Ronda. You won’t regret it.

Hope to be able to write a race report after the final in Trento next Sunday.

PS Geoff has some great GoPro footage – will post a link when one of us works out how to edit it and upload it to YouTube

The Collie Donnybrook Cycle Classic has always been popular with the SPR mob & 2013 was no exception – 25 registered riders out of a total of about 130 on the start line on the day. This number is a great reflection on how big the club has become in WA & it was great to see so many uniforms on show.

A two hour drive just to get to the start of a race didn’t really excite me so I have avoided the event in previous years. This year, however, with rave reports from riders who have made the trip in previous years, I thought I would give it a go. The distance (104km) was perfect preparation for me with the UCI final in Trento in four weeks time. It doesn’t have a 20km uphill finish @ 7% but, until someone builds a ski resort in WA, the rolling hills south of Collie were going to have to be the next best thing.

I have been riding consistently this year but haven’t done much group riding, few really long rides & virtually no racing so was interested to see where I was at, particularly in terms of race fitness.

The Collie Donnybrook is a handicap event. I had not encountered this interesting phenomenon before. It seems that riders are allocated a starting time based on such parameters as past performance at Collie & other events, age, star sign & Tarot card readings. Not sure what my cards said, but being over 50, only an occasional racer and an Aquarius worked to my advantage and I was dealt a very favourable 27 minute handicap.

Just before the start I was stoked to finally catch up with fellow SPR rider Gary Boylan. Gary grew up just outside Colac, where I lived as a child. He is a few years older than me and I don’t think I had ever met him before but I knew his younger brother really well. Gary is a quiet, unassuming chap, so other club members may not be aware that he has a very strong pedigree, racing on the pro circuit in the late 70’s thru to the early 90’s, winning stages of the Sun Tour and other events. Gary looks like he is carrying a couple of kilos over his peak race weight but he is still in great form, winning his age category at the UCI qualifier in Perth earlier in the year. The handicappers had not looked too deeply into Gary’s record either, sending him off five minutes before me and a bit over ½ hour before Jonno and his scratch mates rolled over the starting line.

The varying start times meant that your ‘team’ became the riders you started with. Shortly after our contingent of eight took to the road, Mike Siegers from Eddy Holland quickly took on the marshalling role, organising the roll, encouraging us when it went well, cajoling us when it didn’t (which was often). One rider was pretty keen to head off on one of the early climbs but quickly fell back when he realised it was going to be a lonely 100km by himself. The rolling hills out of Collie quickly took their toll on two of the riders but the remaining six of us worked pretty well and we were still together at the right hand turn to Donnybrook 20 km, from the start. We headed west into a moderate headwind, picking up a few stragglers along the way. Unfortunately, as riders tired, the roll became scrappier and scrappier. Despite this, we got a ‘two minutes behind’ shout from a marshal not far from Donnybrook, indicating that we had made a reasonable dent into the lead group (the first riders had set off nine minutes ahead of us).

Not long after the U turn in the main street of Donnybrook, however, we saw a big pack of over twenty riders about three minutes behind us. We tried again to get some organisation in our group but there were too many weary legs and so, about five km out on the return leg, Mike sat up and called and end – ‘it’s all over now, guys, might as well sit up, have a rest and have something to eat and drink’. So we did! It felt bizarre & a bit annoying to be ambling along at 25 km/hr during a race, especially as we had the luxury of a tail wind, but he was right – we were not strong enough to hold off the bigger group so it made sense to have a break & then try and hang on when they caught us.

After about five minutes of leisurely cruising we slotted into the chasing pack – a mixture of 24 & 21 minute markers, including the welcome sight of other team SPR riders, including, Mark Edmiston, Paul Bakker, Amanda Nabi & her boss and the Schneiderman,. I enjoyed saying g’day to them but the pace wasn’t conducive to much more in the way of conversation.

About five km down the road we saw the leading escort car and within a few minutes had swept up the remainder of the 30, 32 & 38 minute groups. We were now the lead pack!

