Paris and Versailles



I've been stalling a bit - trying to get the story and details straight in my own mind.  Funny how the chronology of things gets a little out of kilter through lack of sleep ( and note taking ).

The heading image above was taken at the hotel - packed to the rafters with Italians, some Israelis, Japanese, Thai, Americans and an Alaskan.  The deck was situated right outside the breakfast room, and a bit of a buzz started as our bikes started to come out of their cases...

While I packed away the last of the tools, Andrew ( the silent partner and powerhouse ) took a photograph for posterity, and Gav and Craig went in search of baguettes for lunch.  Then it was into the wilds around Versaille in the afternoon for a trial ride and shakedown.

( after checking out the Versaille palace gardens) We made it back to the hotel without getting lost or crashing and I ended up staying out at Guyancourt, rather than stressing and catching the train back into Paris.

There are very few images from the actual ride.  I carried a camera the whole way, and didn't fish it out once.  I only took this one at the technical inspection with my 'phone, and everyone had moved away from closely inspecting the Malvern Star by the time the camera had sorted itself to take the image.

Not a bad contrast though - titanium Litespeed in front of an 80 year old Malvern Star with wooden rims.  You may also notice the dude in the dark blue jersey - a wollen Molteni number and real woollen knickers !

To say that the tech inspectors were distracted by the wooden rims would be something of an understatement.  They didn't even bother to look at my lighting - they just wanted to know if the rims were real wood, and then turned to call over other officials for a closer look.  Nice to get some more compliments...

The next day, an afternoon train ride to drop gear with Cait in Paris, turned into a mild stress as we found ourselves a little starnded, unable to sight a taxi or the right bus stop to get from Versaille back to our hotel after dinner.  Finally the right number bus pulled up and we gratefully scampered aboard - back to the hotel by about 9 Pm, just in time to receive a txt from Andrew stating the obvious that we should be in bed ( how did he know we weren't ) - only backpack packing and a radio talkback segment to do...

Here we are downing a fruit cake, coke and water, a small pile of spare parts on the floor in the foreground waiting to be packed, waiting for Adam Spencer to call.  By 10.30 he did - mispronounced my name live on air - and it was a good lark to make jokes about our impending pain levels and the logic of riding 30's bikes across France.  A nice experience - but it meant that we were finally to bed by 11 Pm, to be up at 3.45 Am to get to Andrew by 4.45 and into the startline stadium...

Kit and Caboodle

In case you are wondering about our snazzy kit ;

 Jerseys are by Champion Systems to our own design and very nice they are too.  These really are quality items, and the guys at Champion really came up with the best price under a tight timeline - and were extremely friendly and helpful about it too - thank you so very much for delivering a few days before the promised date- that really took the stress out of the last few days at home.

We have become something of a trio of Rapha-philes of late.  The seat in their bibs is plush to say the least and little details like the pocket in the back really do speak of a quality product.  ( the chamy cream is also pretty exotically pine scented and effective, wafting scandinavian freshness into nether regions ).  Their arm and leg warmers also rate something of a mention as they are deeply fleecy warm and I needed a medium size in both - amazing given the diamater of my stick arms and legs - thanks Rapha, I feel like a bit of a muscle, with guns and thighs.  Usually size smalls are sliding down at the first opportunity.

I can't speak highly enough of the Rapha merino socks.  I made do without overshoes during the most apocalyptic weather I have ever ridden in.  My feet spent literally hours completely soaked - I squelched them out of shoes in Fougeres and they were all white and wrinkled.  But they had been warm and comfortable all day.  The socks are something like $50 for 4.  Quite reasonable and literally the best socks I've ever ridden in.

One grizzle with Rapha gear, however, is the shape of the cycling cap.  Sorry guys, but you just didn't get that one quite right.  In-situ, it looks like a small boys private school cap, pin-headed and mean ( the cap, not the boys ), without the full-bodied float of a proper Euro cotton cap.  You need to study up on a few pics of Big Mig from the early 90's, you'll get what I'm trying to say.

While on the subject of merino, I also used a Smitten underlayer with some smug snugness.  This is a really nice item, well worth taking a look at.  Thanks Carl - for a quality Tasmanian product.

I would have to remark on the rather remarkable $40 DHB rain jacket.  Scotch-guarded nylon and semi-transparent, weird large neck opening, but we stayed largely core dry and warm through heavy, heavy, heavy rain.  If folds up into a light, neat package, what more do you need ?  It completely exceeded my rather minimal expectations - I hate wearing a cape, they are generally horrible - but I was thankfull to have it along and it worked very well.

No, I didn't wear double knicks - just lathers and lathers of anti-chafing cream - re-applied at intervals through each day ( even at the side of the road ).

I only wore double socks on the last day because I was getting sore under the balls of the feet, and I wanted some extra padding.

I didn't need to wear two jerseys, and was comfortable at all points except mid-afternoon on the way to Fougeres where I think I was close to hypothermic ( because of the heavy dousing from showers ) without realising it.  I seemed warm, but my hands were losing feeling.  Double gloves and a dry cap solved that problem and I recovered with a hot meal at the next control.

Even on the night stages, I didn't wear my merino beany. 

I guess at least we looked the part...

Before the Off

But what happened on the ride ?


Final tweaks to bikes took place on Sunday the 14th of August, and a test ride into town confirmed that all seemed to be working smoothly as it should.  Importantly, Gav felt that the Aero was running the best it had to date - reassured by a swap to a NOS Philco front brake caliper and flashy Velo Orange steel stem - finally giving him some much-needed reach, without looking outlandish.

Craig also seemed calm and satisfied after some front brake cable tweaking, while my timber wheels got their first real road airing.  These little specials caused quite a stir the night before as Gav held each completed bike on the scales and found that the Malvern Star had turned from Tank ( with a capital T ) to svelte swan at the lightest mark of 12.2 Kg's.  The Whatley measured in at 12.8 and the Aero 13.8 much to Gav's good-natured dismay - the extra heft explainable by about 20cm of extra steel seat post, heavy tyres, bigger light unit and a much longer steel stem.

