Bike packing Bruny Island TAS - #moreadventuresclosetohome

Things have been a bit quiet since my Cape Epic adventure. Taking two weeks unpaid leave and missing a bunch of university lectures made 'head down, arse up' my modus operandi on my return. Aspects of my last blog post struck a chord with some people and my friend, Peter, sent me his hashtag #moreadventuresclosetohome which I think is a great idea. Now I write this having just booked a trip to Scotland later in the year so I'm not saying I'll NEVER travel. But I want to ensure that, if I'm going to burn a bunch of fossil fuels getting there, that it's something that is going to really inspire me. We're meeting friends and family, riding some world-famous mountain bike parks and (weather permitting) having a crack at the Ramsay Round ultra running challenge. So that's ticking a lot of boxes in my mind.

My partner and I are becoming known for a home-adventures/near catastrophes and it does seem logical, living in Australia's adventure capital, that #moreadventuresclosehome will be an easy option for us. A few weekends ago we had an adventure that was less back-country than usual. I'd never been to Bruny Island before despite it being a short distance from Hobart. We drove out of the city to Kingston to avoid riding the same-old roads, and headed off bike-packing. The ferry to Bruny from Kettering is a mere $6 per person return which is ridiculously cheap. It's mainly a ferry for vehicles so don't expect luxuries for the 15 minute trip.

Before the rocking started

Arriving on big swells and with a wind warning, we headed over the lumpy terrain passing an establishment called "The House of Whisky" which would be getting a visit on the ride home. While people in Hobart were battening down hatches, we decided that pedaling bikes laden with gear into cross-winds was what was really required. We were camping the night and brought our own food which proved totally unnecessary. There is no risk of starving on Bruny. Every 10 kilometres or so there is local eatery with great coffee, amazing view and exquisite local produce.

Wanting to get some training in (or make room for more food) we did the North Bruny loop anti-clockwise and coincided our first stop at the Jetty Cafe at Dennes Point with a passing squall. (Okay, technically our first stop was on the road side where I had to pee is some long grass to avoid the gaze of tourists driving past while John ate a hot-cross bun). The cafe overlooks the ocean and serves a decent soy latte. John, for the third time so far, got soy milk with his chai latte. After almost getting into physical altercations with the last two baristas who assure him "chai lattes are ALWAYS made on soy" I was glad he let the 60 year old lady off with a withering look. If someone can clarify this issue for us that would be appreciated.

Pedaling for quite a while but getting nowhere fast we happened upon the Bruny Island Cheese Co. This is somewhere I'd normally ride past lest it interrupt my structured training. But this is also, it appears, the essence of many bike packing adventures so we pulled in, if only to stop fighting the wind for a while. After a few tastings we figured that the cheeses wouldn't last too well on our trip but we grabbed a loaf of freshly baked sourdough to go with our camping meals and opted for a beverage. John got some beer that tasted like beer and I ordered Simple Cider with ginger. The barman looked my small frame up and down and cautioned "just an FYI, these are 8%" before handing over the drink.

Everything but cheese. Need an esky...or bigger stomachs

I perhaps should have heeded his warning as I got back on my bike, but it may have given me the courage to sit on the front as we punched into a 70kph headwind over 'the neck' on our way to the island's south. Our plan was to camp at Jetty Beach, but by the time we'd reached the intersection, we chose to take the turn off down to Cloudy Bay to a more low-key campsite called The Pines. We figured this would be more protected from the winds, we were tired and it was a lot closer.

For the record, 'low-key' now means no toilet and no drinking water in our camping dictionary. The former we have dealt with many times but the latter was not optimal with dehydrated meals and bodies. Luckily a couple in a Wicked Camper parked up nearby had plenty of water. They were visiting from Chile and trying to do an express Tasmania trip before the bad weather set in. We hoped they had some indoor activities planned for the next couple of days.

We finished our dinner and John cleaned up while I went looking for firewood. Easter had just recently been so most of it had been used by the camping hordes. I filled a backpack with pine cones figuring they would burn pretty well. On cue as we tried to light the fire it started to rain. We are seriously thinking of offering our services to drought-stricken farmers. Let us camp on your property and you will be assured of opening heavens. It's our special gift.

Waking up to blue-er skies the next day, we briefly headed north then turned east on to what I'd call 'the back way' to Adventure Bay. It was hilly and muddy but quite lovely apart from the almost-head-on we had with a 4WD. Who drives along that track when there's a perfectly good road alternative? He was probably thinking the same about us.

I always attract attention walking into cafes after a mountain bike ride. Being so close to the ground my face seems to attract more mud that usual. Wandering into the Penguin and Pardalote cafe I got a proper hipster-standard coffee while John played it safe with a tea. It sure was nice to have so many opportunities to eat, drink and relax while overlooking a beach. I declined John's kind suggestion of some extra training kilometres by circumnavigating the north of the island again. But I was coerced into climbing the 200 steps (a kind boy counted them for us all the way back down) for the obligatory photo over The Neck.

Don't know why my helmet is so much muddier.