The big climb at the 81 km mark thinned the front of the field down to a group of 15 riders. Lewis Purcell and I were the only survivors of the 27 minute group. Five of the final 15 were in SPR kit – Mark Edmiston, myself, Paul Bakker, Andrew Ballam & we had picked up Gary Boylan as a bonus from the 32 minute pack. Andrew Ballam was a machine, doing an enormous amount of time on the front & consistently driving the pace when it looked like the group was flagging. I was feeling pretty good at this stage so decided to go to the front on one of the minor hills & give Andrew a break. Unfortunately, as soon as I put a bit of extra power on, I started getting twinges in my left leg. I have always been a bit sceptical of people who ‘cramp up’ but, after experiencing agonising cramps in the last kilometre of the UCI final in Pietermaritzberg last year, I knew what I was potentially in for. I quickly drained what was left of my fluids and finished off my gels in a vain attempt to fight it off. Unfortunately I found I was OK if I sat at the back of the pack and could ride quite comfortably sitting on someone’s wheel but as soon as I tried to raise the tempo my hamstrings would go into spasm. Bugger.

As we got closer and closer to Collie I kept on looking behind me, expecting to see the gun riders bearing down on us at frightening speed. But they weren’t there. Five km out at the end of a long, straight stretch I looked back to see a clear road behind us – it was then that I realised that our group were going to fight it out for the trophy!

A couple of attacks were launched to clear the air but these were quickly reined in and, as we entered the outskirts of Collie, it was obvious that it was going to come down to a sprint.

The finish was complicated by a slight descent to a T-junction, with a hard left at the bottom of the hill into the final straight, which was uphill & into a breeze, the finish line 250 metres from the turn. Road barriers meant it was impossible to go wide and I take technical corners at the speed of a 19th century steamroller (and with about as much finesse) so was disappointed but not surprised to come out of the turn three bike lengths off the wheel of all the other riders. I can’t sprint to save my life and I was cramping, so it was a mixture of pleasure and disappointment that I rolled across the line last in the group.

SPR’s Paul Bakker was sensational, only just being pipped at the line by Michael Jacobsen (riding in Squadra Barista kit). I don’t know Paul well and don’t know how much racing he does, but was he very strong on the day and it would have been great to see him deliver us a victory. To be fair, though, Michael, who road off 24 minutes, had done more work than anyone else in the last 40 km of the race and was, I think, a very deserving winner.  Gary Boylan had looked pretty comfortable and his sprinting heritage stood him in good stead, getting him across the line in seventh place – a fantastic effort for a guy not far off his 60^th birthday. Mark Edmiston gave everything and was rewarded with a ninth spot, giving SPR three riders in the top ten. Andrew Ballam’s earlier efforts had taken their toll but he still finished with a very creditable 13^th. I rolled across the line, tired and sore but not too unhappy with 15^th out of 130*.

Other SPR riders rode exceptionally well. Amanda Nabi was the fastest woman on the course & second female overall – a fantastic effort – a bit unfair that her efforts were not rewarded with a prize or a trophy. I think we would all like to claim a little bit of Andy Williams for the club – despite the fact that he now rides with the Eddy Holland team, he did start his racing career in SPR colours. His ride (fastest on the day, not far off the course record) was sensational and an appropriate reward for the incredible amount of hard work he has put in over the last couple of years.

Many other SPR riders put in great efforts on the day. There were some scarily fast speeds posted on Strava & I think a lot of riders managed PB’s on the course.

Collie Donnybrook Classic is a wonderful event. There was big crowds out at the start & at the turn around point and lots of people in little groups along the way shouting out encouragement. The Collie Cycling Club is very proud of its history (not sure how old the race is, but it dates at least from the 1930’s) and they had a big contingent of ex champions at the event. I would strongly encourage SPR riders to make the trip next year. I will definitely be back.

* NB – I have found 3 excuses for my performance, tried desperately for more but couldn’t come up with any. Historically my bike has provide mechanical problems to account for my failures but not on Saturday. I am sure I could come up with some more excuses – please, experienced excuse makers, help me, some suggestions on the blog that I can use for my next race report?

PS – would also appreciate the club members ideas on how to beat the cramps. Dr Jerry’s suggestion is drink fluids & train for the distance you are going to race. I know that I haven’t been doing the latter & tend to think this might be my problem. Open to any other ideas, though.

full race results here https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/54725135/2013%20Collie%20Donnybrook%20Handicap%20Results.pdf

I am not very good at throwing out bikes.

