Needle in the Hay

7 Peaks in 7 Days

2011-10-28T01:43:00.000-07:00

On Sunday 30th of October, myself and some friends are planning to embark on a cycling trip like no other. We're calling it 7 Peaks in 7 Days.

The itinerary is listed below.

I'll be providing some updates, statistics from my GPS and maybe even a few photos here as we go.

Seven Peaks in Seven Days Itinerary

Day 1

Date: Sunday 30th October
Distance: 138km
Start: Tanjil Bren
Finish: Upper Yarra Reservoir
Route: Tanjil Bren, Mt Baw Baw, Tanjil Bren, Noojee, Yarra Junction, Warburton, Reefton, Upper Yarra Reservoir

Day 2

Date: Monday 31st October
Distance: 161km
Start: Upper Yarra Reservoir
Finish: Jamieson
Route: Upper Yarra Reservoir, Cambarville, Lake Mountain, Marysville, Buxton, Taggerty, Thornton, Jamieson
Additional Notes:

The following route description is from Bonzle.com:

‘The Eildon-Jamieson Road is a sealed road in Victoria. It goes from near Snobs Creek to near Jamieson.

The Eildon-Jamieson Road's highest elevation along its length is 879m and the lowest point is at 222m.

For cyclists and those towing caravans, boats or heavy loads the Eildon-Jamieson Road is mountainous along its 47.6 km length, with about 14.5 km that is steeper in incline/grade than 5% (5.1 km is steeper in incline/grade than 10% and 3.2 km of that has an incline/grade more than 15%!). The total ascent / descent along the length of the Eildon-Jamieson Road is 1654 m / 1362 m.’

Day 3

Date: Tuesday 1st November
Distance: 175km
Start: Jamieson
Finish: Whitfield
Route: Jamieson, Mt Buller, Mansfield, Tolmie, Whitfield

Day 4

Date: Wednesday 2nd November
Distance: 162km
Start: Whitfield
Finish: Bright
Route: Whitfield, Oxley, Milawa, Myrtleford, Porepunkah, Mt Buffalo, Bright

Day 5

Date: Thursday 3rd November
Distance: 137km
Start: Bright
Finish: Omeo
Route: Bright, Tawonga Gap, Mt Beauty, Falls Creek, Anglers Rest, Omeo

Day 6

Date: Friday 4th November
Distance: 111km
Start: Omeo
Finish: Bright
Route: Omeo, Cobungra, Dinner Plain, Mt Hotham, Harrietville, Bright

Day 7

Date: Saturday 5th November
Distance: 111km
Start: Bright
Finish: Bright
Route: Bright, Harrietville, Mt Hotham, Harrietville, Bright

Total Distance = 995km

That New Bike Feeling

2011-05-15T00:24:00.000-07:00

I've just upgraded my mountain bike and road bike. My work is part sponsored by Specialized Australia and as an employee I get access to bikes at very good prices. This deal has been in the pipeline for a while now and just got approved, following which I promptly put in my order for an Epic Expert 29er and a Tarmac Expert.

Both are amazing machines...easily the nicest bikes I've had the fortune of owning. Every ride I find more reasons to love these bikes. Today I rode the Epic at Gap Creek in Brisbane and I just can't get over how smooth, how fast and how responsive it is. In two hours I rode every trail in the trail network and felt like I was riding like a pro. It climbs like a mountain goat and the big wheels just seem to eat up the bumps.

The roadie is also a blast. When you contrast it against the past two bikes I've been riding, you can see the difference is like night and day. The last road bike I owned was an Avanti Corsa which I bought from a mate. It had a carbon fork and carbon chain and seat stays, with an aluminium main triangle and full Ultegra componentry. I bought it second hand, and my friend estimated he had done about 8,000km on it. I put another 8,000km on it, at which time I discovered a crack in the left hand side chain stay, just behind the bottom bracket. This happened in July 2010.

Luckily my brother had a road bike I could borrow - a steel Jamis with 105 components, a carbon fork and some Mavic aftermarket wheels. It wasn't the lightest and latest thing, but it did the job while I waited on the new Specialized deal to come through.

So compared to these two, the new Tarmac is amazing - hell, it stands out on its own merits as the best road bike I've ever owned. It's really light, although certainly there are lighter bikes out there (possibly not many at this price point). It's comfortable and fast and it looks damn nice too. I haven't done any rides over 100km on it yet, but I hope too soon. I'll post some pictures of both bikes soon.

God is a Bike Rider

2011-05-08T02:57:00.000-07:00

God has returned to earth and he rides a bike. I'm sure one of the blokes in these vid's must be God, cause no mortal man could do some of these things...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=fohPU3pDpFU

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cj6ho1-G6tw

Tarp Surfing

2010-08-09T03:50:00.000-07:00

Here's what happens when you combine some bored American surfers with some large tarpaulins, skateboards and an empty parking lot:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6-vb20srZI&feature=related

High Country Cycle Challenge, Year 5

2010-03-14T22:27:00.000-07:00

The 5th annual High Country Cycle Challenge has just been and gone. This one had a new format that I believe set a new direction and standard for the event - better rides, easier logistics and better entertainment on the Saturday night.

For those that know nothing about the event, it is run by a company called Bike Events (www.bikevents.com.au). It is on in March and is based around Mansfield and Mt Buller in Victoria's north east. It's a participation ride rather than a race, although they do give out prizes for the King and Queen of the Mountain - i.e. the man and woman that complete the 16km climb from Mirimbah to Mt Buller village in the shortest time.

Good friends of mine run the event, so I've been involved with every one. I volunteered the first two years and I've ridden for the past three (my wife Erin on the other hand has volunteered at all five I think).

As mentioned, they changed the format this year so that all rides started and finished in Mansfield. This meant that most people could stay Friday and Saturday night in the same location in Mansfield, and make the most of the pubs and restaurants in town.

There were many different ride options available. I chose to ride Option B on Saturday, approximately 90km from Mansfield to Mt Buller and back again. Weather was perfect as we rolled out at 9am and it stayed that way all weekend - cool crisp mornings and mid twenties maximums later.

My friend Craig and I rode with the front group as far as Merrijig, where the road enters the foothills and starts to climb. Between Merrijig and Mirimbah there are a series of rolling hills that usually throw the bunch into disarray, stringing riders out as the group surges up each rise. Craig and I backed off the tempo and road our own pace through to Mirmibah where the Buller climb starts in earnest.

I'm no stranger to this climb, having worked at Buller for many, many years (over seven winters and nearly six summers at last count). My fastest time is 55 minutes. Simon Gerrans has ridden it in 38 minutes. On the weekend, the King and Queen did it in 43 and 48 minutes respectively.

Its actually a great climb. It climbs about 1000m over the 16km distance and is generally not too steep, maybe 5-10% at a guess. The last kilometre up to the village is the hardest.

I started out going pretty easy. I was determined not to blow myself up like previous years, so I kept one eye on the heart rate monitor, with the aim of keeping the heart rate around 160bpm and definitely under 170bpm. By about the halfway point I was actually feeling pretty good so started to up the tempo slightly and began to pull back a few other riders that had passed me earlier. I crossed the finish line at the top in 1:03 - not my best time, but not a bad time considering I'd already been on the bike for an hour.

The ride back to Mansfield is pretty easy and I think Craig and I covered it in just over an hour.

Saturday afternoon was the Aviva Investors Tour de Flavour Criterium in the main street of Mansfield. I raced C grade and had an interesting race. I knew going into the race that my preparation hadn't been ideal - I'm not that fit that I can ride 100km including a significant mountain and be back in top form four hours later - but I was keen to have a go anyway.