Back at the House of Whiskey - well it seemed rude not to. And it was after 12, windy and cold. Disappointingly we discovered that there is, in fact, no whiskey produced on Bruny Island. The Trapper's Hut label is actually produced in Moonah which is at the bottom of our street. We opted for some mulled wine, heated gently and sipped in the impressive interior display of whiskeys and gins. Heating up alcohol is still quite a foreign concept to a Queenslander but mulled wine and hot cider have been a revelation. Some other customers commented that they seen us riding, what hard work it must be and how crazy we are. But then I think about how much tasty local food we enjoyed which fueled our human-powered weekend. And there's a special type of bonding that occurs between a couple who have had to take turns riding into the wind together and laughing about how bad things are at times. You just don't get sitting in a car. I really enjoyed a relaxed weekend of riding, eating and drinking and can say, if this is bike-packing, I'm in.

Cape Epic 2019 - South Africa

Having placed 4th in an elite female team in 2011, I really thought I'd ticked the Cape Epic 'must do' box. So I was still a bit shell-shocked to be standing at the start line in Cape Town again. A combination of good timing, luck and great friends had me partnered with Mark Martin, a riding mate from Brisbane. In his heyday, Marto was a top triathlete. But at 56 the rigors of running had taken their toll on his knees so he had turned to mountain biking. Back when I was trying to make Australian teams, Mark was one of my supporters who funded my first trip to Italy for the 2010 World XCM Championships in Villabasa. We met up for a ride and while he was super strong uphill, he couldn't descend to save himself. Fast forward a few years and the man who wouldn't ride at Gap Creek if it was slightly moist announced he had signed up for the Swiss Epic, renown for its wet, icy tree roots and steep, muddy descents. After that, and a 2015 Cape Epic in a super masters team, Marto became a better rider. Not good enough to make the start line of our 2016 Swiss Epic when he busted his shoulder and my partner took his place. So when he asked me to be his team mate for this year's Cape Epic, it seemed a fitting partnership toward the end of my cycling career. He'd missed out on a top 10 finish in 2015 after he and his team mate got separated and copped a time penalty. (NB. You must stay within 2 minutes of your team mate at all times) Top 10 seemed like an arbitrary but achievable goal.

Trying to beat the jet-lag in the sun. Table Mountain is pretty spectacular overlooking Cape Town.

There were two rules for the trip: Don't get separated; and no fucking tents. Being on the Avis upgrade package and getting whisked away to a comfortable bed and fluffy towels each day lacked the camaraderie of the race village tents, but made my 2am wee a lot less hassle. It was far from a flawless experience with rolling blackouts (more on this later), variable service standards and a missing pool. But it definitely afforded more comfort and dignity than I was used to . Our assigned coordinator, Farazaanah, and massage therapist, Brandon, made our experience 5-star.

Pool at our second hotel at Arabella Hotel and Spa. Post stage sauna and spa was mint!

I can't remember much of my 2011 race, being flogged for most of it after coming out of an average XCO season. I'd definitely forgotten the beauty of the area. Each day started in an amphitheatre of mountains with jagged peaks to rival Switzerland. Not so much in height but in texture and sun-drenched valleys. It was satisfying to look across and see the trail we'd traveled on an hour ago. I find this gives a better sense of the journey as John and I often look back at the ridge-line we spent the last 8 hours traversing. Less welcome were the mornings riding directly into the sun on trail so dusty the rider a few metres in front of me was obscured. I put the bike approximately where I thought the trail was and hoped for the best. Blind faith was also a prerequisite for the numerous pitch-black underground tunnels and drains were we sent down to avoid road crossings. The rider was left to feel the wheels on the curvature of the pipe to make sense of which way they were going.

Credit: Dwayne Senior / Absa Cape Epic

One thing that had notably improved on course was the volume and quality of the single track. The descents on days 4,5 and 6 were some of the best I've done anywhere. While battling with the Spanish Flax & Kale team on Day 4, we were absolutely flying down the trail in a train, attaining that enviable 'flow' state. The guy turned to me at the end with a huge grin and asked "Did you have an orgasm??". I think I did. Not overly technical, but if hooking down berms and pinging off small table tops and gaps for 10 minutes at a time is your thing, you won't be disappointed. The fire-road to single track ratio is on par with races like the Trans Rockies in Canada so it's not the Jeep track grovel of old. There's still plenty of grovel though with most days over 2500 metres of ascent. Not smooth tarmac or trail either. Tufts of grass, loose rock and slippery shale all featured. I don't think I've ever ridden as much deep sand UP hill.

Bergs for days. These handy stick ons helped tick them off each day.

The weather started pleasantly cool, progressed to freezing summit rain and finished in the high 30s for the last two days. One very welcome addition to the race logistics is a small rider bag we could throw our jackets into on the start line and which was transported to the finish tent each stage. No more shivering on the start line because you don't have a support crew to throw your gear to. The whole operation has become a lot more slick since 2011. We definitely didn't go hungry with the feed zones stocked with all manner of snacks every 20k or so. Riders only needed to bring their sports foods of choice to start each day and then they were well catered for over the rest of the stage. I will miss my mid-stage fruit cake and banana bread. Much of the course runs through private land so can't be ridden outside of the event. But large parts of the single track network are mountain bike parks attached to wineries (because riding a bike at speed and alcohol go really well together...) and it would be a fantastic stop over for a few days riding around the Elgin area. It was the usual 'muppet show' on a lot of the trail descents with an abundance of unnecessary braking behind less skilled riders so hitting these again at speed would be nice.

