Jeff Jones's bilgespot.com: 2007

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Flight 714 to Sydney

You can tell how the money is distributed
© Jeff Jones

It is said that disasters come in threes. I believe I've successfully proved this theory wrong although it wasn't all bad.

I booked with Royal Brunei Airlines because it was one of the cheapest options at this time of year. And Brunei, being one of the world's richest countries per capita, should have a decent national carrier, right?

I should have been concerned when they changed my schedule four times because they cancelled a whole stack of flights between Brunei and Sydney. So instead of leaving Heathrow on Saturday morning and getting into Sydney on Monday morning, it ended up being Tuesday morning with a 36 hour stopover in Brunei.

That wasn't so bad because I've never been to an Asian country before, and Brunei is not like most of them. It has a small population (370,000), has a GDP of $10billion, its residents don't pay tax and get free education and health care, plus quite a few other perks, it's 70% Muslim/30% Christian, has strong prohibition so everybody works two jobs instead of going out at night (helps if there are no pubs), and is under the strict control of the Sultan, who is the third richest man in the world behind Bill Gates and me. It's considered poor form to criticise the government in the media so it appears everything is hunky dory in this small country on the Malaysian island of Borneo.

Second thing to go wrong: Royal Brunei's computer system at Heathrow went down, leaving us waiting impatiently in a queue for a while. We took off a little late, but I didn't have to be anywhere in a hurry so I didn't mind.

I watched nearly six movies between London and Dubai, then Dubai and Bandar Seri Begawan. Stardust (quite funny in places and a very good cast), The Bourne Ultimatum (think I spotted a bit of Oxford in it), Ratatouille (good), The Darjeeling Limited (vaguely amusing but didn't really do much for me), Romeo and Juliet (the 1996 version, v. good) and the first part of It's a Wonderful Life.

The Brunei Hilton

We got to Brunei at about 11am Sunday morning and set about sorting out hotels. I was in the same one as three others from the flight - Amy, Olivier and Kristie - and it was agreed that we should Do Stuff together. Make the best of it, see the country, and so on.

The hotel was called the Traders Inn. It had beds but it wasn't quite up to six star standard. Grubby walls, mouldy bathroom and a stroppy manager who didn't let us check out late for our 11:30pm flight on Monday, despite it saying on our vouchers that we had two days and one night there. Oh well.

Thrown together by misfortune: me, Kristie, Olivier, Amy
© Jeff Jones

We headed back into the city in the late afternoon and decided on a boat tour of the floating village. This houses about 50,000 people (the rest of the city has another 50,000) and consists of a large number of wooden houses built on pillars. It's about 30 years old and I reckon it would be in trouble if a decent storm hit it.

Our guide was excellent and only wanted to charge us $20 (about 7 quid) for a one hour tour - we gave him another $10 at the end. He was also genuinely friendly, taking us to see his house and family of nine, of whom he was very proud. It was pretty cool for us and it wasn't something he did very often, he said. He showed us the workings of the floating village, which looks quite poor in comparison to the splendour of the city and its mosques. There are enough schools and everyone gets government subsidies but I got the feeling that most of the wealth ain't here.

We were invited into our guide's home for some frozen strawberry drink
© Jeff Jones

Nice columns
© Jeff Jones

After we got back we checked out one of the main mosques near the centre of town. We couldn't go inside because it was prayer time but it was, to coin a famous prophet, bloody impressive. I was loving the colonnaded outdoor pool, too.

As we were wondering what to do next, we fell into conversation with another local tourist guide. He was waiting for an American woman who didn't show up, so we climbed into his car and he took us to see the rest of the sights of Bandar Seri Begawan. The highlight was the city's most expensive mosque which was lavish in every way with gold plated minarets, massive amounts of marble, fountains and so on. It cost hundreds of millions of dollars to build and you get a pretty good idea of where the Sultan likes to spend his money. Something like this is amazing when you consider the size of the city and the country's population as a whole.

The most expensive mosque in South East Asia
© Jeff Jones

But wait, there's more. Not far away, the Sultan's palace has around 1100 rooms and houses a mosque that's even bigger than the one above. He opens his doors for three days a year to let the people in so that they can all meet and greet him. They're fed well and can take doggie bags home with them. Just like in a fairytale.

After cruising around some of the lesser palaces, the smallest of which was still enormous, we paid a visit to the night market. Here, you can buy any sort of food for a dollar, so four dollars (about £1.30) got me a large serving of noodles, some barbecue beef on a stick, a few cakes and a drink made from sugarcane. This place is popular with the locals, although there were a couple of other tourists there. The nice thing was that no-one was trying to flog us anything.

Night market
© Jeff Jones

It's all a dollar a serve
© Jeff Jones

A night in the Brunei Hilton followed, and after a less than inspiring English-style breakfast of cold baked beans, strange sausages and stale toast (how can toast be stale?) we headed back into town to take in the remaining tourist attractions. There weren't many. We started at the Regalia Museum, where we spent several hours in bare feet looking at all the presents that had been given to the Sultan at his coronation 40-odd years ago. The computers all looked as though they dated from the coronation too, as none of them were working. I did learn that Brunei had been part of a British protection racket in the 1800s. The Brits protected the Bruneians from piracy in exchange for one of their islands and the privilege to come and go as they choose. Brunei eventually gained independence in 1984, but Brits are still allowed to come here without a visa.

Finally, we got on another boat to go and see the proboscis monkeys up the river. They weren't exactly close enough to take good pics but it was an interesting trip nonetheless. The price magically went up from $30 to $50 by the time we got back so we didn't bother tipping this time.

My wildlife photography skills are improving, as you can see. This is a shot of proboscis monkeys.
© Jeff Jones

The big wet

After unsuccessfully arguing with the hotel manager about a late checkout, we sat in the lobby of the Brunei Hilton and waited until 9pm until a shuttle bus would take us out to the airport. It started to rain at about 5pm and tipped it down for the next three hours. This was a proper tropical thunderstorm and as we found out soon enough, caused flash flooding.

It was chaos on the way to the airport. Parts of the road were a couple of feet deep in water and people were getting stuck. On the dual carriageway, there were cars coming back towards us once they realised they couldn't continue. We made it to an exit and found our way to the airport. Our drivers reckoned that it had never flooded like this along these roads.

It goes without saying that Royal Brunei's computer system was down when we went to check in. I think they eventually did it on paper but it took bloody ages. They charged half of us departure tax as well, even though that was included in the booking. Someone asked for a receipt and was given the money back.

There were problems with visas as well. Olivier and Kristie didn't realise that Olivier needed a visa to get into Oz. Oops. Somehow, they managed to get one very quickly, despite the fact that the Australian embassy was shut. Then there were a couple of lost English kids. One of them presented his passport only to be informed that he was in Australia and had been since 1998. He'd never been to Australia.

It was pretty amazing that after all this, our flight was only an hour or so late, and we left at around 12:30am.

Then things started to go properly durian-shaped.

Aviation safety week

I already had a bad feeling about this flight, and my fears were confirmed pretty quickly. During the 'blessing of the flight', the Japanese guy next to me started praying. Then he just got up and left his seat, taking his satchel with him. I assumed he'd gone to the toilet, but he didn't come back.

We started taxiing and I considered mentioning this to the flight crew, but they had other concerns. The 'lavatory occupied' sign was still on as we took off and I was hoping that our would-be-bomber was merely suffering the effects of a dodgy curry.