In fact, I have a confession to make.

I can’t do it.

The first bike I truly called my my own (apart from a hand-me-down from my big brother) was a shiny, new, blue Malvern Star Skidstar. Here is a picture of it (with me on the left) taken in the back yard of our house in Colac, Victoria on Christmas Day circa 1972.

It was the entry-level Malvern Star – single gear, back pedal brakes (the top of the line model came with a 3 speed top-tube mounted T-bar sports shifter) but I didn’t care – I loved it. New freedom to explore the streets & surrounding countryside with my mates, a whole new world was opened up for me.  I was sure all the shiny chrome made it go faster.

The bike was used every day to get me to school. On weekends it was my transport to the tennis club, down the street and to friends places.

I couldn’t afford a car during my Uni days in Melbourne, so the bike clocked up hundreds more kilometres on the city streets (few bike paths in those days), taking me out to Monash, to the shops, to parties and across town for my part-time jobs. I added a state of the art dynamo light system to guide me home at night – equivalent to a candle compared to the LED spotlights available these days.

By the early 1980’s, however, the Malvern Star was looking a bit worse for wear. Attracted by the lure of a bike with gears, it was retired to the shed at Colac, to be replaced by a 2^nd hand English touring bike.

The Barnwell had a light, steel frame & 10 speed gearing (NB, 10 speed in those days meant 2 chain rings, 5 cogs on the back). This not only made my commuting faster and more fun, it opened up the world of cycle touring to me. The purchase of my 1^st car at the age of 24 did not diminish my enthusiasm for cycling, and for a 10 year year period most if not all my holidays were on my bike, mostly on the Barnwall, but also including a few fantastic trips on a Apollo mountain bike that arrived in 1984. The tourer went on multiple trips in Australia and overseas, including being my ‘home’ for most of 1987, when I embarked on a 7 month cycling odyssey that took me through the UK, Ireland, France, Holland, Germany, Italy, Greece, India, Malaysia and Australia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Barnwell, however, also started to show its age and, after a particularly hard beating on its last overseas flight in the mid 90’s it, too, went out to the back shed, to be replaced by another bike, an aluminium Cannondale tourer.

As each year passed, the cobwebs on the two bikes grew a bit thicker. The council clean up notice came each year – I would go out the back and look at the bikes – maybe this year I should put them out on the verge???

Maybe next year.

 

Maybe I could restore them??

I’m not particularly mechanically minded – the sight of anything more complicated than a bike pump brings me out in a cold sweat. So doing it myself didn’t seem to be an option. I asked around Perth if there was anyone interested in fixing up old bikes? No success. Years passed, then a friend showed me an article in a bike mag about a guy in Adelaide who has a passion for getting old bikes back on the road again. Mrs Fairweathers Bicycle Emporium mainly restores abandoned bikes but Nigel had also done a few custom jobs so, after many email exchanges, the two old bikes were trucked across the Nullarbor to Adelaide.

A few months later, they came back home! Nigel had done a fantastic job, stripping and repainting them, sourcing stickers off the internet, getting an upholsterer friend to restore the Malvern Star saddle.

 

 

Mechanically both needed a bit more tuning – thanks Yas & Ross for coming to the party.

Mrs Fairweather’s bikes like to have names, so the Malvern Star is now known as Kevin (named after Kevin Murray, Brownlow Medallist 1969, captain of the Fitzroy Football Club when the bike was new – my childhood hero, the shining star  during the long, lean, dark years that was the life as a Fitzroy supporter). The Barnwall has become Barney, and has been reincarnated as a fixie, now my son Brendan’s bike.

Barney has had a few long rides around Perth – Brendan really likes it & I think its heritage makes it a bit special for him.

Kevin rode to the Rouleur’s tent at the Giro de Perth and has had a couple of trips to the coffee shop. I think he is pretty happy with that.

 

Notice came last week saying the council cleanup is on soon.

Might be time to go out the shed and see what I can throw out.

Maybe that old Cannondale tourer that I haven’t ridden for a few years now??

