Wintery Wingello

The second round of the Choc Foot 7 hr season beckoned, but after my lackluster 5th in round 1, and given the chilly forecast (0-12), it was one I was entirely ready to swap for staying under the doona.  But the Salmon collective were keen, and I do like the Wingello trails, so I found myself on the road at 5 am en route to a Campbelltown rendezvous with Ben and Mikey.

And in any case, once the gun goes I tend to perform better in the cold.  According to the inter web it was -3 overnight, but had warmed to a balmy 1 C for the 8 am start amidst a fog that wasn't destined to lift till after midday. 

Although opinions about courses vary as much as courses themselves, in my view this is the most pleasant of all the tracks I've squiggled.  That's an understatement.  I love this course: predominantly sandy loam in ancient tall forest.  Flowing, forgiving, buttery smooth (generally), with understorey peacefulness punctuated by lyrebirds strutting their stuff.  Nothing too rough, and perfect for the hard tail.  A scale model could be constructed by starting with an ice rink the size of a tennis court.  Dump on a thick slab of sorbet of various hues and varieties, infiltrated with lumps of chocolate and assorted nuts.  Use a bobcat and shovels to contour (this would be messy), then grab an ice cream scoop and carve the sinuous track over its surface.  Delicious.

Some days the engine just feels good, and today was one of them, although maybe we just perform better on tracks we like.  Not expecting too much I didn't go bezerk at the off and spent a few laps settling in, learning the course, and earmarking lines which might be explored later.  A couple of guns were entered in the masters field and were presumably up ahead.  My immediate concern was Mr Locke, betrayed by impressive calves astride his trademark titanium steed.  We spent the first three hours shadowing each other.  I'd lose Clayton through the downs, then gain him on the ups.  After sitting rooted to his wheel for a lap I sensed I had his measure so on one of the fire-road pinch climbs upped the tempo to see if he'd let me go.  This seemed to work, so I kept the pressure on to incrementally consolidate a gap I could cash in later.

The temperature was perfect.  A generous helping of smooth fire road made feeding a breeze.  In contrast to all the other 7 hrs I've done this felt easy.  Splitting consistently just under 30 min I had a real sense this would be the first 7 where I'd clock a magical 15th lap, and perhaps more significantly, actually relish going out one last time.  I read of others anticipating a final swing, but never quite understood how such desires are possible.

Of course it wasn't going to last.  Somewhere through the event, hidden amidst bottles of staminade, coffee milk or half a dozen gels, I ingested something that didn't agree with me.  Five and a half hours in I popped a gel and about 10 min later an avalanche of internal rumbling ensued, but not the benign type pleasantly relieved by the venting of gas.  Greg Lemond's “bad peach” episode immediately sprang to mind.  This was starting to get really uncomfortable with no simple solution. 

I wasn't sure where I was running but on-course chats with Wendy and Cory suggested I might be in contention.  What was clear, however, was that the increasingly frequent and painful stomach cramps were going to force a change of strategy (hello survival!), not to mention dashing thoughts of 15th-lap bravado. 

The cramps came in waves, endured through an anguished face and gritted teeth...then they'd ease and I’d momentarily forget what all the fuss was about… until the immense pressure returned, with episode frequency increasing.  In short, the last two laps were agonizing.  I almost crawled off the track and into the bushes half a dozen times, but that would have taken the whole Soggy Bottom thing a touch too far. Somehow I completed my 14th lap with the clock at 6hr55min, did a U-turn and bee-lined it to the row of portaloos, where I remained cocooned for about 10 min, listening to Joe on the p.a. welcome riders home and count the clock down to the 7 hr finish.

Fortunately for me, Clayton missed the cutoff for a 15th lap to gift me a most unexpected win in masters, with Cory rounding out the podium.  One of the guns, Mr Morgan, was actually present but changed categories and raced the 4 hr instead, and the other, Mr Speering was a no-show.  That's just the way it goes sometimes.

