The Road is a place for dreamers.....
Day 7
Once again todays blog title eludes me just now as Im not sure yet where Im going with it.
Its been a strange day.. not all bad... certainly not all good. There have been tears, there's been a lot of sweat, a possible slight descent into madness only to emerge, having survived another day in this beautiful ha
rsh (or should that be beautifully harsh?) reality that I have immersed myself into.
It did not start well and all further happenings are blamed on this... I overslept! Not to the extent that would have had Falcus (my work mother) phoning me up with a 'are you coming to work' kinda overslept.. just a 'oh shit' kinda overslept. You follow? This meant that what has previously taken up to 2 hours to complete, now had to take half an hour if I wanted to leave when I had set my mind on.
Just going back a bit.. you remember I stayed at a very nice unit, complete with three rooms to spread my kit over. Well now I had to unspread it. And it didnt take half an hour either. I wasnt out the door till around half 8. The couple that ran Leslie Lodges in Dargaville came out to see me off and very kindly completely waived the fee. What a lovely way to start todays ride, more kindness from strangers. Gordon (good name that- my grandad's) and Lynne - if you read this - thank you ever so much again. It was very kind of you and put a good note on a bad start to the day.
So I hit the road and immediately had a problem of the cleat variety. Unclipping is not the easy thing it should have been. I had already turned the cleat holding screw for easy release on my right foot, which had not had the desired effect and now my left foot, which had previously been the reliable one was getting stuck. It was ok for the first ten miles or so, because they were flat but I equally didnt want to sit down and try sort it out on the rosdside mainly because I was already late and the day was going upside down already. More about cleats later....
As I just said the first ten miles or so was pan flat... great I though, make up time! But New Zealand hsd other ideas... a strong headwind... all the way, coupled with sticky to superglue type tarmac meant that although I probably averaged 10mph ... just... it was hard work. The sun was already shinjng fiercely and it wasnt proving to be the easy stretch of the day by any means. The scenery reminded me of Oaklahoma... stretches of fields, some with cattle.. the odd farmhouse or industrial unit scattered by the roadside. Nothing much to distract from the energy expenditure happening on my bike.
I eventually reached Ruawai , where the road turned and became more comparable with Missouri.... up... down... up.... down.... you get the picture! My aim was to get to the connection of this road, SH12 with SH1 by around 3pm. I had already decided that because of my late start, Helensville was out of the question as a destination today and instead had set my sites on Wellsford.
2 major ongoing issues were hindering my progress, aside from the terrain and the wind... cleats and an exceptionally sore arse!
I have already explained about the cleat issue, what I did not describe is the sheer terror it can put into you when you are halfway up a steep hill, need to stop, and you cant unclip. Picture wobbling, swearing, yanking your foot in all directions... only to realise you have to pedal again or fall off, the danger being thst you are not quite sure which side you will fall... into the road? Or down an embankment? This fear induces premptive unclipping, usually at the bottom of a hill, which slows your momentum down, makes peddalling harder, and generally ensures that you most certainly wont get up the hill! That was problem number 1.
Problem 2
An arse/groin area that couldnt find a good position on the saddle. Despite copious amounts of Chammy cream, however I positioned myself on the saddle, it was at best uncomfortable and at worst downright bloody painful. This meant that I was shuffling round on that saddle more than ten times the average of Alberto Contadoor on a time trial bike! Worse somehow (something to do with returning blood flow) was when I lifted my arse off the saddle.. often prompting a small yelp of pain, followed by a loud swear word (different every time).
Combine these two problems and the result halfway up one particularly nasty climb were a few tears of absolute frustration. Quickly dried up as didnt help the situation in the slightest and I was going to have to put up with it until I had got to where I was planning to be.
The rest of the miles to SH1 proceeded with very little notice being taken of the scenery. Concentration on the road, my bike, the pain all kept me very much within my own world of hurt. But even as that was occupying me, the miles were slowly inexorably counting down.
I stopped for a very short break/food/drink just before SH1 as didnt think there were many places to stop and not sure when would arrive at destination. There was a shop called dreams... and on the roof was a giant pair of legs sticking upside down - I took it to mean something for me.. not sure what exactly... but something and chuckled..one of few today.
SH1 and.... cars!! Lots of them. But a wide shoulder to compensate and climbs that eere managable in one attempt due to their slightly decreased gradient and the downhill... oh what wonderful downhill. Longish, sweeping downhill made faster by the drag of passing cars.. so much so I clocked nearly 40mph at one point! It wasnt without its slight danger points, occasional points where the shoulder dissapeared but on the whole the cars were respectful of me. All this frenetic activity prompted a somewhat more maniacal chuckle... but a chuckle nonetheless.
I eventually counted down the last mile into wellsford to find myself at the bottom of another hill. Determined not to find loging for the night until Id climbed it, I did so and found myself on the high street and straight into some budget backpacker accomodation.
As I showered off the dirt from the road... it became apparent a) how bruised and battered I was (some of the dirt was bruises) and b) that the mosquitos from the campsite the other night had had breakfast .. lunch and dinner... on me! Literally bitten all over and now aware of it so they started to itch too.
So thats another day done... another set of pedal strokes Closer to home.
