Tuesday, December 23, 2008
3 - The GDR Roller Coaster
An early morning view of the reservoir just out of Lima. Carl had left our room at about 3am. I got another 1.5 hrs of sleep and got started just before dawn.
I didn't feel great as Lima disappeared into the distance, and the dull scenery didn't help. This was the first anniversary of my dad's death. After a while I decided to crack open some music for the first time. This really lifted my spirits and my pace followed suit.
Day Eight: June 27
By now I was averaging 200 km per day without burying myself for more than an hour or so. Jenn was catching up whenever I stopped and we were looking forward to sharing the long lonely ride through the intimidating ‘Great Divide Basin’ desert.
Day Nine: June 28
I got up at 4 am to avoid the impending heat. There was a big day ahead but my stomach was in knots. I couldn’t eat. After a couple of hours’ riding we stopped for breakfast with David Blaine. He and Jenn had envious appetites. Without being able to take on fuel, I had to wave them farewell and settle in for 10 hours’ sick leave. Coming face-to-face with the possibility of failure was certainly the low point of the race. I wondered if this whole venture was a huge mistake.
Fortunately my digestive system gradually began functioning again and by early evening the wheels were turning, slowly, towards the desert. At 11 pm I crawled into my sleeping bag on the side of the road, coyotes howling in the distance, with a sense that all was well with the world.
2 - Chasing Lima
Day Two: June 21
A camera flash just after 5 am confirmed that somebody was up and it was time to move. The stopwatch was still ticking. Most of us were on the road just before 6 am and feasting at a remote café by 7:30 am. The early start aside, the race felt like a holiday cycle tour. All the riders were enjoying each other’s company, the fine weather and excellent scenery.
Just the beginning of about a hundred tree falls - luckily most were hoppable.
Everyone carried a camera and looked forward to the possibility of a bear or moose sighting (as long as it wasn’t too close). We were heading for Mt Richmond, an area where delinquent bears causing trouble in towns are taken and released. I saw a small Grizzly in the morning when riding alone, after which I made more of an effort to stick with another rider. This turned out to be a Brit, Carl Hutching, an Iditasport champion. He’s about twice as muscular as I am; a good man to be standing next to should a hungry Grizzly attack.
I caught up to Carl on the climb after stopping at Lake Holland Lodge, where I was lucky enough to score a packed lunch just before the closed for a wedding. It was so hot I walked back and forth under the lodge's sprinklers.
Carl stops for a bottle recharge. Some environmental surveyors shared some water with us a bit further on. It was always a pleasure to stop and chat with somebody in the middle of nowhere.
What's my pack doing unzipped?! Most of the riding was smooth gravel roads - perfect for a rigid MTB.
Typical scenery in the Richmond Peak area.
Well into the climb - almost at the snowline.
Now we're talking. Gerald films Carl as we start a long trudge.
As we got higher the snow was banked up on a steep angle and eventually hid the track completely.
Despite surprising heat, countless tree-falls and difficulty following a track buried by snow, we made good progress. Nobody got eaten. By 11:30 pm I’d covered 241 km, but ended up in a one-horse town that was all closed up for the night. Half a Powerbar and a cookie sufficed for dinner. Geoff Roes and I tried to sleep on the local museum lawn, only to be woken by the sprinkler system and, later, a heavy downpour.
Day Three: June 22
The racing field was starting to pan out. John Nobile was off the front, riding through much of each night. Geoff chased until he could chase no more and then pulled out, exhausted. Another six of us battled on at a similar pace, sharing each other’s company, on and off, for the next few days.
Fred, Geoff and I head off for Lincoln, very happy that heavy rain had cleared while we ate a hearty cooked breakfast.
Some very nice fireroad after Lincoln - it wasn't all like that!
Feeling pretty chuffed to be clearing the Continental Divide for the first time.