Ben and Mikey had good days out as well, even though Ben was way underdone in the miles department and Mikey was nursing a cold.  It was nice to see them every now and then out on track and exchange a few words.  And I was most grateful for the company on the way home.  On top of three trips to the can prior to leaving, another two pit stops were required just to make Campbelltown.  Despite it all it was still a grand day out, and I suppose also means that doing the third and final round in Nowra is in order.

Wylde Encounters

No snakes or wallabies, but loads of pinches made for a tough outing on a 7hr format.  Sydney’s own XC track is a breath of fresh air for those of us who are accustomed to travelling further afield for XC fun.  Whist the track is good, it's quite unlike any of the other courses around. 

“What are all those lumps in there for?”, queried an exhausted Cory at the finish.  I find myself in agreement.  Whilst the designers have got a lot of stuff right, perhaps their worst offence was overpopulating the track with rollers that interrupted flow, detracting a little from lumps that gravity allows one to have fun with.  There is already a deceptive amount of climbing in the 12 km loop, and the additional lumps just exacerbate the pinch-climbiness of what is otherwise good singletrack.  So much singletrack, in fact, that eating and passing (even post haircut) were sometimes challenging.  Eating especially. 

On a personal note I didn’t have the best of outings (5^th in Masters, and approx. 15^th solo outright), so far from the pointy end that for the first time in a 7hr race I got lapped by the top two Masters category place getters (hats off Jason and Jamie) in what was a pretty stacked field.  I think the 3peaks form has finally waned. 

My saddlebag slipped to the back wheel early in the affair, and then I burnt a little too hot (on a warm morning) working my way back through the field.  Drinking was restricted to the short but lumpy fenceline section, and the horrible paddock stretch of pit lane itself.  During the race I consumed half a banana and some slices of watermelon, but had absolutely no appetite for gels, so ended up consuming none.  I was still getting through a small bottle a lap, but in hindsight not taking on enough in the carb department. 

But the bike of choice for the day was terrific – first race outing for the 26er Anthem in 2 years.  So much easier to pilot than the 29er hardtail on the twist and pump segments.  It was a nice day, the vibe was friendly, and there were other Soggies out on course to rub shoulders with.  At various kiss points I could see Anita and Ham gradually running me down, and by half distance Anita passed easy as you like.  She and Ham just missed the podium in the Mixed Pairs.  And Mikey had his first 7hr solo experience, which unfortunately coincided with battling a leaky tire for a couple of laps.  7hr events are tough enough without having to deal with mechanical issues, something I’ve luckily avoided thus far.  Well done Mikey, Ham and Mudge!

On the whole a pleasant day in the woods (creak, groan), so much so that I suspect that we’ll all front up again for the next 7hr Choc Foot outing at Wingello come the end of June.

Soggies at the Mont

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All round probably the best outing the Soggies have had at the Mont for several reasons;

Perhaps most importantly, no one came a cropper.  No major biffs, grazes, tears, pressure bandages or trips to the medical tent or hospital, even on a course littered with body parts and zombies.  No industrial action.  And everyone who desired one got a hot shower.

We celebrated Sara's birthday.  Giles, on top of cracking out 6 laps with his reappearing twin, whipped up a bonza cake that was something to behold.  Moira, on top of being all over the lap board, distributed stars and the best party packs ever.

Great course and weather.  19 km of fast track with multiple hucking opportunities.  Clear but cold night rounded out by a morning mega fog so thick bikes became spray-painted in matt-finish ACT talc.  This (the talc also) kept the sun at bay for most of the morning too.

And, as a consequence of some strategic team shuffling, we came away with a category win.  Granted, it was a foolish proclamation 3 hrs in that "we got this", because a lot can go wrong and often does, but we managed to keep a lid on it.  

Not to say there weren't a few nervous moments.  Ham had some night-time meanderings off piste.  Nicky finished a dawn lap almost blinded by goggle condensation.  Anita had to wrestle the old stick-in-the-wheel trick, but managed to extract it without breaking spokes, or the new 1*11 drivetrain she was rocking.  My worn-out fork (gouged stanchion and leaking oil) was offset by brand new wheels – the first MTB wheels I’ve built myself.  Hence, tempting fate at both extremes; employing clapped-out gear plus new stuff I hadn’t rumbled in practice etc.