Together and rolling...

Allow me a moment here to recap the detail ;

1939 Sturmey Archer rear hub in the Malvern Star.  Timber rims from CBItalia ( excellent value at a shade over $200/pair landed in Tas after a 10 day wait ) and Challenge Parigi Roubaix tyres - 27mm of lightweight hand-made and sturdy feeling tubular tyre glued to each rim carefully with layers of Continental rim/tyre cement.  The Challenge tyres are the modern incarnation of Clement - in another age the last word in racing singles.  The appropriately named Parigi's had, by chance, removable valves allowing the insertion of liquid latex to give some self-sealing capability ( thanks Mick ). 

The best available option for brake pads turned out to be relatively inexpensive BBB carbon pads in a campag cartridge shape, pad holders squeezed gently to snugly fit the new items.  Lovely period brake levers came from Warren Meade ( thanks Warren ) and finished off the bike's aesthetic beautifully.  Warren also came up with a NOS nickel plated top race clamp for the headset and a packet of new ball bearings - which transformed the handling and took a lot of worry away from the preparation, as the original item had been suffering visible stress after pervious rides.

The Gear ratio was knocked down a touch to 46x18, or 69 gear inches - a little lower than Oppy's 72 single.  Low gear and high offering the legs some alternative.  Wing nuts on the front hub only - period English Hub Company low flange item at 32 spokes.  Brand spanking Roselli 18 tooth track cog screwed onto the SA hub ( after quite a wrestle to remove the worn 30's original, an operation completed using a paint stripper for warmth and a claw hammer for leverage ). NOS TDC bottom bracket cups, new ball bearings, NOS Bayliss Wiley #15 spindle and a battered but true pair of 'Utility' crank arms ( about 167.5mm in metric ).

Handlebars are Velo Orange items - the closest we could get to the original swooping steel shape - new bars swapped in to remove any concerns with metal fatigue.  I wrapped a strip of Specialized bar phat tape ( 3mm ) under some leatherette from Fizik for extra cushioning.  I contine to use ( and really recommend ) the Selle Anatomica Titanico 'leather' saddle - something like a Brooks but with significant cutouts, a synthetic leather that does stretch but doesn't need care, and offering total adjustability with a 6mm allen key- you can alter the entire feel of the saddle quickly while out riding, which is fantastic after a day out when a different pressure point is needed to ease a sore posterior.

Gav and Craig's spec remained largely as previously described.  Both changed to a very bling and lovely Velo Orange steel stem.  Gav's Aero received a NOS 'Utility' brand crank set and never-previously-used 46 chain ring, to match his NOS bottom bracket and 1/8 ball bearings and NOS Bayliss Wiley #23 spindle which solved the crank hitting the chain stay mystery.   Craig made do with his slightly longer 172.5mm Solida cranks but with a 46 ring also mounted to a NOS TDC #4 spindle, and mated to NOS bearing cups and bearings.  In both cases the result was of the oiled glass variety, despite Mick ( from The Bike Shop in Derwent Park Road ) and I failing miserably to dislodge the right hand cups from each of these frames.  Each bike has its original 80+ year old item.  I still feel a bit guilty about your B/B tool Mick - I couldn't believe that the cups could withstand the force being applied.Both Craig and Gav swapped their tyres to Vittoria Randonneurs, Craig opting for the Ultimo version with a folding bead at 32mm and Schwalbe tubes with removable valves.  I did manage to piece together a nicer front brake lever for Craig, and adjusted Gav's front lever for reach after getting better stopping results with his new Philco.  Sorry Grand Bois, we loved your tyres until we came away from 3 flats in one session on wet roads.

Both Gav and Craig used a Brooks Professional saddle.  Craig's was a new item, contorted by use to suit his anatomy.  Gav used a 1950's item from my treasured items box and found it acceptable even on the longer days.  Aluminium bottles complete the aesthetic - but proved so annoying in practice that we gave them away at Loudeac and bummed some plastic ones to use to stop the rattling.

The following day, Gav assisted to pack the bikes into our swanky hard case travel boxes, and whisked them away for transfer to the airport in the back of the trusty Commodore.  All that remained was to triple check the piles of gear spread all over the lounge room floor before cramming it into a travel pack, suitecase and two day packs.

France, here we come.



A Little More Than Co-incidence

Our Tour of Tasmania ride was covered on Annie Warburton's eveneing program just before flying, so I won't recount the tales of rain, punctures, more rain, excellent Latrobe bakery, heavier rain, more punctures, 1 minute of fame on the evening television news and a flying tail wind for the home run on the midlands...

A big thankyou to John and Faye Bloomfield again for giving up a Saturday afternoon to assist in supporting us along the coast, it was very reassuring to know that you were there along the road if we needed you, and for looking after Caity also.


The story of that ride though is really with another elderly gentelman, 82 year old 'Barney' Dunham.  Barney had secured my number through the RACT and called, hoping to learn a little more about the Aero bike - one of our trio of machines and ridden ably by Gav.  Barney explained that his father cycled and made frames in the 30's and that he had a picture of one of the bikes with the lettering Aero-Star painted on the down tube.


Some co-incidence ?


Barney offered to mail photograpghs to me, but fearing that they may get lost or damaged, I asked where he lived.  Ulverstone on the coast road to Penguin.  Would you believe that our Tour of Tasmania route would take us almost literally past his front door just four days later ?


Standing dripping wet in his carport in a momentary patch of sunshine was a really nice moment as we chatted quietly and with smiles, enjoying the three images spread out on a towel on the boot of Barney' car.  We had declined going inside as we were wet through and would have made a terrible mess in his kitchen or lounge.