Up at 5am each day for breakfast, even at the hotels. Sunrise over the mountain at Houw Hoek hotel. The hotel pre-dates settlement in Australia. 

Marto and I were fairly matched on the climbs for the first few days. But with me being faster on the descents I could pace it up the next section while he was constantly working hard to close gaps. That adds up over 8 days. I'm glad he was the one 'in the box' because I don't think I could have hurt myself the way he did for the whole race. I'd settle in to a nice rhythm thinking I'd have an easy day, then another team would come past and BANG! Marto was chasing them down. My legs objected to the surges so I either rode a steady pace in front or put a hand on his back and pushed from behind up the smoother climbs (there weren't that many!). We rode with similar people each day and got to know everyone's capabilities. I was spinning up a climb and felt a hand grab my jersey for a tow. I thought "Good, Marto is on" only to turn around and see one of the South African guys latched on. Nice try. I watched an Argentinian crash into an apple tree and get pelted with falling fruit as he lay on the ground early in the race. This taught me that constantly looking behind for your team mate was potentially painful.

Credit: Absa Cape Epic. Photographer not listed.

While we oscillated between 9th and 11th in the mixed category, we moved steadily up the general classification and start waves as people dropped out due to broken bones or broken souls. I saw numerous people with the telltale collarbone sling, gravel rash and one young guy having a cry beside the trail because the task in front seemed insurmountable. People riding solo after losing a team mate overwhelmingly said it was more difficult and their motivation to continue was almost absent. Your team mate can be your best ally or your worst enemy if they push so hard you crack. Choice of partner is a huge key to success in this race. As is preparation. This is a huge outlay of money and it did astound me the number of people who didn't complete it due to insufficient preparation. Whether that was ensuring their bike was up to the task, or that they'd trained sufficiently or addressed their nutrition before and during the race. This event sells out and organisers have zero latitude for people missing the stage time cut-offs. They want to keep the exclusivity and challenge of getting two people through the event, and part of that challenge needs to be time-bound.

The line was long by Day 4. The staff are experts 'down under'

Marto and I had not so much as a flat tyre through the whole race which is astounding considering what we rode through. One team we were with had 6 punctures on the one stage. Body-wise, I had one trip to the infamous bum clinic (drop your pants and bend over) to get a staph infection treated and some protective dressing applied. Marto washed out on Day 7 and, I was told, hit a tree with his face. This seemed plausible given the lack and dust and gravel rash on him and the gaping wound on the inside of his mouth from his teeth. Some internal stitched and ice for his swollen cheek saw him soldier on for the final day. About 50 percent of the field was riding with some sort of injury by the last day. The thousands of off-camber gravel corners in the race claimed many victims.

Marto getting his mouth stitched up. The event offers a mini hospital, not just first aiders. If you're going to have a cardiac arrest at a mountain bike event, you're better off having it here. 

As a race I really enjoyed the course. It was a good balance of pleasure and pain. The organisation is astounding as you would expect for its reputation and $9000 (per pair) entry fee. There were a couple of days I was really pushed and I don't think I would have dug that deep if I didn't have a team mate urging me on. It's nice to know I can still tap into that place and has made me appreciate that my time left to compete at a reasonable level is short. I need to make the most of it. We held on to 9th place against the fast finishing German team.

There were a couple of things in the background of the race that were concerning though. The number of empty dams we rode past; the 'no swimming' signs beside dust bowls. The 2 hours of load-shedding each day where houses and businesses have no power due to mismanagement and incompetence of the state power provider. We were shielded from it somewhat as most hotels have generators - although sometimes they failed to kick in. Brandon (massage) is doing his honours in exercise science but the university he is at has no generator. So they often fall behind in their lectures with no power for projectors or Wifi (mobile data is very expensive in South Africa). Despite the signs urging considered water consumption, house-keeping still laundered our towels every day and I'm sure no one actually took the recommended 90 second shower. The amount of waste generated by the race in terms of polyester satchels, plastic bags, cups, packaging and cutlery was staggering and embarrassing. The country, already showing the ravages of climate change, left cars and buses idling constantly. That we were serviced in comparative luxury while locals had insecure access to basics like water and electricity just felt a bit...wrong.

I've started to consider where the sport I love sits in terms of its net affect on the environment. And I'm not talking about the oft-cited erosion on trails that mountain bikers are, sometimes unfairly, blamed with. That is a small issue compared to the carbon emissions involved in flying halfway across the world to compete in a event that generates huge amounts of non-recyclable waste. How do we reconcile the personal transformation which these events can bring about with the huge environmental impact that participation imposes? I could justify it previously. But now I think I've learned all the possible lessons that suffering on a bike can teach me, is it ethical to keep participating? In my more extreme moments I question the morality of endurance sport, full stop. Is doing more running/riding/other than is necessary for good health (benefits top out at around one hour per day), akin to leaving the car idling in a garage in terms of increased use of resources? It's not as if we are transporting goods to market these days. Most of us probably ride before work and then jump in the car to commute to the office. I'm not boycotting endurance events altogether. But I will be taking a more considered approach to travel and examining the policies of the event organisers when it comes to waste production and reduction at events. Most mountain bikers I know have a huge respect for the natural environment. I'd just like to see that concern extend past the one we immediately enjoy.