 

(Nigel can be found at http://fairweatherbicycles.com/

Yas belongs to http://www.bikeclinic.com.au/

Ross lives at http://www.canningbridgecycles.com.au/)

Sunday 14^th of April 2013 was one of the biggest cycling days seen in Western Australia. Club SPR members were dispersed widely – El Prez and some mates joined the 1500+ riders heading to the hills for the 3 / 5 dams rides, a few did the regular club hills ride, a group of our top guns lined up for D4 of the Tour de Perth, some even turned up for the swim / ride / runny thing at Mandurah (won’t use the ‘T’ word in a family-friendly blog like this). At least 30 other riders, myself included, lined up in SPR club colours, lined up to contest the 3^rd (and last) running of the  UWCT Perth 2013 UCI world cycling tour race.

I was almost a non-starter. A bit nervous already (this was to be my first race after breaking my wrist, collar bone & scapula in December) I was very disheartened to get up to the sound of light rain on the roof in my suburb 10 km south of the CBD. The Bold Park circuit has a couple of fast left hand turn corners, with the Oceanic Drive onto West Coast Highway turn having the added bonus of a very slippery painted lane to contend with, so I was not looking forward at all to trying to get round in a big pack in the wet. To my relief, I arrived at the course to find dry roads –  down south  continued to get some drizzle but we stayed dry all morning.

The 50-54’s were one of the largest groups, with 55 registered for the event and 49 riders lining up on the starting line. We had the other oldies (the 55-59’s) as company. The beginning was a bit disorganised – we were just told to ‘line up in your groups – OK 1^st group goes now, 2^nd group off next…’ it was a matter of finding people with tags the same colour as yours and hoping for the best. Stuart G, Greg, Dale, Mike B, Mark S, myself and a few others made up the SPR numbers. No reminders were given at the start as to how many laps of the course for each age group (we had 12, some groups had younger 14), not that the reminder would have done much good, as we were shown a ‘3 laps to go’ sign at the beginning of our last lap…!

The first few laps were relatively gentle. The pace started to warm up a bit on lap 3, with a few riders attacking on the flat, only to be caught relatively quickly by the group. On lap 5, Hilton McMurdo managed to sneak away at the end of West Coast Highway and Paul Miller was the only one who was able to get across with him. There was an attempt by a few of us to bridge the gap but there was not enough organisation to maintain the momentum and the two leaders rode very strongly together to the finish, with Miller taking out the sprint at the end (not surprising, given that he has tricolour hoops on his sleeve in honour of his status as an ex Australian road champion).

The rest of us maintained a fairly steady pace, with 4 sub 12 minutes laps and a few others close to the 12 min mark. It is a bit hard to work out the times given the different distances but, to put it in perspective, some of the top finishers in the 45-49’s  only did 3 sub 12 min laps, none as fast as our fastest (11.24).  (The pace this year was in complete contrast to our age group’s effort at the Kings Park circuit last year, where we dawdled around for 4 laps and almost got caught by the other age groups.) As per usual, Mike B did a lions share of the work up the front, Stew & I tried to help out as much as we could and another SPR rider (sorry, forgot his name) was very prominent for most of the race.

Our pre-race tactics had been to try and push the pace up Oceanic with the aim of gradually dropping some of the bigger riders on the climb. Unfortunately the hill just wasn’t long enough for this – on at least 3 laps a group of between 6 & 8 maintained a fairly aggressive roll along West Coast Highway and I was sure we had split the pack, only to roll down Rochdale, left into Stephenson and onto Perry Lakes Drive to find that the stragglers had caught up +/- held on. We were back to a group of 30 – 40 at the bottom of Oceanic again… And again….And again….And again….

The pack did get a bit thinner as the race rolled on but there were still at least 30 at the beginning of the last lap. The work I had done during the middle laps caught up with me and I really struggled on the last climb up Oceanic. It felt like being on the training laps again with Jonno driving the pace; I turned last into West Coast Highway 5 metres off the pack. Head down, thrash myself as hard as I can, exhausted, 500 m down the road, legs screaming with pain – still 5 metres off the pack. So near, sooo far. Try again for another 500 m – same result. I was just about to throw in the towel when I realised that the tail of the pack would have to slow a bit on the left into Rochdale and I took the corner fast and just managed to get back on about ½ way down the hill to the Stephenson corner. Not sure who was driving, but it was a fast finish down the straight. I finished at the back (20^th in my age group), unfortunately Mike B had done too much during the race to challenge the sprinters and finished 14^th, 1 spot (and less than 1 second), I think, out of the qualifying the group. Stew was strong at the end and grabbed 6^th spot, should be a Q, I think (last year the 25% were on registered riders….)

