A tale of two Sidis

The weather Sunday morning was evil, it was cold it was wet and the thought of 3 races didn't fill me with joy, but head to Little River I did for GMBCs 3 stage race. Thankfully the weather cleared and although cold, the day turned out to be suitable for the racing of mountain type bicycles.



There were three races, I think this has been mentioned before, but it's an important fact and I want to ensure it holds firm in your mind. David stepped up to A-grade joining Ryan on the rigid, single speed, Ristretto. Jim and I decided the weapon of choice involved gears and suspension, but Ryan's a hard man and rigid SS is the hard man way. Darren and Prue rolled in later with the boys, chatting and taking photos it's good to see Darren out from behind the welding gun, sadly he couldn't be convinced to race.



The first race was a short time trial. Straight up the fire road above the car park, straight down twisty single track in the open field. 6 minutes later, heart and breakfast wedged firmly in the throat it was over. Ryan 7th, Me 9th, Jim 12th and David 18th.

Between races the large crowd of riders mingled and chatted, the event really had a good club race atmosphere with plenty of talk and smiles. Soon enough though it was time for the smiles to be put away and the elbows to come out again, all aboard for the XC race. The course climbed the old boulder climb, the quick pace did well to separate riders before twisting along the link track to the top ring road. Head down, bum up to the top of the black bermed/rock garden descent and finally down to the fence track. The highlight for me was the descent, each lap the speed increased until on the final lap I had to unblock my ears at the bottom.

Just over an hour and it was back to the tents to laugh and joke, some quick bike maintenance and refuel the body. Ryan 9th, Jim 12th, Me 14th and David 18th.

During the break the 2008 Baum Mont 24 hour team was discussed. 6 man or 4 man? Geared or Single Speed? Suspension or Rigid? Roadies allowed? The jury is still out, I'll let you guess who was suggesting all the hard man options.

The criterion was short, 15 minutes + 1 lap, with each lap taking a couple of minutes. Pre race everyone discussed a gentleman's agreement for at least the first lap, after all these years I still thought it might happen so lined up near the back. 3, 2, 1, GO and go they did! With my forks locked out it was time to take 'The Dog' for a run and see who could be chased down. Me 9th, Ryan 14th, Jimmy and David got lapped.



That’s a 2-1 win to Ryan, who invited him anyway?

Fun day, good turn up of great people and awesome trails. Sounds like a recipe for grins, now if only my legs would stop hurting.

Rock Hop at Beaconsfield

As I write this, the rain comes down outside - relentless and wet. 24 hours from now I expect to be cold, wet and waiting to head off for a lap on a track that has been thoroughly churned up by the 500 people who have done a lap before me. I don't know what our results will be like, but I do know that I will be about to get myself and my bike covered in mud. Should be GREAT FUN!!!

I will take a camera along and get lots of wet muddy photos which I will post here, just as long as the camera survives.

Until then....

08 SS Nationals

The following story is of a man, a bike and a whole lot of beer. If you are offended by the absence of precision or performance I advise you stop reading now, this is not a story for you.

Photos can be found here.



Please direct any holes or inconsistencies in my telling to Mischa and the Bottles and Chains Gang. They put on a debaucherous weekend that must have taken weeks of hard work, thankfully they also providing me a place to sleep. Thanks also need to go out to the Hobart mountain bikers who shared their trails with us, I have reviewed my concept of hills and with your help found it lacking.

In the week leading up to the 2008 Australian Single Speed National Championship, I had an epiphany, I'm not hard core. I'm somewhere close to moderate core, and have been for a long time. I'm not sure if this enlightenment spurred me to prove myself wrong, or it was simply the need to get away after some solid weeks at work. Either way tickets and accommodation were hurriedly arranged with what felt like only hours to spare, then off to Tasmania I went for a weekend with my bike.

My Cubano was stripped down, cleaned and packed. The bike ready to ride, only weighed 8.8kg, but with the rest of my gear the box that contained it tipped the scales at 22kg, thankfully I booked with virgin blue, who have generous conditions for sporting goods including bikes.



I arrived in Hobart around 9:30 Friday night, hopped in a cab and proceeded to the pub with only a short stop detour to deposit my bike at some house I wasn't convinced was Mischa's. The pub was like most I've been to, full of Victorians, and fixed pool tables. Mum, if you're reading this, I only had 4-5 beers (jugs), and was home much earlier than normal (turns out Tassy shuts early).