After half an hour of flying I was just getting to the part of It's a Wonderful Life where George is contemplating suicide when the in flight entertainment froze and an announcement came over.

"Would all crew please report to the flight deck."

Now I had a really bad feeling about this, especially as we suddenly dropped 2000m, lost about half our speed, all the cabin lights were dimmed, and we'd turned around. Then the displays all went blank. So much for It's a Wonderful Life.

A little while later: "Would all crew please remain in your positions."

Then: "This is the captain speaking. We've had a technical problem but it's something that we're trained to deal with. We will be returning to Bandar Seri Begawan and should be landing in about 10-15 minutes. If you see any emergency vehicles on the runway, do not be alarmed. We will be evacuating, sorry disembarking the aircraft in the normal way."

It all went very quiet. We glided along at low power for 10-15 minutes but we weren't anywhere near landing. I wondered where our probable hijacker was taking us. I hoped he wasn't going to detonate his bomb before we arrived and I was still rather annoyed with myself for not mentioning it to the crew.

Another very long 15 minutes passed before we saw lights again. We got lower and lower and I thought we were going to land in someone's backyard, but the runway finally appeared and we touched down. It took us a long while to slow down. Thankfully, we didn't run out of runway and eventually came to a halt. Everyone clapped and there was some degree of relief in the cabin. Even among an arrogant party of Chinese up the back.

We filed back into the airport, were given temporary boarding passes and waited for instructions. At about 3am, we were told "The flight has been rescheduled for tomorrow at 9am. You will now be taken to hotels" without giving us an idea of how this was to take place. A few of us worked out that by the time we got to the hotel, it would be after 4 and we'd have to be back in a few hours to get on the plane. Not worth it, so most of us stayed in the terminal.

In the meantime, I learned that we weren't hijacked, it was merely a fractured windscreen. Haven't they heard of insulation tape?

I got one and a half hours sleep before being woken by the light and some awful muzak. We were promised breakfast but I'm thankful that we went to an airport coffee lounge instead, pooling all of our cash to buy some real food. Amy had only had a few oat biscuits since lunchtime the previous day, so she was a little peckish. Half decent coffee, muffins, scrambled eggs, toast - it was all good. The brekky provided by Royal Brunei consisted of stale cheese, tomato and cucumber sandwiches, mediocre coffee and juice.

9am came and went and we were all sitting in the departure lounge, waiting. 9:30 and we get an announcement: "We're sorry for the delay, which is due to the lack of an operational crew."

Yes, you do need a pilot to fly a plane, and I don't blame last night's one for not coming back.

10am: "Your flight will be ready for boarding shortly. We're sorry for the delay, which is due to the lack of an operational crew. On behalf of Royal Brunei Airlines, we wish you a pleasant flight [giggles]"

I got the feeling that the level of training amongst the staff wasn't particularly high. You can't just throw it all together and expect it to work. You need some cohesion.

A rather disheveled and annoyed looking pilot did turn up and we finally got on the plane, an hour and a half later. As I got on board, I picked up a copy of the Brunei Times, where on page 2 they had a number of stories on Aviation Safety Week that was launched the previous day.

This time, I crossed my fingers when the in-flight blessing took place. We made it to Sydney, minus movies, and I was rather glad.

The next day I woke up with a stinker of a cold and the worst jetlag ever. I don't think I'll be flying Royal Brunei again.

Our first guide in Brunei
© Jeff Jones

This is wot keeps the village afloat
© Jeff Jones

Kiddies enjoying an afternoon swim
© Jeff Jones

Me and a mosque
© Jeff Jones

The Sultan prefers the escalator
© Jeff Jones

The boats run on Pepsi
© Jeff Jones

The family of our second river guide
© Jeff Jones

Two barges ready to take rocks upstream
© Jeff Jones

A slight detour on the way back
© Jeff Jones

Legend has it that this rock was a sunken boat
© Jeff Jones

Catching dinner
© Jeff Jones

Friday, December 07, 2007

Victory!

A full-on serious tea and coffee shoppe in Bath, at last!

Steve discovered it and took us there for one of our lunchtime tea stops. It's under the Oxalis tea shop in New Bond St and, for the time being, very inconspicuous. But when you go down into it, you realise it's something special. The walls are all painted white with locked cabinets containing various tea sets. It's like a museum!

The menu offers a massive range of teas and coffees. It looks pricey at first until you realise that each tea/coffee is for two people. I got a Brazilian Santos coffee, which has a delicious chocolatey flavour. It came in a plunger and I drank four and a half cups before it was empty. All for just £2.75. That's value, given that a medium black coffee from the Italian ice cream shop will cost £1.40 but you don't get the ambience. And I was very much awake in the afternoon.

I'm definitely going back and I hope it doesn't go broke before January next year. Because in the meantime, I will be in the land down under where women glow and men plunder. But I have to spend a day and a half in bloody Brunei because I got a cheap flight. Maybe I'll get to drive one of the sultan's 367 Ferraris.

It'll be nice to be in a county where the default weather isn't crap. That said, it did get up to 15° today - just like summer really. The problem was that it was raining at an angle that was close to horizontal. Quelle annoyance.

It was a good day to go out for a beer or five, which we of BikeRadar and WhatMTB and a bit of C+ did. The Bell, The Star, Lambrettas and almost The Huntsman but instead The Cellar were all patronised. It was just the thing to prepare for a three and a half day trip across the world.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Saturday bloody Saturday

Fortunately, it didn't end up too bloody here in the south west tropics of England. But it was an eventful day.

I'm talking, of course, about the Chippenham club run. Conditions: cold, windy, some rain and lots of puddles on the roads.

I was running a little late and the cemetery gates were deserted at 9:35. Another guy rolled up and said that we would never catch them, but I knew it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes and I've had plenty of practice in doing that on the Schelde ride.

I felt fine, despite a slow leak in the back tyre and trying not to drop the other guy, and caught the group after about 10km. But a few minutes later, there was an accident as the bunch tried to get around two cars that were parked on a blind corner while another car was coming the other way. Ben S didn't see the second parked car and went through the back windscreen, Davis Phinney style. Fortunately it was a low speed crash and he and his bike were completely unscathed - one of the advantages of wearing so many clothes during winter. The people who had foolishly parked their cars there were of Eastern European origin and a bit confused about what had happened. It took some time to exchange details before we got under way again. Ben had to report it to the police afterwards.

5km later, I decided that my rear tyre wasn't going to make it another 60km and stopped to change the tube, telling the rest to keep going. Luckily it started to rain again at that moment, otherwise there was the danger of me going soft. While pumping up the tyre in what felt like sleet, I did receive an offer of a free cup of tea from a real estate agent who was setting up for an inspection, but I declined, pleading insanity.

I didn't fancy my chances of catching up 12 minutes so I was surprised when I rejoined the bunch 25km later. It turned out the guy who I'd started with had also punctured, and they waited for him. Club president Andy Cook was also there, following us in the Everyday Cycling car to give us a bit more security. Andy's coming back from a broken collarbone that he sustained on the club run a few weeks back. Be careful, folks!

It was a headwind all the way back and everyone was a bit shattered by the time we got to Corsham. I foolishly followed windscreen Ben when he went hard with 2km to go and although I had the legs, it cost me dearly later on. I rode back to Bath with another guy, Pete, who had blown and I had to go fairly slowly to avoid leaving him. But as we went down Kingsdown I felt my own reserves run completely dry and within a kilometre, I was history. Normally I would have eaten something but there were only 4km to go so I thought I'd wait.