Thanks to my team mate Mark Martin for turning himself inside out every day. And to the following sponsors who support my adventures:

Flight Centre Sports and Events - travel and sports events
Wild Earth - outdoor gear
Ride Mechanic - bike and body maintenance products
NS Dynamics - fork and shock servicing
Absolute Black - oval chain rings
Infinit Australia - sports nutrition products

Destination mountain bike forum, Maydena - the future of dirt

Despite living in a freezing cloud for two days, the forum was a worthwhile experience and I came away feeling some excitement for the future and also a new appreciation for the hard work of people behind the scenes. Each of the speakers and workshops offered some insights and tips for those working in various roles in government, private business and clubs. The messages that really stuck with me are:

1. These things don't happen over night - Although it seems as though developments like Bike Park Wales, Maydena and Queenstown just spring up the actual timeline from concept to construction is a lot longer than most people would realise. Most of these developments take 5-10 years from the time someone says "Let's do this!" to when the first tyres runch on dirt. During that time there will be set backs, seemingly insurmountable red tape, thoughts of abandoning the entire project and small mental breakdowns by the proponents. When they hear people say "wow, that happened quickly" they must want to stab them.

2. Not everywhere can be Derby - While the conference focused on big developments that, in some cases, revived a whole town, in reality not every venue can, or should, aim for something of that scale. For every 100-kilometres-of-trail 'destination' development we need ten smaller 'long weekend' type developments and probably twenty 10-20 kilometre trail networks where people can ride every day (my figures). There was some concern in the room that, with all the new developments that there may be more trail than riders. That supply is outstripping demand. Where are the riders coming from? My answer is that they're coming from the kids that can ride trails after school. The working people who can do a quick lap around the local track after work. People don't learn to ride at Maydena. They learn to ride on the trails close to them and this fuels the demand for the bigger destination trails. It was great to see representatives from Hobart and Glenorchy councils and I hope they walked away with an appreciation of where local trails fit in the big picture of mountain biking.

3. Maintenance is a barrier to approval - The biggest question mark over new trails is planning and budgeting for ongoing maintenance. This is an argument I have heard many times - everyone wants to build new trails but no one wants to maintain this. Relying on volunteer labour is no longer a working model. The world-famous Queenstown trails are almost exclusively volunteer built which is unbelievable given how much venue they generate for Skyline who operate the uplift. While this is not a totally one-way relationship with the company cleverly boosting club membership numbers, it does create an issue due to volunteer burn-out and the constant battle to raise money for more trails and equipment. It is surprising to hear the Queenstown club struggles to get people who want to build trails. But there is a theory that having trails has become normalised for the residents and an attitude that the 'trail fairies' will continue to provide. In contrast, the government funded Warburton Trail Development has budgeted on $400,000 of maintenance per year for the life of the tracks. This is the value the council has placed on benefits the trails will bring to the community.

4. Application of a user-pays model - Private parks such as Maydena and Wales obtain revenue from entry, uplifts, food and beverage. The model makes logical sense. Public parks like Warburton and Derby are in a totally different position. Millions of dollars have been allocated to development of these parks despite no direct financial return which speaks volumes for their ability to put a proposal together! Return on investment from projected visitor numbers and average spend can be assumed from analysis of other similar developments. However many of these have a 'public good' component in encouraging healthy lifestyles for the local community. This is harder to account for and is the basis for smaller developments in the community. With limited funds, how do councils know that their money is best spend on a mountain bike park rather than a skate bowl or walking tracks? Although there is a lot of evidence that access to cost-free (apart from the initial bike purchase) physical activity can enhance public well-being, the return from that particular investment is less able to be ascertained. In the scheme of things, mountain biking is still a small sport in comparison with other more traditional sports. Even though, in our circle, it feels like 'everyone' does it.

Thanks to Maydena for organising a great event and for the Hobart YMCA for assisting with my attendance. It's an exciting time for mountain biking in Australia and I love assisting people to enjoy the sport and live active lifestyles.

Alpine Quest 2019 - Falls Creek

In the lead up to Alpine Quest I kept saying things felt too organised. Flights, hotel, car and team mates were all arranged well ahead of time. No usual pre-race scramble to sort out the details. It was quiet. Too quiet. This could not be good. Unfortunately, I was right. The best thing adventure racing has taught me is to deal with whatever is thrown up at me. Nothing ever goes to plan, although I’d like to keep the adlibbing to the race and not the logistics. What follows is a tale of both bad luck and poor planning.