I awoke after a restful nap showered, dressed and flew out the door to make it to a guided tour of the local trails, kindly provided by the local mountain bike riders. I should take the time to point out my current form leaves much to be desired, so when our transit route took us towards a dirty great big hill known as Mount Wellington, I was less than thrilled. 3 hours later, I'd ridden up and down said mountain and the one it had been hiding behind it, more times than my un-breakfasted legs desired. The lure of free beer and bbq had complete control of all my brain functions, it was on to the BnC BBQ.



The ravenous horde consumed the awaiting snags, showing no sign of let up until the hot plate was cleared. It took a couple of loads for the poor community electric BBQ to stop their hunger, just in time for the skid competition. I entered the lineup, nervously watching the track bike in front of me, concerned about the grip on my new tyres. I sprinted at the line, lent forward and squeezed the left hand. Past the mountain bike, past the track bike, on to the edge of the hill, calls of "stop" behind me convinced me to lean back and end a match winning skid a meter from the far fence. Triumphant i turned and watched Duncan Murry on his rigid, fixed mountain bike fly towards me, ending with his faced pressed on the fence. I had lost, I was demoralised an alone.... PROTEST! The judges heard my cry and took pity. There was to be a rematch... in the skate pipe/bowl.



I never stood a chance in the concrete lane, it's hard surface and my soft tyres bonded leaving me tens of meters short of Duncan's repeated runs. I conceded and stood back to watch the local kids ride the bowl, I was especially impressed by the young lad on the fixed push scooter and the 13 year old launching his $300 mountain bike out onto the flat concrete surrounding the lip.



The finish of our beer supplies signalled another mass trip to the pub where further chances to redeem my honour were on offer. 16" racing, drag racing, roller racing. I was in with a chance of this championship, I was sure of it.



16" bike racing in the parking lot was the awesome fun, I won my heat, was placed well in the semi but was taken out by a vicious t-bone. I lay lying on the ground as my competition rode around me, first blood was shed.



After the 16" racing was drag racing, I fared very badly as this event, my fuller figure was not suited to the clothing and was easy trounced by the slighter figures amongst us. I can't tell you who won, it was time to re-hydrate and eat. I also took the opportunity to drop the bike and camera back home to avoid late night shenanigans.

Once again the forces of evil prevailed against me in the roller derby, I copped the bike with the low gear in the semis, I span like a junior the bike was made for, but never made ground. Humiliated I retired with a quiet jug or three. In my attempts to drown my sorrows I began to accrue several buttons, maybe I was in with a chance after all. The rest of the evening blurs into the next morning, and I'm still unsure what time I finally got to bed.

Sunday morning, a quick shower, then a mad dash to town to meet the group and ride to the Glen Orchie MTB park. I made it after only drafting 3 cars and a bus. Breakfast consisted of some plain corn chips and a can of coke in the park before hopping aboard the bike and crawling out towards the race, it seems I wasn't the only one to stop late the night before, some had even (re)started drinking to ease the pain.

I will admit the will to race was low, on the start line I decided to line up backwards, throw some confusion in the mix. The megaphone siren went off, the riders went off, turns out my plan wasn't well thought out. I turned around, clipped in and looked up the road. It was about then that a cold wet can of beer was shoved into my jersey pocket. The last thing I wanted that morning suddenly sounded like a great idea. Into the first piece of single track one handed, past the dirt jumps and local kids "it's important to stay hydrated boys" I advised, trying my best to stay upright. I took the first bit of fire road as a chance to down the rest of the can, pop it in my pocket and prepare myself to claw back through the pack. I raced on feeling fluid through the corners and sprightly on the pedals.



Coming into the start/finish for lap 2 I threw my can out like a biddon and grabbed another. This time it was done half way though the next piece of single track. The flow was still there but the hills weren't as friendly. A descent towards the end of the track was a roller-coaster of nerves and speed, hard into the downhill corner, past the photographers, over the log, past the dude in pink and on to lap 3.

The can change wasn't as quick, I decided to drink it on the spot, give myself a chance to really attack the first piece of single track... stay ahead of the hydration curve. I continued like this until finally after 6 laps (of 8) I tore the side wall on my rear tyre during an evaluation of a new line on the course and decided that my race was done. At the start of that lap I had been presented with what I believed was the last can, and it would be stupid to risk dehydration without another. I emptied my jersey and found that as well as beers the marshals had given me several badges, I was still in the running for the title.