I was a shaking wreck by the time I got home. Significant quantities of food had to be ingested, followed by an hour and a half of quality time on the couch. To make matters worse, I then had to go shopping at Morrisons. But I made a curry, so it wasn't all bad.

Even better, I leave this rain sodden part of the world for a three week sojourn in Sunny Australia in a week. That'll be well good, innit.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Spektakel in Gent

© Jeff Jones

This blog is dedicated to De Witte. Now you can't say I don't mention you.

A week of holidays. What joy. And what better way to spend it than in sunny Belgium? I know the answer to that question and it is c) Australia. Not that I have anything against sunny Belgium, mind.

Getting there from UK-land is even quicker now on the Eurostar. 1hr50 from London St Pancreas (that's what it should be called) to Bruxelles Midi. And it cost less than 60 quid return, and the ticket will get you to any Belgian station. That's what I call value. Admittedly, living in the UK for a while degrades your standards.

I arrived chez Reinhard at 8pm, Gent time, and it wasn't even raining. 25 minutes later, we partook of a power yoga class at gym down the road. Gab rocked up, straight off the plane from Norway where beer is €10 a pop, and Reiny's associate Gwen joined us for the session and the all-important post-yoga beers. All four of us have some connection to the Commonwealth: the team lives on!

I think I'm reasonably flexible for a cyclist, but that doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. A third of the exercises were impossible for me to do without falling over or shaking violently. It does feel good using muscles you don't normally use and at least the teacher approved of my Tom Boonen t-shirt.

What felt better was Chimay in the plural form. Liquid ambrosia. Hell, I even appreciated the novelty of being in a packed, smoke-filled cafe again.

Reiny and Gwen hard at work. Well, one of them is.
© Jeff Jones

Voting

Being a citizen of the Grand Duchy of Australia, I was legally entitled to vote in the election. Not that it mattered, because I'm in the second safest Labor seat in the country, but it is always fun voting in the senate.

The difficulty is deciding what party to put last. When you have the choice of One Nation, Pauline, the Shooters Party, the Fred Nile group and parties like LDP that do not explain their acronyms on the ballot paper, it's hard. I know the votes this far down probably won't affect the composition of the senate, which only changes once every six years, but it's the principle of the thing that counts.

For the record, I put One Nation last.

The Zesdaagse

These guys were the hardest workers at the Ghent Six
© Jeff Jones

Amazingly in all the years I lived in Gent, I never saw the Six. I hadn't even seen the track, although I'd picked up accreditation for races like Het Volk from the building it was housed in. So this was a new experience, and a pretty cool one at that.

Gab, Reiny and I had tickets to the middenplein (the centre) and if we were lucky, we could get a seat in one section of the stands. The middenplein was fine: there were three or four stands selling beer, we could get dizzy watching the racing and over the course of the night we bumped into several acquaintances. Karl Becker (who could have witnessed my postal vote, 'cos he's an Aussie), Brecht from CN (who was shockingly drinking on the job), Henk Ballet (of classic fame, who I'd obtained a jersey for), Staf and Andre Boone (larger than life characters and both big wheels in the Gent cycling scene), and several hard core fans that I knew from racing.

Much spektakel at the Ghent Six
© Jeff Jones

Speaking of racing, there was some of it going on. Well, a bit.

Track racing is a brilliant spectator sport and six day riders are skillful masters of entertainment. The good thing about the first day is that they race reasonably hard to sort out the pecking order. The crowd favourites were Iljo Keisse and Robert Bartko and they'd get a huge cheer each time they did something like take a lap in the Madison or win a points race. They were good and Keisse was obviously drawing on all his experience from riding langs de Schelde. He's quick, that boy.

But there were others: world Madison champions Bruno Risi and Franco Marvulli, dynamic Dutch duo Robert Slippens and Danny Stam, Brits Brad Wiggins with his funky white wheels and Mark 'where am I?' Cavendish, and Ze Chermans Andreas Beikirch and Erik Mohs.

A dozen or so teams on a 166m track: it's amazing to watch as they sling each other in through gaps that suddenly appear between other teams. No-one crashed when we were there, but last year Spaniard Isaac Galvez died when he hit the metal barrier that runs around the top of the track. The barrier now has an inch of foam around it. I don't know if that will do any good in case of a similar accident but I'm not in charge of Health and Safety.

By the end of the night, we had consumed enough pils to satisfy our thirst, soaking some of it up with a fine bradwoorst. Gab went back for a second one because he recognised the girl selling them from last year. She recognised him, too. I'm not sure whether that was a good thing but none of us were in a position to judge.

Gabke loves the bradwoorst
© Jeff Jones

Other antics

It is never advisable to drink on an empty stomach. Rochefort 8° does taste pretty good, but it accounted for Thursday evening and a good chunk of Friday. Reiny and Gab had gone spinning so Gwen and I got a small headstart. It ended up being a two hour headstart and it was possible to cover a lot of ground in that time before the cavalry (or were we in Calvary?) arrived. I blame myself as, unlike Gwen, I am old enough to know better. At least I didn't have to work the next day but I was so hungry on Friday morning that I couldn't sleep it off properly.

I wandered over to the Eddy Merckx Centrum at the Blaarmeersen on Friday evening to hook up with Guido, Philippe, Lucien, Jules and their better halves. There's a newish 250m board track there and it's open for anyone to train on at certain times. You can even hire bikes - fairly basic machines but they allow you to do the job. €15 got me a bike and up to two hours on the track.

I haven't ridden on a track for about 10 years and although it's easy to remember what to do (pedal and turn left), it's still mildly terrifying getting up on the steep bankings. It was a simple session: everyone just rode round in one of several bunches. It wasn't slow either, as we averaged over 42km/h for 1hr15min. The hardest part for me wasn't the speed, it was the uncomfortable position on the bike that was giving me numb hands and a sore hamstring. You can't really relax either, because then you'll find that the bike starts pedaling you and that is not a good thing.

The bike I used at the Blaarmeersen
© Jeff Jones

Riding the boards at the Eddy Merckx centrum in the Blaarmeersen
© Jeff Jones

De Karper, Iljo Keisse's support club cafe.
© Jeff Jones

It was a good way to get rid of the hangover, although we tried to rectify that by going to De Karper, Iljo Keisse's support club cafe, afterwards. The music was classic hits from the '70s, '80s and '90s: Summer of 69, China Girl, Living Doll to I Want to Break Free and so many more.

Jo joined us, fresh from his trip to Bolivia where he met the country's president twice and did a downhill mountain bike ride where he dropped 4000m! He also pledged on a beer coaster that he would ride in Berchem next year.

Guido and Philippe said they've both done around 15,000km this year. That ain't bad chaps - my count is 'only' 17,000 thus far. I'll get close to 19,000 by the end of the year but no more. A far cry from my record of 30,000 a few years ago.

The extra kilometres helped Philippe do five and a half hours for the Velomedian, a really good time for what sounds like a very tough sportive. Unfortunately Guido paid the price for 0.5km too many. On a training ride in June, he had 179.5km on the clock and wanted to make it 180, but was hit by a car just near his house. Fortunately he wasn't really seriously injured, but all the same he has a scar on his forehead that is much better than mine. Alas, the De Rosa is no more.

