Finally, after months of threatening, begging and whining for donations The Inaugural Sydney, Ride to Conquer Cancer had rolled around. The tyres were as pumped as I was. The bag was packed and the Bride had the well-thumbed copy of the life insurance policy on the kitchen bench should it be required. She is always so very supportive.
I ripped open my rider packet. It contained a jersey, a couple of name plates and what appeared to be a clothing list for scout camp jamboree, entitled “what to pack”. Following the instructions diligently I attached my two name plates. As I found out later in the event these name plates were both friend and foe. With my christian name clearly and boldly emblazoned, supporters and fellow riders could cheer me as I passed by, urge me up the hills, or exhort me to “hold my F#&%ing Line”. Later in the ride, DHBCer Greg and I also found out that it allowed for personalised abuse by red necks as they passed by hurling colourful insults. Next Year I will have my name translated into Cantonese and written in characters, that ought to fix ‘em!
The final act on Friday night was DHBCer Bill CX dropping his bag over for transport to Sydney Olympic Park the next morning. He was planning on riding out, departing home at 4.45. You wouldn’t bother going to bed would you? I also confirmed with Nozzle (Noel) that I would collect him at 5am. So all that was left was to lock and load and hit the road.
Ready to go
The Saturday morning wake up alarm was uneventful. I had nightmares that there would be a repeat from last weekend, but the planets aligned and all was right chronologically. I tossed everything in the car and strapped the bike to the roof. Rinse and repeat at Nozzle’s house and we were away. The SOP set up was great. Clearly marked access points etc and the bag trucks all ready to go. I dropped Nozzle with the Bikes and Bags. I carefully removed the thousands of dollars worth of carbon fibre from the roof of the vehicle before driving into the carpark. This is an important step and should be noted for later.
Breakfast was served and the masses formed. We bumped into Michele looking great in her Lifehouse Jersey and her riding mate (who’s name escapes me sorry). I found my various riding mates, some from the Club, some from Work and my neighbour (more on her roof rack later). My Tent mate was at this point nowhere to be seen. I sent him the obligatory “you ridin’ or you hidin’” text. A few minutes later he responds with “I am in Canada”. This is good as I now have a tent to myself and you just never know when you might get lucky.
At the start line there were plenty of conversations that went something like this. “Hey, can you lookout for my mate?” “Yeah, what’s he wearing?” “Yellow lycra” “You idiot”. It was like a “Where’s Wally” convention, almost 2,000 people in the same kit. Although as we all know, lycra is a privilege and not a right, mine being case in point. Next year I hope they have a “kaftan” option.
Suddenly, and without any warning the air reverberated with this loud, brash American accent. It was like some “pep rally” at an American College footy game. For a brief moment I thought it may have been a certainTexan whom cannot be named. If I was taller I might have been able to see, ah well that’s my lot in life. The loud American handed over to the various sponsors etc. Then the National Anthem burst through the speakers. I did as most Aussies do, shuffled my feet and hummed the part in between “Australians all…. and, Advance Australia Fair”. The MC then thanked the traditional owners and custodians of the land, whom I was surprised to learn weren’t Juan Antonio Samaranch and the IOC. The things you learn, huh?
The view from the back of the pack
The gun went off or the hooter hooted or whatever and away we went. It was a Zoo. Once we got out of Sydney Olympic Park the pace slowed even further. I average 18.5kph for the first 20K. At that point it looked like it was going to be a very, very long day in the saddle. As we ventured west, through Parramatta and Prospect the though crossed my mind that whilst this event was named the Ride To Conquer Cancer, a better descriptive could have been the Ride to Conquer Potholes or the Ride to Conquer Traffic Congestion. It really wasn’t until we got the Prospect dam that the roads started to open up and slower riders drifted to the back.
The weather was cool and clear. There were one or two ankle snappers just prior to the first stop I recall that was about 30K in, not too far passed Prospect Dam. A great view, if you stopped to smell the roses. I didn’t stop and no roses were smelled. With some open road I was keen to drop the hammer and go. Once on the M7 bike path, I fairly zoomed along and picked up a few wheel suckers along the way. Just before the 50K mark and as I recall it, near the end of the M7 some volunteers stepped out and shouted “lunch!” There were three riders about ten metres in front of me and we all did exactly the same thing at almost the same time. The word “huh?” was uttered, followed by the liberal application of brakes. Once I had processed what was going on and turned my head back to the front I couldn’t help but notice that a) I had indeed covered the 10 metres to where the three riders were in front me, quite swiftly and b) they had now stopped and completely blocked the path. Sensing that possibly the last thing that may go through my mind would be my backside I took emergency evasive action, braked hard and tried to convert to Christianity. I came to a stop so close to the three chappies that clearly garlic had been on the previous night’s menu. With their name plates easily visible I was able to open up conversation quickly and directly. Lunch was worth the stop. Individual lunch boxes (at 9.30am!), great food. Volunteers everywhere, medical assistance, mechanics, toilets, water, suncream etc etc. I spent probably 20 mins relaxing before setting off again on the second half of the day.
