November Retro Ride Photos

It has been too long since we had a Retro Ride.
I changed the formula bit this time. To make it easier for denizens of the North Shore, we started from the  Quay St Ferry Terminal, and rode around the city instead of out into the countryside.

Redstar Images

Redstar Images

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Redstar Images

Redstar Images

Redstar Images

Redstar Images

Magpie

lurkingat the bottom of Ardmore Quarry Rd.

West

Sleazy old Jim Morrison once droned that 'the West is the best', but following Jim's advice is usually good for at least a night in jail, so I am slightly surprised that I have the last found myself on Birdwood Rd thrice in the last eight days, each time in the best of company..

First, on Boxing Day Stuart Hill led CTB, Gerry and me through a Gordian knot of West Auckland backroads in lieu of our intended Butter Chicken Loop.

Second, last Wednesday CTB, Gayle and I again abandoned BCL, this time in deference to Gayle's knee, instead heading up Birdwood to the comforts of the Kumeu Bakehouse.

Third, yesterday, despite my providing misinformation about the start time, Amy, Gayle, Emma, Jay and I once again ascended Birdwood enroute to Ridge Rd and on to Devonport.


Emma, despite the possibility that she was hallucinating by the halfway point, has ably recounted the ride on her blog.

Life in Auckland

Whenever you get a new bike or pair of cycling shoes it will rain.

'Are you training for something?'..

...is always one of the first topics when I meet someone out on the road, and my usual answer is 'I ride with my friends to ride with my friends'.
Mock me, if you will, for this faux-zen wankery but it is the truth.

This makes the Race of Six Friends, an event for which I can claim some responsibility but no credit, the perfect competitive outing.

At the first edition in late August, our team of Emma, Jay, Gayle, CTB, Gaz and myself finished unbloodied and, most crucially, still friends.

For the second edition on September 25 we have subbed Kate Mullarkey for Emma who broke her wrist on an R6F training ride a couple of weeks ago.

Winter Solstice Ride, Saturday June 25

The erudite Stu Hill is hosting this year's Winter Solstice Ride, and it promises to be epic.

Detail HERE

Donna at full speed

1994 Track Nationals, on the old Cooks Gardens Velodrome.

My vicarious cycling career

While I have not been blogging, my friends have been riding:

Kate stayed upright at the Tasmanian Christmas Carnivals this year, had a decent crack at the Elite Track Nationals, won the Manukau Velodrome Rider of the Year, and has now departed these shores.

CTB finished the Kiwi Brevet in third place, albeit with his arse abraded, then was happy to finish Masters Points race at the 2010 RaboPlus Track Nationals uninjured.
He was first Master at T42.
Against all expectation , he recently turned 40, which he turned to his advantage by wangling the old guy's spot in the BikeNZ team to the Tour of Tahiti at the end of this week.
He also organised a very entertaining Tour of the Waikato Hotpools over the Easter long weekend.

The sublime but terrifying Gayle had a solid ride at the Elite Road Nationals, got third in a stage of the NZCT Womens Tour, then topped off her season by winning the Biosport Criterium series.

Things to do on Sunday

Given that I have not blogged for more than two months, I would be surprised if anyone is still reading this, but in case you are, there are a couple of good things to do in Auckland this Sunday:
The official opening of the SH20 cycleway is at 9:30 at Winstone Park, Mt Roskill.
No doubt the event will be blighted by the presence of various dignitaries seeking to greenwash their public image, but in compensation, refreshments are promised.

This should give the Frocks on Bikes crowd enough time to don new outfits before cycling across the new Mangere Bridge at 2:30pm.
Download the NZTA invitation HERE.

So, what about that Holdsworth?

Readers with long memories may recall my plan to touch up the worst of the paint damage on my Holdsworth Professional frame and build it into a late 60s racing steed as it once was.
The more astute among you might well infer that my long silence on the subject says that all is not well.

After months of desultory action, I gave up on my efforts to touch up the paintwork, ordered a set of transfers from Lloyds and entrusted the job to the multi-talented Walter Thorburn.

A couple of weeks later, Walter called to tell me that beadblasting had exposed a crack underneath the bottom headlug. Being financially and emotionally invested in the project, I rejected the idea of chucking the frame in a skip, and set to replacing the downtube and headlug.

The first problem is that I needed a plain, long point headlug.

The Holdsworth's lugs look like a modified Prugnat Type S, which are probably fairly easy to find, but I decided it was better to make some progress while I was still in the mood.

I dug out a set of Prugnat lugs with triangular cutouts and a some bits of scrap tube, and brazed bits of steel tube scrap into the cutouts. After a morning of filing and sanding I had a passable lookalike of the original.