More on the injury front: Jules had the misfortune to break his hip, which put him out for three months. But Lucien escaped the year unscathed. He has a new Colnago and no scars.

Jules, Guido, Lucien, Philippe and ik at De Karper
© Jeff Jones

Coffee crawl

The best place for coffee that I've been to in Gent is Mokabon on the Donkersteeg. It's a proper old school coffee shop with old school clientele. The decor hasn't really changed since it opened in 1953, the theme being dark brown wood. Now, Belgians haven't yet mastered the cappuccino, but the coffee here is bloody good. It's all about the taste, not the caffeine. And it's not pricey either, with an espresso costing €1.80

Reiny and I visited it as part of a coffee crawl that started in Ledeberg and finished at the Marimain. It was an excellent way to kill a few hours and see how others spend their Sundays. We followed that with a home cooked Vlaamse stoverij (me), vanilla ice cream with Advocaat, chocolate sauce and strawberries (Gwen) and a few quiet ones (all of us). A noice way to end the week.

Gwen, me and Reiny about to sit down to a fine, home cooked repast
© Jeff Jones

By the way, I did spend a large amount of time not drinking and doing something constructive, like writing. But given that alcohol kills brain cells, I might have to do less drinking if I want to get the book finished. After this week, my brain is not half full, it's half empty.

It's time to ride the bike again, too.

More pics

Descending the muddy cobbles of the Kantienberg. I love it.
© Jeff Jones

Wet cobbles and tram tracks. Someone should get onto health & safety about this.
© Jeff Jones

Chocolates from Yuzu on Walpoortstraat. These are brilliant.
© Jeff Jones

Reiny and Gabke warming up before the Six
© Jeff Jones

The Middenplein is where it's at
© Jeff Jones

Gab, Reiny and Staf
© Jeff Jones

Gent
© Jeff Jones

Gent again
© Jeff Jones

Guido's Ridley. Note the incredibly relaxed head angle. What the?
© Jeff Jones

Jules, Lucien, the ladies, Philippe and Guido are thirsty
© Jeff Jones

Enjoying a Westmalle with Jo
© Jeff Jones

The markets in Ledeberg were pretty crap
© Jeff Jones

Sunday lunchtime in Ledeberg
© Jeff Jones

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Winter is here

I don't envy anyone in the UK who went for a ride today. It was 'well bleak' out there. Six degrees and raining/sleeting for most of the day. I took the soft option and stayed indoors, and am better off for it. Tea and chocolate stocks have diminished, however.

I'm getting into the TV season here, partly because I want to get value for money out of my TV licence. Everyone with a telly in the UK has to pay 135 quid a year to the BBC, which gives them a massive budget to make things like wildlife documentaries and Top Gear. Compare that to how much is given the ABC in Australia (three fifths of bugger all) and you see why you can't stay indoors and watch ABC TV on a Sunday because it is poor fare. Luckily it doesn't rain as much in Oz.

What else is good? The next series of The Mighty Boosh has just started, and I've been watching this online via the BBC's media player. This is another advantage of the BBC having no commercial ties: they can provide TV on demand because everyone has a compulsory subscription.

There's also Top Gear, which is being shown a lot on a new TV channel called Dave. Stupid name for a TV channel, but it shows pretty much everything I want to see so I'll give it the thumbs up. For those not familar, Top Gear is a car show but it's very entertaining thanks to its presenters. And Richard Hammond and James May ride bikes.

Red Dwarf is always good for a laugh, and they're screening a lot of episodes on Dave at the moment. Never Mind the Buzzcocks has started a new series, and I'm looking forward to it on Thursdays. There's also another celebrity quiz show called QI, hosted by Stephen Fry, which I've just started watching and it's very amusing.

It's enough to make you want to stay indoors, which is good because the weather is turning to shite again.

Next week is the long awaited trip to Belgium. I've been gearing up for it for a while now and am craving some decent beer. I should get my wish over the next seven days. Then it's back for less than two weeks of work before heading to the land down under for three weeks.

No wonder I'm broke after all this high living - travel, rent, TV licences, and, er, a new bike. But I have a credit card that will see me through until next payday.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Observances

Let me begin by saying that there are far too many people in Bath on the weekends. They appear to be here to shop, which is pointless as there's nothing in Bath that you can't get elsewhere. Go away, the lot of youse. Bath is not what you're looking for. Move along.

I'm almost certain that you can buy everything you need in Tesco these days. Cousin Ant swore that he spotted a bottle of Grange Hermitage in the Surrey Quays Tesco recently. Unfortunately we couldn't find it when we visited Lucy and Pete last weekend, but I did note that the French-table-wine-in-a-can stocks had been replenished. A clear sign that the class system is dead. Or in French terms, égalité ou la mort! I'm pretty sure that the latter would apply if you drank wine-in-a-can.

Speaking of near death experiences, I was shopping at Morrisons today. It's about the same budget scale as Tesco, but perhaps not as classy. While queuing up at the checkout, I noted the, er, generously sized woman in front of me was buying some particularly unappetizing fare: packaged pickled mackerel fillets, instant liver and onions with bacon mash, and shredded wheat (unfortunately, you can't buy wine-in-a-can at Morrisons). Maybe it was part of a slimming diet.

That said, there aren't that many overweight people in Bath, in contrast to most of the rest of England. I blame the Spanish and French tourists.

I put a temporary halt to my weight gain today when I partook of the Chippenham cemetery ride. I haven't done 100km for a month and it took its toll with about 15km to go. But it was fun to break the monotony of not training much. I've still got another three weeks of November, including the Belgian trip between the 19th-26th, to take it easy.

It's getting dark at 4:30 now, but I like this time of year when the light starts to go. Everything is softened. And the TV programs are better.

Friday, November 02, 2007

Excellent news

I've been researching the facts, and I'm pleasantly surprised to find that they gel with my own experiences. This article confirms what we always knew, that beer is the best post-ride recovery drink.

The jury's still out about whether it's a good pre-ride drink, but I did some more testing of this theory during last Wednesday's Halloween ride in Bristol. Jez summed it up fairly well in his blog, but I can offer the following independent observations:

1) The gallon of scrumpy that he had procured from a Somerset farmer looked exactly like petrol. Alas, it didn't taste anywhere near as good.

2) The mulled wine that was going to be used to extinguish the fire tasted like ambrosia compared to the scrumpy.

3) Somehow I managed not to fall off in the team race, despite a less than optimal lighting system and the combined effects of the aforementioned scrumpy and beer. I was pretty slow though.

4) It's harder than you think to explode a mountain bike tyre by riding it into the fire and leaving it there.

5) Where did all that mud come from?

Sunday, October 28, 2007

It is done

24th/140 at the national HC (pic here). Not quite in the top 20 but I'll take it. It was a real buzz to ride but I'm so glad that's it for the season. I'm writing a mini-feature on it for C+ so I won't go into too much depth here.

Will gave me a lift out together with his dad, and it was a fairly dismal drive to Cheddar. It was windy and raining fairly solidly as I tried to warm up on Will's turbo. I managed 15 minutes but that's all I had time for - not ideal but I'm used to going hard early in my training rides so it wasn't that bad.

The problem was when I got out onto the road to go up to the start, I realised my saddle was a bit low. I'd actually tried to raise it the previous night but must have lowered it a touch instead. It didn't matter, really, but was annoying. I had no time to adjust it before I went off.