The final race of the weekend was 16" 4X, my efforts in the XC had won me a place, and I was eager to gain some points/badges. What follows was not pretty, clipless shoes skating on tiny pedals left me at the back of the field and running with the bike above my head. I took to the sidelines and began bargaining for badges.



The remainder of the 4X was an awesome display, some crashes had the crowd enthusiastic but the young man from Sweden? who gapped every field was an awesome site. Unfortunately not being Australian he was ineligible to win the day so Vietsy took out the honours.



I felt that with my racing, drinking and bargaining I had enough badges to win the overall title. 32 little black badges adorned my cap, I stood up to present my claim only to hear someone else continue to count past 50. They must have bargained better than me, so I donated my badges to one of the females vying for the women's title.

At the end of the weekend I had come away unsure if I was hard core, soft core or moderate core, all I knew was the trails were great, the beer was cold and the people were friendly. Maybe next year I'll be champion.

Single Speed Nationals

Team Baum member Neil is a risk taker.

This is proved by one fact. He is going to the single speed nationals this weekend. It is rumoured that race entrants must blow at least 0.15% blood alcohol content from the drinking the night before or they will not be allowed to start the race. Further, if you do not have 7 piercings and 4 tattoos (a brand counts for 2 tattoos) you will have to go to the on course body artist to get yourself up to spec.

I hope Neil is ready for this.

Should he survive, he will be back next week with photos for the blog.

Ryan’s Week/Beechworth Six Hours In The Saddle Results

Ryan's Week

Ryan Moody, who is one of the team that builds the bikes at Baum, started his week of preparation for the Six Hours In The Saddle with a night on the town finishing at 2am. He followed this up with a half marathon on Sunday. He was in building bikes Monday and Tuesday morning, then off to walk in the high country on Tuesday afternoon. He spent 3 days being blown off the Razorback and walking through snow arriving at the Team Baum accommodation on Friday night before the Six Hours In The Saddle. Darren had talked him into riding the rigid single speed (sucker), so he set off, having never ridden the Beechworth trails before, with six hours of solo riding in front of him. Now, my personal opinion is that he is a little loopy …. what do you think?

He did a pit stop to change gearing and Darren was between laps so he helped out while Ryan recovered.

After four hours he was running seventh out of the seventy solo entrants. As his fingers started running out of the strength required for braking, he was regretting being on a rigid single speed - nice and light, but a bit hard on the bumps and hills! After just over five hours he decided to have a rest…..that lasted until the end of the race time.

Beechworth Six Hours In The Saddle Results – Baum

We had a big group of riders up at Beechworth to race six hour this year. The results were as follows:

Darren: lots of cramping. Sometimes hamstring, quad and calf at the same time.

Ryan: fingers used for braking worn out.

David: a couple of crashes, two front tyre blow offs and some blood.

Jim: A realisation that four weeks off the bike affects your fitness.

Neil: A nice meal of Thai food.

We also had the kids up for the weekend and did a winery tour on Sunday to make the most of being in a wine growing region. A great weekend was had by all.

Next race: Geelong Mountain Bike Club 6 Hour, 4th May 2008. See you there.

This crew is not our kids, but they looked so cool I had to include them.

Proof that Darren does not spend all his time behind the welding mask - because in the end it is all about the riding.

Otway Odyssey Mind Techniques

Hi there readers of the Baum MTB Team blog. I am the newest member of the team, and I started off with a ride in the second Otway Odyssey.

I am sure many of you reading this have read accounts of the race - wet, muddy, much pushing of bikes up steep slippery hills, great Forrest single track etc. Rather than go into this, I will relate an interesting aspect of my experience.

Usually when I ride a long race, at some point it becomes plain old, no escaping it, hard work. Last Saturday this happened after five and a half hours. Usually I keep pushing myself, struggle a bit, worry about how much further there is and reflect on what a hero I am!

On Saturday I tried an experiment. I took my mind's focus to each part of me that was sore....quads.....triceps......trapezius.......gluts, observing the sensation in that area. After doing this for a short time, I found that it was not that hard after all! The drama of "oh this is soooooo hard" and "how courageous I am for doing this " was gone. The worrying about how far there is to go was gone. I found that the remaining, real soreness was actually not that bad. It brought me out of the drama, out of the future and into the present.

I went through the same process with another rider and he had the same response - it is not that hard after all.

Now I just have to learn to maintain that mindset for a few hours rather than a minute or two!

More photos from the Kona

As I'm sure many of you are already aware, OnTrack images is packing a wicked catalogue of shots from the race. Scoot along and order a print or two if you were there, they do a great job.

