Blather on Bicycling

In my consistent run of bunch riding in Canberra, I became a quick study in the morays of the bunch:

1. You must ride in bunches. If you are solo, you had better be: (a) riding to a bunch, (b) riding home or work from a bunch, (c) dropped from a bunch or (d) flatted or had some type of mechanical that has forced you from the bunch. Never admit to going on a solo ride either, or you will receive a look of confusion as if you have just admitted to masturbating.
2. Always ride 2-by-2 and be sure to engage in deep conversation with your partner.
3. When everyone sits up at the end, find a select clique of riders and follow them to their coffee shop.
4. In some cases, you may need to give or look for the signal for “coffee shop” to let people know where you are going. This sign is administered by making your hand to look like a teacup with little finger and thumb extended, raising it it up as if sipping from your thumb.
5. If you want to get in more K’s after the ride, roll up behind the guys who finished first at the final sprint or any guy in red, and follow them wherever they go. They will either: (a) ride on forever at a conversation pace, usually involving some crazy-scary bike path riding for a least a few of the K’s, (b) roll to a coffee shop and then ride extra K’s in the “a”, (c) whack 5+ climb intervals and then accomplish follow that with “b”.

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When making a summit attempt in the high mountains, the final push must begin very early morning. So, I rolled out of bed around 9 and sauntered out for some Muesli and toast. The climb starts by loading supplies (e.g. sandwiches, soda pop, chips) into a rental car and driving to base camp at Thredbo, a popular altitude training retreat for endurance athletes. Then, the journey becomes more arduous in the icefall area. Unlike the Kumba icefall of Everest, the ice here is often manufactured by snow making machines doesn’t exist in the summer (must be global warming). I successfully navigated the field by getting on a chairlift with my support crew and riding up to Camp 2.

From Camp 2, I abandoned the support crew for a solo summit run (and by “run” I mean “run”). The trail was a rough raised platform of metal. On the way up I passed several teams coming down from the summit. Had summit fever captured me? Was I running too late, risking being stranded on the mountain? Others were asking similar questions. When I reached the technical area that I’ll call “The Hillary Steps,” I was breathing hard, gasping for air. Nevertheless, I took the steps 2 at a time, because time was of the essence here in the “death zone.”  Read more