It was a strange race. I felt quite good at the start and even used the TT bars after I got up to speed, despite it being steepish. I went back to the bull horns for the steepest part (16%, not very long) and tried to keep it going. I was amazed at how many people were calling out my name. The crowd was very good considering the weather and it was just so cool to be taking part. After I finished I went back down and stood on the corner to cheer everyone else.

The rest was a bit of a struggle. I did the second two thirds on the TT bars and I think that was the right choice, because I had the 15th best split time over that section (36th best over the first bit). The wind had turned from being a tailwind to a cross/headwind, so it was advantageous to be as aero as possible. But I didn't really have it in me to get to the seeing stars stage, and had to be content with burning lungs.

Final time: 7'38.2, which was one of the quickest until the last 30 riders started. I ended 5 seconds off the top 20 and 47 seconds off the winner: James Dobbin (as I thought). Still, Danny Axford (6th) only put 25 seconds into me, whereas he put 40 into me last week at Burrington so I was quite happy with my ride. I averaged 380W and about 180bpm, which I reckon is good for October. I needed about 440W to win. Hah.

Robin finished in 8'31 (71st) but had the 13th best split time at the time check. He was going for that more than a good overall time, but he needed another 10 seconds to win the bottle of champers. Paul Godfrey got up in 9'06 for 93rd, so we had a good turn out from Future.

I also bumped into Avril Swan, wot used to be part of the Centennial Park morning training groups. Hell, that's more than 10 years ago now. She's now in Cambridge with her partner and obviously still riding. She ended with 9'28 for 107th/7th woman.

Some Leffes were in order in the evening. And I can feel more coming over the next four weeks.

Friday, October 26, 2007

The only way is up

As someone sang, there's a coldness in the air, but I don't care. Why? Because Sunday's national hill climb is the last race I'm doing for about five months.

It's been getting dark, cold and generally grey here in the mornings, so I'm looking forward to not having to drag myself out of bed at the crack of well before dawn each morning. No matter how much sleep I get, I'm always tired. It's mostly the mental effort of getting ready for a race each weekend. I've been doing that for the last three months - the longest continuous period of racing I've done for years, possibly since 1999.

That said, I'm actually looking forward to winter. Partly because it involves a trip to the Gent Six plus three weeks in Oz, and partly because I want to get stuck into some structured winter training. But mostly because it involves a lot of drinking. I've not touched a drop of C2H5OH this week and have even reduced my chocolate intake over the last few days. Not by much, I admit.

Sunday should be a laugh, too. It's my first ever national championships in anything and I'm up against 149 other riders. I'm hoping for a top 20 with a time under 8'00, which is possible if I have a decent ride.

I know quite a few people are going to be there watching, although that number might be reduced if it's raining, as is forecast. Our tech editor Jez has promised to throw a bag of flour over me and Robin as we come up the hill, and then empty a whole lotta diesel over the road to slow the later riders down. Do it Jez, you know you want to.

Then, maybe a cider or two are in order. There's a Halloween ride next week, too...

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Beware the Ides of October

According to the Roman calendar it's not actually the Ides of October. That was last Saturday, in fact. Luckily we're not using the Roman calendar any more because then we'd be late. Speaking of late, the good thing is that daylight savings finishes next week so I get to lie in for an extra hour and the curtains stop fading. Or something.

Brain addling is a function of how hard you go in a hill climb. And by what I've written above and done today, I'm more than halfway there. Probably three quarters, going off the Roman calendar. That's three out of four hill climbs clumbed and one to go: the national Cheddar eating championships next week.

Today's fixture was the Burrington Combe hill climb. It's one I've been looking forward to - as much as it's possible to look forward to a hill climb - because I'm more suited to longer climbs than shorter ones. Well, that's what I keep telling myself and no-one's put up a decent argument yet.

The climb is 3.2km long and averages just under 5.7%. It goes up in steps, with the flatter bits never quite long enough to recover before the next step. Just after halfway, there's a steeper section after a cattle grid, then it sort of flattens out towards the top which just never seems to come.

I've done it quite a few times in training: when Will took me up it for the first time in January, we did it in about 10'40. Two weeks ago I did it with Robin in 8'33 with a slight tailwind. I was going pretty hard but had about 5kg of extra kit + heavy wheels on, so I figured I could get under eight minutes. The course record is 7'02, held by Danny Axford and as he was down to race I knew it was pointless even thinking about winning.

Ben S wot lives in Corsham gave me a lift out and we signed on at the Burrington Inn in the freezing cold. It was set to be a beautiful morning but the sun hadn't quite made it over the Combe, so we spent the next three quarters of an hour shivering and getting changed. We rode up the hill steadily as a warm-up and noticed that when it opened out at halfway there was a bit of a headwind. This picked up even more before we started and I could feel it on my face as the starter held me up at 10:55am, Julian calendar time. Plus a bit.

I started harder than I have been doing for the last couple of races, but only for 10 seconds or so. From what I've read you use a different energy system at the start and don't have to repay the oxygen debt later. It's like a free lunch. Or maybe a free cup of tea with lite soy milk and a small biscuit. But hey, every second counts, innit?

I settled down and kept a steady cadence - 39x15/16/17/19/21 all got used on the stair-steps. I wasn't going flat out because bits of music and other random thoughts kept popping into my mind. But when I got to the cattle grid I was very much concentrating on everything that was propelling me up the climb: breathing, pedaling, heart rate, how hard to go on the next bit. No spare brain oxygen for fripperies now.

It wasn't worth getting out of the saddle much because the wind was too strong, so I ended up doing most of it on the drops. I went a little harder on the steep bit, saving just enough for the long drag to the top. I kept changing up and finished in the 39x13, fairly hammered but not quite to the seeing spots phase. My lungs were hurting so I suppose it was a good ride.

As I descended to the start I saw Danny Axford motoring up. He'd already passed his minute man and was just about to catch his two minute man. Best time, once again.

The results were posted and Axford had done it in 7'26, junior Luke Dunbar was second in 8'06.36 and me third in 8'07.03 out of about 45 starters. I was delighted at finishing in the top three, even though I just missed out on second. I'd beaten a couple of riders who'd been beating me in the other climbs so that was OK.

Afterwards, I figured out a kilo is worth four seconds on that climb so doing stuff like taking off the big chainring, rear brake and bar tape would have actually made the difference between second and third. But I'm not quite that obsessive, especially when not racing for a win.

Robin, on the other hand, was off sick for most of the week so he used the down time to fiddle around and take bits off his bike. He finished with 8'42, which leads me to believe it's more beneficial to stay healthy.

One more of these to go and I'm very much looking forward to the end of the season. Physically I'm still going alright but mentally I'm knackered. Or maybe just mental.

I wonder what Plutarch would say about all this bilge?

Sunday, October 14, 2007

The unbearable lightness of blogging

Normal service has not been resumed. Please turn your computer off now to avert risk of severe radiation poisoning.

Another weekend, another hill climb and a 3-man team time trial for good measure. The hill was the mighty Bowden Hill, which is about 25km east of here, or a bloody long way west if the scenic route is desirous. It's a tad over 2km long and averages 6.2%. James Dobbin won it last year in a staggering 4'21, but after I rode it during the week in 6'20 at 360W I reckoned I'd be happy with a 5'20.

I should have put money on myself because I ended up with 5'19 for fifth in a field of 22. Rob Gough just beat Danny Axford to win in 4'54, which was actually 20 seconds slower than he did to get second last year. Rob's unbeaten (I think) in hill climbs so far this year.