The race started fast and I soon found myself struggling to hold position mid pack. After every turn the leaders would stand up and sprint, spreading the bunch out further and further. The tight course made passing tricky but I slowly clawed my way towards the front and stayed near the front for the next ten minutes or so. Every so often a small break would go off the front or a gap would open in the field, and I seemed to find myself continually cycling defensively to get back to the front or close a gap. About two thirds of the way through the race, my friend Bruce (one of the two Bike Events Directors) had a crash right in front of me. With only some minor grazes he took the allowed one lap out and then rejoined the group. Not long after he rejoined the bunch, a group of four, including Bruce, got free off the front and opened up a gap. Knowing that the race would be decided in that group, I decided to try to get across the gap. I launched myself into the chase, sprinting along the straights and cornering as fast as I dared. After three agonising laps at 110% I bridged the gap, but I'd given too much. I was only able to hold them for one lap before my legs completely gave in on me, and I started to go backwards and was soon caught and passed by the rest of the bunch. The commissaires rang the bell indicating three laps to go, by which stage I had dropped completely off the back of the main bunch, where I stayed for the last three lonely laps.

Still, it wasn't all bad. Yes, I came last, but I know that if I'd been fresh that I could have been competitive. I reckon I worked as hard as anyone in the bunch and I know I was a key rider in closing some gaps and chasing down breaks. I don't have a great short sprint, but over thirty minutes of hard fast riding, I figure that at times I rode as fast as anyone in that group.

The vibe on the course was amazing. The support from all my friends in the crowd was incredible, especially when I was stuck in no man's land trying to chase down that lead group. Even the commentator got behind me, although I think was struggling to pronounce my name.

On Saturday night we watched Mark Seymour play live at the pub. I was pleasantly surprised. I think I'd underestimated him, but he's an awesome performer who has written some of Australia's most enduring songs.

The ride planned for Sunday was a 120km, out-and-back ride to Whitfield in the King Valley. This is an awesome road - quiet, scenic, hilly and twisty. Everything you could ask for in a road ride. The highest point of the ride is located exactly halfway between Mansfield and Whitfield, meaning that the ride is basically 30km up, then 30km down, in both directions.

Craig and I rode together again, and were joined by a few others, including a Mansfield local, Tim. We reached Whitfield in about 2 hours and 10 minutes, with only one or two others arriving before us (of those that started at the official time of 9am anyway). We scoffed down some excellent wood-fired pizza made by the local primary school (this is the King Valley after all) and then started back. As we began the steep climb back up I realised how good I was feeling and decided to increase the tempo. I soon pulled away from Craig and Tim and before too long I couldn't even see them behind me on the road anymore. I was on a mission. Every five minutes or so I'd stand up and blast away on the pedals, surging forward up the hill, stroke by stroke. I think that is one of the best climbs I've ever done. I reached the high point of the ride in about an hour and then settled in for the fast ride back to Mansfield, pushing hard to beat a return time of two hours. I didn't quite make it though. I rode into Mansfield exactly 2 hours and 10 minutes after leaving Whitfield and was the first rider to make it back. All in all, a fantastic weekend of riding. I'd recommend the event to anyone.

Excuse my absence of late...

2010-02-24T21:15:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am a terrible blogger. No, let me rephrase that. I am rather a good blogger who is somewhat sporadic at posting. If anyone has actually been checking my blog, they would realise that I have pretty much been AWOL (if you don't know, AWOL stands for Away With Out Leave. It is a military term which has been co-opted into popular culture to basically mean away with no explanation) since September 2009.

So what have I been so busy with that I has caused me to so neglect this labour of love I call 'Needle in the Hay'? Well, lots of stuff really.

Firstly, I got married. Here's a pic to prove it. It was a pretty goddamn awesome day too, I might add. Weather was perfect. Venue was perfect. My bride was jaw-droppingly beautiful. The party was pumping with plenty of booze, food and some bangin tunes from a great DJ. Everything went smooth as can be (barring some dancefloor controversy which I won't go into here). It was literally the funnest day of my adult life. I hope everyone gets to experience that once in their life.

Then came the honeymoon. We went to Tasmania. Took the car. Took the bikes. Took the kitchen sink too it seemed. Of course, I didn't actually use the kitchen sink. Hardly used the bikes either. Spent more time packing and unpacking them than actually riding them. I refrained from packing the surfboard, wisely, it seems, as we hardly went near a surf beach.

We had a great trip. Tassie truly is magnificent. I could live there. Launceston and Hobart are both pretty great towns with lots to offer. We did lots of eating out and drinking of wine. We made sure to tell our hosts at each accommodation venue that we were on our honeymoon. It usually scored us a free bottle of bubbly. Here's a photo of us at Cradle Mountain, doing the walk around Dove Lake (which is surely one of the most beautiful short walks on the planet).

Then it was back to work to pay off the wedding and honeymoon. December and January were flat out. Both World Trail Directors went on leave over that time, so I was holding the fort - managing our project at Mt Buller, paying wages, processing bills, invoices etc, responding to tenders, client inquiries and managing staff. Suffice to say, it was a very busy two months.

Luckily, being at Buller a lot over those two months I did find time for plenty of riding. My fitness after the wedding was pretty low, so I was desperate to start rebuilding my base. Rode the hill a few times and got out on the XC trails pretty regularly too.

Did a few handicapped road races with the Mansfield Mt Buller Cycling Club (my former club). I love racing up there - the races are fun and always well patronised. The courses are a bit flat for my liking though.

I've also started racing road criteriums down here in Geelong with my new club, Geelong Cycling Club. I've had three races in C grade, placing 4th, 4th and 2nd. After the 2nd place they have decided to bump me up to B grade. My first B grade race is tomorrow. Here's a pic of me at the last crit where I came second (the guy in white at third wheel was the eventual winner):

I've also been trying to get my stamps for the 7 Peaks Challenge (www.alpineascentchallenge.com.au). So far I have Mt Buller, Lake Mountain and Mt Baw Baw.

I did Mt Baw Baw yesterday. I was accompanied by my mate Mark 'Huddo' Hudson. We rode from Noojee, 98km return, taking about 5.5 hours. The hard part is the last 6km up to the village. The gradient averages 13% over this 6km stretch, with the maximum gradient being 21%. It is a 'Hors Category' climb in the Tour de France lingo - the hardest category of all - and it is certainly the toughest climb I have ever done. It is an absolute ball buster. Even with a the mountain cluster on, I was in my lowest gear for the whole 6km, and was only just managing to keep the pedals turning. It took me 56 minutes to ride that 6km. The quick guys do it in about 35 minutes. Huddo cramped after the first two km, but still managed to ride the whole way.

That just leaves 4 peaks to go: Mt Hotham, Falls Creek, Mt Buffalo and Omeo/Dinner Plain. March is gonna be busy!

Performance

2009-09-10T02:32:00.001-07:00

Here's a bloke with way too much time on his hands.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn29DvMITu4

I can't work out the origin of this clip - the dude is wearing an Aussie jersey, but all other clues point to North America.

Enjoy.

2009 Mountain Bike World Championships at SFP

2009-09-10T01:30:00.000-07:00

So, the big event has been and gone, and as the dust settles and the forgotten strands of bunting flap forlornly in the cold September wind, I figured I'd recap on the racing and offer my perspective as one who had a fair bit to do with the construction of the trails that were being raced upon.

In late August 09 the UCI Mountain Bike World Championships rolled into Canberra town. You could say that preparations had been underway for about three years, as it was about that long ago when the ACT government came to Jacobs and asked if it was possible to build a trail network that would be capable of one day hosting the World Champs. Absolutely, positively came the answer, and so it came to be, this weekend just past.