You have no chance to survive make your time

The Kona 24 hour race at Forest has been run and won, "All your race are belong to us" finished in the top 5 in men's 4s, we're still unsure of where as one of Steve's laps didn't get counted. The team consisted of Steve, Ryan, Chris Quain (my flatmate and pump track extraordinaire) and myself. Ryan had put in some training, and Chris had some extra k's under his belt since Mont, however Steve and I both felt underdone and dubious about our form, in all we had hoped for a competitive race and some fun.



This race was pretty unique, it had 3 courses used throughout the race, something I've never encountered before. I've come to think this was to help preserve the local tracks rather than provide variety for riders. But it certainly did keep you on your toes with new trails every few laps, in some of the larger teams some riders didn't get a chance to ride all 3 courses! Every one of the courses offered a series of berms that made me smile, although I admit the big ones on the first day course were huge and made it tough to get up front on the bike, still the g-forces were something else.

This year there was no car camping, so everyone was in the small, tent city on the football oval, it created a great atmosphere, with old and new friends just a pedals throw away. All of the Baum boys dossed together creating a tent/tarp behemoth that took some effort to construct Saturday morning, and what seemed like more effort to deconstruct Sunday afternoon.



The tracks were a mix of newly cut, natural flow and man assisted, with my favourite being the night course, all 3 definitely had some great sections. I recognised a few bits from the Otway Odyssey raced at the beginning of the year, some bits I learnt to love, others once again took their toll on my tired and suffering body (yoyo trail on the 2nd day lap)

Like most races, once it has started I became fuelled with a sense of competitiveness, anxiously hanging on any new time updates. White line fever or not, days later it's not the winning or losing I remember, it's the people I meet while out there riding or back in camp that keeps me returning.



I have enormous respect for the solo riders, one of whom, Belly (Andrew Bell), I saw out in the middle of the night, around 3am, he looked pretty beaten up. Amazingly he was still able to form words and told me of his effort to catch John (Claxton), getting within 11 minutes at some point. I got the impression that the gap was by then a lot more than 10 minutes and excluding an incident had given up on the win. Shaun Kinna resplendent in his Molenti top kept rocking around and managed 7th, Shaun is 42 and suffers my repeated "hey dude, I like your top" with awesome grace, especially considering he gets it every time I see him. :)

I'm not sure what the hour was when I gave a young man a quick push up the last bit of a fire road climb, but what I won't forget is how proud he was to announce "This is my first race". He couldn't have been more than 15, it was pitch black, he was knackered with at least 20 minutes to go in that lap, yet I know that he's having the time of his life and will be back to race again.



Oh, for all of you wondering about the odd team name, and post titles, go here.

For great justice

How are you gentlemen?

BaumTeam will be present and correct, if not united, at the Kona 24 Hour race in Forest this weekend. We're not all batting for the same team though. Mr Hsu will be turning out quick laps for The Old, The Fat & The Grumpy (I believe those descriptors aren't singularly representative of individuals but rather are attributes common to all of the team's members).

Neil, Ryan and I will be joining forces with McQuain under the All Your Race Are Belong to Us moniker. We have no chance to survive.



Swing past and say hi. For great justice.

As it happened -- in pictographs!

It began like this:








Then, a few short months later, here's how it went down...

Neil building the new babies at Baum HQ:










All is quiet in camp on the Friday night.




Ryan winds it out towards the end of a lap.


This is the good stuff.


Yours truly.


Neil demonstrates the real-man's guide to race nutrition:

Carbo Cake loading.


Hydration.


Midnight tweaking (ok, more like 3 am tweaking).


The mid-morning mellow, this is where the crush of fatigue sets in, just before the last ditch GU and Red Bull caffeine charging and panic fires everything up before the finish. (I like how the odd shadow here make it look like Mr Hsu is wearing a man-bra.)




Jim, the happy bicycle man! "Riding bicycles is FUN!"


Mr Hsu teaches Neil how to perform "bike-fu" on nasty singletrack blockers who bring dishonour on your family.


Ryan cranks it in like a demon.


We missed third by how much?



The obligatory team shot. A huge thanks to Volvo for the use of a ridiculously sweet XC90. Whatever Swedish majik is welded into that thing works; we're all home alive after all.


Feebs and I had no such luxury.



But we did get a pretty wicked sunset.

