The arch

I have to be honest and say that being sick totally sucks. I have basically done NOTHING for the last five days because of a nasty case of bronchitis according to my doctor. I think I would have been better off with swine flu -- at least then I could have seen the doctor for an OINKment. Still it does give me a chance to catch up on some of the posts I haven't made lately (or in other words, crap on about rides I did last week or the week before). When I'm back on the bike, hopefully tomorrow, I'll then have something more interesting to talk about.



The previous weekend I headed for Numinbah Valley again, as I didn't really have the time or inclination for a 200k epic, and I had to back up and ride to Brisbane the next day. This area is always pleasant for a quick 115km, especially when it's combined with a crossing of the Wunburra Range at Springbrook, then a climb out of the Tweed Valley at Tomewin (more on that later). This day was going to be slightly different, however, because I decided to visit the Natural Arch (pictured at the top of the page), hidden away in the rainforest.



Last year there had been speculation in the local tabloid that the Natural Arch was actually closed to the public, due to the fact that the cave roof was about to collapse. Everyone else seemed to think so, because there was nobody there on the morning I visited. Yet there were also no signs indicating any closure of the area. There was nothing to stop me from walking right into the cave itself. It is, of course, entirely possible that the whole story was a media beat-up (it wouldn't be the first time). I doubt the National Parks mob would have allowed anyone to do any work on the cave itself, but either way, it was just as beautiful as I remember it, even if the walking track was/is a little over-developed.



All that was left now was to finish the climb over Numinbah Gap, drop down into the Tweed Valley, and then climb home over Tomewin. Throughout the morning I had been hammered by a southerly wind that forced me to ride through Numinbah Valley at a touring pace, now it was payback time. I responded by setting a fastest ever time for the climb over Tomewin -- 23.15, 45 seconds off my previous best. Once again, I thought I'd blown it on the steep mid-section, and once again I realised in the last kilometre that I had it beaten. I can only assume that the "mid-section" is closer to the summit than the bottom. A great way to spend a morning if ever there was one.

Is this the world's oldest bike?

I saw this machine at a Leonardo Da Vinci exhibition in Brisbane earlier today (although this particular picture was nicked from a random flickr account). Apparently Leonardo Da Vinci came up with this design sometime around 1493, although it was probably never built because, being 400 years ahead of it's time (like most of Da Vinci's designs), it was probably greeted with a lot of "that will never work" critiques.

There are some suggestions flying around on the Internet that this may be a hoax. Still, I have to confess that I was wondering how it would ride up Mt Nimmel when I saw it.

My ride up Mt Nimmel in the moonlight on Wednesday was the best I've had since my crash last week. I've been feeling my way back just to make sure my knee is 100%, and it seems to be close after it coped with Mt Nimmel. In the meantime, I've been turning my attetion to other things as, much to my chagrin, I can't go and ride 250km each day. Last night I went to a free concert in Brisbane from local band The Boat People. Those who remember when I used to make the occasional music post on this blog would be aware of them, those who aren't should click on the link and take a listen. They put on a great live show, these guys are the real deal.

Crash

There is nothing nice about crashing. I can't say I've ever enjoyed the experience, and if I ride long enough to accumulate another million kilometres, I don't expect I ever will. It's not so much the injuries sustained (although in my case, these have never included so much as a broken fingernail), it's more the time off the bike that follows (two days so far and I'm already climbing the walls), and the anger in the immediate aftermath of the crash that never quite subsides, the wishing you could go back and navigate that corner again just one more time, and all the things you would do differently.



Yes, mine happened on the descent from O'Reilly's Plateau at Lamington National Park on Saturday in the wet. For me the really annoying thing was that it was the absolute last corner of the descent that I failed to navigate, having easily dealt with every other corner on that 14km descent. I suppose I should look on the bright side and be glad I didn't crash higher up the mountain (as I did in 2002) and have to deal with cooler temperatures and the prospect of still having half the descent to do, yet it's still rather annoying.



The day itself had been wet, and the temperature barely made it into double figures on the mountain itself, yet conditions in the valley below were pleasant enough to make me think about climbing Beechmont for an encore on the way home. The dropping temperatures on the climb didn't concern me because I generally enjoy riding in the rain. Today there was an added bonus as the rainforest on the final 7km of the climb came alive even more than usual.