The first hiccup was when John realised he’d booked the hire car for the previous weekend. In his defence I spend almost every commute to the airport worrying I’ve booked the flights for the wrong dates. It only happened that one time. Usually sourcing a hire car wouldn’t be an issue. Except it was Thursday before the long Australia Day weekend so of course most things were sold out. Especially the things that would fit three bike boxes and people in them. Thanks to Steve from Birmingham at Enterprise cars for finding us a vehicle that worked. We hit the baking hot road to Falls Creek looking forward to racing 36 hours in a heatwave.

Three of us had adventure raced before – John and I together and Wayne with other teams. Callum we dragged in from various multisport and mountain bike races we’d seen him go fast in. The fact he had an orienteering history was a welcome surprise – mostly for John who was the only other team member who knew which way the map went. As the Wild Earth Tiger Adventure team we were a dark horse in the race for top honours with our previous team winning X Marathon the same time last year in similar conditions.

The second hiccup was when Wayne’s bike and two of our paddles were left in Brisbane by the airline. One of the risks of flying in to a small airport like Albury is that heavy things like bike boxes are the first to get offloaded when the plane is too heavy. Again, this wouldn’t have normally been a problem, except AQ had a 3-5 hour prologue the next day which would count toward our overall time for the main race. Facebook posts were put out and messages sent. We eventually obtained a paddle and PFD from race organiser Maria, another basic paddle from Peak Adventure’s Jarad Kohler and a hire bike from the local shop complete with flat pedals and triple chain ring. Not the best but at least were in the game. Just before the start of the race we changed bikes to Serge’s hardtail with better pedals and set up and swapped the number plates. With ten minutes to race start Wayne’s bike turned up so we quickly built that and attached the number plate for the third time that morning. Third time’s a charm, right?

So very hot

 The prologue went well except for the high 30-degree temperatures. It was fast and furious as maps were given after race start and a route quickly plotted. My calves exploded as they hate run legs straight up hills. The navigation was good and we hit transition with three other teams in the lead. Mountain biking was always going to be our strength and we put at least 10 minutes into the other teams bombing down all the black descents with a grin. It was on the climb back out from Flow Town that the full force of the heat hit. We stopped at every trickle of water on the mountain to refill water bottles and soak heads. Absolutely stifling. It must have been a fountain of youth as I felt (finally) great hitting the road for the climb to the lake.

I gave Wayne my carbon blade and took the crap fibreglass one thinking that it would be better for the person who was least able to contribute watts to have the rubbish paddle. But the blade was much bigger than my ¾ paddle so it slowed our stroke rate and we consequently limped around the kayak leg. After spending some time in thick scrub looking for a check point John started screaming like he’d broken his leg. His hamstrings were cramping badly and I gave him my usual sympathy by encouraging him to ‘stretch it out babe!’ as I ran past. We were caught by Alpine Adventurerers at the end of the paddle and Thunderbolt were close behind. Once on the bikes we held our position and finished in second place.

Up at 4am Saturday for the main race we were on buses to Omeo Valley to start with a kayak down the Mitta Mitta river. We knew there wouldn’t be much water but after a bit of boat dragging there were some really fun sections. Fun for Callum and I as the lighter boat, less fun for John and Wayne who got hung up on every shallow section. We kept having to wait for them and eventually found out their boat had a leak and about 20 kilos of water in it. Bad luck I guess.

Team tactics: "I'll take the small chick, OK?"

We had a fast transition building bikes and getting our food and gear together. Somewhat marred when, after 15-20 minutes of riding on a road that didn’t look quite right, we realised we’d headed in the exact opposite direction as the course from the TA. This can happen when nobody is looking at a compass (nobody was) and when people are relying on ‘left and right’ instead of north and south. It’s easy to forget you got out on the right-hand side of the river and then disorientate yourself to the map. Bad management.

I never assume the win is lost as races can turn on one check point. But it was now less likely and we were pretty deflated to have made such a big error early on while in a great position. Making our way back through slower teams we started the big climb up to the ridge. I can honestly say I’ve never been so thoroughly cooked in any race I’ve done. Struggling to push bikes up an endless, impossibly steep fireroad in close to 40 degrees, I had the goal of making it to the next shady spot before hunching over my top tube and trying to breath/not pass out. I was in front of the team which told me they were struggling as I absolutely suck at walking my bike up hills. This is why I try to ride the steep stuff as much as possible (cue: 30 tooth oval chainring). 

At the top of the hill (well there were always more hills, but the big hill) most of us had run out of water. Wanting to let the guys rest but also conscious that were we getting dehydrated just sitting there, we pushed on. With just 1.5 kms to transition it was all up hill and John was looking pale and shaky. I pushed his bike and he walked while being pushed by another team and collapsed into TA. The volunteers where wonderful getting him cold packs, water, electrolyte and a comfortable place to rest. We got ourselves ready and packed his gear up. I wasn’t sure we should go out on the 12 hour trek but thought the setting sun would help with the heat and we could slow the pace. I did the girlfriend thing of lubing his sweaty feet and putting new socks on as he cramped every time he tried to do it himself. The lengths we go to.

Adventure racing transcends team rivalry. Thanks for the push guys.

