Oppy 2009

Third time's the charm. Though outbreaks of sanity cut our numbers from the 12 riders who rolled out last year to just nine, the Lancefield Lairs had a superb ride in the Fleche Opperman All Day Trial.

This was my third ride in the Oppy. The rules are simple: ride for 24 hours, cover a minimum of 360km, finish in the home town of Australia's greatest-ever cyclist.

Our route this year took us north-east from Tooborac in central Victoria, through Seymour, Euroa and Violet Town before turning north to St James, west through Numurkah to Echuca and finally south to Rochester. Long story short: a top ride. Just eight kilometres before the first dick joke, happily about 230km before the bad singing started and 50km more for the shocking poetry recitals. It's hard to imagine better conditions for riding: a sunny day, a clear night and no wind.

We were met every 30 or 60km or so by our faithful crew of supporters and fed, watered and generally looked after. A bare 20 minutes later we were back on the road. We managed to gain about 20 minutes on our schedule during the first part of the ride and held that margin the whole time. We somehow even picked our pace up a little once darkness fell, which meant we earned a glorious two hours sleep on the dreamy soft floor of the Echuca football club.

Words don't explain the pleasure and challenges of this ride well. The highlight of the ride for me (apart from the company) was the long, flat ride under the stars on a crystal clear rural Victorian night. There's something magical about being part of a tiny peloton threading its way along quiet country roads at night. I was a lot stronger this year than in previous years, so my only low point was about 15 minutes in the wee small hours when I felt a bit weary and felt like consulting the Big Book of Excuses. A bit of food seemed to spark me up.

The finish is great fun: there's a band and the traditional photos with the Oppy statue. Then it's off for a well-earned breakfast at the Rochester Football Club and the speeches, the reunions and he traditional reading of Oppy's letter about the first running of event. For my money, this ride is one of the finest on the Audax calendar. Long may it remain so.

The top photo shows the Lair's Oppy team, the Lair's women's Petit Oppy (180km) team and our support crews at the Oppy statue in Rochester.

1615km so far this year.

Every week should be Bike Week

I loved Bike Week. I rode in four events, and covered 277km in nine days, which isn't bad. I managed to ride in four events and every one was a cracker.

The Cygnet Loops was a ride I'd always wanted to do and the Wellington Challenge I've already had a bleat about. I narrowly missed getting caught in a huge rainstorm after the Judbury family ride on Saturday, so that was a win. And last Sunday's Century Ride was a ripper too.

I've done this ride twice before, both times in a shade over five hours. While I'm not overly competitive, I always like to improve over time, so I was hoping to cut my time to under five hours.

After the usual police-escorted start, the brave and the bold took off like lycra clad rockets. I settled on drifting slowly back through the field, grabbing the odd wheel when I could. About 40km in, the bunch I was riding in sort of disintegrated and I spotted a some riders in the distance and set off after them. After a long pursuit I fell in with a trio of blokes who I spend a pleasurable hour or so into Richmond before they stopped for a drink and I pushed on. Another bunch I caught fell apart at the bottom of Grasstree Hill, but I was still going fine. Even the climb didn't give me the trouble it normally does. To my surprise I was back at the start in 4 hours and 15 minutes - 50 minutes faster than both my previous attempts at this ride. As an added bonus, the rain which had been threatening all day help off until the finish. A fitting finale to bike week. Now for the Oppy!

1132km so far this year.

The World's Slowest Hill Climber

There are five people in Hobart right now who are probably too stunned to speak today - five tortured souls whose every utterance is broken by racking sobs and rolling tears. Their long silences are punctuated by cries of `Why? Why?'. They can't eat, sleep or work, poor souls. Life holds no joy. For they have been beaten by the World's Slowest Hill Climber.

Yes, these five people have been measured against the mountain and found wanting. You read it here first: I beat five people in the Mt Wellington Time Trial on the weekend.

Now I'm a glass half-full kind of guy. Many people would look at the result sheet and suggest I came 144th out of 149 starters. But I would counter that I probably won the 100kg plus division. Regardless of the fact that I was passed by elderly and disabled riders (and worse, people on mountain bikes) on the gruelling 20km long 1,250 metre ascent, the people who finished ahead of me were all elite racers and were probably even trying to boot. (I won't even mention cycling's terrible doping problem). I just wanted to finish without stopping for a heart attack on the way up. The photo above makes me look far more gritty and determined than I actually was, which is nice. So I finished, had a nice ride, enjoyed the views and I've got a time to blitz next year. I'd call that mission accomplished.