Peering out of the small black and white grainy prints was a cheerful, lively looking fellow in his thirties, one astride his own racing bike, another alongside a coached rider behind the track racer with the similar name.  Although tiny, it was possible to read the Aero name, and the font ( probably typically fashionable at the time ) seemed very similar to the remaining lettering on Gav's mount. 


Barney nervously agreed to be photographed with our Aero, and I'd like to think that, for a few minutes, he held in his hand - a bike made by his father at a time when he was a small child and his father an active and industious young man.  Barney was very young when his father died, and so had no real memories of him other than those held and treasured in the photographs before us.


Thank you for calling Barney, it was a real pleasure to spend a few minutes with you.

Wheel Men

Before I really get down to the riding, French countryside, baguettes and electrical storms...


Quite a few nice things have happened along the way - rewarding in a way that PBP will never be.

The image attached is of a silver lapel badge sent to my by a 72 year old gentleman by the name of Bill Luke.  Bill had been tuned into the ABC afternoon show and listened with some interest to the 15 minutes spent talking with Richard Stubbs ( also a very generous soul who responded to our idea positively and gave us air time to plug the OCF to the Victorian audience ).  This was just a week or so before leaving for France.

Bill called the ABC studio following the interview and asked that his details be sent to me with the request that I call, as he had an old cycling medal that he would like to give to me... 

Deep in the throws of finishing up the bikes, and a little distracted, I typically took a couple of days to call - which I regret, as he struck me immediately as a very thoughtful and generous person.  He was quick to point out that he expected no payment - just thought that I might appreciate the significance of the item. 

This is as the date suggests, a membership badge of the League of Victorian Wheelmen from 1896-97.  The Wheelmen formed as the governing body for professional cyclists just a few years earlier in Victoria - and Oppy would have been a registered member on turning Professional.

When I asked, Bill exclaimed that ' it had been rattling about in a tin for about 50 years, and that his grandchildren wouldn't know what it was anyway - better to go to someone who will appreciate it...'

To say I was moved would be something of an understatement, and a little lost for the right words.

Due to my initial tardiness, the medal did not arrive by post in time to accompany us on the actual ride - however, the timing has proven quite appropriate for my current state of mind. 

What a lovely little gift to come home to following all that has happened in the last couple of weeks.  Bill, your thought and action means more to me at this point than PBP. 

I owe you a return letter Bill, and will get to it...

Gaps

Nothing since July...

As is often the case, good intentions have been well and truly overtaken by events - the few short weeks before departing for France on the 17th of August were filled with days and late nights of bike prep, riding and last minute packing lists.

And now we're back and the whole thing is done...though perhaps not quite, and certainly not over.

I'm still jet-lagged and awake at night and thinking about what transpired.  Its a mixed bag - a little like the image above. 

There is a fair bit to tell, and I'm afraid that I now have time on my hands to bore you with the intricacies of personal detail...

Stay tuned.

Going Nowhere

It is easy at this point to feel a little panicked, as though my fitness is absolutely static...

The last few weeks have been atrocious, and 45 minutes on rollers in the shed every other night is novel ( actually, not really ) but a little stagnant ( and I don't just mean my sweaty undershirt ).

Timely practice however.  Last Saturday was market day for team750M.

The previous week had been rained ( and snowed ) out - it did actually snow while we were driving down to Margate to peer into Frank's shed for the first time.

This last Saturday turned out to be a glorious day - clear winter sky, beautiful, crisp and cold as only a winter day in Hobart can be.

The image above was taken in the first 5 minutes.  The car thermometer had read 3.5 degrees on the way in, and it felt pretty brisk.  Gav and Craig and I fumbled about with banners and sticky tape, printed images of Oppy and a marquis we had never put up before.

By 9.15 I was turning a wheel.  By 9.30 I was completely sweat-soaked but warm through in short sleeves and shorts, no gloves.

Nice ankle position ( ! )

The amazement of onlookers was the most fun part - as they stopped and stared, looking to see how it was that I was supported.  The young girl pictured above came back for a second look - maybe wondering if she'd catch me out.

You can see Gav there spinning away on the home trainer - I think he also freaked people out momentarily as he'd sit up no-hands to talk to them and they would half expect him to go crashing off.

I found it hard to breathe enough to talk to people, and also necessary to keep one eye on the extremities of the front roller to avoid spearing off into the crowd.  Eye contact in this context not easy, but I did manage some nice conversations with people as they asked about the bikes and what we were up to.

I also managed to roll off into a bloke's arms at one point , as I had been paying more attention to him and what he was saying than I was on what I was doing.

Images are courtesy of Craig's iPhone - organised bunch as usual - and you can see from the middle image just how long the wheelbase of the Malvern Star is.  My road bike sits centred on the roller on the closest ( shortest ) setting.  Here you can see that the Malvern Star is a bit over centre on the front roller, and yet the roller is on the 'longest' setting.

I had to hunt around a bit amongst the moldy old collection to come up with the smoothest and hardest old 28 inch tyres I could find - the new block treads too soft and difficult to spin up to speed.  With modern tyres, it is easy to spin up to high leg revs with no load on the rollers - the old 28-inchers made the experience something like plugging into a headwind - for nearly 5 hours.

I was sore on Sunday - more than I expected to be, but at least I had managed some good muscle building and lung stretching exercise for a change...

Roll on the Tour of Tas...

Sheds

Thankyou Frank...For taking the time out on a Sunday morning to open your shed(s) for me so that I could wade waist deep in bikes from another era...

Actually, everything from 30's through to 80's bikes of various quality, condition and desirability.  It is very rare to see so many varied and wonderful old machines collected together in the one locaiton.  ( No, I'm not telling where ).

I really enjoyed standing amongst it all, possum poo included, and hearing your stories, enthuiasm and passion for the shapes and details of  bikes collected over the years - just because it took your eye, had a nice paint scheme, or rare chainring pattern.

