For the past seven weeks cyclocross races have been a
regular fixture on the weekly calendar in Wellington. The Bike Hutt series has
continued to blossom in popularity, and I have been to a mixture of Mike’s
races in Upper Hutt interspersed with the first three of the national series
rounds in the Hawkes Bay, Blenheim and last week in Christchurch. It is
fantastic to have so much cyclocross available now to do, thanks to so many
people taking on the role of hosting races and making it happen.
A few weeks ago winter seemed to decide it had had enough,
and it’s been pretty warm since the middle of July. I made my way over to
Blenheim towards the end of the month with the two JGeffeoffries, Geoffrey and
Jeff, for the second round of the national cyclocross series at Wither Hills.
Geoffrey and I made our way over with our bikes on the ferry, and rode the 25
or so kilometres from Picton with a delicious combination of bright sunshine
and tailwind on our backs, following a hearty top-up of sweet treats at
Picton’s answer to Holland’s Bakkerij. One
of the things I was most excited about leading up to this was the anticipation
of once again visiting the infamous Voodoo Lounge, full of odds and ends and all kinds of figures embued with occult significance.
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| The Lounge. |
This realm of curious
sanctity is tucked away in the back of the garage at Jeff’s parents’ place,
with entry limited to a select few upon careful invitation only. I was last
here in a sandwich around the 2012 Kiwi Brevet, and while it was my virginal
experience of the lounge, I didn’t undergo any formal initiation rites. This
was swiftly rectified with the aid of a small taxidermied crocodile, a
poncho-blanket and a certain je ne sais quoi of mumbo jumbo.
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| Ritualistic voodoo shenanigans |
With the voodoo’s juju satisfied, the following day’s race
was largely a success. Apart from tripping on the first of three sequential
barriers at the end of the 2nd lap, subsequently landing with all my
weight and momentum directly on my thighs on the next barrier, I had a steady
and enjoyable race. Unfortunately for Logan Horn, who was looking to be very
competitive, he had problems with his tyres unseating on the sharp off-camber
sections and as a result lost significant time swapping wheels.
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| Photo courtesy Sarnim Dean - www.sarnim.com |
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| Photo courtesy Sarnim Dean - www.sarnim.com |
That evening
provided some spectacular entertainment by way of the significant movement of
the ground. A large earthquake centred close to Seddon shook like none other
that I’ve ever experienced, causing lots of noise and violent tremors, and also
the untimely decapitation of a delicate South American cowboy with a porcelain
head. May he rest in peace in the garden of voodoo.
Back in Wellington the Bike Hutt series was reaching its
zenith, with newcomers and more seasoned riders alike getting into the flow of
it and improving steadily over the weeks. After a fairly big week of riding and
massaging my bruised thighs I had some fairly stolid sensations in my legs for
the next weekend’s race at California park, a soft but very windy course in the
sun. Brendan Sharratt accelerated away early on and it was all I could do to
lose only 10 seconds or so per lap.
During the week I was made a very generous offer from my
friend and all-round bicycle-riding legend Kim Hurst, to help me get to the
Southern Cross and next national series race in Christchurch the following weekend. So after a
slightly easier week to freshen up I put my jumbled up bicycle into a bag and
flew down for the race in Ferrymead. Kim and Lisa picked me up from the
airport, and after a short ride to look at the course (although we were too
early and it didn’t yet exist) and a visit to a bakery’s factory outlet on the
way back for deliciousnesses, we checked in with our excellent hosts Michelle
and Richard.
I hadn’t been to central Christchurch for a number of years
before the big quakes, and when we went in to look around at the reconstruction
I was almost completely disorientated. As we approached I felt a strange
sensation of familiarity, on quite a subconscious level, as while I didn’t
recognise where we were some sort of intuition told me that this was Manchester
St, and sure enough we then went past a road sign indicating that to be the
case. There is definitely the sense of a collective appreciation for people and
company around the place, born out of the loss of so much I’m sure.
Ferrymead park, while largely a sort of wasteland, has a plump
grassy knoll in the middle, with a small railway loop around the outside. These
were some of the key features of the race, which involved crossing the tracks
twice each lap – just as the small scenic tram made its way around in circles
brimming full of small children and families. There was also an ex-Wellington
trolley bus taking tours, and surprising riders, as it popped out of the gloom
alongside part of the parcours.
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| Photo: Lisa Morgan/Cowbell Coaching - cowbellcoaching.com |
We started, as usual, in an awful hurry and Scott Lyttle,
Logan Horn and I got a gap ahead of the others through the first lap. I was
feeling great and thought I could perhaps push a little bit harder, so started
to creep away from the other two as we criss-crossed the railway line. After a
few laps I saw the train approaching our crossing point just ahead of me, and
soon found myself waiting as it passed, all waving hands, excited cries and
puffs of steam. It was probably all of 10 seconds but I could feel Scott
breathing down my neck and wanted to keep the gap growing. I managed to do
this, and while the great number of people taking part meant the course was thick with riders, making for occasional queues
to pass, in all it really grew on me throughout the hour and I enjoyed the
race.
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| Photo: Lisa Morgan/Cowbell Coaching - cowbellcoaching.com |
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| Photo: Lisa Morgan/Cowbell Coaching - cowbellcoaching.com |
On the way back to the airport Richard took me on a quick
tour of the workshop where he has started up an operation by the name of
Revolution Components
finely cutting out chainrings, derailleur hangers and more or less any other
particular small parts that riders need made upon request. My only prior
experience of anything much mechanical and automatic was a small lathe at high
school technology class in third form, which I used to fashion a sort of
useless ornamental wooden candlestick as part of a failed project in something
or other. Needless to say the tools and machinery in their workshop are far
more sophisticated than anything I’ve ever seen, and more intimidating to the
thought of a stray hand than anything I’ve ever encountered too. But they are
making some cool and very useful stuff with it, and most importantly they know
what they’re doing. They can also protect their hands by telling a computer to do it.
Yesterday was the finale in the Bike Hutt Cyclocross series
for this year, and was a fittingly fantastic outing, but I’ll say more about
that next time. Coming up is the week of racing down in Wanaka/Queenstown,
featuring the national championships on Satuday August 24th. I’m
heading down by land a few days early, and it promises to be a historic few days
with lots of racing. Not quite as much as the Christmas period in Belgium, but
definitely indicative of a significant groundswell in the sport which is great
to be a part of. Beyond that are some exciting plans and hopes, which I shall elaborate more on shortly.