(Ride photo from Clive Roper Photography.)

948km so far this year.

Found my tribe.

The most important thing during Bike Week is to demonstrate cyclists are ordinary folk, just like you and I.

The Banana
Originally uploaded by Velovotee
From the Sydney Body Art ride.

888km so far this year.

The bargain bikes of ebay

I'm a pretty constant lurker in ebay looking for bargain bike bits. I've often got a project in the shed which needs a part or two so I put in a lot of silly low bids, some of which bear fruit. One thing I have noticed is that the demand for old parts is growing strongly and so are prices. The sad truth is that no matter how much we value our rides, sometimes we delude ourselves about their true value.

Check out this gem. For only $130 you can be the proud owner of a 'vintage' bike which looks like it's spent the last 20 years at the bottom of the river it's named after. No tyres, no brakes, a saddle that looks like it was used to absorb an IED attack and rust galore. But hey, it's old and it's a single speed so some fool might buy it right? But you'll have to pick it up yourself from Hobart, there's no chance of the seller extending himself to ship this gem of antiquity, possibly because it weighs 80kg. Why, why, why on earth has nobody placed a bid on this bike? You heathens of Hobart.

Oh, you want something roadworthy? For a mere $92 (at current bidding) you can get your hands on a sought-after Repco Traveller Road bike? Equiped not just with gears, but a ''gearing system" and tyres that "will need eventual replacement" the seller does kindly point out that the the Traveller "is making an encore in Victoria now as a popular vintage bike". Among whom? The mentally deranged? And why not in other states? No shipping on this one either cycling archaologists, you'll have to take the station wagon to Glenroy.

But why spend $130 or even $92, when for just $5 you could pick up a "Vintage Malvern Star bike single speed fixed project"? Never mind the fact it looks like it might have been ridden into a car and has a saddle that would cause irreversible injury, this one also has tyres. They're flat, but what do you expect for $5? Bid early, bid often.

854km so far this year.

Damn lies and spreadsheets.

I was entering my commute into the bikejournal tonight and wondered whether I'm getting faster or slower over time. One wonders. There's opposing forces at work here: firstly I'm riding more, secondly I'm getting older. Which one wins? (I'll leave aside the fact I moved from flat Victoria to hilly Tasmania halfway through.)

As it turns out, the question is more complex than I would have thought. I assembled all my ride data into a single spreadsheet. There lies the details of more 500 rides totalling more than 1,000 hours (two more milestones just recently passed!). OK, how to proceed? I'll graph the buggers!

The first graph is ugly. It doesn't show anything much at all. The regression line for my average speed is flat. Odd. Ok, so I chuck out the 20 slowest rides, clean the data up a little. Now the curve slopes down. It's just barely detectable, but it slopes down. Hooray: I'm getting slower over time.

But wait. The graph shows a bunch of slow rides in July and August last year. Hang on that's when I was fanging around Beijing on the folding bike. Surely those rides don't count? Out comes July and August 2008. And guess what? The curve is upward. Just slightly, but upward. Grotesquely enlarging the graph makes the slope steeper. Cool. But by how much?

Very close analysis reveals the regression line through my rides slopes upwards from 21.85km/h at the left hand end to 22.0km/h at the right hand end. Over four years I'm 150 metres faster an hour. So if the old me raced the new me for an hour on an Olympic velodrome, he would be be close enough to yell abuse but wouldn't have lapped me. Still, any progress is good.

In the end, there is no real answer. Five years after getting back on the bike I'm fitter, happier, healthier and more handsome - all things numbers can't measure. The moral of the story is as always: ride for fun. They haven't yet made a cycle computer that can measure that.

711km so far this year.

Flying with a bike.

Every now and then I like to post something useful on this blog, even if it's by accident. Today's lesson is how to pack a bicycle for air travel. There's probably more than one way of doing it - this is mine. Use it as a guide. You may well be able to improve on it.

Flying with a bike is a nerve-wracking experience - it's really easy for something to go wrong. I travel from Hobart to Melbourne with a bike about half a dozen times a year and unless I take the utmost care something always seems to get damaged. Usually it's the paintwork but I've also had brake levers damaged and derailleurs bent. Here's how to avoid the worst our nations' baggage handlers can dish out. Click on the photos to enlarge.