Congratulations to all who completed, especially those who qualified (a bit hard to work out, I know Jerry got thru, I think Ryan did, I am sure there are others).  I know a few road really strongly but just missed out.

Special kudos to Queen Amanda Nabi, who took out line honours in her age group in both the time trial and the road race, and also managed 4^th and 2^nd overall in the 2 events.

We were all very appreciative of the loyal SPR members who turned up early to set up the tent, yell support and encouragement, hand out drinks en-route and offer a place to meet and greet after the race. Thanks heaps Nathan,  Rhian, Toby, Mark deC and the other hardy souls (apologies, didn’t get your names) for their support.

Hopefully will see this at all club functions from now on.
Congratulations, kit committee, well done – didn’t realise you had Kenny as a member!

After an extraordinarily dry July, the rain returned to greet the hundred or so soggy riders who braved the elements this morning to do laps of Pickering Brook in honor of the State Masters Road Championships. I have cycled all my life but am very new to the racing world (only got my gold licence 10 days ago). As I am to South Africa next week, however, I thought I better get out and try and learn a bit about race dynamics and tactics. Rode the Pinjarra race last week, which was my first race since the UCI qualifier (which was my first race. Full stop.) I expected this to be a bit different to Pinjarra, where the climb to Dwellingup sorted out the groups. The Pickering Brook circuit has only a few very short hills, much more suited to the sprinters and indeed the race played out much more like the Kings Park circuit in March.

Almost 30 riders registered for the MAS 4-7 category (45yo +) but only a few over 20 were at the starting line at 9.30. SPR were represented by Julian Johnson, Mike Bonner and (I think), Norm MacLeod. 7 laps of the circuit for a total of 55km. The 1^st couple of laps were fairly pedestrian, with the group content to stick together. A guy called Mark Paget made a bit of a break on the 3^rd lap and rode solo for about 5 or 6 kms, with the group content to sit back and watch him from 50 m back. Chris Glasby from Eddy Holland got twitchy on lap 4 and launched a series of attacks that both reeled Mark P in and split the group, with 6 riders (including Mike Bonner and myself) ending up in a breakaway that stayed together till the end (or almost the end – more of that later). Mike as usual did lots of long spells in front with most of the others content to sit back and save some energy in order to chase Chris when he hopped out of the saddle and wound the pace up, which he did on many occasions. The slippery conditions made the corners challenging, especially when there was some pace. I’m not very strong when the bike gets tilted a bit so  had to work a few times to get back after the double left handers at the bottom of Pickering Brook road.

The 6 of us were still all together on the last lap, a bit of cat and mouse was played with no-one willing to work, I did a stint in front leading up to the dip in Repatriation Rd, another rider helped out then Mike took us down the hill across the start line for the last time. The route had a little hook at the end up to Kings Mill Rd, where the group was to turn around  and head back up to the primary school for an uphill finish. Mike put on a bit of a spurt and got 20 m off the front, I sprinted across the gap to join him (without dragging the others) and for a minute we were looking pretty good, tacking turns and hoping by some miracle the others would let us go. Chris G sat back but a couple of the others bridged and we all road up to the turnaround point together, Mike 1^st, me 2^nd wheel.

It was only a gentle climb but I managed to get confused as to what gear I was in. Realised I was in the small chain ring, moved to the big, found it a bit hard, fiddled a bit and changed and….

Dropped my chain.

Bugger.

As some of you may know, I have invested a small (no, a large) fortune on Campag EPS and have had no end of grief from it, with 2 front derailleurs sent back to the factory. It has worked really well for the past few weeks however. I can’t blame todays effort on the gears – this was simple clutziness on the rider’s behalf. Unfortunately I can’t seem to get the EPS chain back on the fly (and don’t worry, I have had plenty of opportunities to practice this over the past 6 weeks) and so had to stop and throw the chain on by hand. Group gone.