I felt a little mercenary bargaining with you - but I think we both came away happy.  Some weight transferred from your groaning shed to mine.

What did I come away with ? 

A 1930's roadster - originally light blue under crazing black paint, with very thin guage tube walls and lovely lug reliefs, twin Philco's and original 4 inch dynamo headlight.

A post war track / path racer, mid weight but again with interesting relief windows in the head lugs and fork crown - a Brooks saddle shrunk and cracking, but maybe saveable, faded but gorgeous hand pin-striping and lettering.  Nothing super-special, but it will make a nice track bike with the right wheels. 

Another heavy-guage path racer - Post-War in vintage, complete with the obligatory thick brush coat of mid blue over the original colour - but interesting plastic 'Fleet' saddle and diamond reliefs cut into the head lugs.

Finally, a very weird and wonderful roadster built up as a 'tourer'.  1948 Sturmey Archer 3-speed hub with drum brake, plumbers pipe frame, deep roadster bars made to be used up-turned, but wide ( and shrivelled ) leather saddle on a gantry seat-post ( ? ) and the almost obligatory front Philco.  Funny how we now have 5 of these calipers, and yet a year ago, I'd never seen one.  This machine also has a lovely crank - with a chainring that looks a bit like an item used by Oppy in the 30's during his record setting rides - more research required.

So, a mixed bag, but plenty to play with in those moths post-PBP.  Don't tell my wife, but a L'Eroica plan is already hatching in the back of our minds...

The Almost 400

I guess I shouldn't let the myth continue too much longer...


We didn't actually manage all of Hobart-Launceston-Hobart two weekends ago.


The combination of Colebrook Hill, a strong headwind, and the promise of coffee in Oatlands meant a start from the main street of Oatlands in cool, foggy weather again.  Thankyou for driving us up Keith and Margaret.  It was nice to have your company as we checked tyres, packed packs and generally fiddled about in preparation to ride.


I suspect that Gav's track pump reads a little low - we managed to blow another tyre right off the rim with a report that temporarily rang gav's bell and frightened the life out of me for the second ride in a row.  A front tyre this time - and we all judiciously let a few Psi whistle out of Presta valves on the off chance of a repeat a little further up the road.


Some quick snaps alongside a gorgeous dry stone wall ( for which Oatlands has developed a real reputation ) and away we went.  Over St Peter's pass and into the strengthening headwind.



Restored working flour mill in the background


Before setting off, Margaret ( this is Craig's mum ) slipped up to me and asked for my Dad's mobile number - obviously on the ball - as it had not occured to me to dig it out for them so that they could meet Patrick in Campbelltown easily.

And there they were, standing together outside The Red Bridge as we wheeled in and made our way inside for a toasty in front of the open fire.

As we were mounting up again, the Red Bridge owner came past in his ute and stopped quickly, exclaiming; 'it's 1939' with a big smile.  I guess we are starting to look like weekend regulars.  

I always find it interesting to watch people's reaction to the biker garb in public places.  It seems to vary somewhere between the look up and down in a very doubtful way, to complete disregard, as though it is completely normal to clomp around in cleated shoes, knickers, tights and funny caps.

While Keith and Margaret would head home with a wave, Dad then played leap frog with us to Longford, on  the 522 - and it was nice to see his face along the road, as he pulled over periodically to take photographs and check our progress.

About 10 from Woolmers Gav's rear tube let go with a fizzle, and we pulled over again to swap in a spare.  I'll have to put my hand up again - the rear pads had rubbed through the spanking new tyre when braking - causing the puncture.  Very irritating to trash a new, and lovely, tyre through rushed preparation - and so easy to remedy

By Longford I was feeling a bit empty and weary, but snakes, a salad roll and date scone - devoured in about 5 minutes - got me going enough for the final run to Prospect.  This short 15Km hop was not without incident, as Gav's front brake cable then let go, leaving him to navigate the old Bass Highway round-a-bout at warp speed in the face of oncoming traffic.  We were pleased to pull into his parent's home to survey the damage and get ready for the next day's return.

As you've previously heard, I was pretty reluctant to start the day.  Thanks to dad again, and Gav's new car, we convoyed back to Campbelltown, and drove out from under the rain clouds that had soaked Launceston during the night and early morning.  I was awake and listening to the pelting sheets of rain at 5am, hoping that it would clear away.

It did sort-of stop.  The roads were largely wet as we set off from Campbelltown again at 9.  Gav had the Aero safely tucked up in the boot of his car - The intention to swap with Craig onto the Whatley at Oatlands.

What a fantastic tail-wind.  Cruising at 35 was in marked contrast to the trudge North the day before.  The image  of Craig standing to pedal ( further above ) was taken on a little false flat rise between Campbelltown and Longford - straight into the wind.  It had been shocking, and also a saviour, to swing off and go to the back, and have to ease off so much effort to sit behind without running over back wheels.  The sheltering effect so pronounced - and welcomed after a couple of Km's of driving.

I like this little image - ghosts on St Peters Pass.  Yes we were rolling at a good clip.  The road was dark and fairly quiet as we slipped through, treading hard on the pedals and wishing for more ratio's - mid too low, high too high.

I think for the first time, Craig let the Whatley off the leash on the descent into Oatlands.  He rolled away quickly - a satisfying blast to the Oatlands turn-off, where all I could think of was a bowl of steaming hot chips.  Only another 70 to home.



Treats - and a little shameless plugging of Craig's great web site


Team 750M living it large - Banana's and hot chips in Oatlands.   It doesn't get much better.  Bendy yellow fruit are something of a luxury - and I have to thank my lovely mum for spoiling her oldest boy with a treat for the ride home.  Banana's have been a little few and far between recently...