Was it good? Hell yeah, and damn anyone who says otherwise. The 4X on Friday night rocked under full moon, clear skies and heaving, excited and somewhat intoxicated crowd. The track was bloody amazing and from what I heard on the night and since, everyone seemed to think so too. The XC on Saturday was equally great...truly. Being an old XC hack, I may seem biased, but anyone that bothered to walk up to Hammerhead to watch the carnage or anyone that saw the winning move from Switzerland's Schurter in the final lap will agree it was an awesome and captivating race to watch.

Eventual winner of the Men's XC,

Nino Schurter

Best placed Aussie, Chris Jongewaard

The DH was a sight to behold, and the deafening sound of 'Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi'*, air horns and cow bells could be heard in Gundagai. Best places to watch the DH included the perennial crowd favorite Triple Treat, G20 and the rock gardens up top. So good, however, was the TV coverage, that it was hard to leave the big screen set up at the bottom of the hill. They had every inch of the hill covered with cameras, meaning you could watch virtually the entire run from top to bottom. The close proximity of the beer tent added to the allure of this location too.

So the winners were:

4X - Jared Graves and Caroline Buchanan. Both Aussies. Both deserving and humble champions.
XC - Irina Kalentieva and Nino Schurter. One Russian, one Swiss. Also equally deserving, but not Australian, so not as exciting.
DH - Emmeline Ragot and Steve Peat. France and Britain. Mick Hannah, the best of our bunch, took bronze. Even though we didn't win, I don't think many people were upset to see Peaty standing on top of the podium. He's been riding a long time, and come second now about four times in World Championships, so he pretty well deserved it.

Glen was busy commentating and just generally being a very important person, so I didn't see much of him over the weekend. I was hanging with the people. In fact, I even paid for my own ticket. Glen gave Peaty a $1 coin before his race, saying that, with the Queen's head on one side and skippy on the other, it would bring him good luck. Click here to see an interview about said coin.

I took my bike and did a bit of pedalling myself while there. It really is a pretty damn cool cycling city, Canberra. No matter what else it lacks, it doesn't lack places to ride bikes. I went with a keen crew of riders (Deano, Bretto, Shan, Brucey, Craigley, Nicko, Tommy, Dan and Laurie) and some time on the trails was a big priority. We rode at Stromlo twice and Sparrow Hill once, and we all had a very fine time. Stromlo is rocky and relatively technical, but has some great sections of flow and the granitic sand offers oodles of grip, and once we got away from the event area, the trails were empty. Sparrow is pine plantation and the emphasis is clearly on flow, rather than technicality, but is a great place to ride. Wish I took some pictures, but I was too busy riding.

Inspired by the men's XC, Bretto and I even went and busted out a lap of the course straight after it finished. It's weird being out there after such a huge event. Where only an hour earlier the track was thronged with fans and spectators, when we rode through it was strangely quiet and lonely, with only the sound of the plastic bunting flapping and crows picking foraging amongst the rubbish for food. The course was great. I'd ridden it before of course, and yes, I am biased. Most of the course is not that technically difficult, but the main climb (Cardiac Climb) and the following 200-300m is very technically difficult. Big rocky step-ups and rock garden climbs pepper the climb, meaning that you need to hold some energy in reserve to punch through these sections. I'm yet to clear it without a dab (i.e. putting a foot down). I've cleared every section in isolation, but stringing it all together is another story.

* Call me un-Australian, but I'm really sick of the Aussie chant. Can we come up with something else?

Stromlo Four Cross Track

2009-07-13T02:38:00.000-07:00

Here's a sneak peek of some of the changes World Trail is putting in to the 4X track at Stromlo Forest Park for the World Champs coming up soon.

These moguls should make for some very interesting racing come September...

SBS Has Sold Out

2009-07-10T04:12:00.000-07:00

What is going on with SBS? Cricket? Cricket! What the...?

SBS has always been the antithesis of cricket and football. It has always stood firmly on the side of the downtrodden and unpopular. It always held aloft a torch for foreign sports, films, detective shows starring shaggy German Shepherds and hot Eurasian news readers combining a fierce intellect with stunning good looks. Most importantly, for years it has always been the only station that gave a shit about cycling - road, mountain, you name it.

Every July SBS becomes the most important station on my television. I tune in every morning around 7am, every evening at 6pm and often for 2-4 hours late at night. You see, the greatest annual sporting event of the world is on in July...the Tour de France. SBS coverage of the event is normally awesome. Normally I say, because this year they have decided to bump it off and put on the bloody test(e) cricket instead.

I don't know what else to say. I'm astounded. SBS is not a cricket station. It is absurd. It is an outrage. What are they thinking?

And yes, apparently it is on SBS Two (the digital channel) but that is not the point. Who (other than a handful of early adopter technophile geeks) has digital television? And besides which, its the principal of the thing. They have swapped le Tour for cricket. Damn them I say. I really wanted to watch that mountain stage tonight.

The Coolest Dog in the World

2009-07-10T04:05:00.000-07:00

Introducing...the coolest dog in the world...the one, the only, Drummer!!!

Ok, he may be a little bit soft. But he has got character I tell you.

And in case you didn't know, he's a Bedlington Terrier. Not many of them around. Only the cool people have them.

New Rig

2009-07-10T03:52:00.000-07:00

I just got a new bike. Specialized Stumpjumper FSR Elite. It's red so it goes fast. Check it out:

Yeah, it is a bit different to the Scott Scale I've been riding. From a light weight carbon hard tail

with only 80mm of front travel to an aluminium duallie with 140mm front and rear is quite a leap. It's not my first duallie though - I rode a GT IDXC 1 for a couple of years and loved it.

Its gonna take some getting used to though. I've only had one ride on it so far and it is light years away from the Scott. I think its gonna be a fun learning experience. Its definitely heavier than the Scott and slower uphills. Hopefully though I'll be able to make it up on the descents by taking faster lines and holding my speed through the rough stuff. Might be slightly quicker on the more technical climbs too.

I should also point out that Specialized is World Trail's official supplier of bikes and gear, so I got looked after with this purchase. Thanks to the guys at Total Rush in Melbourne for putting it together and sorting me out.

You Yangs Crazy Six Hour

2009-06-12T00:32:00.000-07:00

On Sunday the 7th June, my sister and I raced as a mixed pair in the You Yangs Crazy Six Hour race at, strangely enough, the You Yangs.

My sister Jodie is no slouch on the bike. She raced in the 1996 World Championships in Cairns, north Queensland (a course built by Glen and the local club), so yeah, she can ride a bit. She's also had two kids and so hasn't really raced or trained for the last five years, what with holding down a job and being a mum and all. She's also married to Josh Street, a name which should be known to any Aussie mountain bikers that rode or raced in the 90's.

Anyway, we made it on to the podium (figuratively speaking - there wasn't actually a podium). We came third. I should point out that there were only six teams in our category (mixed pairs), but third is third in my book.

Go Gerro

2009-05-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, May 23rd, late last week Simon Gerrans won Stage 14 of the Giro d'Italia, a 172km stage from Campi Bisenzio to Bologna. He rode in a twelve man breakaway the whole way and then stomped away from his breakaway companions on the steep pitch to the finish line. Big congrats to the boy from Mansfield and fellow member of the Mansfield Mt Buller Cycling Club.

Ten Days in a Maroon Enema, Nine Days in the Saddle

2009-05-22T18:27:00.000-07:00

The following story was written in 2007, after a mountain biking trip to New Zealand, which I might add is an extremely ace place if you have an interest in adventure sports like mountain biking, surfing, snowboarding etc. I really like that stuff and I really like NZ. Anyway, without further ado, here tis...