Jeremy and Frazer look keen to swap the kids races for the real thing, perhaps inspired by Mikey posting some seriously fast splits (including our quickest collective lap).  Unfortunately for them, this being a reality is still some Monts away.  Apparently they fell asleep soon after departure, as did I, always a sign of an excellent weekend, although it did make for a challenging drive home.  Thanks all for making it so fun. Shame we have to wait another year for the next episode.

3peaks episode 6

-->The event keeps getting bigger and quicker.  Some 2200 starters and the course record trimmed by a few more minutes to 7:31.  Once all the numbers are crunched I'm sure the average splits for the various sectors will have lost further weight, as per the incremental creep of previous years.

This year we numbered 8;  Chris, Ham, Anita, Andrew, and moi, as well as a couple of debutants, Rich and Rob.  The eighth was GKs substitute, Chris from Melbs.

The forecast was spot on.  Cold morning, some afternoon heat, and northlerly winds in the afternoon.  At the conclusion, most agreed conditions were slightly tougher than last year.

Of all the starts, this one was easily the coldest, maybe 5-8 C as we assembled in the start corral.  Having started dead last in episode 5, we opted for a mid-field entrance, with hopes of surfing quicker bunches throughout the day.  Of course this meant a lot of standing round in icy air.  A smart move in principle, but it made for the most nerve-wracking opening descent of all editions, despite super dry conditions and a perfect surface which looked like it had been leaf-blown from top to bottom.  Whilst in past years rider density soon seemed to thin out, this year it was chockablock all the way down.

As usual, Ham, Anita and I descended the whole shebang together.  Anita had one nervous moment, momentarily sliding the rear on a crush point.  I was pretty cold, but not as chilled as one rider just ahead, whose arms and front wheel were shimmying almost uncontrollably the whole way down.  How he had the nerve to keep letting the bike run was beyond me.  With riders coming from everywhere it became easier to monitor the situation from behind than to try to have us all squeeze past.  

At Mt Beauty I bade Ham and Anita farewell before finally warming up on the lower slopes of Tawonga.  About half a K in I unzipped gillet and jersey only to have my sunnies spill onto the road under me.  Miraculously, the swarm of riders following didn't crush them.  I recovered glasses, removed remaining sheets of newspaper and was off again.  Not my quickest time up Tawonga (25 min) but I've typically burnt too hot on this climb in the past.

A quartet of us worked the descent.  At Germantown we latched onto the tail of a group the size of the Tour de France for the valley road to Harrietville.  I made a point of not doing a single turn on this stretch.  A few Ks before the climb I slid to the back and chugged the coffee milk I'd lugged over Tawonga.  As we hit the climb (clock at 2:12, same split as last year) I knew a pee stop was inevitable, so I pulled to the side a few corners later.  

The climb up Hotham felt easier than in past years, perhaps aided by the lovely cool conditions and almost total lack of breeze.  The views from the summit ridges were truly spectacular.  

Dinner plain.  In at 4:07, out at 4:10.  I was hoping that I'd fall in with a solid group for the stretch to Omeo, but it took 20 km for a bunch of 10-15 to aggregate.  There was some serious horsepower present, but getting it to coordinate was like herding cats. Maybe the terrain is just too lumpy for a quality paceline to stick, given the relative strengths of differently sized riders.  But despite this, on aggregate we were still moving at a reasonable clip.  

As Omeo approached I still had a bottle up my sleeve (unlike last year), so had the option of rolling on to Anglers (30 km later).  But I'd basically decided to be conservative and stick with the script of pitting at Omeo as I'd done in the past.  As I pulled over the rest of the group rolled through en mass.  It was perhaps my only tactical blunder of the day.  I wasn't overly concerned at the time as I was sure another group would be just behind and act similarly, but it never came.

Hence, I was by my lonesome for the next 15 clicks into a strengthening headwind, with plenty of time to contemplate my decision.  Just after the rickety bridge a rider finally caught me and we picked up a third.  It was nice to have two others to share the lovely wiggly run up to Anglers where my companions pitted. Still with a full bottle, I rolled through. At this stage I suspected I was comfortably ahead of last years effort so was content to spin it easy and rest the legs, taking a pee stop a few Ks before WTF corner, which I hit with the clock on 6:48, 10 min up on last year.  