Gav and Craig made the swap - a tweak of saddle height, Gav fitting well into Craig's bling shoes to avoid playing around with a pedal swap.  A chance now for Gav to assess Craig's bling ride.  Craig in the car, camera in hand for the last sprint to the Mudwalls turn and then bomb to Richmond.  And we did really fly - big gear all the way from the top of the hill above Oatlands to the turn, pushed on by the ever-freshening breeze.



Oatlands Sweet Shop and Cafe - where the dudes hang on a Sunday afternoon


A quick breather at the top of Colbrook Hill to seat a cotterpin again and check brakes, then a welcome run down into the valley.  This should have been an uneventful run - we have ridden it so many times now, knowing where the effort is required.

The run was marred by 4 youths in a wagon who physically brushed Gav as they went past - we think with a cap or hand.  VO 0664, an aqua coloured Commodore - the number passed on to the Police once safely home.

And then the final uncomfortable run through to Cambridge in soaking icy rain.  I was pleased to step off and into the car, sodden and tired, but satisfied at two solid days - just not quite enough at this point.

I feel rude too - apologies Keith and Margaret.  Thankyou for driving out to meet us - I apologise, as I piled into Gav's car without thanking you or saying goodbye.  All I could think was 'warm shower, warm shower'.

So contrary to expectations, the Malvern Star has run a treat, the Whatley is settling in - though seating the left crank cotter will need to be carefully sorted before France, and the Aero requires more attention - so that you feel safe and secure Gav - It's on my mind.

More about the state of bearing races and rebuilding next time...

SD

Getting There

AU-1618  Registration to Paris-Brest-Paris 2011

 Reply mailto:%7Cinscription5@paris-brest-paris.org to me

show details Jul 11 (2 days ago)

Hello,

Your entry to the Paris-Brest-Paris Randonneur 2011 has been processed.
Your frame number is : 8406

For bicycle inspection and to pick up your PBP documents, you will have to bring the acknowledgment of receipt of entry that is attached to this email.

We request that you print it out, and present it at bicycle inspection, on Saturday August 20 or Sunday August 21, at the hour indicated on the document.

We wish you well with your final preparations for PBP. We look forward to seeing you at Guyancourt in August.


The organization team.

2 attachments
AU-1618.pdf

Dossier_EN_PBP_2011.pdf

Post 400

The last few paragraphs of the Mercury write-up of the 400 record ride ( posted up a few days ago ) catch Oppy just post-effort.  There are a few gems in there that are eyebrow raising and also salient for the modern cyclist.

Again, paraphrased to save looking back ;

Interviewed the day following his great effort, Oppy described a specific preparation schedule of some eight weeks duration prior to attempting the record, and some expected soreness from the efforts of his ride. 

He revealed candidly that he had thought the record lost at Launceston.  A flat spot ( in energy levels and motivation ) before Evandale had deflated his morale and the heavy conditions shifted his perspective on record possibilities, with the expectation of a nine hour return ride. 

On the journey home conditions had proven better than expected, and having overcome his stomach ailment, had lifted his output in response to the support from onlookers along the route.  

The record holder revealed that specific training methodologies incorporated the inclusion of milk into his training diet and ride food, and the practice of relaxing muscles whilst on the bike, a hint still relevant to the modern day long distance cyclist. 

Oppy’s weekend obligations were not complete however, without stage appearances at the Prince of Wales Theatre to describe his record setting efforts before an appreciative crowd, and to relate his experiences of the 1928 Tour de France accompanied by slides of this great event.

Here is a nice little follow up to that last piece, published the day after Oppy's 400 record ride.

It would  have been utterly absorbing to see Oppy live on stage describing his recent exploits and the events of the previous day.  In an era of silent films and radio, having the main star right there in person, larger than life and probably still showing the signs of fatigue in eyes and face would have been very exciting.

I can recall going to see Allan Pieper as a much younger man ( both he and I ) and being absolutely entranced as he spoke about his early professionall years and some of his best riding performances.  Although this took place in the early Nineties, the Tour de France was somenthing that cyclists read about in the journals of the day - three months after it took place...

I'd love to meet Allan again someday and apologise for being a bashful teenager too star-struck to get the word 'hello' out in response to his greeting - and to let him know how much I appreciated that he took the time to travel to Launceston to talk to us.

Allan had just retired at that point - I think feeling about for some way to make sense of his career, and come to terms with the 'what next ' as a chapter in his life closed.

By contrast, the Oppy of 1930 had been a professional for nine years - with a Tour de france and European season in his legs and a number of remarkable distance records also under his belt - really coming into the absolute peak of his physical strength and ability...The best was yet to come.

More about our own '400' soon. 

Then next up for us is a retracing of the inaugural Tour of Tasmania - to be ridden on our period bikes at the end of this month.

Grrrrr.....or maybe Brrrrrrrr

Frosty ice and snow on Mt Nelson Rd this morning.

Slippy, Dippy...Gritty, Shitty...

400

Here is a little fiction, concocted as a summary of the details contained within the Mercury write up - If you haven't read all of the pages attached previously.


A bit dense but, as you might appreciate, 1930's images are not that easy to come by...

August in Hobart is typically cool and wet, and on the evening of the third, 1930, conditions are to be as expected.  Only months before in May, Malvern Star officially opened its first agency in Hobart. Now, in order to emphasise the brand image, their young star professional is waiting calmly on the stone steps of the GPO for starters orders.  Wrapped in an itchy woollen dressing gown to keep out the very early morning chill, Oppy knows well the route he is to follow over the next 15 hours.  Appearing regularly in Tasmania since 1922, he has triumphant recollections of the course ahead.  At the tender age of 18 his first great success as a professional was forged over these same roads, fastest time and equal third in the one of Australia’s premier scratch races, Launceston to Hobart.  200 Km of rutted gravel, flattened on a fixed gear Malvern Star.  Two years later, outright victory was clinched by this growing talent with a solo win over much the same roads.