The meadows above the tree-line contained acres of wild flowers
These mine relics featured in Kent Petersen's GDR blog. As I'm a similar age, I was keeping an eye on his early splits to check I was on target to make the race cut-offs.
By noon of the third day I was starting to feel the effects of the day before. My quads were spent and saddle sores had begun to develop. To compound things, I was riding totally solo and the navigation was taxing the old grey matter. The air was thin in the mountains and hot in the valleys. By 7:30 pm my day was done, with only 162 km covered. If things continued to get worse, the chances of making the cut-offs would be slim.
Fortunately, Carl caught up with me, looking as bad as I felt. We split the cost of a hotel room and shared a decent meal; recharged our batteries. By checking the race blog in the morning we could see that only three riders were ahead of us. They’d pushed on into the dark and explored various wrong-turns during a midnight thunderstorm. This race was like a roller coaster, with highs and lows aplenty, all transitory in nature.
Day Four: June 23
We entered some extremely technical terrain on the fourth day, which for me pushed all the right buttons. The organiser commented that I looked as if I was in a cross-country race, which was precisely where my mind was at. After a break, during the most intense afternoon heat, all the physical difficulties of the race were pushed to the back of my mind, hidden behind one single goal – reach Wise River Lodge before the restaurant closes at 9 pm. Thank God I made it. Nobody wants to see a grown man cry.
The Lava trail was the first serious test of technical riding skills.
On muddy section you could see who was in front of you, and the tree falls ensured a vehicle-free trail.
The rail trail between Basin and Butte. I caught up to Jenn and Carl in Butte and was starting to feel stronger.
The interstate into Butte had a generous shoulder - the aero bars were very handy here.
Day Five: June 24
We left the forest and began some incredibly tedious riding through arid ranch land. Luckily Carl caught up with me again and for much of the afternoon he shared tales of racing in Alaska. There were no shops until the end of the day’s 220 km, but I’d posted some treasures to a remote post office: a Powerbar, some chocolate peanuts and a can of peaches. We got water from small creeks – which had been contaminated by cattle – and treated it with iodine tablets. By evening we were wasted, again, but had now covered the 600 miles to Lima within the six-day cut-off. Incredible single-speeder, Jenn Hopkins, caught up a couple of hours later. We discussed saddle sore remedies and race goals over dinner. Carl apologised that he was going to have to race harder from now on. He was gone by 3 am the next morning and we never saw him again.
Catching up to Jenn after a sleep-in in Lima. Right about now she put the hammer down and I struggled to stay with her.
If you insist.
What is this thing?
This sign was the only shade all afternoon. The red packet contains chocolate peanuts I'd posted to Polaris - a tiny town with a post office, but no shops. In fact, I saw no shops from Butte to Lima - almost 300 km.
A camera flash just after 5 am confirmed that somebody was up and it was time to move. The stopwatch was still ticking. Most of us were on the road just before 6 am and feasting at a remote café by 7:30 am. The early start aside, the race felt like a holiday cycle tour. All the riders were enjoying each other’s company, the fine weather and excellent scenery.
Just the beginning of about a hundred tree falls - luckily most were hoppable.
Everyone carried a camera and looked forward to the possibility of a bear or moose sighting (as long as it wasn’t too close). We were heading for Mt Richmond, an area where delinquent bears causing trouble in towns are taken and released. I saw a small Grizzly in the morning when riding alone, after which I made more of an effort to stick with another rider. This turned out to be a Brit, Carl Hutching, an Iditasport champion. He’s about twice as muscular as I am; a good man to be standing next to should a hungry Grizzly attack.
I caught up to Carl on the climb after stopping at Lake Holland Lodge, where I was lucky enough to score a packed lunch just before the closed for a wedding. It was so hot I walked back and forth under the lodge's sprinklers.
Carl stops for a bottle recharge. Some environmental surveyors shared some water with us a bit further on. It was always a pleasure to stop and chat with somebody in the middle of nowhere.
What's my pack doing unzipped?! Most of the riding was smooth gravel roads - perfect for a rigid MTB.