We spent most of the trek walking with the Wild Yaks and it was nice to experience the more social side of adventure racing. It’s so busy before the race, and people are so wrecked after, I don’t often get to meet other racers. They were looking strong and we picked up the pace until John started vomiting. I’m not talking about ‘oh I’m going to be a bit sick’. I’m talking about on his knees, hanging off his walking poles and hurling until he was dry-retching. This went off and on for 4 hours and we were halfway down to check point 25 before we reassessed our situation. He couldn’t keep fluids down and needed to rest. We weren’t sure if he was going to get worse and if there was a shorter way to a main road to get picked up. In the most remote part of the course, on a mountain ridge near the Bogong summit, we had a satellite phone but wrote the emergency numbers on the paddling map which we’d left at the last TA. Bad management.

We were laying back on the grass with our head torches off admiring the stars but Wayne also commented on a large cloud so I thought a storm could be on the cards. Sleeping on the trail wasn’t an option so we trekked back up the mountain to Maddison hut. Except Maddison hut doesn’t exist anymore despite what the map says. Three kilometres further we finally fell into Cleve Cole hut and disturbed a bunch of walkers at around midnight.

Happier times with the Wild Yaks who ended up in third spot.

John got a spare space on a bed while Wayne and I went outside to gorge on beef jerky and BBQ Shapes for dinner while watching the lightning across the valley. We accosted an unsuspecting camper who went for a toilet break and managed to use his mobile phone to call HQ. The plan was to bed down for the night and they would send us an evacuation plan in the morning. Another kindly camper gave us two sleeping mats and I finally fell asleep when the door opened. There was Tiger Adventure founder Trevor looking a little worse for wear and various members of two teams who had got in a similar predicament to us. Except now it was raining and they were close to hypothermic. I gave up my mat and crawled into the other bed with John and wrapped us both in a foil blanket to keep warm.

Another kayaking shot as we disappear from the official photographs at this point. Water looks nice and cool.

Race HQ had texted our camping helper, Billy, a new map with the exit point. It was a trek toward the top of Mount Bogong then down a spur to shelter in another hut. Once we were there, we were to contact the pick-up crew and hike the final few kilometres so we didn’t get caught exposed waiting in the weather. It felt like a proper adventure as we trekked across the ridge in a 60kph cross wind with sleet that threatened to blow us off the mountain with every step. In a weird way, this was my favourite moment of the event. We were seeing a part of the course that no other teams saw. The view down the valley from Mount Bogong was stunning and with the cooler temperature this felt more like the rugged Australian Alps. Once at the hut the reception on the phone was patchy but we managed to ascertain that the 4 wheel drives couldn’t make it up to Granite Flat Spur so we’d have to hike down Eskdale Spur instead. We were very happy to see the event crew at the end of the track and Callum did a great job leading us out.

So this is my second DNF in a row (third if you count the Did Not Start when Gary ended up with appendicitis before Geoquest 2018). I’m getting a bit of a complex as I generally prefer to finish what I start. I learned more this race than any other race though. I generally just focus on keeping up, hanging on and carrying extra stuff if needed. I looked at the map more than any time before and had to monitor and look after team mates. Giving directions while keeping motivation up is difficult. Organising logistics and problem-solving is both exciting and exhausting and fundamentally what adventure racing is about. I’m really looking forward to the next one. But for now, it’s 100% bike as I prepare for the Cape Epic in South Africa. Maybe a run or two a week just so I don’t have to go through the agony of resuming running AGAIN.

Thanks:

Adventure Junkie Event Team

Tiger Adventure

Wild Earth

Flight Centre Sports and Events

Infinit Nutrition Australia

Ride Mechanic

NS Dynamics

Absolute Black

A week in Tassie - Bringing in 2019

Working over the new year, it felt like 2018 had just kept going on to some sort of 13th month. I needed my New Year ritual to find the attitude I'd carry through the next 12 months. My first big event for 2019 was the inaugural Bike Rite Advanced Women's Weekend in Derby. It started as a Facebook post bemoaning the lack of women at the recent EWS qualifier. The inclusion of trails like 'Detonate' as mandatory put a lot of riders off. My coaching activities are fueled mainly by the desire to help people. So help people down Detonate I would. To be honest, I was pretty nervous about some of the features myself. Some do require planning, deconstructing and thought. And some are better when you don't think too much, which is how I've been riding a lot lately. Being forced to examine some trails led to too many 'what if' scenarios going on in my head. And if you thought about the 'what ifs' on every ride you'd never step out the door. My best advice is to work out the skills you need, practice those skills in a non-lethal situation. Then when you barely have to think about executing them, apply them to the high tax situations. I got a real buzz watching everyone in the group try and achieve something they never would have before. What a great way to kick off the year!

It is unbelievably tiring being responsible for other people's safety so after leaving Derby on Sunday night John and I had a vague plan to head west and explore some of the other riding spots. We had 5 days to fill but the legs needed a rest from the Derby-fest so we set up camp in Narawntapu National Park. Being in an isolated natural area was lovely until we ran out of ice for the esky. Cue pack raft inflation for a short paddle across the waterway and a random walk for ice. It was perfect adventure race training - looking like weirdos, carrying a raft down the main street with only a vague inclination of where we were heading. A friendly local empathised with our plight for cool beverages and spotted me a lift to the IGA.