Following his first strong showing in Tasmania, Oppy had been portrayed in the local press as a ‘wonderful lad’, ‘spare and slim’, ‘good humoured’ and humble in his successes.  Now, with nine professional seasons, many remarkable motor-paced records, European road racing success, victory in the prestigious Bol d’Or 24hr event, a Tour De France appearance, and numerous Australian distance records in his legs, Oppy’s 1930 road season in Australia was just reaching a climax.  This record attempt would prove excellent preparation for the upcoming three day Tour of Tasmania ( which he would snatch from visiting French rivals in dramatic style on the last day ) and lead nicely into the Tasmanian Christmas carnivals to sharpen his leg speed prior to embarking on another European campaign.  1931 would see only the third Australasian assault on the Tour de France since the race’s inception in 1903, to be ridden in preparation for Oppy’s ultimate aim, Paris-Brest-Paris in August that year. 

This day’s ride would prove a mere warm up compared to exploits ahead, a record attempt timed to capitalise on good form and to generate valuable local publicity for his supporter and mentor Bruce Small.  Starting from Hobart, Oppy and Bruce’s plan was to set a new distance record for 400 Km, running North to Launceston and then returning immediately along the same path.  Trusting to his Tour de France model road bike, featuring a reversible rear wheel with a clutch ratio each side ( in a era when fixed gear was still regulation for road racing in some States ), front and rear brakes, and Hutchinson singles, Oppy smiled warmly at supporters, checked a handlebar mounted bidon, and with a wave of the hand prepared to embark.

Amidst several hundred gathered enthusiasts and well wishers, Oppy slipped into the saddle to set off at precisely six minutes past two, following one hundred metres behind a motorcycle scout, and trailed by support cars and officials.  In the early morning darkness the car’s headlights defined a vital though slightly wandering path for him to follow.  Oppy carried no bar or helmet mounted lighting, just a light cotton cap to keep the drizzle out of his eyes, while a dark blue jersey and white woollen tights over legs ward off the cold.  The bitumen main road North permits high early average speeds toward what was then the Tasman Bridge, ( but is now known as the Bridgewater Bridge - the oldest operating lift-section bridge in the Southern Hemisphere ).  Having crossed the river Derwent and dropped off the end of the smooth tarmac surface, Oppy rose from the saddle for the first of many climbs to the small township of Kempton. 

Between Kempton and Melton rapid progress halts abruptly, half way into the second hour of riding, with a rear wheel puncture.  Repaired quickly via a wheel swap afforded by convenient wing-nuts and support car, Oppy calmly set off again into the gloom, 160 still to cover to Launceston. 

Oppy had reached Campbelltown by 6.57 am, just over 100 Km in five hours of riding.  The conditions were proving almost the exact opposite of our own, with the exception of a shared buffeting headwind.   Recent rains that year had turned much of the highway into a rutted, muddy line through fields of standing water.  Now, under increasingly showery conditions, a decision to turn from the highway toward Evandale, just South of Perth, in the hopes of finding better conditions had proven a misjudgement.  The road surfaces were so churned up and slippery that both rider and following cars had some difficulty in staying upright and on the road.  Finally onto the concrete main drag into Launceston and a mud splattered Oppy worked quickly through the industrious outskirts of the city to the GPO and turning point.  Seven hours and ten minutes from Hobart.  Thirteen minutes ahead of his planned schedule.   Having savoured a momentary soak in a hot tub, received a quick rub down, completely changed his attire and eaten, his machine had its chain cleaned and gear ratio reduced to seventy inches from seventy-two due to the heavy conditions.  With preparations complete, away he went again bouyed by a rousing cheer from a large crowd gathered along Brisbane St in the city centre.

Finally running with the wind on his return journey must have felt fantastic to Oppy as he picked his line amongst the slop and wheel ruts.   Campbelltown came up for Oppy at 12.12 under sunny conditions, much improved from earlier in the day.

From the milestone of Campbelltown dismay began again to creep into Oppy’s thoughts as he felt the first constricting grips of a stomach complaint, requiring several stops along the verge.  During one of these pauses his rear tyre was again changed, this time for a lighter pattern, and the scout motorcycle was dispatched toward Oatlands and the local chemist in search of a remedy.  With a potion readily ingested on the move, Oppy’s colour and spirits seemed to return, and once again his legs started to find a rhythm on the gear.  Oatlands appeared quickly and the plucky champion was greeted by a large and vocal crowd of supporters who cheered encouragement while he drank a specially prepared bowl of steaming broth.  Just 50 miles from home, and with renewed spirits, Oppy left Oatlands trailed by a couple of local cycling enthusiasts and then bent to the task of climbing the series of rollers that characterise the run into Hobart.  With the end nearing, Oppy’s redoubled efforts translated into average speeds quicker than at any time on the ride, traversing the upward slopes of Spring and Constitution Hill without pause and skilfully descending the rutted slopes beyond.  Hitting speeds of 30MPH on the gravelled grades focussed Oppy’s attention more than at any other point in the ride, but at the same time refreshed the tired rider, no doubt with a surge of adrenalin.  With renewed vigour, the little township of Bagdad was reached by 3.40 in the afternoon without further incident.

We would ( thankfully ) miss the climbs of Constitution and Spring hill on our route, but with those grades now behind him Oppy was to be surprised and amazed by the support that greeted his final efforts in the run to the city centre.  As he passed the communities of Pontville and into Brighton a police motorcycle escort fell in alongside the forward scout to create a rolling closed road.  In his wake riders and motorist joined in behind the speeding cyclist, forming a vocal and supportive procession.  Afternoon football matches along the route were temporarily suspended so that spectators and players alike could line the roadside to offer their support and encouragement.  Excitement reached such a fever pitch at one point that the official cars found themselves competing with impetuous motorists who made attempts to push past the convoy to drive alongside the rider, causing a number of minor collisions.  Enthusiastic followers on bicycles threw caution to the wind in their excitement, instigating a number of falls and pileups in their attempts to race alongside Oppy in the closing miles through the City’s outer suburbs.   For mile after mile local residents lined the main road cheering and offering their encouragement. 