Chris G won the sprint, Mike came in a 5^th, a great effort considering he spent 3 ½ hours on the bike yesterday. My 6^th position was exactly what I would have ended up with if I kept my chain on as I can’t sprint so I wasn’t fussed by the result, just annoyed with myself for stuffing up when I was so close. At least I didn’t have the ignominy of trying to sprint and watching the others disappear, which is what happened to me last week at Pinjarra!

To add insult to injury, looked at my Garmin at the end of the ride, it had a very pretty screen with lots of colours on it but no data. Turned itself off and on a few times without any input from me. The computer doesn’t recognise it anymore. Not sure if it is salvageable or not.

Julian & Norm crossed the line shortly after, Julian did lots of work in the 2^nd group and staggered across with a broken cable to his rear derailleur, very strong finish considering he only had 2 gears. Haven’t seen the results but I know Luke & Andy did well in the B grade. The under 45yo Masters didn’t attract enough entrants so those who did register were thrown in the deep end with the A graders – saw a few, including El Prez, suffering a bit because of the pace. Kudos ++ though to the President, as he was the only one I know who rode to the race from home. He was also seen after the race wading back down the bottom of Welshpool in his titanium bike (boat).

Unfortunately Amanda came off her bike – nasty grazes and bruises and maybe some stitches to her elbow but didn’t look like anything too serious. Will make for a quiet week this week but hopefully back to top form for South Africa.

Racing is fun!

Not written a report before but will try to use my 1^st attempt to take up Julian’s 7^th June challenge to incorporate band names in the text – 9 bands named here, all from my CD collection….

About 30 riders gathered at Coode St, the smaller crowd courtesy of the Cyclo Sportif event in the Swan Valley. Thermometer hovered around 10C – one rider didn’t let the cold play any influence on his choice of clothing, turning up in summer top and shorts – a very hardy soul. Over ¾ of the riders in uniform, impressive to see so much of the beautiful South Perth Rouleurs gear on show.  

Set off was a bit messy, with ½ the group caught at the Mill Point Rd lights and not regrouping until Curtin Uni.  A steady pace along Albany Highway, turning off together at Gosnells. My first ascent of Kahuna, stepper than expected and marred significantly ½ way up by the stench of an animal that had recently died. Pretty soon, however, the gradient flattened out and I was able to catch Jamie B napping and pip him at the top for my very first KOM victory. (thank you, gun climbers, for  choosing to ride the Swan Valley instead).

Kahuna – 1 Jim F / 2 Jamie B / 3 Jen / 4 Aurecon Nick / 5 Matthew S

The  two groups split at the top of Mills Rd East, with the shorts continuing along Canning Mills Rd and the nine Long Ryders  heading down Urch in order to suffer up Peet. Jamie was much more wary on this ascent, biding his time until the last hill when he pulled away strongly, a theme that was to continue for the rest of the day.

Peet- 1 Jamie B / 2 Jim F / 3 Aurecon Nick/ 4 Simon M / 5 Jen

Matthew launched a massive attack at the base of Patterson’s, holding off the mob until ½ way up the hill.  One rider punctured about 1 km from the top, a few of us waited awhile then eventually descended, forcing us to have the pleasure of climbing the hill twice. The puncture repair attempt(s) were watched with great amusement by a dog, a tiny pony and a sheep but no buffalo. Tom was the first to get on his bike climbing to the Observatory the 2^nd time.

Observatory – 1 Jamie / 2 Jim F / 3 Matthew / 4 simon n / 5 Peter J

Simon set the pace early up MDW and finished with one of his best times. Jamie again had the strongest kick at the end.

MDW – 1 Jamie / 2 Jim F / 3 Aurecon Nick / 4 Peter j / 5 Simon

Unlike the Saturday SPR group ride, we had to do without the PM joining us for morning tea. The Merchants supplied me with an absolutely smashing pumpkin and date muffin – didn’t need to add the jam that was supplied with it. Jen almost had to put in a new order for his cappuccino but it did arrive just in time.

Welshpool Rd saw the usual culprits putting blind faith in their equipment, still conditions  made for a very fast descent. I thanked the rest of the group and peeled off home in Vic Park, only to be caught at Canning Bridge by Tom, who had done the full route then come back up through Coode St – his legs were definitely stronger than mine at the end.