I had fond recollections of the State Champs course so, the next morning, we headed to Kelcey Tier to check out the trails. I also wanted to look at some other options for upcoming kids and women's skills courses there so we did a few laps that didn't include the infamous Organ Donor black descent. There are some really great trails here and it is quite easy to string together a 1.5 - 2 hour ride with a couple of trips to the top. The Rigor Mortis descent is a must-do if you like the jumps. Which I do.

We spent a good portion of the week subsisting on a diet of carrots, hummus and tin soup (great post-Christmas weight loss program) so lunch was an express affair before heading to Penguin. Parking up at trail guru Marcelo Cardona's place (with prior invitation) we did the easy meandering climb before heading on to the Mount Montgomery circuit. Such a fun pump-track descent then into the bike park for some twisty single track with fun wood features and a hectic free ride park at the centre. The park needs a little upkeep and it would be nice to see some of the money being thrown around for trail development go to Penguin to ensure trail access for locals and a variety of MTB experiences in Tasmania. After a lap of the park it was a shorter than expected grovel on tired legs before a ripping descent on Marcelo's private bike park with a few features I might leave until my skills have advanced. Thanks so much to Marcelo and Margo for their hospitality for the evening which meant the tent could stay in its bag for the night. After sunset we headed to the local spot for some penguin spotting and almost tripped over them on the way down to the beach. The fairy penguins are ridiculously adorable as the waddle awkwardly up the beach and it was very difficult not to pop one in my backpack to join the menagerie at home.

Kids skills park at Penguin - note the drops progression!

Everyone has been banging on about the new Mersey trails so we felt obliged to check them out. Let's say it's a work in progress as there are realistically about 30-40 minutes of riding. But the plan is for 100 kms in total so this is bound to be a future riding destination. Making the most of a warm day we headed up the Mersey River and put the packrafts in. I remember why we don't pack raft. Even with my own raft I find it impossible to get comfortable. Maybe because I'm too short and keep hitting my elbows on the sides. I definitely need a booster seat and a small child to sit in the front so the bow doesn't flip sideways with each paddle stroke. Luckily the current carried us most of the way down although another 200 mm of water would have made it slightly more fun with less bum-hopping moves in the shallow bits. There were enough fun rapids to keep us entertained while we watched the white bellied sea eagles loft on the breeze. The guide book says platypus also frequent the river but we didn't manage to spot any. I will declare the Mersey Tasmania's warmest river. We jumped in for a swim at the gorge which is not something I ever thought I'd say here. The warm feeling didn't last but we stashed the rafts and started the jog back to the car which quickly got a sweat up.

Camping at Arm River for the night and out of phone reception, we carb loaded (cheese has carbs, right?) for the next day's 40 km hike up to Mount Ossa, Tassie's highest mountain. Being so focused on planning for the Derby weekend, I'd forgotten almost everything I needed for our mountain hike like thermals and gloves. A decision I am now ruing after doing 5700m of descending at Maydena with a large patch of skin missing my my right palm. I crash much more trail running than I do mountain biking. The Arm River track is the closest access point for an Ossa hike. Being an offshoot of the famous Overland Track it's well maintained and the new Pelion Hut, about 2 hours into the trip, is fairly luxurious by mountain hut standards. With a steady climb to Pelion Gap my heart rate only spiked while jumping a Tiger snake on one of the many duck-boarded sections. The push up to Mount Ossa peak is a bit of scrambling but tame compared to our Mount Anne adventure. Not as lucky with the weather this time we got brief views of the lower Mount Doris and the valley below. John did mention the cloud conditions and how pointless it would be to get to the top with no view. It has weirdly never occurred to me that we do these things for the views. 8 and a bit hours later we were back at camp and demolishing the rest of the hummus and crackers. Just an FYI that Mr Tiger Snake appears to live at that particular site beside the duck board so we got to say 'hi' on the way back as well.

Driving back to Hobart the next day we agreed we'd packed a lot into our week. But that barely scratched the surface of all the places we want to experience in Tasmania. We have a white board full of crazy ideas and will be working our way through them in 2019. We probably won't be the first or the fastest to do any particular route. And there may not be views. I just do it because I can, and one day that might not be the case.

The decline of home cooking and link to obesity

So much of what's in this clip went through my head this week as I was preparing dinner for one. Life with a shift worker means a lot of dinners alone, something I'm very familiar with having lived solo (except for my daughter when she was home) for over a decade. On some nights yes, I had toast or maybe a bowl of peas for dinner after a chronic case of CBF. But 99% of the time, I cooked a meal that I would have served had another adult been dining with me. So this week, I used my alone-time to try out a new salad recipe. Trying a new dish always increases the shopping and preparation time with unfamiliar ingredients. But once it's in the repertoire, the efficiency increases. There are times when I wonder why I put so much effort into food preparation and what a waste of time it is. Then I catch myself. Something like eating, which is absolutely vital to good health and survival, is now regarded as an annoyance. While I think the video is a bit simplistic in terms of suggesting home cooking would always be superior to eating out and that obesity isn't caused by at-home foods, it does highlight the disconnect between our fundamental life necessities - healthy food, exercise, relaxation - and our perceived necessities - a big house, expensive car, latest iPhone. When we sacrifice the fundamentals for the illusion of 'must haves', we lose. Sometimes we lose our lives.