The roads really opened up from here. There was plenty of traffic however they seemed to keep their distance. I could really go hard from here. In fact my averages for the last 55K were in the high 20’s as opposed to the high teens in the first 45K. The terrain was rolling hills of little note. The roads enjoyed a reasonable shoulder and were on balance quite smooth. It was very rural which I found surprising considering how close we were to Sydney. I was pretty keen to get on so I bypassed the next rest stop and by my calculations we would not be riding the full 100K as advertised. It was such that I rolled into Camden somewhat surprised. According to the Garmin I had only completed 93K. My average speed was only 24.1kph and my time was 3.51. Camp was on the Camden show grounds. Clearly the organisation had been at it for a few days. It was HUGE! The first stop was the fenced bike park. (Jo’s image sums it up). I was very concerned about leaving my bike. I know that the Bride will not be signing a purchase order for a replacement. I hovered around a bit until I spotted a chap with what I determined would be a “Sacrificial Pinarello Dogma”. I nestled my S Works with Ultegra Di2 up against his Campy Super Record in the hope that the informed criminal would go for the Italian Job over mine. I have to say the security and volunteers were very diligent. They checked my wrist band with my name plate on the way in and out. So it was all good. I was handed a sponsor supplied bag containing a pair of thongs, ear plugs, an eye mask, torch and a beanie. I did wonder for a minute if I had arrived at the “right” camp. If this was all I was expected to wear to dinner it was going to be not only chilly but rather unpleasant viewing. Fortunately it appeared that others had determined that you could wear your own clothes in between the thongs and beanie. What a relief.
Just as I parked my ride, Jo texted me with “we’re here at the massage tent”. Jo, having arrived only a few minutes before me, was in the company of other DHBCers and hell bent on obtaining a rub down. Pleasantries were exchanged and plans made. I went off to examine my accommodations and retrieve my Louis Vuitton Steamer trunk from the gear truck. The tent city that was erected was extraordinary 800 plus, blue, two person tents. It was like a Smurf Detention Centre. I found my bag and tent, tossed the bag inside and then tried to work out just how two people were supposed to fit in. I am 5ft 6¾in tall, one of my riding mates Adam is 6ft 7in. He alternated between the foetal position and a foot and half of him poking out of the tent door when attempting sleep.
My workmate Adam – tall chap huh?
The tent city had some potentially great facilities. Yoga, Massage, Medical, Rider assistance, Café, Communal Marquee, Bike Mechanics and Administration. Along with this were toilets and showers. After unpacking etc I figured getting a shower was the order of the day. I climbed into the shower. Stripped down, turned on the tap and nothing, not even a dribble. Redressed, and emerged to find the chappie whom we will from now on call “Kenny”. I asked Kenny if there was another shower that might have water. I opened a different stall, turned that tap on and it was like a Rheem advertisement. I climbed in, stripped down soaped up and the hot and strong became a like prostate problem. I spent the next fifteen minutes doing a choreographed combination of the YMCA, the Chicken Dance and the Hokey Pokey trying the get clean and wet. Those that came after me had greater problems. But regardless it was better than nothing at all.
My Tent
Now dressed and smelling divine it was time for liquid refreshment. First a coffee, immediately after that, BEER! Corona’s were popularly priced at $5 each, nice. After a couple I needed to make the choice of either settling in for a session or going for coffee again. Reason won the day I and I downed a coffee instead. I would think that a 100K powered on Nurofen alone is not the drug of choice for those looking for superior performance.
Dinner was served at 3.30pm. It felt like I was back in the nursing home. Paulette and I hit the dining hall on the assumption that you never know where your next meal is coming from. The Food was outstanding and lashings of it. The only thing we had to put our hands in our pocket for was booze.
By 6pm the worms were snapping and the executive decision was made to go the local Bowlo for a steak. Although slow the food was also super and filled the spot. Jo watched the official presentations in the Big tent then came over and joined, Bill, Greg, Paulette, Adam (my workmate) and I. After dinner the gang left to catch up with Tam and her family for a night cap and Adam and I went for coffee. Similar to Noel and his “Helen’s Hero’s” team mates, Adam and his mates were riding for a reason. I shared a little time with them before turning in.
I don’t remember the last time I got into bed at 8.30 at night. I popped the iPod in and settled back. The iPod however could not block out the constant burping, farting and tent zipping. In fact on regular occasions all three were synchronised and the tent walls fairly rippled. My phone was just about out of battery and I was concerned about not waking up in time the next morning. I will know not to worry next time.