The grind up the back of falls was the easiest I've done it (thank you semi-compact!) despite cramp forcing a temporary dismount and hobbling progress for the last 2 km before the Trapyard feed.  I would have been in serious trouble had it hit 2 km earlier where the grade is nastier.  Just before cramping, some 30 minutes into the climb, my phone chimed, alerting me to the fact that perhaps Anita was also on the climb.  Surely not? If true, she was absolutely motoring!

From Trapyard to the end I was essentially by myself, but the last few uphill undulations flew by and all of a sudden the lake appeared below.  For a few moments I thought that cracking 8:40 might be a possibility, but the final push into the headwind put paid to that.  Rolled home in 8:43, a couple of minutes quicker than the 8:45 I'd had my sights on, so I was pretty happy to have nailed my mark.

I settled into basking in the sun on the grass, devouring a few sausage sandwiches as the clock ticked by and the music flowed.  It's one of the lovely parts of the event.  All the relieved faces emerging from the timing tent.  All the stories of suffering, headwinds, camaraderie, triumph or just plain relief.

Next to emerge was Andrew in 9:32.    I predicted he'd go under 9:30, but in the last 20 clicks he became trapped in an armada of riders on 9:30 schedule, with little urgency to rally for a blistering finish.  This added to the injury of having his legs feeling blocked for the first 160 km.  Sometimes there's just not much you can do if the legs don’t feel great.  Still, he looked content to have done a considerable PB, and noted that Anita was doing an "extraordinary" ride, and shouldn't be too far back.  

Sure enough, 7 minutes later a very happy looking Mudge arrive (9:39).  Having done 10:25 last year her goal was to sneak under 10.  See what peeing in the bushes can get you!  Actually it's no substitute for fitness, and she had plenty of that this year after a solid preparation, although she was pedaling squares from WTF corner to home.  That's giving it all.

Now we were all a little worried for the Ham.  He had a shocker with cramps last year, and this year Lisa upped the ante, suggesting for him not to bother coming home unless he went under 10.  I'd offered him my spare room (which is not without its charms), but I'm guessing a mixture of ambition and expectation were weighing on his mind.  The last meal was prepared exactly as he wanted it.  He was leaving nothing to chance.  He finally emerged from the tent with a cheeky smile, brandishing a slip of paper that read 9:59:51!.  Must have been an agonising final 10 Kms!

Where was Chris?  I'd not seen him since breakfast, but he eventually appeared with a satisfied grin and a piece of paper showing 8:41 flat (70^th outright!).  Awesome ride and massive PB.  I suggested to Kev that he might get the better of me this year, on the back of regular racing (nothing prepares you like racing) and consistently impressive endurance sessions on the M7.  Nice to see him put in a ride that I think most of us suspected he was capable of.  He and I basically did identical splits on Tawonga and Hotham, but he is the superior descender and a monster on the flat.  Who knows what he'll achieve next year ; ).  Hats off Chris!

Three of our party were still on course.  The debutants, and Melbs Chris, who'd enthusiastically taken GK’s entry but on very little training.  Rob and Chris found themselves riding much of the back half together, finishing a monster day in approx 12 and a half hours.  Rich covered the 160 km to Omeo before being cruelly cut by the organisers, upon which commenced another endurance event entirely; the round-the-world voyage of the sag wagon to re-gain the village.  Despite what must have been a disappointing conclusion for Rich, it was good to see him, as well as Rob and Chris back safe, and still capable of enjoying a meal and a few beers at the pub that night.  

As to next year?  I won’t say “never again”, as that’s almost certainly asking for trouble.  But even the raccoon has done 5 laps now, and must be getting sick of the same roads. Part of me would like the big lap tradition to continue, but part of me wants to perhaps explore some different events or formats.  Time will tell.

Stanszilla

Audax Alpine Classic

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Sums it up pretty well;

Thredbo to Khancobin

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...and back again.