Ten Days in a Maroon Enema, Nine Days in the Saddle

The idea was simple – pack the bikes into boxes and jet across the Tasman to New Zealand for an action packed ten days of mountain biking. Despite lots of early interest, in the end there were just three of us. My two partners in crime were El Toro and El Camino (note – not their real names), while I went by the moniker of Al Jezeera (also clearly not my real name).

Day 1 – Thursday March 22

We land in sunny Auckland about midday. Clear customs. Quarantine officers inspect our bikes and gear, but we’d been prepared for this and the immaculately clean gear passes muster without any problems. As El Toro had brought his fly fishing gear we get a lecture about rock snot.

We pick up the rental car, a maroon Toyota Emina, later to be renamed the Enema. It’s really just a Tarago, but for some reason all the car models they have here have different names.

We study the road maps for a few minutes, before hitting the road, heading for Woodhill Mountain Bike Park, on the other side of Auckland. Our introduction to NZ roads is kind of scary and surreal. The roads and rules in NZ are much the same, but the drivers really suck. The crapness of NZ drivers remains a constant source of fascination and danger the entire trip. In an effort to educate them, the Government has put up lots of ridiculous road signs like ‘merge like a zipper’.

We’re momentarily distracted by Khyber Pass Rd and shit car names (eg. Cefiro, Emina, Lucino) and we miss the turn off. After half an hour of backtracking we get back on the right road and finally make it to Woodhill about 4.00pm. Unpack bikes and tools. Reassemble bikes in a frenzy of allen key twirling and swearing. I discover a huge gouge caused by some mysterious bike part in the carbon downtube of my Scott Scale. Swear more.

We finally hit the trails about 4.30pm, following the ‘R & R Sport’ route recommended by the bike park dudes. Kilometre after kilometre of sweet, soft, pine-needle carpeted, buttery smooth trails unroll in front of our tyres, like a 3kg wheel of cheddar cheese rolling down a grassy hillside in Gloucestershire.

Woodhill charges $5 per rider, which all goes into maintenance of the trails and facilities. The entire trail network is in pine plantation. The soil is very soft and sandy, which no doubt makes trail building really easy, but it can be prone to erosion and softening and it can be a bit slow to ride on. There’s no rock to be seen anywhere, but there is heaps of timber, and it’s been put to good use building some hellish stunts. We ride some of the more innocuous wooden stunts and bypass lots of crazy wooden structures, some of them a good six, ten foot up in the air, with gaps a-plenty and some seriously skinny beams. Crazy stuff – it’d be hard to walk on, let alone ride.

We get back to the car right on dark. Our laughs, smiles and high fives confirm that this trip was a good idea. We head south to Raglan, where my old mate Bruno lives.

Day 2 – Friday March 23

Raglan is the undisputed surfing capital of NZ, and it’s against my religion to go there and not surf. Accordingly I’m dragged out of bed at 5.50am by Bruno, the most energetic person without ADHD I’ve ever met. The waves are pretty bloody small, but there’s no-one out so we have a crack anyway. It’s also a king low tide, so the rock shelf is never-ending, and my office feet are raw and red before they even taste the salty kiss of the sea. We surf for an hour or two, but catch very little, then stumble back across the rocks to the car.

About 10am we make a beeline for Te Aroha, about an hour’s drive to the north east. Tucked up beneath a steep craggy peak with forest clinging precariously to its flanks, Te Aroha is as pretty as a picture. The weather on this, our first full day, is dressed to kill in a tailor-made-for-mountain-biking suit of twenty five degrees. We find the car park signposted ‘for mountain bikers’. While getting ready we strike up a chat about the trails with an old bloke walking past. The well-oiled and worn pair of secatuers in the custom leather pouch strapped to his belt tells us he’s the unofficial caretaker for the trails. We get a bit confused when he tells us the easy loops are about 30 seconds, but it all becomes clear once we get up there.

There’s actually only one mountain bike trail, but it has advanced and easy options in certain locations, that just split off and then rejoin. The trail is pretty easy but fast and fun. Built by prisoners from the nearby penitentiary, it is constructed beautifully with a broad bench slabbed into the hillside and reinforced with a variety of materials including rubber, concrete, timber and gravel. It is super smooth and fast, but has a few surprise sharp corners thrown in to keep things interesting and the odd waterfall to keep things scenic. The trail only takes about half an hour so we ride it a couple of times then sit down on the grassy slope overlooking town to reflect on our privileged lives.

At sunset we go for a bodysurf down at the local beach and then head back to the house for dinner – barbecued tahr, a large goat-like animal that lives in the high country of the south island that Bruno shot a few days earlier. Topped off with a home grown salad and washed down with a few ales, wines and grappas, the meal is the perfect ending to our first full day of the trip.

Day 3 – Saturday March 24

A strange sense of déjà vu overwhelms me as I drag my arse out of bed at 5.30am. It turns out that 5.50am wasn’t early enough yesterday (it was already light and we could actually see the waves coming) so this time we’re in the water before light. Unfortunately so are half a dozen other surf nuts, hooting and hollering at the beautiful four foot walls rolling down the line at Indicators. The waves were good, the type of waves you normally only see in pictures in surf mags, pictures destined to adorn the walls of sheds and dunnies. Unfortunately every other surfer in Raglan thought the same thing, and by 6.30am there must have been twenty of us out there. I got a couple of goodies, but damn I hate surfing in crowds. That’s one thing I love about mountain biking…I’m always happy to share the trails with other riders.

Whale Bay, Raglan, immaculate.

By 10am we’re fed, watered, packed and on the road again, heading for that mystical mountain biking Mecca known as Rotorua, or Roto-vegas to the Kiwis. In Rotorua El Toro and I are roped into some touristy stuff for a travel video that El Camino is shooting, but we manage to sneak off by about 3pm for our introduction to Whakarewarewa (pronounced fuck-a-re-wa-re-wa…truly!).

Whakarewarewa Forest is amazing. It’s a working timber harvesting forest, filled with all kinds of plantation species, but it must also have around 100kms of mountain bike trails, with enough variety to suit all flavours of mountain bikers. The trailhead carpark alone impresses. It must be big enough for a hundred cars and has toilets, water, maps and picnic tables. Not to mention heaps of people, including plenty of families out for a spot mountain biking.

The trails are a delight. We start with Rosebank, a nice intermediate blast through giant Redwood trees that fill the air with the calming scent of pine-needle pot pourri. I’m awestruck by the trees, and the trail is far from disappointing. Next we hit Diamondback (or maybe Challenge – some trails have one name on the map and another on the actual sign posts, making navigation a little confusing for rookies like us) which ups the ante from Rosebank. It’s rated easy, but it’s one of those great trails that is fun for riders of all abilities – those with skills just go faster, railing from one sweet earthy berm to the next. We come out grinning and Bruno leads us up the access road to sample some more delights. Again the forest ups the ante, throwing at us some of the best damn trails I’ve ever ridden – A Line, Tickler, Be Rude Not To and the Lion. We ride in a blur, smiling and hooting like grommets as we whip through fern gullies, pine forests, Redwoods, over small bridges across streams and through the familiar surrounds of a Eucalypt plantation.

Over dinner that night Bruno convinces us we should head out of town to a natural thermal spring. Rotorua is full of thermal hot springs, geysers and mud pools, but there are very few natural pools that are promoted to tourists. Most of them are man made pools with hot water piped in, and they charge like wounded bulls for a dip. After some anxious moments in the car driving up and down narrow backcountry roads, Bruno eventually finds it.