Day 1 Garmin Log http://connect.garmin.com/activity/233567021
Day 2 Sunday 14 October 2012
I awoke at 2.30am for what appeared to be a clockwork trip to the loo’s. It turned pretty cool around 4.30 and by 5 I decided that I may as well get up. The food tent was in full flight. A full hot breakfast along with a sizable continental selection was also available. Again a plentiful supply and all served with a smile. The Volunteers were an extraordinarily engaged group of people. I was truly grateful of the effort they put in. All I had to do was two days of riding. It seemed all a bit backwards to me.
I packed up and took my bag back to the waiting gear trucks for transport back to Sydney Olympic Park. As I emerged from my tent in my DHBC kit my tent neighbour said “Douglas! Hi I am Martin” Martin being yet another DHBC team member. Did we have the biggest representation? I then retrieved my completely intact, trusty steed and clenched my loins for the trip back. Getting back on the bike reminded me of the pressure points and more to the point those points were not quite ready to have pressure reapplied to them just yet. There was a little mind over matter at that moment.
We rolled out of the Camden Showground and straight into the suburb of KIRKHAM. Now I have always felt that KIRKHAM is an excellent surname. I therefore was delighted to have a suburb also bearing the family name. As we rolled down KIRKHAM LANE we passed some of the localities such as KIRKHAM Meadows, then KIRKHAM Rise. These all seemed to fit in nicely with the KIRKHAM Morning Glory experienced earlier in the day. It was at this point that I did pay my respects to the traditional owners of the land. I gave sincere thought to the hope that there is an old spinster aunt out there with a hundred hectares and I am the only living relative. I will keep you updated on that front.
The roads were quiet and flat. I was able to really get a move on. The first 40K I was able to average about 29kph. I spent a fair bit of time with Noel and his Helen’s Hero’s team doing turns and swapping off, keeping the pace nice and high. We certainly passed more riders than riders passing us. Just as we neared the M7 a chap had a spectacular prang. He seemed to ride off the pavement and into the grass ruts. At that point it was all over for him, he cartwheeled beautifully, executing a ¾ somersault with twist and a full pike. It was pretty low speed and the grass looked soft. He leaped to his feet with plenty of “I’m ok’s”. At that very instant the event paramedic ambulance drove passed him. They screeched to a halt and leapt from their vehicle. The excitement in their eyes was evident from the get go. They had a live one and they were determined to give him the full treatment. I would not have been surprised if they ended up launching a flare, letting off smoke and calling in the Westpac rescue helicopter for an medevac extraction. I think the chap absolutely made their day.
At about the 45k mark I pulled in for a water bottle refill. This decision was costly as it was a three K round trip to the rest site and all up steep hill. I lost a fair bit of time however view was great. I also caught up with Greg so I had company for the next 60K. Every cloud has a silver lining. We re-joined the route and rolled on to the lunch stop. I don’t recall the exact location for the lunch stop however I was at around the 75k mark. We pulled in and grabbed some food. Again, excellent food and plenty of it. Soon after we arrived, Jo, Bill and Paulette pulled in. Following them up was Noel and his bunch and as I see from Jo’s pictures, Michele was there also at around that time. Clearly the C25’s/C28’s know how to keep a steady pace.
Day 2 Garmin Log http://connect.garmin.com/activity/233566994
The last 30K became a little technical, with lights, traffic and side streets. Once we hit Rhodes it was clear the rain had been through. We backed off the pace a bit and settled into the last few kilometres. It was a tremendous feeling rolling into Olympic Boulevard, with 200K down and enormous amount money raised by the DHBCers. By my calculations we raised the following and in no particular order;
Michele Wood (Lifehouse Team) $3,336
Noel Gorrell (Helen’s Hero’s) $2,527
Bill Kokas (DHBC Team) $3,070
Jo Skinner (DHBC Team Captain – Bronze Ambassador) $2,880
Martin LaNauze (DHBC Team) $3,205
Tim McAleer (DHBC Team) $6,870
Paulette Clayton (Flexigroup Team) $4,250
Greg Pankhurst (Wild Colonial Cyclists Team) $2,597
Tam Beasley (riding with her sister) $2,522
Susie Jacobs (a new DHBC member riding with her son Ben) $7,042
Ben Robinson (Sue’s son and DHBC Junior) $1,477
Douglas Kirkham (DHBC Team - Hambassador) $22,685
TOTAL Being $62,281!!!!!!!!!
I am sure I have missed a couple of people. Please let me know and I will edit this document.
Finally, as I mentioned at the beginning of the report, one must not place one’s bike on the roof rack inside a multi-storey car park. Susie Jacobs (my next door neighbour) one our newest Club Members’ husband came and picked her up from Sydney Olympic Park. He dutifully carried her bag and pushed her bike. He placed he bag lovingly in the boot and her Bike security on the roof rack. He then drove out on the Car Park. The bike and roof rack was surgically scythed from the car as it sailed down the exit ramp. It would appear there’s more damage to the car then her bike, so that’s the good news. I think they are going for a towbar mounted rack next time.
A great ride with great Club mates.
‘Til next time, Dougie
I dunno how to turn the pictures around sorry