The Road is a place for dreamers... my dreams are still alive for another day.
LHS
Once again todays blog title eludes me just now as Im not sure yet where Im going with it.
Its been a strange day.. not all bad... certainly not all good. There have been tears, there's been a lot of sweat, a possible slight descent into madness only to emerge, having survived another day in this beautiful ha
It did not start well and all further happenings are blamed on this... I overslept! Not to the extent that would have had Falcus (my work mother) phoning me up with a 'are you coming to work' kinda overslept.. just a 'oh shit' kinda overslept. You follow? This meant that what has previously taken up to 2 hours to complete, now had to take half an hour if I wanted to leave when I had set my mind on.
Just going back a bit.. you remember I stayed at a very nice unit, complete with three rooms to spread my kit over. Well now I had to unspread it. And it didnt take half an hour either. I wasnt out the door till around half 8. The couple that ran Leslie Lodges in Dargaville came out to see me off and very kindly completely waived the fee. What a lovely way to start todays ride, more kindness from strangers. Gordon (good name that- my grandad's) and Lynne - if you read this - thank you ever so much again. It was very kind of you and put a good note on a bad start to the day.
So I hit the road and immediately had a problem of the cleat variety. Unclipping is not the easy thing it should have been. I had already turned the cleat holding screw for easy release on my right foot, which had not had the desired effect and now my left foot, which had previously been the reliable one was getting stuck. It was ok for the first ten miles or so, because they were flat but I equally didnt want to sit down and try sort it out on the rosdside mainly because I was already late and the day was going upside down already. More about cleats later....
As I just said the first ten miles or so was pan flat... great I though, make up time! But New Zealand hsd other ideas... a strong headwind... all the way, coupled with sticky to superglue type tarmac meant that although I probably averaged 10mph ... just... it was hard work. The sun was already shinjng fiercely and it wasnt proving to be the easy stretch of the day by any means. The scenery reminded me of Oaklahoma... stretches of fields, some with cattle.. the odd farmhouse or industrial unit scattered by the roadside. Nothing much to distract from the energy expenditure happening on my bike.
I eventually reached Ruawai , where the road turned and became more comparable with Missouri.... up... down... up.... down.... you get the picture! My aim was to get to the connection of this road, SH12 with SH1 by around 3pm. I had already decided that because of my late start, Helensville was out of the question as a destination today and instead had set my sites on Wellsford.
2 major ongoing issues were hindering my progress, aside from the terrain and the wind... cleats and an exceptionally sore arse!
I have already explained about the cleat issue, what I did not describe is the sheer terror it can put into you when you are halfway up a steep hill, need to stop, and you cant unclip. Picture wobbling, swearing, yanking your foot in all directions... only to realise you have to pedal again or fall off, the danger being thst you are not quite sure which side you will fall... into the road? Or down an embankment? This fear induces premptive unclipping, usually at the bottom of a hill, which slows your momentum down, makes peddalling harder, and generally ensures that you most certainly wont get up the hill! That was problem number 1.
Problem 2
An arse/groin area that couldnt find a good position on the saddle. Despite copious amounts of Chammy cream, however I positioned myself on the saddle, it was at best uncomfortable and at worst downright bloody painful. This meant that I was shuffling round on that saddle more than ten times the average of Alberto Contadoor on a time trial bike! Worse somehow (something to do with returning blood flow) was when I lifted my arse off the saddle.. often prompting a small yelp of pain, followed by a loud swear word (different every time).
Combine these two problems and the result halfway up one particularly nasty climb were a few tears of absolute frustration. Quickly dried up as didnt help the situation in the slightest and I was going to have to put up with it until I had got to where I was planning to be.
The rest of the miles to SH1 proceeded with very little notice being taken of the scenery. Concentration on the road, my bike, the pain all kept me very much within my own world of hurt. But even as that was occupying me, the miles were slowly inexorably counting down.
I stopped for a very short break/food/drink just before SH1 as didnt think there were many places to stop and not sure when would arrive at destination. There was a shop called dreams... and on the roof was a giant pair of legs sticking upside down - I took it to mean something for me.. not sure what exactly... but something and chuckled..one of few today.
SH1 and.... cars!! Lots of them. But a wide shoulder to compensate and climbs that eere managable in one attempt due to their slightly decreased gradient and the downhill... oh what wonderful downhill. Longish, sweeping downhill made faster by the drag of passing cars.. so much so I clocked nearly 40mph at one point! It wasnt without its slight danger points, occasional points where the shoulder dissapeared but on the whole the cars were respectful of me. All this frenetic activity prompted a somewhat more maniacal chuckle... but a chuckle nonetheless.
I eventually counted down the last mile into wellsford to find myself at the bottom of another hill. Determined not to find loging for the night until Id climbed it, I did so and found myself on the high street and straight into some budget backpacker accomodation.
As I showered off the dirt from the road... it became apparent a) how bruised and battered I was (some of the dirt was bruises) and b) that the mosquitos from the campsite the other night had had breakfast .. lunch and dinner... on me! Literally bitten all over and now aware of it so they started to itch too.
So thats another day done... another set of pedal strokes Closer to home.
The Road is a place for dreamers... my dreams are still alive for another day.
LHS
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