Of course, the descent on that higher part of the mountain was freezing, but I had brought a long a jacket I'd bought in New Zealand some three years previously. It hasn't had much use on this side of the Tasman, but it justified it's price tag today. I even detoured out to Kamarun Lookout, just a little off the "main" road to take in some really spectacular views of the clouds swirling around the mountains on what had been a truly remarkable day in terms of the weather.



Of course, my crash at the bottom put paid to any plans I had of returning over Beechmont and another ride in the clouds. That said, I was genuinely surprised how well I handled the final 50km ride home, particularly the climbs on the gorge road from Canungra. It was only the flat final stretch after Nerang that caused limbs to stiffen up and the loss of blood started to pose an issue. I ended up buying an energy drink at a convenience store to make sure I got through it all. That said, the final damage hasn't been too significant - despite the blood stains on that cycling jersey that didn't come out in the wash. My knee looks to be regaining flexibility already, and I could be back on the bike in time for the weekend. God knows I need it.

I have my mountain back!

One of my cycling goals this year is to ride a vertical century, or accumulate 100 miles of total climbing before December 31. Oddly, I was actually a little behind schedule until last month, when I managed 17km of climbing in 31 days. Yet I had to do all that without being able to climb the highest mountain in the area, as it has been closed by the landslide that came within 15 minutes of killing me for the last two months. Well, the road to Springbrook was re-opened last week, but as I was touring around Crows Nest, I didn't get a crack at it until Saturday morning. It's amazing how I didn't think what happened last time, and simply headed straight for it.



The landslide from before took out quite a chunk of the mountain, and the view from the inside of one particular narrow switchback will be scarred for some time. Oddly, given the length of time that the road was closed, there was surprisingly little work done in the area - only the erection of a rather flimsy 'fence' that won't even slow another landslide should it happen next wet season. Nevertheless, it was a good feeling to be back. Each mountain climb has a unique feeling about it, and Springbrook's was in evidence on a cool morning. I realised how much I've missed it since that crazy April day.



Yet something else about that place that's not often noticed is just how many different things there are to see, be it flower or exotic plants. I think that's why I keep coming back, even when the mountain threatens to throw rocks at me. Still, I don't mind, the variety gives me a great escape from suburbia, and a great way to spend a morning. Now that I have my mountain back, nothing is going to stop me!

The awakening

Again it seems to have been a while between posts. Actually, there are a few things that have been happening, but I've not had time to write anything lately. Last weekend I finally made it to Crows Nest National Park for a three day bike tour, the one I've been planning for almost three years. It was beautiful as expected, and a few other little events made it more interesting than I'd hoped.

I'm also taking pictures on a new camera after the previous one took an impromptu swim in Mt Cougal Creek at Dickfos Falls a week and a half ago when I fell on it. The old camera took over 2,200 pictures in the 18 months or so that I had it, so perhaps it was time for an upgrade. I've gone for another Canon camera because I've always been impressed with the pictures they take, but the resolution of this one is 10 MP. The rate at which these things are improving is almost scary, I remember 5MP being state-of-the-art just a few years ago, now 10 MP is relatively inexpensive. That said, I'm still hoping to save the last few pictures from the old camera.

Finally, changed the route by which I was riding to work, by more or less restoring my old commute through Surfers Paradise and Broadbeach. I now have a 26km round trip as opposed to the 17km round trip that just wasn't doing it for me before, and I get to spend a big chunk of the ride next to the ocean. On the other hand, passing through Surfers Paradise enables me to observe some of the great nonsensical situations of mankind.

For the last two weeks there has been a guy holding up one of those stop/go signs that is used to control traffic in road construction zones. His problem? He's at least a kilometre away from the nearest bit of construction that's actually going on. I'm not entirely sure what this is supposed to achieve. I do realise that all current construction projects relating to public infrastructure aren't due to be completed until at least 2010 (there are no elections this year at any level of government around here), but really, this is a waste of time even allowing for that fact. Oh well, I'm sure I'll have plenty of similar tales to relate in the coming months.

The Blonde Assassin

I will concede that it may be a strange name, but in view of the colour scheme of my new MTB, and in view of something that happened on Saturday, I think it's wholly appropriate. Martin and I decided on a slightly shorter ride taking in Urliup and Tomewin, with a slight detour out to the Garden of Eden on the dirt. The reason for the shorter ride was largely to do with the crazy weather that we've been experiencing lately. Only on Friday, someone in Surfers Paradise had been killed by a tree branch being driven through a window, but that's not enough to keep me off the bike for a day.