New bikes; The Mont

I'll start at the beginning, since that's the proper order of things, and since the start is the reason this post is ever so late. The start – that is the delivery and the 'getting to know you' honeymoon period – is normally a slow finding of grace. There's some fumbling with buttons and 'ok, you go left, I'll go right', but the embrace develops and it gets gradually more exciting. There's time for playing around on gutters, slow rides down to the park for photos and sandwiches, playful romping around on the local whoops and twisties; but that's not how it was this time.

This time the start was a headlong rush. There was no time at all and we had to get to the dance even though our fascinators had yet to arrive and our hair was barely set. Neil and I arrived at the factory three days before the Mont 24 Hour to build and collect three span-fankin' new titanium Baum Cubanos, the first three evar. It was the end of one saga, parts having sat in customs limbo for an agonisingly long time, and the beginning of another.

There were hiccups, small ones, like ordering oversize stems and regular size bars (oops!). And there were amazing graces of timing and co-ordination which saw me intercept a new light mount, express posted to Benalla, on the way to the race. Neil collected the third XTR shadow rear derailleur in the country from the Shimano tent on the morning of the race and did a hell of a job of getting everything on our bikes straight and tight by midday.

When the gun went off at 12 o'clock on Saturday the bikes had yet to be ridden, the brakes were barely bled, fuck all of nothing was bedded in and— who can remember what pressure is supposed to go in these forks? Squish squish. A little less I think. Pshht. Holy crap, these things are amazing. No, not like that. Turn the damping up. Oh my god. Neil, Mr Hsu and I were good to go. Baum-shop ring-in roadie, Ryan, had never been off road much before. Nor had he ridden at night, but we got the vague impression that he could turn a pedal given half a chance, having heard whisper that his training partner in seasons past had the last name 'Evans'.

So it starts with the race. I won't talk about the bikes for now because it starts with the race. The track was face-meltingly fun. More or less flat and all-over-the-place swoopy. Whoops and berms everywhere, very little fire road, lots and lots and lots of singletrack and for the most part it was smooth. Not so smooth after 15 hours of pounding come 3 am, once the roots and rocks were a little more exposed and the braking bumps were deepening and shifting with each lap, but certainly no Reedsdale rock garden. In a word: fun.

There were some lessons. Mr Hsu learnt that ExtraLight's seatpost clamps aren't called ExtraTight for a reason. Neil learnt that alloy nipples aren't the place to win the gram counting race with Steve. I learnt that XTR disc rotors are very sharp, that Fox forks are imbued with The Lord's Own Goodness and that motor homes with gas stoves, double beds, showers and toilets are very much like the Hilton at a 24 hour race. Ryan learnt to ride dirt (and he learnt fast); and we all learnt that Thompson's micro-adjust posts don't need grease.



When my watch fired off at 2 am my eyes didn't immediately open. Instead, my brow furrowed real deep-like and a vile, visceral reaction to the sport welled up into a big lump just beneath my sternum.

Fucking... who does this sport? It sucks! Arrrrghhhhnnnnnnnnchchhhh. I clawed my way out of bed, not at all grateful that it was wider, warmer, more woman-filled and better insulated from the runway noise of the Canberra airport than everybody else's. 45 minutes later I was happily zipping along the trails, too warm for arm warmers, and calling out cheery thanks to the race marshals and people who let me slip past them.

When I rocketed back into transition to claim the slowest lap of the night, Neil asked me how the track was. 'The braking bumps are getting deeper.'
'Pfft. Pussy.' Two laps later, he rolled back in oozing blood.

Now, it went on and on like this well past dawn. Till 1:00 in fact, daylight savings time kicking in some time during the night. Roadie Ryan, who'd been well off the back during our trundling recce lap, layed down night laps which put me to shame. Day laps too actually. I got my mojo back and fell deeply in love with my new titanium affair. You're probably utterly sick of hearing about the race (we came 4th by the way, missed third by about two minutes which is a bitter pith given that we'd been as high as second at one point), so I'll get onto the bikes.

Or rather, my bike. Neil and Jim can tell you about theirs later on if they like. They're more or less the same in that they're painted alike, are made of the magic metal, are hand butted, sized to fit us like exquisite gloves and godawefully expensive nice.

We have differing wheels, brakes and miscellaneous finery. Jim, being the midget (supernaturally strong midget) that he is, has a frame butted to within an inch of it's life. It's quite sublime the way the tubes taper and wane.

Without further ado, here are the pics. I'll try to get out and take some nice ones, but for now these will have to suffice. Total weight for my bike is somewhere around 9.8kg, with pedals, steel bolts and a Stans-filled UST tyre setup.