The pool is actually a junction between two streams, one hot and one cold, so you can fine tune the exact temperature just by moving further up the hot or cold stream. The locals have dug little alcoves into the banks to put tea candles into, providing some nice ambient light. We soak for a few hours, daring each other to go further up the hot stream, knocking back some ales, staring up at the clearest night stars I’d seen in years and chatting with some of the locals that had come down for a soak. The perfect end to another day in NZ.

Day 4 – Sunday March 25

The next morning El Camino ropes me into an early morning trip to the mudbaths for the travel video. Although I try my hardest to be a top gun actor (‘Now act Gary, act!’), I’m not fooling anyone and my modeling/acting skills are pushed to their meager limits as I rub mud on my face, chest, neck and arms while trying to look cool for the camera and keep the gut firmly sucked in. After that it’s off to the geyser park where we witness a traditional Maori welcome. Much to El Camino’s delight I get pulled up on stage to learn the haka, which I discover, is basically a battle song a Maori warrior sang in defiance of the invading Europeans. I suck badly as a Maori warrior, but give it my best for the camera, stamping my foot, slapping my thighs and doing the demented crazy eyes and sticking my tongue out. My humiliation is worth it though when I get to rub noses with a cute Maori girl in traditional dress, which of course is captured on film as well.

Finally our filming duties are done and it is back to the serious business of riding bikes. We head back to Whakarewarewa and get straight into it. We spend the next four hours rediscovering some of the trails from yesterday and checking out some newies. I decide that Be Rude Not To is my favorite trail of all time. It’s mostly downhill and not exceptionally difficult, but it just rolls and flows smooth as silk, with hardly a pedal stroke required, and the forest scenery is drop dead.

El Camino speed blur

Day 5 – Monday March 26

El Toro decides to cook hot cross buns for brekky. Lacking a griller, he manages to wedge the cut buns into the toaster. Bad idea. Amidst the smoke I see El Toro trying to jimmy the offending buns out of the toaster with a metal knife. The mental image of him being fried on the spot turns out to be just my imagination – he was smart enough to unplug it first – but still, not a good look. The concerned and disapproving glances from the other backpackers suggests it’s a good thing we’re checking out today.

After brekky we head out to Whakarewarewa again. As Bruno had gone home the day before, we are completely reliant on maps and signposts. We decide to do one of the ‘outback’ loops. It’s about a half hour climb to the top of the hill, but it sets you up for some serious descending. The first trail, Billy T’s, is one of the newest trails in the park and is all the buzz amongst the local riders. It’s pretty sweet. Unfortunately, being pussies and riding cross-country bikes, we don’t really do the drops, hips and tabletop jumps the justice they deserve. This is a theme that is pretty constant throughout the trip. We try to justify it by saying ‘I’m too old to get air’ and ‘I can’t afford to get hurt’ and ‘I’m riding a carbon fibre hardtail’, but really we’re just scared.

Despite this, we have fun. Lots of it. Billy T’s flows into Chestnut, Rollercoaster, Chop Suey, Sweet and Sour and Spring Rolls, before spitting us out at the top of Be Rude Not To. We agree that it would indeed be rude not to and whip into our last blast down this killer trail before finishing with Mad If You Don’t and heading back to the car park.

We pack up the Enema and head south towards Taupo. On the way we stop off at the natural hot spring again for a soak and to see what it looks like in daylight. This time we have it to ourselves, but given it’s a pretty warm day, we only stay in for about half an hour.

Finding accommodation in Taupo turns out to be slightly trickier than expected, but we end up in a newish backpackers, close to town. The hospitality of the owner is fantastic, and we get a personal tour of the place, a massive dorm room to ourselves and an introduction to his lovely wife Heather.

El Camino’s got a hankering for some Indian, so we venture into town looking for an Indian restaurant. On the way down we go past a tee-off point where you can hit golf balls out into Lake Taupo, aiming for a tiny pontoon with a hole and a flag.

After a couple of beers at the pub overlooking the lake we find an Indian restaurant. The food is pretty good, but El Toro, being a connoisseur of fermented grape juice, is less than impressed by his Beaujolais and sends it back, claiming the bottle has been opened too long. The owner comes out, but instead of apologizing and serving up a freshie, refuses to do anything about it. The sheepish look on El Toro’s face as he downs the last of the offending red, is enough to make El Camino and I crack up as we knock back our beers, which are absolutely fine, having only just been opened.

Day 6 – Tuesday March 27

The morning is clear and warm. So far the weather has been more than generous – every day has been clear and sunny with temps in the mid to low twenties. Ideal mountain biking conditions.

We pick up a map of ‘Craters of the Moon’ from the info centre. Craters of the Moon is a thermal area with walking tracks to mud pools, geysers and thermal vents, but its surrounded by forest plantations littered with purpose built mountain bike singletrack. Heading out of town we follow a nice rolling singletrack along the Waikato River. About twenty to thirty minutes along the trail we reach Huka Falls, one of the most impressive waterfalls I’ve ever seen. Although the actual drop of the falls isn’t that great, the sheer force and power of the water can be felt rumbling through the rocks beneath our feet.

We continue up the trail and reach the trailhead for Craters of the Moon. A cool little two-way trail takes us through a tunnel under the freeway and into the park proper. Bruno had given us a few tips on which trails to hit first so we head straight up towards Tank Stand, GE Grinder, Son of a Buzzard, the Dipper, Young Pines and Slaylom and a nice big long outback loop.

As usual, the riding is spectacular, trail construction and design first rate and adequate signage makes it easy to find our way around. After a couple of hours of riding and a quick trailside lunch we find ourselves climbing to the high point of the park on GE Grinder, a grinding switchback climb that seems to go forever. It leads us into a long downhill sequence on Buzzard, Son of Buzzard and the bottom of Tank Stand. As we near the bottom I round a corner and duck under a Eucalypt tree that has fallen across the trail, leaving a good five-six foot of clearance underneath it. Unfortunately El Camino sits a little higher in the saddle than me, and he fails to clear it. The impact shatters his helmet and knocks him off his bike. Hearing him yell, I drop my bike and run back up to find him lying on the ground holding his head. The seriousness of the situation is apparent – possible spinal injury. Luckily this isn’t the case – nasty case of whiplash the physio tells us later. Eventually he gets up and manages to remount his bike. We ride straight out along the dirt road and back into town the quickest way possible.

Later that night a few beers and a couple of serious painkillers manage to ease the pain somewhat, but it’s fairly clear that El Camino won’t be riding for a couple of days.

Day 7 – Wednesday March 28

As if in sympathy with El Camino’s pain and disappointment, the weather gods decide to rain down upon the land of the long white cloud. Surprising it took so long really. In Auckland and further north, the rain comes down in record breaking volumes, causing widespread floods. Luckily we just get drizzle, which doesn’t stress us too much as we’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us today anyway. We’re heading south east to the Hawkes Bay region.

The drive takes about two hours. When we can see it through the drizzle and clouds, the scenery goes from pretty to spectacular, as we wind our way up through a craggy mountain range and then down towards the coastal plains. Eventually we hit Napier.

Napier is hyped up in the travel books as the ‘art deco city’. Apparently it was knocked down by an earthquake in the 1920’s and then completely rebuilt in the art deco style popular in the day. Certainly it does have some interesting architecture, but otherwise the town doesn’t really excite us. We’re not here for architecture.

We are here for good times though, and so we decide to go and sample some of the fruits of the vine that the region is famed for, after we find somewhere to sleep for the evening. Once again this proves trickier than expected. Although there are plenty of backpackers, they are either full, crap, expensive or have no parking and/or nowhere to store the bikes. In the end we opt for the old Napier Prison, now a backpackers. We dump our gear and head for the wineries.