Cruising swiftly amidst this chaos and noise, with barely a gap in the road-side crowd from the outer suburb of Berridale to the city centre ( 10 Km ), Oppy pushed onwards toward the GPO, the start and end point for his ordeal.   Arriving a 5.14pm and some seconds, just over fifteen hours after departing, the record was firmly his by a margin of almost two hours.  The record ride now over, Oppy then rolled gently to the nearby North Hobart oval, unwinding his tensed muscles, to circle the grounds for a standing ovation from a capacity crowd of onlookers.  Presented with a modest silver cup for his efforts, Oppy noted simply his thanks for the support and kindness extended to him throughout his effort, appreciating the enthusiasm displayed by the locals and their obvious appreciation of cycling endeavour. 

Road Ghosts

I can still feel the road buzz through my finger tips and toes. 

I'm on the couch, but the last two days are still with me - my body is just coming back down from two days of effort, and I am tired, but don't feel like sleeping just yet.

Nice to feel warm...and stationary. 

I rather like the after-effects of a ride.  Slightly warm and swollen thighs, tired hands, fatigued shoulders, arms and neck muscles, aching eyes.  There is a sense of self satisfaction that comes from the effort - even if much of the day has been spent wanting to step off and pile into the car.

And that is what happened by Cambridge on the return leg - soaked by icy rain that had managed to seep all the way into socks and down the back of knicks.  Lucky to have the option with only a few Km's to home.

I'm just rambling a bit - trying to record some thoughts - ride descriptions are only just so interesting. 

I really didn't want to swing a leg this morning.  At 5.30 am the rain was pelting the roof, and I was safely cocooned within a number of quilts at my parents house - a safe and welcoming home ( even though I haven't lived there for 20 years ). 

Craig could hear my reluctance as we swapped 'phone calls early in the morning to decide what to do next.  All I could think was how unpleasant 200 would be in wet knicks - and then the hours of stripping cleaning and regreasing that would be required to re-prepare the bikes for the next run - no sealed bearings to set and forget.

I guess the guys also know only too well that I have an aversion to actual 'training' and that I have to be cajoled at times to make an effort.  I seem to be ok once the brain has settled on a course of action...find the right combination of clothes, lather the chamy cream, warm the gloves, cap peak pulled low to shield glasses.

I'd even admit that there is a certain grim satisfaction in conquering crappy conditions - which brings its own sense of accomplishment and self pride - knowing that it has been uncomfortable but really that is all.

So, I'm sitting here feeling all self-satisfied, tired but not shattered, full of food but wondering what else I can find in the pantry cupboard - but also knowing that once again, if it weren't for Craig and Gav, I really wouldn't have managed to get as far along this road as I have.

Hobart-Launceston-Hobart

This weekend will mark our second attempt at this little ride.

Earlier in the year we set off for Launceston in soft summer morning conditions, tip-toed across 10 Km's of gravel, grovelled a little into a freshening headwind to Cressy and then had a bit of a lie down in the shade in the middle of the town due to the afternoon heat.

A quick bowl of pasta ( thanks Mr and Mrs Hinds ), a shower, change of kit, and we remounted for the return ride, with a welcome tailwind - and pretty sore legs.

We don't need to ride 400 in one step this time.  And I must admit that spending 24 hours on the bike at this time of year doesn't really appeal at the moment.

We are just working up to long daily averages, and then stringing long days together.  This weekend will see roughly 200 per day for two days - not exactly the 300 per day for 4 days that we will need to do in France, but a step in the right direction.

End of this month will see 3 days of 200 - leading up to our departure for the Continent.

This weekend, however, we will celebrate Oppy's 1930 Hobart-Launceston-Hobart distance record by riding our 30's bikes over a version of the same course.

Oppy completed his ride in soggy August conditions on a single speed 'Tour de France' model Malvern Star in just over 15 hours - in spite of an upset stomach that necessitated road-side stops along the return journey.

Now, I have a bit of a theory going that is purely circumstantial but fun to imagine...

The first Malvern Star agency in Southern Tasmania opened in Hobart in May 1930 - by Frank Beauchamp.  Frank is a whole other story - and it turns out, Austral Wheel Race winner of 1899 the year following Tom Finnegan ( 1898 ). 

( Who is Tom Finnegan ?  Founder of the Malvern Star brand who set up in a little shop front on Malvern Road, Melbourne - it turns out about 2 Km South of the first architectural practice I ever worked at... )

Oppy then makes an appearance in Hobart in August - at the height of the professional road season - to attempt the 400Km record.  Something of a co-incidence ?  Or perhaps savvy marketing on behalf of Bruce and Frank Small - owners of the Malvern Star brand from 1922 and Oppy's managers, friends and supporters.

More detail of Oppy's ride is set out in a Mercury newspaper article from the time.  Suffice to say that our hero broke the record in just a few minutes over 15 hours for the entire ride in appalling wet and slippery conditions on a very simple bike ( by today's standards ).

My pet theory is that, along with his Sydney-Melbourne record, the Hobart-Launceston ride set Oppy into the type of form that would see him win the inaugural Tour of Tasmania late in the year, then ride strongly in a series of match races in the Tasmanian Christmas Carnivals, in preparation for embarking to France for his second and succesfull European season.  Oppy won a number of lead-up races, achieved 12th at the TdF, and then just 3 weeks later pulled off his remarkable and tenacious win in Paris-Brest-Paris.

It is because of this ( tenuous Tasmanian ) connection that we are finding some extra inspiration in Oppy's achievements - Knowing that he appreciated a knowledgeable Tasmanaian cycling fraternity, liked racing here and built on his endurance, and prepared for the depart to Europe by racing successfully in this State.