Allow about 30 minutes at each end for packing and unpacking. You'll need a cardboard bike box. I've tried soft-sided bike bags, but I don't recommend them. Hard cases are available but they're expensive and easily damaged themselves. Boxes have given me the least trouble. You can buy a box from one from the airlines for about $20 or you can get one for free from your friendly local bike shop. The advantage of getting one from a bike shop (apart from the price) is they usually also have a few little bits which can come in handy: like plastic dropout fittings to protect your forks from being crushed together and inserts to stop the wheel axles from poking through the box. (You can just see one of these at the bottom of the the photo to the left. It's round and black.)

Once you've procured a box and removed any protruding staples, you'll also need some packing tape and small knife, a smaller box so oddments don't get lost or float around causing havoc, a pedal spanner, some allen keys and about three metres of foam pipe insulation: it's black foam tubing which you can buy in hardware stores. About $20 worth will last you a few trips.

Ready to go? Take some of the tape and mark your saddle height so you're not messing around trying to get it right out later. Remove the seat post and saddle. You might need to tighten the seat post clamp a bit to make sure it's doesn't come loose and be lost in transit. Remove the wheels. Take the quick release skewers from the wheels and put them in the small box. Remove the pedals and put them in the small box. (Putting them inside a plastic bag will help stop getting grease on everything else.)

Once this is done, it's time to add some protection. I simply cut some pieces of the pipe insulation to length and slide them onto the forks, brake levers and crank arms. Cut a piece to fit the right seat stay and tape it in place. You can tape the chain to this piece to stop it flapping around as in the picture to the left. Cut lengthwise slits in the remaining insulation and tape it in place so it protects the main tubes. I also tape a piece under the chainset to protect it and the box from damage.


Once this is done, remove the stem cap and stem fixing bolts and lift the handlebars clear of the steerer tube. (You may need to secure the steerer - I use an old stem part to keep it all nice. Tape will work in a pinch.) Rotate the handlebar assembly so it's parallel to the forks with the brake levers facing forwards. A couple of big rubber bands can be useful to hold the handlebars in place. Replace the stem top cap and bolt so they don't get lost. Pop the lot into the box.

Find the back wheel and carefully wrap the cassette in a rag, taping it in place if need be. (I usually let a little air out of the tyres so they're less likely to blow out in transit.) Pop an axle protector on the non cassette side and put the wheel in the box so the cassette side is facing inward. Repeat the process for the front wheel (though no cassette obviously).

Made sure the small box contains the following: your allen keys, the pedal spanner, a left and a right pedal. The small box will usually fit neatly on top of the seat stays and seat post and saddle sit on top of that. Now is the time to check - very carefully - that nothing metal is rubbing on anything else metal and that nothing is likely to shift too far in transit. Use spare insulation an old rag or expendable clothing to protect the bits from each other. Keep in mind the box will very likely be dropped or laid flat and have luggage placed on top of it and may well be upside down at some stage.

Some airlines which carry bikes are pretty relaxed about the weight. Virgin Blue, who I use and recommend - count sporting equipment as 5kg of your 23kg checked baggage allowance regardless of its actual weight. Handy! This means it makes some sense to pack other items in your bike box too: shoes, water bottles, empty panniers, filthy clothing and so on spring to mind, but don't take the piss and remember you will have to lift or carry this box yourself at some stage. 15kg is good, 20kg will stretch your arms. I don't recommend putting your helmet in with the bike, it's very likely to get damaged.

When you're happy with your effort, tape the big box shut. Write your name and address on the sides, whack on some fragile stickers for a laugh and you're nearly ready to go. Advanced students tape a piece of string to the box with their knife attached and drop it inside through one of the carrying holes so they've got a easy way of reopening the box at the other end. Put the unused packing tape in your carry on luggage for the return voyage and you're away.

Some final tips. Get to the airport in plenty of time because you're going to have to check in and then take the bike to the oversized baggage department which is usually some distance away from the check-in counters. Keep the weight down, particularly if you're too stubborn or cheap to hire a luggage cart at each end like me. And if you're hiring as car, making sure it's a hatchback makes it much easier to transport the bike at the other end. Good luck!

(Update) Someone pointed out to me that many bike boxes are large enough to put the bike in with the back wheel in place. That's is the case and may be a better way to pack for some people. I still prefer both wheels off, which allows more space at the front of the box to protect the delicate and expensive shifters. As always your mileage may vary)

517km so far this year.