Typical scenery in the Richmond Peak area.
Well into the climb - almost at the snowline.
Now we're talking. Gerald films Carl as we start a long trudge.
As we got higher the snow was banked up on a steep angle and eventually hid the track completely.
Despite surprising heat, countless tree-falls and difficulty following a track buried by snow, we made good progress. Nobody got eaten. By 11:30 pm I’d covered 241 km, but ended up in a one-horse town that was all closed up for the night. Half a Powerbar and a cookie sufficed for dinner. Geoff Roes and I tried to sleep on the local museum lawn, only to be woken by the sprinkler system and, later, a heavy downpour.
Day Three: June 22
The racing field was starting to pan out. John Nobile was off the front, riding through much of each night. Geoff chased until he could chase no more and then pulled out, exhausted. Another six of us battled on at a similar pace, sharing each other’s company, on and off, for the next few days.
Fred, Geoff and I head off for Lincoln, very happy that heavy rain had cleared while we ate a hearty cooked breakfast.
Some very nice fireroad after Lincoln - it wasn't all like that!
Feeling pretty chuffed to be clearing the Continental Divide for the first time.
The meadows above the tree-line contained acres of wild flowers
These mine relics featured in Kent Petersen's GDR blog. As I'm a similar age, I was keeping an eye on his early splits to check I was on target to make the race cut-offs.
By noon of the third day I was starting to feel the effects of the day before. My quads were spent and saddle sores had begun to develop. To compound things, I was riding totally solo and the navigation was taxing the old grey matter. The air was thin in the mountains and hot in the valleys. By 7:30 pm my day was done, with only 162 km covered. If things continued to get worse, the chances of making the cut-offs would be slim.
Fortunately, Carl caught up with me, looking as bad as I felt. We split the cost of a hotel room and shared a decent meal; recharged our batteries. By checking the race blog in the morning we could see that only three riders were ahead of us. They’d pushed on into the dark and explored various wrong-turns during a midnight thunderstorm. This race was like a roller coaster, with highs and lows aplenty, all transitory in nature.
Day Four: June 23
We entered some extremely technical terrain on the fourth day, which for me pushed all the right buttons. The organiser commented that I looked as if I was in a cross-country race, which was precisely where my mind was at. After a break, during the most intense afternoon heat, all the physical difficulties of the race were pushed to the back of my mind, hidden behind one single goal – reach Wise River Lodge before the restaurant closes at 9 pm. Thank God I made it. Nobody wants to see a grown man cry.
The Lava trail was the first serious test of technical riding skills.
On muddy section you could see who was in front of you, and the tree falls ensured a vehicle-free trail.
The rail trail between Basin and Butte. I caught up to Jenn and Carl in Butte and was starting to feel stronger.
The interstate into Butte had a generous shoulder - the aero bars were very handy here.
Day Five: June 24
We left the forest and began some incredibly tedious riding through arid ranch land. Luckily Carl caught up with me again and for much of the afternoon he shared tales of racing in Alaska. There were no shops until the end of the day’s 220 km, but I’d posted some treasures to a remote post office: a Powerbar, some chocolate peanuts and a can of peaches. We got water from small creeks – which had been contaminated by cattle – and treated it with iodine tablets. By evening we were wasted, again, but had now covered the 600 miles to Lima within the six-day cut-off. Incredible single-speeder, Jenn Hopkins, caught up a couple of hours later. We discussed saddle sore remedies and race goals over dinner. Carl apologised that he was going to have to race harder from now on. He was gone by 3 am the next morning and we never saw him again.
Catching up to Jenn after a sleep-in in Lima. Right about now she put the hammer down and I struggled to stay with her.
If you insist.
What is this thing?