At 4.30pm in the afternoon, on a drizzly Wednesday afternoon, said wineries aren’t exactly jumping and we’re the only customers. It’s fairly clear we’re not here to buy, we’re here to drink, but they give us their undivided attention anyway. I watch our resident wine expert El Toro go about his business, talking it up with the winery folk, swirling his glass in a fluid motion and swishing the wine around in his mouth vigorously enough to make a kind of bubbling noise. I’m suitably impressed and follow suit, but leave the talking to the expert. Of course I am slyly impressed when he is stumped by one of the reds they give him – turns out it doesn’t even contain grapes, but raspberries. Fruity indeed.

Next stop on our mini tour is a microbrewery. Again we’re the only customers. The beers are good, but the real attraction is the owner, a fit looking bloke whose grey hair suggests he must be well into his 50’s. He ambled over, introduced himself and propped an elbow on the table we were seated at. We could tell straight away that he was a bit of a loose cannon – something about the rapid speed with which he spoke, or the way his eyes darted about energetically. Of course it may just be that he’d been sampling his own wares. When he discovered our nationalities he regaled us with tales of his duck hunting prowess, secretly admitting that he’d been feeding the ducks grain to fatten them up before duck season started in a week’s time. Not sure why he figured this would impress us, but it didn’t. We tried to convince him to lock us in for the night so that we could keep an eye on the place for him, but he wasn’t going for it.

The rest of the stay in Napier was fairly standard. We ate out at a surf themed, California burger style eatery. El Camino had the Fisherman’s Basket and afterwards made us promise to stop him from ever ordering another Fisherman’s Basket. Then on to the Irish Pub next door for some pool and half dozen rounds before staggering home to bed. This turns out to be our one and only day off the bikes.

Day 8 – Thursday March 29

Despite rumours that the prison is haunted by the ghosts of hung murderers, the night passed almost without incident. Around the crack of dawn a bunch of dickhead backpackers get up for a day of fruitpicking, making more noise than a barn full of monkeys. El Camino and I consider giving a few of them a good ol prison style beat down with phone books and baseball bats, but can’t find either and soon they’re gone.

El Toro mug shot

We check out of the big house shortly thereafter. El Camino’s neck has loosened up so he decides to get back in the saddle. We pick up a new helmet from the local bike shop and head for the Eskdale Mountain Bike Park, about ten k’s up the road. This park isn’t quite the fancy affair that Roto-vegas, Taupo and Woodhill were, with only a small car park and fairly uninspiring ride up a gravel road to get to the actual trails. Once we get under the canopy of the pine plantation the trails look more inviting. The weather is much the same as yesterday, wet and drizzly, but still warm. The exposed roots of trees prove insanely slippery, and the polished clay trails only slightly less so. Riding these trails I’m reminded of a song by David Byrne, ‘Dancin On Vaseline’. Despite this we all manage to stay upright the whole ride and find some nice flowing trails. We had trouble following the map and the signage was pretty poor, so we did a fair bit of backtracking and exploring. This led us into two less than perfect situations. The first was when we ended up at the far eastern end of the park which borders on to the rifle club. We had been able to hear gunshots all morning, but all of a sudden they felt way too close, so we turned and hightailed back the way we’d come. The second was when we followed the sign to Blaster. Turns out Blaster was a climb of about 1-2kms, but it went straight up the fall line so steeply that we had trouble getting our shoes to grip in the slippery clay, let alone ride it. Eventually we hit the ridgetop which lead us into a sweet descent back down to the car.

Eskdale Mountain Bike Park

After a quick wash in the adjacent river, we loaded up and trucked out. Turns out the Enema was a good nickname for the car…by this stage it smelt similar to how I imagine an enema might smell. The subtle combination of wet clothes, sulfurous boardies, rotten socks, bike shoes, dirty knicks, unwashed, sweaty blokes and way too many farts, courtesy of the beers last night …or was it that Indian the night before?

We drove back to Taupo and then south towards Ruapehu, the large active volcanic mountain that dominates the centre of the north island. El Toro literally became sexually aroused as we crossed the Tongariro, one of the best fly fishing rivers in the world. On a tight schedule though, we kept on trucking, heading for the town of National Park, on the south west of the mountain.

We checked into what appeared to be the most salubrious of the town’s backpackers. Having handed over our dough, we then inquired about the hot-tub only to be told that it was out of action. Not happy.

Day 9 – Friday March 30

The day dawns grey, windy, wet and miserable, but still warm. We’d come to National Park, a thriving ski village in winter, as the staging town for the 42^nd Traverse. The 42^nd Traverse is a well known forty km point to point ride through NZ wilderness in the shadow of Mt Ruapehu. It’s only ridden in one direction (with the large majority being downhill), so you really need to organize a drop-off and pick up.

Our less than impressive hostel operator had told us the night before that he could provide transport for $25 per rider. Initially we’d baulked at this sum, deciding we’d be able to figure out a way ourselves. In the cold (wet, drizzly) light of day though, we decided to cough up the rupees. With dollars in hand we fronted up to the reception desk only to be told curtly that he could no longer do it, as we’d left it too late and he’d already made appointments. Not happy, again. It’s situations like this that always make me feel I could do a much better job at hospitality. How hard can it be?

We drove around to the other backpackers but no one would take us. Some thought the river crossings would be too dangerous. Eventually we gave up and switched to plan B.

Plan B involved foregoing the 42^nd Traverse altogether and heading back up to Taupo. By the time we got there the cloud had lifted a bit and the rain was just a fine mist. We decided to do a ride along the banks of the lake, through native forest to the secluded Kawakawa Bay.

Turns out to be a good decision. Its only about 3km each way, but the steep, narrow, slippery singletrack provides plenty of technical challenge. Every so often the trail pops out from the dense forest canopy onto exposed ledges high up above the lake, providing amazing views down into the crystal clear waters. The slightly wet, greasy trail requires full concentration and occasional rock gardens provide a good test of nerves and skills. Kawakawa Bay itself is idyllic, peaceful and an altogether good spot for lunch.

Me and El Toro

The clear waters of Kawakawa Bay

It’s a nice change to do a non-park ride. The mountain bike parks are great, but there is also something kind of ubiquitous about them, a vibe they all share. Maybe it’s the visual aesthetics of plantation forests that bothers me, and perhaps that’s why I enjoy this ride so much.

Once back at the Enema we clean up bikes and bodies in the lake. The water is cold, but so clear and fresh that I have no choice but to go for a swim. Cleaned, refreshed and with our now sparkling clean bikes packed away, we hit the road heading once more for Raglan.

Day 10 – Saturday March 31

Saturday starts with the obligatory early morning surf. There’s bugger all swell on the points, so we surf at the beach, catching a few nice mellow, crumbly waves as the sun rises. The weather has come good again, although there are still lots of threatening looking clouds around.

After brekky we say farewell to Bruno and head off. Bruno recommends a ride in the Hunua Ranges, on our way back to Auckland. Hunua Ranges is managed by the Department of Conservation and they’ve built a small trail network for mountain bikers, walkers and horse riders. The trails are nestled in a beautiful little valley with a dam at one end and a stream running the length of it. There are a couple of trails to ride but we opt for the Moumoukai Farm Track. We ride for nearly two hours before ending up back at the trailhead. The trail is tight, twisty, technical and slightly damp, but an absolute hoot. Creek crossings, fern gullies and dense temperate rainforest provide an awesome backdrop to the trails.

We repack the Enema and hightail it to the north, heading for Woodhill again. We pass through Auckland and arrive at Woodhill by about 4pm. This time we hit the ‘Specialised’ route. There are so many trails at Woodhill, each with their own name and most only 1km long, that they have signposted routes to follow, which incorporate some of the best trails in the park. At this end of the trip I’m feeling a bit more confident and cocky, so I attempt a few of the Hollywood stunts – see-saws and narrow elevated ramps and bridges. I nearly come unstuck on one stunt, which ends up being a lot higher and narrower than I’m comfortable on. The standout trail for me is Afterglow, stages 1, 2 and 3, an absolute rip snorter of a descent that totally defines the concept of flow.