 The last time I drove the Alpine Way beyond the Dead Horse was probably 10 years ago.  I remembered a relentlessly winding undulating road, where vehicle and concentration are tested with little respite.

Bumping into Zlatko a few weeks back, he suggested that Thredbo-Khancobin return was as hard as 3peaks.  The same altitude gain compressed into 150 km.  Sounded like a great adventure through beautiful country.

The opportunity presented itself.  We were there, and we had road bikes instead of the usual mounties.  We rolled out of Dugbo at 7 sharp.  Crystal clear morning, maybe 15 degrees.  As we slowly cranked up to Dead Horse Gap, pockets of distinctly warm air flagged what the day was likely to become.  Some terrific views through the trees betray the looming drop; 1600 m to 500 m in 18 km.  The top of the descent is a delight, cruising down moderate grades through sub alpine tall timber.  The road steepens before easing very briefly, approx half way, at the Leather Barrel Creek picnic area.  The final 8 km are technical, steep and narrow.  Unfamiliar with what might present round the next corner, we play it safe. Not super value in that regard - a theme for the day.  We bottom out, kissing the Murray River (and Victorian border) at Tom Groggin.  100 m later we are climbing again.  

Dead chip seal, steep pinches and slow drags become the order of the morning.  We've only covered 25 km in the first hour, despite losing a km of altitude.  It becomes apparent that this is going to be a longer day than I'd envisaged.  Looking at the Thredbo to Khancoban profile (1400 m start and 300 m finish) I thought we'd cruise the 76 km easily in under 3 hours.  Think again.  We finally get some pay dirt in the fast run into Geehi (which the Mudge and I yell with gusto in the stye of YeeeHaa!).  We almost get an entirely flat km before the road tilts upwards and the next 8 % sector slows progress.

The pinch out of Geehi was just an aperitif for the main climb of the morning, taking us from 500 m back up to 1000 m over 8 km.  The road is unlike any I've ridden before, threading through a dozen steep walled cuttings, with chicken wire holding everything in place.  Steep, narrow, dead track.  At least it was largely shaded, with almost zero traffic.  We eventually top out at Scammel's Spur and get some pretty amazing views along the ridge-top before the plummet past the power station all the way into town.  Thankfully the grade for most of the descent is mild.  Good value (GeeeHai!) and not so nasty for the return run. 

We roll into Khancoban with exactly 76 km and 3 hours 26 min on the clock.  The cafe does excellent fried egg sandwiches and perhaps the most magnificent milkshake in my memory.  Tall tin cup, filled to the brim and sweating with condensation. The surface was so cold we cradled it in our hands, much the way cold hands savour a warm mug. Ice cream headache cold!

Conditions were warm and muggy.  With 31 C forecast it was now 11 am and time to get moving.  We sweat buckets as we grind from 300m, back up the exposed road past the Murray 1 Power Station.  The upper climb is more shaded.  We pause to watch a brown snake make its way lazily across the tarmac, avoiding the fate of a dozen of less fortunates.  The plummet down through the cuttings is punctuated by breathtaking views of the main range.  GeeeHai!  Bottoming out we are climbing immediately before dropping once again into Geehi.  Now with added gusto; GeeeHai!  We both agree that, aside from the impending big climb at the end, the rest of the course is easier in return mode; shallower climbs, and pay dirt down all those nasty pinches we suffered on the way out.

Another shallow grind is followed by yet another fast run to Tom Groggin.  The calm before the storm.  Anita is starting to suffer from hot-foot, so we sooth feet in Snowy Creek and fill bottles before facing the first half of the big one; 8 km at 8-10%.  It was tough.  Lots of snail-pace chugging before the brief respite at Leather Barrel.  We press on and up the last few steep Kms.  The gradient eventually eases off in the trees.  Just shy of Dead Horse we hear the once elusive Crescent Honeyeaters everywhere.  So this is where they hang out.  A final GeeeHai!, as the top is gained before dropping back to village just shy of 4 pm, and, more crucially, before the closing of the bakery.

All in all a top day out, covering 155 km and 4150 meters through some amazing country.  Not quite as tough as 3 peaks, but then again we weren't trying to post a blistering time.  Sometimes pacing makes all the difference.