I paced it well so that I could put most of my effort into the steep bit in the middle, while saving just enough for the flatter bit at the top. I worked out I averaged a shade over 440W (6.2W/kg), but to win, I needed about 500W (7W/kg) or keep the same power output and lose 10kg. That ain't going to happen. And to get close to 4'21, I'd need a galeforce tailwind, or 550W, which would make me a world class track pursuiter. That definitely ain't going to happen!

Cut to Sunday morning, and it was time to jump back on the TT bike for the Chippenham 3-up team time trial. We'd tried to get a Chippenham 'A' team happening but Ben was still recovering from an operation and Andy didn't want to ride in his own event. So we had to make do with Chris Tweedie and I representing the Wheelers and Robin (John's Bikes) as the third. I think there were 22 teams in total, but a few couldn't record official times because they were down to two riders. Unlike a 4-man TTT, where you can lose one, you have to keep everyone together in a 3-up.

It goes without saying that we were meticulously prepared. 15 minutes before the start, we rode together for the first time and sussed out a plan: Me at the front, the other two come through when they can.

I haven't ridden a team time trial for about 10 years but I do know that you're only as strong as your weakest rider. And on a hilly course like this one (430m of climbing/390m descent), we had to be quite careful on the climbs. Robin was fine but Chris was 13kg heavier than me - that makes quite a difference.

We got going OK but I was a bit concerned when we started losing Chris on the small undulations in the first 10km. We didn't fall apart and as soon as I spotted a gap opening, I eased off. But when we hit the first longer climb, we had to back it off quite a lot. I kept an eye on my Ergomo and noticed that whenever I went over 280W, Chris would go off. The thing is, he would have been pushing 320W for the same speed. So on the flat, I could go quite hard and he and Robin would come through from time to time. Each time I was on the front, I had Tool's Schism going through my head. Good for the rhythm.

The best part was the section along the A4 on the way back, because we'd almost perfectly worked out each other's strengths. On the downhill just before the last climb, we were swapping off at nearly 70km/h - always fun! Chris had paced himself really well and I could sit on 280W again on the final climb and not drop him. We passed the Bath CC boys, who'd started 6min ahead of us, and almost caught Swindon, who had 3min headstart. Then it was a short wind up to the finish and it was all over.

We'd done 56'29 for 36.65km - not a great average speed but it wasn't a bad effort on that course. I had an average of 279W with a heart rate of 170. I think when fresh I could do that course in around 54min. The important thing was that we'd finished with three riders and not blown up. Still, I was pleasantly surprised when we got the results:

VC St Raphael, who had three strong guys and who have won this race for the last four years, won it in 53'36. We were second overall and first composite team (yay!) with our 56'29. Severn RC was next with 56'56, followed by another composite in 59'05 then Swindon in 59'21. So a water bottle and seven quid each, a nice way to finish off the weekend.

Now to do some actual writing.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Pain revisited

A sequel to Brideshead, perhaps? Whatever, it must feature hill climbs. This is my softly-softly way of finishing off the season and I'll be glad when they're all over.

First, there was a much needed number of days off after the journo world's. After three days of hard racing/riding/drinking and getting, on average, about three hours sleep a night, I was completely wrecked. When I got back to the UK, I kept setting my alarm to do some morning training, but I slept through it each time. I dragged myself out on the first weekend back and still felt appalling. I did Burrington and Cheddar, the two main hill climbs at the end of the months, and was depressingly slow. It was to be expected and the time off was necessary.

Last week I started to come good but wasn't really flying for the Severn RC hill climb on Saturday. It was a short climb, less than 750m, averaging 8.2%. Anaerobia, here we come. During the week I'd managed it in 2'38, but couldn't see where I could find another 40 seconds to get within coo-ee of the win.

On the day, I did find another 30 seconds but it wasn't nearly good enough: I was only eighth in a field of 20. The in-form Rob Gough won in 1'53.5 and broke the course record, then last year's national hill climb champ James Dobbin was second in 2'00.3. My 2'08 was the result of the most painful effort I have done all year, excluding falling off on speed humps. I felt myself run out of legs halfway and was dizzy and seeing spots by the time I got to the top. That carried on for a good hour or two after the finish. Going that hard can't be good for you. Probably why kilo riders are all nuts.

Fortunately I recovered to get myself over to Bowden Hill that evening for a very loud, very fun and very late party organised by one of our writers group members. It's nice when you don't have to worry about neighbours. Lots of cyclists and runners there too, which was odd. I did three hours the next day to get rid of the hangover, before assuming the position on the couch for the rest of the arvo.

Coincidentally, Bowden Hill is where this weekend's Chippenham hill climb is. 1.8km at 6.5% with a nasty 10% bit in the middle. Last year James Dobbin won in 4'21. I did it in 6'20 today on the TT bike averaging 360W. I think I can do about 430-440W for that long which would give me a time somewhere around 5'10-5'20-ish-or-thereabouts. That's not enough to win, but I should manage better than eighth. The day after I'm riding a 3-up time trial with Ben Anstie and Chris Tweedie - a mighty Chippenham team indeed!

Tuesday gave me a New Hope. I took advantage of the excellent weather (rain followed by drizzle) to have a day off and go riding through the Mendips with mon colleague Robin. We did the Burrington / Cheddar loop, about 3.5 hours all up. I got up Burrington in 8'33 (need to do it in 7'10-ish-or-thereabouts to win in two weeks, but I think I'll end in something closer to 8'00) and the national hill climb course up Cheddar in 8'40. I don't know what the winning time there will be, but I'm hoping to sneak into the top 20.

I finished An Equal Music by Vikram Seth, and a jolly good read it was. Not exactly happy, but well written and very powerful. Seth does a superb job of describing music in words. It ain't easy to capture that.

I saw Day Watch (Dnevnoi Dozor) too. Good sequel to Night Watch, wot I seen last year, although I prefer the first one. I do like Anton. нет is my watchword.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Journo worlds '07

This will most likely be long and almost certainly not worth reading, but that's never stopped me in the past. And plus it's been raining and I seem to have picked up a hangover from somewhere, so I may as well make best use of the conditions.

The important one is the middle one
© Jeff Jones

This year's journo world's were in Austria, Salzburg, or the other way around if you're of normal bent. It was a relatively simple task to get there, thanks to aeroplanes and Paul Godfrey's van to take my second bike.

I arrived on Wednesday evening and was met by Primoz #2, a friend of Primoz #1, who works in the SalzburgerLand tourism dept. We had a rather pleasant fisch dinner at a restaurant on the Wallersee, north of Salzburg. It's a beautiful area of Austria: lots of greenery, lakes, hills, nice roads and dumplings. More of those later.

I was staying at the Freizeitparadis in Köstendorf, which was a an odd combination of an indoor sports centre and a hotel. Whatever, it had beer and sauerbraten so it must have been OK. At breakfast I chatted to the cleaning lady, who besides being good looking also walked like Arnold Schwarzenegger and spoke at least four languages. She was clearly in the wrong line of work.

SalzburgerLand is noice
© Jeff Jones

The top of the TT course
© Jeff Jones

The first lot of Slovenians rolled up on Thursday morning, by which time I'd already gotten ready to do a recce of the time trial course. Primoz #1 met me at the start and we did a full lap. It was trickier than we thought, starting in Henndorf at the top of a hill and rolling down it via two hairpins and a bit of gravelly road. The bottom hairpin was annoying, because you couldn't take the descent fast at all if you wanted to get around it. Oh well, it was the same for everyone.