We find accommodation about 10km up the road at Black Pete’s Saloon and Cabins. The wild west theme of the saloon is spot on. The clientele all seem like convicts and fugitives. We stick out like dogs balls with our shaved legs and the ability to pronounce words like six, fish and chips correctly, but we survive unscathed and sleep like babies on our last night in NZ.

Day 11 – Sunday April 1

We’re back at Woodhill by about 8am for our final ride. We mix and match trails this time, largely following the ‘R and R Sport’ route again. It’s a little damp this morning so the wooden structures are slick and slippery and we all give them a miss. Our final ride in NZ is a pearler, the dampness making the sandy trails grippier and slightly quicker than normal. We rip along the trails in a blur and soon end up back at the trailhead. By now its 10am and the car park is full and I’m reminded just how mainstream our sport is in NZ.

Me, railing cautiously on wet wood

El Camino decides that Woodhill is his pick of the trip. For me, I still can’t go past Whakarewarewa at Rotorua, and in particular Be Rude Not To.

We find the nearest car wash and give the bikes a thorough clean before we pack them snugly into bags, cases and boxes for the trip home. The rest of the day wraps up predictably – arguments with the airline attendants about luggage weight limits, celebratory farewell beers at the airport, followed by more celebratory farewell beers on the plane before arriving home in Melbourne slightly inebriated, but thoroughly buzzing at the awesome trip we’ve just shared.

Just Who Exactly is Gezzamatic? Part 2

2009-05-19T04:15:00.001-07:00

So yeah, Forrest. Y'all know about it by now. I think I can modestly claim it has been successful, at least in gaining the attention and interest of the mtb community. Whether it has been successful in transforming the economic fortunes of Forrest is not a question I can answer. Indeed it is a question that would receive widely differing answers from the good people of that town.

I was the project manager for two years. Based in Melbourne, I had a DSE colleague based in Forrest who was the arms and legs and local face of the project. I also had a steering committee of Parks Victoria and other DSE people who also had to be satisfied with the decision that were being made (by me, mostly). There were also some local mountain bikers engaged on the project that were fairly critical in shaping the overall project.

Early on in the project we realised that we needed to bring in someone external to help with the design process, someone who was known in the mountain bike community and would lend some much needed street cred to the project (let's face it, government agencies are not always known for being in touch with the 'people' especially youngish, outdoorsy types like mtb'ers). We chose Glen Jacobs and his business partner Dylan Jeffries.

At the time they were still using the Mudcow Visions moniker, the legacy from their days as mountain bike film makers. They made the trip from Cairns down to Forrest, rugged up against the antarctic cold and got on with the job. They met with all the stakeholders and tried to distill from each person what their hopes and ideas for the project were. Eventually they delivered the final concept plan to me which outlined the Mudcow Vision vision for Forrest.

It was the start of a fortuitous business relationship - I now work for Glen and Dylan as their only full-time employee. I guess at some point during our relationship as client (me) and contractor (them) we became friends, and I think both parties had a realization that we could benefit each other. For me, going to work at World Trail (the new name of the company) represented an opportunity that I would never be offered again and I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn't roll the dice and grab with both hands. For them, I bought two things - knowledge of how their clients (mostly government agencies) operate and the environmental credentials that their clients were always asking for. That was about two years ago - I think I left DSE in April 2007.

So that's the short version on how I came to be a full time trail builder.

Just Who Exactly is Gezzamatic? Part 1

2009-05-14T00:57:00.000-07:00

In my last post I started to outline my credentials as they relate to mountain biking, starting with my first race and the first legal mountain bike trail that I built.

After that first trail at the Pines near Gough's Bay in NE Vicco, I had the opportunity to attend a two day mountain bike trail building workshop in Tumbarumba, NSW, with world famous IMBA guru Joey Klein. Mountain Bike Australia had bought Joey out to teach us antipodeans a few of the essentials in mountain bike trail building. I went along with an overflowing cup of enthusiasm, which was more than matched by the other participants and the sickeningly positive Joey. I can only speak highly of that experience and would recommend any budding trail builders attend next time Joey comes back down under - he is a knowledgeable, fun and amazing teacher.

Shortly after that I got the chance to put many of those new skills into practice in my job as the Environmental Officer at Mt Buller Alpine Resort, building a new walking trail. Walking trails and mountain bike trails are really two different beasts, yet they are also exceedingly similar - many of the same design and construction principles apply, its just that the mode of travel is different. You also need to account for differing behaviours between the two groups. Anyway, the trail was a great sophomore effort in trail building. We must have got it pretty well right too, because (not withstanding a few minor repairs) it has stood the test of time. If you are up there and ever want to check it out, its called the Summit Nature Walk. I should point out that I was only responsible for the section of trail on the south side of the hill - the part on the north side was already in place. We had to jump through more hoops than a lion in the circus to get it built - state planning approvals, flora and fauna assessments and we even had to get federal approval under the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act because the trail was proposed to pass close to habitat of the endangered Mountain Pygmy-possum. I was also responsible for the content and design of the interpretive signs. Anyway, here's a picture of it:

Eventually the time came to leave Mt Buller and I took up a new job with the Department of Sustainability and Environment in their Tourism and Recreation team, back in Melbourne. At this point you may be starting to realise I am a little bit of a greenie. You're damn straight I am. I'm not rabid about it. I just happen to think that this huge grocery store we call earth is a finite resource, and that if we continue to consume at the rate we are, one day there'll be nothing left on the shelves.

Anyway, I moved back to Melbourne and into a full-on policy project at DSE that I soon began to dislike. Fortunately, around the time I started there, an interesting project reared its head. I remember being asked on my first day there "You're a mountain biker eh? Do you know anything about building mountain bike tracks?" You see the government had made an election promise to phase out timber harvesting on public land in the Otway Ranges and then they'd hired some consultants who told them they should invest in tourism as a way of reinvigorating the local economy and thus make up for the jobs lost from timber harvesting. Nice in theory...but it worked out well for me and the mountain biking community of Vicco, because one of the potential tourism opportunities these consultants recommended was mountain biking.

And thus was born the Forrest Mountain Bike Trails Project...

Back with a Vengeance

2009-05-03T00:17:00.000-07:00

I've been a terribly poor blogger. Completely crap really. But I intend to change all that. I intend to actually pay attention to this blog and get people to read it and maybe even comment on the ramblings etched herein.

So I'm back, with a vengeance according to the title of this piece. Not that I'm particularly angry, but that just seemed a snappy title.

I figure that I should probably run you through my credentials. That way, when I write something controversial you can actually look at all the stuff I've done in my thirty four and a half years and make your own decision as to whether I actually know what I'm talking about. I intend to only write stuff that is:

Not controversial;
Controversial, but well within my sphere of knowledge; or
Controversial, but clearly just my opinion (in which case I'll try to make that clear).

Anyway, I do believe I'm digressing.

My credentials are as follows. Regarding bikes, I had my first race in 1992, at the tender age of 18. Prior to that I'd ridden mountain bikes a little, but mostly just as a means of escaping into the bush and getting away from the angst of teenage life. I actually remember seeing a mountain bike magazine in a newsagent and being amazed that mountain biking was a sport. I'd never imagined anything so cool, although it took me a while to come around to the tight lycra outfits (not to mention the bright flouro colours that were in vogue at the time).