This sign was the only shade all afternoon. The red packet contains chocolate peanuts I'd posted to Polaris - a tiny town with a post office, but no shops. In fact, I saw no shops from Butte to Lima - almost 300 km.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
MSF Fundraiser Wrapped Up
Just deposited NZ$11,030 into MSF Australia's account. This was the money raised through donations (mostly at slideshows), pledges for each GDR-km ridden, and the sale of sponsored gear.
A huge thanks to everyone who contributed - genorosity like that is heart-warming, and it made the motivational side of the GDR a piece of cake.
Here's a message from MSF explaining where the money goes now:
"Médecins Sans Frontières teams are currently in over 60 countries, working with more than 22,000 locally recruited national staff in conditions that are always challenging, sometimes dangerous. Wherever our teams are working their goal is the same: to provide essential medical humanitarian aid to those who need it most, regardless of race, religion, gender or political affiliation.
As an independent organisation that relies solely on our donors for funding, your support is absolutely crucial to Médecins Sans Frontières’ ability to provide medical assistance to millions of people throughout the world. Whether it’s assisting casualties of war, those in danger from deadly epidemics or in great need after a flood or earthquake, victims of sexual violence or someone excluded from health care; the funding we receive from our donors helps us stay flexible, responsive and ready to act swiftly in times of crisis.
In 2007, Médecins Sans Frontières carried out 8,447,106 outpatient consultations and dealt with 340,689 inpatient admissions in 62 countries worldwide. Our interventions spanned four continents with the majority of projects taking place in Africa, and smaller numbers in Asia, the Americas, Europe and the Middle East. Armed conflict was the most common cause of humanitarian and medical crises followed by epidemic or endemic disease outbreaks.
Some of our work right now includes:
Providing emergency medical assistance to people caught up in the conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Providing obstetric care for women in Haiti
Treating cholera in Zimbabwe
Providing medical and non medical assistance to refugees in Darfur, Sudan
Treating malnutrition in Uganda
For all the latest news on our work, please visit www.msf.org.au.
Kind regards,
Gina Birkett
Médecins sans Frontières Australia"
A huge thanks to everyone who contributed - genorosity like that is heart-warming, and it made the motivational side of the GDR a piece of cake.
Here's a message from MSF explaining where the money goes now:
"Médecins Sans Frontières teams are currently in over 60 countries, working with more than 22,000 locally recruited national staff in conditions that are always challenging, sometimes dangerous. Wherever our teams are working their goal is the same: to provide essential medical humanitarian aid to those who need it most, regardless of race, religion, gender or political affiliation.
As an independent organisation that relies solely on our donors for funding, your support is absolutely crucial to Médecins Sans Frontières’ ability to provide medical assistance to millions of people throughout the world. Whether it’s assisting casualties of war, those in danger from deadly epidemics or in great need after a flood or earthquake, victims of sexual violence or someone excluded from health care; the funding we receive from our donors helps us stay flexible, responsive and ready to act swiftly in times of crisis.
In 2007, Médecins Sans Frontières carried out 8,447,106 outpatient consultations and dealt with 340,689 inpatient admissions in 62 countries worldwide. Our interventions spanned four continents with the majority of projects taking place in Africa, and smaller numbers in Asia, the Americas, Europe and the Middle East. Armed conflict was the most common cause of humanitarian and medical crises followed by epidemic or endemic disease outbreaks.
Some of our work right now includes:
Providing emergency medical assistance to people caught up in the conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Providing obstetric care for women in Haiti
Treating cholera in Zimbabwe
Providing medical and non medical assistance to refugees in Darfur, Sudan
Treating malnutrition in Uganda
For all the latest news on our work, please visit www.msf.org.au.
Kind regards,
Gina Birkett
Médecins sans Frontières Australia"
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Almost back in top gear
Work has been as frustrating as all hell lately (with the 7th edition of Classic NZ MTB Rides taking a month longer that expected to arrive from overseas) but we've had some good times on various bikes to distract us from all that.