Once at the bottom, it headed back up via a short but steep section, then turned left onto the main road and right a few hundred metres later. Then it was a gradual climb with some little steep bits until 4km, following a Mozart tourist route. We had to be prepared for quite a few changes in rhythm. Ho ho.

After the top of the hill, it became a narrow single lane road which descended and snaked around until we got to Neumarkt. There were quite a few gravelly corners in this bit, and I'm definitely glad we rode it. At Neumarkt, we shot out of a side street and onto the main drag, taking care to avoid the traffic. That caused some concern, but we assumed it would be all closed for the race. Another ho ho.

It was fairly straightforward after Neumarkt. The road became an undulating two lane affair, going past our hotel and heading down the other side of the lake to the finish at Seekirchen. The last bit was downhill into the town, and also quite dangerous because you didn't know if cars/people were going to come out of side streets.

We drove the course twice to get it properly ingrained, and I spent a lot of time awake that night a) trying to ignore my roommate's heavy snoring and b) trying not to fall off on each imaginary bend. It was a lot better when you were actually on the bike, but it wasn't a course where you could go flat out all the time on.

The evening's reception was in a bio-farm in Seeham, on a neighbouring lake. It was excellent to catch up with everyone from previous years as well as to meet a few new bodies: there were nearly a hundred journos at this year's event. Ellis, Paul and Pam from Procycling had all made it, so I guessed that my road bike did as well. I consumed as many dumplings (knödeln) as I thought wise, having also had one with my sauerbraten at lunch at 4pm. I felt strangely leaden after that. Austrians do stodgy food really well.

The highlight of the night was the crossbow shooting competition. A number of us had a go in trying to skewer a bit of wood with a proper crossbow, complete with safety catch. None of us managed to kill anyone, so that was a plus. I don't think we won.

Beddy-byes and I was introduced to Srecko, my roommate, an ex-400m runner from quite a few years ago who was just doing this for fun. He snored so I didn't sleep for the next three nights. That might explain why I'm so wrecked this week. It didn't bother me too much at the time though.

The zeitfahren

My start time was 12:07, about two-thirds of the way down the 25 starters in my category. It was a perfect day with no wind and blue skies. My plan was a) not to fall off on the first two corners b) not to fall off before Neumarkt c) not to fall off anywhere else and d) win.

I took the descent and first two corners very steadily, overcautious yes but that's how I'd planned to ride it. I got to the bottom and was so happy that nothing untoward had happened that I almost didn't believe I was still racing. I felt good going up the hill and caught my minute man after only three minutes. On the flatter bits of the rest of the climb I was in the big ring, hitting 43km/h and now enjoying it.

At the top I could see my two minute man, Primoz about half a minute ahead. But I ended up catching my three minute man before him. I got Primoz just before Neumarkt after 11 minutes. In the meantime I'd misjudged one corner and had to use the brakes too much, but it wasn't disastrous. The other corners I took steadily. Perhaps using some more aggression would have been better in hindsight, but that's easy to say.

Neumarkt was not good, as I shot out of the side street just after a woman had walked across the footpath in front of me. The one policeman there was letting through traffic in between riders, so even though I had a fairly safe turn onto the main drag, I found myself right behind a big bus that wasn't moving! I got around it and wove through a couple of other cars before zipping down the next hill and thankfully out of town. All of the riders had this problem, including the winner. That's what you get when you run a TT through a town at lunchtime on a Friday.

I checked my clock and was delighted with covering the first part of the course at 40km/h. It was altitude-neutral but most of the climbing and technical parts were now over. I was expecting an average closer to 37-38 at this point.

The last part was good because I could assume the position and try to empty the tank over the next 11km. I caught three more riders on the false flat up to Köstendorf, then another one on the nice downhill bit through Weng and Hüttich. 68km/h - the 53x11 was handy. There was a bit of an uphill with 3km to go and I knew that was the place to keep the speed up because I couldn't go flat out in the final part. It was nice to get that over with, but the last two turns were a bit annoying.

I came to the second last left hander and there were two rows of cars banked up in my lane, and another car turning into the opposite lane as I was approaching. The policeman stopped the traffic in time but I had to be careful. Again in hindsight, I should have turned onto the left side of the road instead of going all the way to the right, because the policeman at the next junction had stopped the traffic so there was a free run. But I couldn't know this and it was best to play it safe.

The last bit down into Seekirchen was better and quieter than I thought, and I didn't have to ease off the gas too much. I finished in just under 31'40 for 22.7km, and was really happy with the average of 43km/h for a course that only lost 30m. My average power output was 356W and that was also very good, considering the downhills and corners.

But with a time trial, you never know how the others are going to fare.

Me after the TT
© Jeff Jones

As I chatted to Paul, who had gotten lost at the fourth corner (no marshal, just a sign, and he hadn't pre-ridden that bit of the course. Argh), I watched the rest come in. I'd caught seven riders so I knew I'd done well. But then Roel van Schalen flew past the finish on his Cervelo P3. I checked his number: 62 (I was 49), subtracted 13 minutes, and realised he'd probably beaten me by five seconds.

The results confirmed this and I was momentarily gutted. Annoyed, too, after someone told me he was an ex-pro. He wasn't though, just a good Dutch amateur who missed the journo world's last year due to injury and was really determined to win it this year. Upon reflection, there was no shame in being beaten by him, even if it was only 4.51 seconds! We'd beaten all the U35 riders over the same course too, as their quickest was 31'58. Oh well, at least I'm in the most competitive category!

In our category, Italian Giovanni Fantozza also did 31'58 with another Brit, Julian Bray in fourth with 32'45. I have a feeling, although I can't prove it, that the Italian was lucky to do that time. Last year, he was 2'40 behind the winner in this category, and 1'40 behind Jules. And in the road race the next day, he was nearly seven minutes down.

I guess if I'd done a technically perfect ride I would have shaved off 10 seconds. Or if I'd been able to produce a measly two more watts I would have shaved off 5 seconds. Coulda, woulda, shoulda, but that's how it goes. I know I'm not a technically perfect rider so I can't complain.

I downloaded the Ergomo data afterwards and had a good look at it, seeing all the places where I braked or slackened off. It was fascinating and gave me a bit of interesting feedback. I also think with that sort of power output I can go quicker in future just through aerodynamic improvements and better pacing. Well, I'll have to wait another six months before I can really try that out.

Splits

4km: 7'05 (gain 65m)
10.4km: 15'40 (lose 70m)
22.7km: 31'39 = (lose 27m)

Avg. power: 356W (I don't think it was reading correctly the previous week, as this seemed more in line with what I'm capable of)
Avg. HR: 177

Me, Roel van Schalen and Giovanni Fantozza on the podium of the TT
© Jeff Jones

More knödeln

After a post-race beer, we headed to Neumarkt for another evening reception. I got the full run down of Ellis and Paul's rides. Paul was a bit lucky that he found the course again I think, because he completely missed the first part and went on the main road to Neumarkt, but came into it from the opposite direction! Ellis had also missed the non-marshalled corner, but realised his error quickly and turned around. He ended up last in the U35s but time trialling isn't really his thing. And of the Slovenians, my roommate from last year, Braco, did exactly the same thing and ended up not finishing. Primoz called him 'Garmin' after that.