That first race was at Gembrook, in the Dandenong Ranges, near Melbourne. I came second in the novice category. Little did I know at the time that it would be possibly the best result of my mountain biking life...

It hooked me. From that point on I became a mountain biker. Since then I've raced over a hundred races (I know this because I used to keep a journal with all my race results, but when it became too painful to look at, I burned it) - mostly Olympic distance cross-country, some dirt crits, lots of enduro/marathon type events, a handful of downhill races and even some road races (yes, I know I'm supposed to be a mtb'er and we're supposed to hate roadies, but then again, I'm not a narrow minded idiot and to me, bikes are bikes are bikes).

As a young mtb'er living in the Dandenongs I prided myself on knowing every trail in them there hills. At the time I would have challenged anyone to show me a trail I didn't know. Back then we were a new thing in parks and there were very few restrictions on where we could ride. As I got older I actively sought out and explored new trails. I've now ridden all over this country and even in a handful of spots overseas (US, NZ, Switzerland, France, Wales).

Around 2000 I got a new job (I'll detail my work experience in another post, cause it's definitely relevant too) that required me to move to the Mt Buller/Mansfield region. Around that time a group of local Mansfield mtb'ers were discussing starting a club. I attended the inaugural meeting of the (then) Mansfield Mountain Cyclists. I ended up on the committee right from the start and became president a couple of years later.

While I was president we obtained permission from three separate land managers to build a 7km race loop from scratch near Lake Eildon (the Pines at Gough's Bay to be precise), on which we ran a couple of state mtb rounds. I was the main architect of that course and I spilt plenty of my own blood and sweat to make it happen. I was really proud of it. In the dry it was an amazing course and we received high praise from the competitors. In the wet it was horrid - the soil turned to a sticky brown slurry axle deep in places. It taught me a few things about how to drain a trail.

That was probably the real turning point that led me to this career. Certainly my work history and university education helped bring me to this point, but I'll go into those next time.

I'm A Grown Up Now

2008-08-18T01:44:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, the 15th of August, 2008, was a memorable day in the life and times of Gez. It was the day that I asked my long term girlfriend of five years, Erin Slattery, to become my wife. She agreed of course. Happy days indeed.

Some small details: I did the traditional thing and asked her father beforehand and thankfully, he thought it was a good idea. We went away to a small cabin in the mountains at Reefton that belongs to my uncle. I smuggled a bottle of Moet into the car to celebrate after I'd popped the question. I'd hid it in the cavity where the spare wheel goes so she wouldn't find it, because I knew she'd figure it out if she saw it (just to clarify, we don't generally drink top shelf French champagne). I didn't buy a ring. I'm no fool. I would never think to choose something that she will wear every day for the rest of her life without her being involved.

So...I'm over the moon. Judging from her emotional response and her lack of hesitation accepting, I'm fairly sure she is too.

The Joy of a New Bike

2008-08-08T00:12:00.000-07:00

My mate Cam just got a new bike. He took it out for it's maiden voyage today and came back buzzing, which got me thinking that there's nothing like a new bike to put a smile on the dial.

A new bike is a joy. It's silent, clean as a whistle, has no scratches, dints or scuff marks and all the bearings and pivots and other bits and pieces run smoothly and freely. The chain is bright shiny silver and smothered with sticky translucent green grease that most people wouldn't notice (Shimano chains anyway - never tried any other sort - why mess with perfection?). Better still, new tyres have small rubber 'hairs' on them and a great sterile, rubbery smell. Not that I've had a new bike for a while now - nearly two years in fact. I must be about due for a newie...

One of my other favorite new things is socks. I love the feel of a new pair of socks - the way they just glide onto the foot, the firmness with which they grip the ankle and calf, and the smooth feel of the material against the skin. Then again, maybe its not so much the feel of new socks, but the promise that they represent. Sitting on the end of the bed in the morning and pulling on a pair of brand new socks promises so much more about the day ahead than putting on a bedraggled, holey old pair of socks. Adorned with new socks, a man can step firmly into the uncertainty of the day, safe in the knowledge that his feet will remain comfortable no matter what. It's one of those 'it's-the-little-things-in-life-that-matter' moments.

Maybe the attraction with new stuff is its innocence - it hasn't been subjected to any kind of abuse or misuse. New stuff is perfection, nirvana, zen - nothing ever, ever works as well or looks as good as when its brand new and it's all down hill from the first time it gets used.

Not that I'm a materialist - quite the opposite. I hate the relentless accumulation of stuff. It'd be fine if it all remained as dear to me as when it is first purchased. But it doesn't. Mostly it just becomes stuff that fills up cupboards, shelves, drawers and life generally. Socks don't even have that luxury - they usually get thrown out once they are no longer functional as socks. Occasionally they get turned into bike rags (although they are usually not very good as rags - undies or t-shirts are much better).

Anyway, as good as new stuff is, there's also goodness in old stuff. With use comes familiarity and sometimes familiarity is nice. Sometimes we associate good times with certain objects, and pulling them out of the cupboard again years later can bring a smile to the face. To finish where we started, with bikes, an old bike that is cared for and maintained becomes an extension of the cyclist. You know it and it knows you. You fit together. You know its creaks and groans and you know how to fix them. You know how it got all it's dints, scratches and scuffs and it knows how you got yours.

Time is of the Essence

2008-06-30T04:19:00.000-07:00

Aah, time. Can't seem to find enough of it. There simply isn't enough hours in the day, week or month to achieve the things I want to achieve.

I guess it's just a question of priorities. If you really want to do something, then you would find the time to do it. The logical extension of this is that if you can't find time to do something, then that something is clearly not the priority you think it is, unless there is some other reason that prevents you from achieving it.

So I hate to admit it, but I guess I'm just not prioritising this blog highly enough. You'd have to agree that two posts in two months is hardly a stellar start to my blogging career. So why not? Why can't I find more time to sit down and pour out my thoughts onto my keyboard?

I obey the triad of eights. That is, on an average weekday I work for 8 hours, sleep for 8 hours, leaving another 8 hours for actual living. That 8 hours for living shrinks drastically when you consider that 'actual living' includes boring stuff like chores, ablutions, commuting and other mindless stuff.

You can't mess with the triad. The triad is brutal and uncompromising. You've gotta sleep. You've gotta work. You've gotta live. I just wish that the living could be more productive, more exciting and less...mundane. That's what really gets me - the relentless grind of the mundane.

Everyone Has To Start Somewhere

2008-05-23T00:59:00.000-07:00

I'd been thinking about starting a blog for a while, but was hung up on the first step - finding a title. That doesn't really bode well for this blog does it? I bet you can't imagine that I'm gonna be the most prolific blogger, if I can't even come up with a decent title eh?

Anyway, I eventually stumbled on to a title I liked. Its the title of a song by Elliott Smith. The phrase sums up my ambitions for this blog - that in time the words and (hopefully) wisdom that I lay down here will be worth seeking out, like the proverbial needle hidden in a stack of hay.

So its time to make my thoughts public. Time to send them out in to the big wide world, with a packed lunch and their best pair of underwear, where they'll hopefully do me proud.

What will I write about? Bikes mostly, and all things related to bikes, and all kinds of other obscure things that I find a way to link with bikes. You see, I'm a professional trail builder, mountain bike trails mostly, but also walking trails to a lesser degree. My entry into this distinguished and unusual career was through the sport of mountain biking, which has featured heavily in my life since the early 90's. I firmly believe that the bike is one of mankind's most inspired inventions and that bikes could save the world, if only we could all find a bit more time to ride them.

So, I guess my title is a bit misleading if the blog is to focus on cycling, but hey, I like it and it sums up my ambitions for this blog. I tried to find something 'bikey' but they all seemed contrived or had been done before.