As it happened, we did get battered by a headwind while heading south, but the rainforest at Urliup provides shelter against the most vicious wind in existence, and in truth, despite the extravagant language used in some of the news reports, I still recall encountering stronger winds in both New Zealand and Scotland in the past. Still, we also had to negotiate FIVE flooded creek crossings in the first 45km of the ride to reach the start of the climb of Tomewin.



I had never managed to do this climb in under 25 minutes before Saturday, and I didn't look like I would this time either, as my early attack faded alarmingly quickly. However, when the climb kicked up to 11% in the middle, I felt strangely comfortable. At the higher end, where the gradient eased to something a little more sane, I realised I had more than enough time to finish this one off. I did it in just under 24 minutes at it turned out, on the first ride on an MTB!? I think The Blonde Assassin is highly appropriate after this.



We took a detour on the very beautiful but very cut up Garden of Eden road at the top. These days we can no longer ride across the top of the ridge back to Bilambil, so we had to settle for the out and back ride on the western side. I'm still trying to figure out how there were no leeches in the rainforest on a day like this. After this little detour, it was a simple matter of descending Tomewin, and coasting home on the back of the tailwind. The only noteworthy thing that happened on the rest of the day was a successful "test" of my disc brakes on the 14% section of the descent in the wet.

I feel sorry for those suckers who stayed inside during the wind and the rain. I really do.

Tosspot of the week

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry over this story.

Two friends held mobile phones to each other's heads pretending they were guns when one grabbed a loaded firearm and fatally fired at the other, a court has heard.

Driver Scott Quantrelle, 26, fatally shot his front-seat passenger and friend Luke Pollock early on Sunday while in a moving car, the Melbourne Magistrates' Court has heard.

Detective Senior Constable Sallyanne Leach said the pair were holding mobile phones to each other's heads pretending they were guns before the incident at Seaford in Melbourne's southeast.

As Quantrelle drove, he grabbed a loaded sawn-off .22 gauge firearm that was in the car, and the gun discharged, wounding Pollock, she said.

Pollack, aged in his 20s, from the Seaford/Frankston area, suffered a head wound and died. He was driven to a home in Seaford, where police were called about 1.10am (AEST) on Sunday.

Det Sen Const Leach said Quantrelle tried to resuscitate Pollack and waited at the scene while paramedics worked.

She said Quantrelle had known the trigger was sensitive.

Quantrelle, of Seafood, is charged with manslaughter and six other counts including recklessly causing serious injury, reckless conduct, possessing an unregistered handgun and ammunition without a licence.

I suppose to doesn't technically qualify as a Darwin Award, but it's probably the next best thing. Apparently the offender is up on seven different charges, but we really need an eighth charge to include "being a dickhead".

Perfect timing

Perfect timing is sometimes the most important thing when it comes to experiencing the awesome power of nature. After two days of wild weather culminating in floods, road closures and trees coming down, I managed to get out for a quick 45km ride this evening. I left a little later than usual because of time I had to spend doing other things, but that may have been for the best. I headed for Little Nerang Dam, but at the crossing of Mudgeeraba Creek near Austinville, some sirens illuminated a "road closed" sign.

A quick discussion with a council worker told me I had arrived around 10 minutes after the water had fallen below the road level (although not by very much as it turned out), so I was able to continue. A little further along I turned off, and started climbing the gorge to Little Nerang Dam, this was where the ride really got interesting. My eyes for the moment had to focus on avoiding some debris, which took a little more work than expected due to some thick fog that covered parts of the ride, but my ears were given the treat this time. On one side of the gorge I could hear cascading waterfalls, on the other, the torrent that Little Nerang Creek had become.

On reaching the summit and descending right to the dam wall, it got even better. Little Nerang Dam simply wasn't designed to hold the volume of water that was now flowing in from the downpours in the mountains around, and the gorge below had flooded. Somehow some ambient light had made it's way here (from where I don't know, there was no moon up), and I could clearly see the torrent cutting through the gorge between Mt Nimmel and the Wunburra Range, the former shrouded in cloud.

Yet away from the power of this torrent, the other side of the dam wall was the complete opposite. The almost total lack of wind in the valley had given the lake an appearance not unlike glass. There was not a ripple in the water, and I could clearly see the reflection of Springbrook and the surrounding hills. In the sky, there was a clear view of a million stars above. All of this, was just a matter of perfect timing, and nothing more.