The bio-beer was rather good, and helped wash down another mountain of stodge. Paul and I were trying to work out the density of the knödeln, and wondered whether they were actually denser than black holes. I think they were, and it would be interesting to do some gravitational attraction experiments on them.

We discussed tactics for the next day's road race. "Well, none of us can sprint, Ellis is riding in another category so...I'll probably try to attack."

With such careful planning, everything was sure to fall into place.

Dirk, Paul, moi, Ellis
© Jeff Jones

The strassrennen

The road race was over four laps of a 13.5km circuit around another lake. It was a lot flatter than the TT course, but there was a bit of a hill with 3km to go. Unfortunately, it was a headwind so I thought getting away there would be difficult. And it was.

Andrej and Gorazd oversee Primoz's bike before the RR
© Jeff Jones

We had over 30 starters as we rolled off to the sound of AC/DC's TNT, some five minutes behind the U35 bunch. Our first lap was quite sedate, and I chatted for a bit with Mr Van Schalen. He was very keen to win the road race as well, and asked me about the possibility of an early break because he didn't want to be at the finish with any sprinters. I told him these sorts of races were tricky because the strongest riders are well marked, but wait until lap two.

To his credit, he did wait until we had crossed the start/finish line at the end of lap one before attacking. That broke the bunch up into several bits, and I decided it would be prudent to make my way up to the front bit. It came back together, but just as it did a French rider crashed right in front of me and slid diagonally across the road. I didn't quite have to go onto the footpath to avoid him, but it was close. I think he was ok but he didn't rejoin the race.

We slowed down, allowing an Italian (Maccioni) and an Austrian (Del Pozo) to go off the front. I think hardly anyone noticed this, which was weird. I watched them ride away and they had a good 40 seconds when they took the right hand turn about halfway round the second lap. I wanted to stir up the chase a bit and put in a small attack before the corner. I looked round and saw only Slovenian Robert Baumann on my wheel, so I went a bit harder to open up the gap. They let us go for some reason.

Unfortunately, Mr Baumann wasn't the best choice of breakaway companion. He did less than 1km of the next 13 in front and kept asking me not to drop him. Being a kind hearted soul, I let him stay there although a few more turns would have been nice. He apparently had no idea that we were actually chasing - he thought we were in the lead!

We could see the two ahead of us slowly coming back, but once we got over the hill near the end of the lap we could also see the U35 bunch ahead! The two in front caught the bunch with about 1km to go, leaving us dangling at 10 seconds. Annoyingly, the bunch sped up after the Austrian got one of his teammates to drive it (he admitted this later). I have no idea what speed we were going but I know the first lap was 22'30 and the second closer to 19'00.

Baumann did one more very short turn at the start of lap 3 as I swallowed my first PowerGel. Mmm, vanilla. I dug a bit deeper and we finally caught the bunch at about the place I'd attacked on the previous lap. I looked back and couldn't see a sign of anyone chasing us, so that was good: we must have had 40 seconds. We finished up with 1'36 on a chase group of four and 6'48 on our original bunch.

It was a relief and an advantage to be in a bunch again, although I would have preferred it if it'd just been four of us. I know we wouldn't have had any problems staying away because we ended up towing the U35 bunch around on the last lap anyway. I also tried attacking at the end of the third lap, but it was impossible with all the U35s also attempting to race. I use that term loosely because they limited their attacks to the hill and didn't bother keeping up the tempo on the flat.

The four of us reached a silent agreement to work on the final lap, even if Baumann still thought there were only two of us ahead. I had been feeling OK but I realised when I attacked on the last hill that I didn't have the gas to get away. The Italian was right on my wheel and refused to work, even though I told him he would beat me in the sprint. I had absolutely no confidence in myself in that regard, but maybe I should have.

I felt exactly like I did in the Thursday Castle Combe races after a Wednesday evening 10. I attacked another couple of times, each time with less oomph. It was always the Italian who marked me and I basically gave up with 1.5km to go. I ended up in fifth wheel because one of the U35s had joined us and got in the way (we had a gap to the rest of the bunch by this stage). On the roundabout with 500m to go, he swung off, leaving Baumann and I with an uncloseable gap to the front two. I had to work bloody hard to get around Baumann in the sprint to secure third, but I did enjoy watching the two leaders fight it out for the win.

The Austrian had it won and started celebrating with 20m to go, sitting up and raising his arms. He didn't see the Italian on his left for some reason and he was pipped on the line. It was bloody hilarious. Maccioni did deserve to win as he'd ridden a smart race. He'd also skipped the time trial, which was exactly what I did last year to save myself.

I didn't dwell on finishing third too much - as far as I was concerned it was a bonus after aiming for the TT. Yes I probably gave up too early after getting myself into the winning break and should have had more confidence in my sprint. But I still enjoyed the race, which was more positive than last year's. Strange to say, it was nice to see someone else win. Mr Maccioni was delighted with his jersey and Del Pozo wasn't too disappointed either. I got to shake Eddy Merckx's hand on the podium again too :-)

Then it was time to drink a lot of free beer. After the podium ceremonies, we headed into Salzburg to a bierhaus and had some tasty 'Die Weisse' beer and discussed many things, most of which didn't relate to cycling.

Rehydrating in a Salzburg bierhaus
© Jeff Jones

The Eddy Merckx classic

Three hours sleep and a lot of beer later, I realised I had to ride a 150km cyclosportif on Sunday. I did not feel well on getting up at 6am but after the usual breakfast of bread and jam and coffee, I was at least prepared to start.

There were about 1000 starters, I think 250 of which did the 148km route. I started in block 3 about five minutes behind the front riders, and was quite relieved to get going as my head was spinning too much on the start line. I overtook a lot of people in the first 20km to end up in about the third group, where I stayed until we hit the first real hill after 90km. I could see the second group ahead and tried to catch them, but was let down when most of them turned off at the top of the hill to do the shorter route, leaving me on my own.

The last 50km was the best bit, because we were in the high hills above Salzburg. I reached a particularly steep one and saw a guy on the side of the road trying to pump up his tyre. I stopped and lent him my pump, which he appreciated. But I was passed by a few guys and it took me ages to get them. Waste of time anyway, because they dropped me on the last big climb. At the top, I enjoyed the fantastic view of Salzburg as I blasted down the other side. One more hill and it was all over with me feeling somewhat under the weather. End time: 4:24, which was 22 minutes behind the winner and good enough for 36th. That was OK as I wasn't pushing it today.

Post-ride hydration
© Jeff Jones

Salzburg

Monday provided an opportunity to cruise into Salzburg and look around the old city. Very picture-skew. The highlight was definitely sitting outside at the Mozart Cafe and drinking Mozart's Cafe, which tasted a bit like Welsh coffee with a hit of some liquor. Just the thing after a two hour bike ride in the heat.

Still, it was all about the atmosphere. As I sat listening to 10 minutes of bell tolling I imagined Mozart himself would have composed his Requiem here, or whatever the equivalent of AC/DC's Hell's Bells was, back in the day.

Clearly, this is the ~~alleged~~ coffee that Mozart himself used to drink
© Jeff Jones

London

And then it was back to cold, grey and wet England. At least London afforded the chance to catch up with sister Lucy and cousin Justine and drink a certain quantity of good Belgian beer at a bar somewhere near Farringdon. Noice.