I quite probably have the correct Reynolds 531 downtube in my inventory, but chose to use Ishiwata 024, because it was closer to the top of the pile, just the right length, and a bit heavier, which seems appropriate on a frame that is earmarked for this year's edition of l'Eroica.
It's a few years since I have replaced a downtube, but to my eyes the end result doesn't look too bad at all.

While I had the frame back, I took the opportunity to cold set the rear dropouts to 126mm so that I can use a 7 speed freewheel. Usually my inner purist would frown at this, but I figure that I was already across the line in the sand when I decided to get the frame repainted, and anyway, a sub-athlete like me needs a wide range of gears for a life threatening outing like Eroica.

Achtung!

Stu Hills latest blog is compulsory reading.

Winter Solstice Ride 2009

You might think this looks like the cover of a Pogues bootleg, but in fact it is CTB dispensing whisky to the 14 true believers who made it up Maungakiekie at 6am on Saturday morning for the Winter Solstice Ride.

Fortified with the finest Scotch, CTB led us on a helterskelter tour of suburban roads, cycleways and footpaths of Auckland to Dispensary Bar, which turned us away, and thence to the welcoming Shakepeare Tavern.

After a couple of warming pints, we took ourselves to Headquarters at the Viaduct Basin for breakfast, followed by a laps of Tamaki Drive.

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Doppelganger

I had entered to ride The Dual on last Saturday, but full of apathy,I deputised the redoubtable Jimmy to impersonate me.
This was a stroke of genius on my part, as I did not feel the slightest pang of discomfort when Jimmy underwent a veritable calvary of by cramp 10kms from the finish.

Not to be totally indolent, I got out on the fixie both days of the weekend.
Saturday I headed into Auckland, catching Carl Dickinson on his immaculate 80s Pinarello in St Heliers, then tagging along with Bob Tuxford and Calvin Bartley from Herne Bay to Mt Eden.
Sunday morning, I headed South expecting a less sociable ride, but found Murray Grace, looking dangerously fit, a couple of clicks from Kingseat.

Post K2 suffering

Today I am neck deep, and sinking, in the black hole of lethargy. Perky on Sunday, fairly jaunty Monday, flat yesterday.
Slept like a baby last night, and woke entirely unrefreshed.
I should be grateful, given that I finished K2 on Saturday unscathed, but it never ceases to surprise me how long it takes for fatigue to really set in.

Unlike my two attempts at K1 when I finished a gibbering mess, this ride went pretty well, thanks to the patience of Gaz & Kate who stuck to our simple, if subversive, plan to ride together and stop for lunch in Coromandel.
After struggling with the headwind between Kuaotuna and the Whangapoua hillclimb, we had a tailwind from Coromandel from Thames that provided some respite before we hit the final Kopu-Hikuai climb.

Tonsorial finetuning

This morning I shaved off my moustache, not in search of some aerodynamic margin, but because after 150kms of suffering this Saturday such a rampant walrus will contain a disgusting amalgam of snot, sweat and bugs.

Little else of my recent action has been so purposeful.
I wanted to do a long ride in the middle of last week, at the speed of a postman as Raphael Geminiani would say, but tiredness and bad worktime management put paid to that plan, so I contented myself with taking Friday off for an extra long weekend, which was dominated by further sloth:

Friday- didn't go to work. Rode into the city via Pt England, then retired to the shed.

Saturday- chores in the morning.
Nap in the afternoon.
Go to proposed fixie riding/beer drinking function on the bus.

Sunday- ride fixie in the rain with CTB.
Had Il Forno been open, we may have been content with doughnuts, but instead we ended up at the pub.

Monday- rise late.
Procrastinate until PM commitments have reduced possible ride time to about 2 hours.
Ride through the faux-Angeleno canyon subdivision atop Redoubt Rd, showing disapproval for the car dependent lifestyle by singing Neil Young's Revolution Blues on the way down the hill.

From Sunday's Retro Ride

PA120324
Originally uploaded by bensondoc

Frosty was in fine form, never got out of the 53 and kept up a constant stream of good natured banter, even when the Type-A carbon bike guys went to the front.
Furthermore, he brought more biscuits than we could eat.

More photos HERE

Rotorua K2 Training camp

A few weeks ago I emailed the usual suspects:

"To maximise our performance at various forthcoming atletic ordeals, it is crucial that we hold a brutal training camp in Rotorua sometime in September. The plan is to ride, eat, watch cycling movies, eat more, and ride some more. "

We achieved most of these goals, except for brutality, though Chris Money, who was suffering from an excess of lung butter, may disagree.
After a late start on Saturday, we managed a circumnavigation of Late Rotorua, with a scenic detour into the hills from whence we could see the sea:



Sunday dawned fine, but with a nippy southwesterly to help build character.
Money made a gallant, Captain Oates-like, gesture and took his malfunctioning lungs for a short ride whilst Gaz, Vaughan and I headed into the hills:



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