As we have been tracking roughly on a similar timeline to Oppy - first coming up with the idea to ride P-B-P in 2011 - three years before the event as Oppy also did ( during his 1928 European campaign ) - we have also set ourselves this little series of similar rides in preparation for the main event in August.

Of course, we'll set a more leisurely pace and hopefully enjoy rolling over backroads that are now becoming pretty familiar, though no less appealing.

More about Oppy's and our own 400 to follow...

Cheers

Cheers to the craggy faced, silver-haired tradie who called from his ute window ;

'need a beer at the top of this one won't ya' ?

This was at 8.00 Am this morning - about 2 degrees with frost crunching under tyres in the shady spots away from a meek but welcome just arisen sun.

My grin lasted at least until the first switchback on Mt Nelson Road, then turned faintly frozen grimace-like as the bumpy narrow tarmac continued on for another two kilometers or so.

'two beers, I think', was the best I could do in the moment, panting away and standing on the pedals to get on top of the first and steepest ramp leading into the climb.

He was right, I would certainly earn it - I could almost taste the sharp tang of it.

Thankyou sir - another moment to be enjoyed and to draw upon in coming weeks.  I'm certain he had no idea of what we are setting ourselves up for - but I really love the dryness of acknowledgement.  This fella may not want to pedal a bike himself, but could appreciate someone out enjoying the the road.

Cheers...I'll raise a glass of amber tonight in your honour.

Rear Flat and Frozen Fingers

Rear flat and frozen fingers

The temperature sensor in the car had read 2 degrees on the way across town to meet Gav and Craig at the start point.

There was only a light dusting of frost on neighbouring lawns - and anyway, the forecast had been for 0, so I was feeling optimistic.

It didn't take very long to find that suburban Prospect is a touch warmer than the nearby open fields surrounding Longford.  The old Bass Hwy and Pateena Rd were both bordered by a crisp white fairyland of frost.  Beautiful, but the cold quickly seeped into the toes of overshoes and the tips of gloves.

Rolling at the back of the line and listening to the gentle tick-ticking of Gav's rear hub, I was shocked out my thoughts by a shotgun report, quickly followed by the flap, flap, flap of an instantaneously flat rear tyre.  As Gav wheeled gingerly to a stop, my heart sank, as it looked as though the tyre had split and given way, and we quickly noticed a missing rear brake block.

While I wheeled back up the road in search of the missing ( and expensive Koolstop ) item, Gav checked the tyre and found that it had been blown off the rim and it was the tube that had a 60mm split along one side.  Craig actually spotted the lost pad, so we rejoined Gav to inspect the damage and try a spare tube.

20 minutes of fumbling with a shifter and re-adjusting the gear linkage and we were away again - but not before I'd made the realisation that, in the rush to get the bikes together and finished during the week, I had neglected to squeeze the rear brake pad holders on Gav's bike in the vice to gently clamp the pads in place.  Not a great realisation to make with 192 Km to go and pads that could be slipped out with finger and thumb.

20's Malvern Star + fields of frost

We continued on, a quick coffee at Longford and then into Cressy.  Besides the odd clonk from Craig's chain and Gav's ( and my own ) reluctant front brake, the bikes were running well - remarkably efficient on the largely flat roads.

Whatley Crank Tweak - Outside the original Cressy Cycles workshop

Craig's left crank needed a little tightening of the cotter pin - it had worked loose allowing a slight wobble to the crank.  I checked my own and benefitted from a quick tweak of the cotter nuts, ironing out a slight mis-alignment feel.  The image above was taken outside the Cressy garage where the Whatley was made some time in the 30's - so a home-coming of sorts.  I'm not actually posing - seriously checking to ensure nothing serious was amiss before continuing - there is quite a run between Cressy and Campbelltown.

And what a lovely ride on gently rolling terrain.  A slight headwind didn't seem to hinder our progress, but heavy fog left us dripping with condensation - the bikes thoroughly wet but running sweetly.  Gav managed to save his skin on the only plank bridge of the ride.  Dropping a front wheel into a wide gap, pure reaction - and probably a lack of really effective brakes - allowed him to carry some momentum up and out of the rut to continue safely over the bridge.  My own tyres were so wide I really didn't need to watch too closely - and we spent the next half hour joking and laughing in relief at the closeness of the call.



Aero in Cressy

Campbelltown appeared in the mist and my parents were waiting to meet us for a welcome coffee.  A quick toasty in front of the open fire was magical and offered a chance to dry gloves a little.  The new owner of the Red Bridge Cafe turned out to be a Belgian cycling nut who was intrigued by our machines and very friendly and supportive.  The coffee was excellent, thankyou.

The Midlands Hwy is never pleasant, with quite a lot of traffic, but Ross came up quickly, then Tunbridge.  Feeling a bit weary wasn't helped by snagging my gear cable at the roadside stop and losing all gears but top for a few minutes until I'd re-tensioned the cable.  The rollers leading into St Peters Pass were telling on my legs, the shear mass of the Malvern Star dragging on every incline.  The swoop into Oatlands was pretty satisfying though - no brakes and hefty bikes makes for rapid descending - but stable on the old warhorse.

A bowl of chips, another coffee and an arrangement to meet Dad again at the Mudwalls turn-off.  For a moment the sun came through and the wind had begun to swing and freshen, and by the time we rolled out of town we had a following breeze which made the next 10 fast and fun.

Onto the rough mudwalls road and the eyeball jiggling began - and by the time we had reached the top of the Colebrook hill the wheels were coming off.  Not exactly the wheels, more a case of a critical front brake pivot and loosening left cotter pin again on the Whatley.  My rushed preparation was finally coming back to bite us.

With my tiring body, our collective lack of trustworthy stopping power, and an aversion to risking crank damage, we packed the bikes onto the rack of the car and piled in after 156 of the planned 200.  Not the greatest end to the day, but critical in finding the bike's weak spots and our own vulnerabilities.

More soon on the bike setup and prep.