First up, in mid-October was the MTB orienteering event at Maungakotukutuku. Memories of last years win were well smashed as several riders trounced me both physically and mentally, but I still had some fun. There's some sweet singletrack through some excellent forest out there. My buddy John won – his first solo win in an area he wasn't familiar with – he’s the man. This was Sarah's first event since becoming pregnant two years ago. Very nice to see.
The following weekend we went up to Rangataua for some R and R. We all rode up the mountain road (a 1000m climb) in atrocious weather – by the time we got back down they had closed the top part of the road. Near the top it is very steep and I'm pretty sure a snail zipped past me – I felt so unfit. A couple of days later John and I rode down to Pipiriki and back – 80 km return. The weather was a bit better, but there was still some hail mixed in with the rain. Nice quiet roads; some gravel (always exciting on a road bike); and more sweet forest.
The dodgy weather theme continued the following weekend as we rode up to the top of Makara Peak to celebrate the MTB park’s 10th anniversary. This was one of those days where the wind was toppling trees and blowing cars over on the Wainui Hill Road. Needless to say we were blown off the track at the top of the Peak and it was all a bit of a hoot.
The weekend after that we had a team entered in the Wild Wellington 12 hr Relay. This time the weather was perfect! Jonty did some fast laps for us on his cyclocross bike, Kaitlyn gave John a boost on the tag-along bike, Sarah did a few brisk laps, and Jonathan and I took the tandem for a spin. It was very social; Miro loved all the action; the crepes were delicious, and we ended up third mixed team.
Mid-November I snuck out the back door for a 2-hour grind on some tight local singletrack, some of which I'd never done uphill, and one new track I'd never done at all. I LOVE riding new singletrack.
The weekend before last was the end of the MTB-O season with a fixed-order event on Mt Vic (and more singletrack I'd never done before. Choice!). My second place was a pleasant surprise (even if it was partly thanks to a poor turn-out). John came in third and wrapped up the series.
The last weekend in November Jonathan, Alex and I took the triple for a spin round Taupo – a hilly 160 km – in 4:31. The guys did a good job of pushing me through the first hour; at 40 km I stopped for a leak and then finally got into a decent rhythm. We actually hammered the main climbs pretty well (given the bike would make a fine ships anchor). It was fun hearing all the kids yell out “Hey! What's that?!” “Go the threesome!”, etc, etc. Only a couple of blokes called out “The guy on the back isn't pedalling (ha ha)” or “You look so gay!”. Morons are pretty easy to ignore when the weather is stunning and you have clear views of the mountain or the lake to enjoy.
By the time I got back from Taupo, Miro was walking heaps more (from one room to the next). And there was me thinking she’d go straight from crawling to bike riding.
Yesterday was ‘Tour de Peak’ day. The aim of this event is to ride all 16 tracks in Makara Peak as fast as you can, in the order of your choice. A good old brain-teaser, as well as an honest grunt. This year I teamed up with Sarah in the Duo category and we split the tracks 50/50 (with me veering towards the most technical stuff, which I seem to have lost my mojo on – apart from being rusty, a big drop causes me to think of Miro; I hesitate and decide to walk. A tad frustrating at the time, but not so much as a broken collar bone). Anyway, the sun shone, long ribbons of single track were ridden (without injury), Miro loved the friendly atmosphere, and everybody went home with a prize.
Today, at long last, we shuffled the 7th edition of ‘Classic New Zealand MTB Rides’ into our office (8,000 copies = 4 tonnes = some serious cross-training). The string of printing, freighting, and customs clearance delays has been agonising, but the book does look damn fine. Hopefully the punters agree.
BTW, the last post suggests that my fingers had returned to normal 2 months after the GDR finished. As it turns out, not quite. A band of thin, fragile finger nail is still growing out. This band now extends back to a small ridge a third of the way from the tip of each nail (beyond which normal nail growth is occurring). Not sure what caused that – poor circulation, lack of nutrients, or reduced growth hormone during the race? Kinda suggests that 100% recovery from the GDR is more like six months than three.
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