My ex husband was a chef and there is a mistaken view that we had gourmet meals constantly. For one, when cooking all day it's the last thing you want to do at home. But the best thing he taught me was that cooking doesn't have to be complicated. Get a few good ingredients and some simple flavours. I rarely make a recipe that relies of specific vegetables because if capsicums are $12 a kilo, there's no way I'm buying them. I have no issue with 2-3 dishes on high rotation and using flavourings like pestos, dressings and simple sauces means I can serve almost the same vegetables and protein every night and it tastes like a totally different meal. The images of a couple dancing around the kitchen while cooking are probably far removed from the reality of one parent (usually mum) cooking after a full day at work while the other parent is either still out working or ferrying the kids from an activity. But is it the video that's wrong, or the reality? Having a healthier relationship with meals and seeing the preparation and consumption of them as a time for connection is something I really believe in. No screens, everyone sitting at the table and everyone getting a chance to talk about their day. Studies have found a link between eating at home as a family, without the TV on, and increased fibre and vegetable intake and reduced BMI in children. That's something worth taking time for.

The Gender Debate

I’ve held off entering the gender-optional debate until now. But I live in the first Australian state to consider legislation allowing people to decline being assigned a gender on their birth certificate so it got me thinking. What are the ramifications of this? Why is it important? How is that related to women in mountain biking?

My first reaction – what a crock. We’re either male or female at birth and, barring rare genetic disorders, it’s pretty clear which team we’re on. There are obvious physical differences between men and women in both the genitals as well as the tendency for men, on average, to be taller and stronger than women. These boys who ‘identify as female’? Well unless you have a vagina and get crampy once a month, you don’t meet the criteria. Then I started thinking a little deeper. What do they actually mean ‘identify as female’? From mere observation, it seems to mean adopting certain habits that society has defined as female. Things like wearing lighter coloured clothing, make up, long hair and perhaps a skirt. Maybe speaking a little softer or playing with ‘feminine’ toys like Barbie. And ‘identifying as male’ appears to involve wearing shorts and t-shirts, cutting your hair short and eschewing make-up. If that’s the criteria then I’ve ‘identified as male’ for a large portion of my life. I was the quintessential tom-boy growing up and have had crew-cuts at various stages of my life. I rarely wore make up because ain’t nobody got time for that when there were bikes to ride and trees to climb. Plus, growing up in Queensland humidity without air-conditioning, there was nothing pleasant about applying foundation as fast as it slid off your face. In other words, my decision on what to wear or not wear was based on personal preference and lifestyle factors. Not my gender. I'm rather relieved to have grown up in an age I wasn't being rushed in for gender reassignment surgery.

So why does wearing make-up and skirts make someone ‘female’? It doesn’t. It makes them a person (male or female) who prefers to wear certain clothes or cosmetics and SHOULDN’T have anything to do with gender. I was listening to this podcast yesterday which claims that less than a hundred years ago, boys and girls were dressed the same and calling attention to their gender was seen as unconscionable until puberty when it actually mattered. Having pink and blue clothes was a huge marketing ploy to sell more clothes when they couldn’t be handed down between siblings. It would be great to go back to that and do away with boy and girl-specific toys and games. Until the age of 10 there is no physical difference in size or strength between the sexes so why segregate them or treat them differently?

Unless I’m going to the doctor and they’re trying to decide whether to give me pap smear or check my prostate, I shouldn’t, on a daily basis, be asked if I’m male of female because it should make NO DIFFERENCE. As a form of protest, I actually ticked ‘not specified’ on the gender box at the Virgin check-in this morning (which is weird because I don’t recall ever being asked for my gender before? Do female corpses dismember differently in a crash?).  This whole concept of being assigned a gender should end with the physical basics that are only really important in very limited spheres. Even in jobs requiring strength, the litmus test should be if you can carry the heavy thing, you get the job. I believe the fire service and similar are the only ones to still have rigorous physical entrance requirements. But I, as a 160cm female, would apparently pass so, clearly, they are not restricted to the top echelons of body builders.

Why does this matter? Because if we can be conned into believing that there is gender specific clothing, we can be conned into believing there are sports, jobs and behaviours that are also unsuitable due to gender. This is where the real inequality lies.  And I don’t just mean for women. Whether it’s lack of female CEOs or politicians or the number of men who take their lives each year because talking about feelings and stuff isn’t ‘masculine’, gender stereotyping (or just gender) doesn’t serve anyone.

This all might seem a curious point of view for someone who makes their living from women’s only mountain bike skills coaching. But my industry only exists because our society keeps perpetuating the myth that gender puts people at a disadvantage for certain skills. In terms of being able to manoeuvre a mountain bike around a trail there is no reason that men should be better at this than women. And yet the women who come to my sessions are really bad at this compared to most men. What they ultimately lack is not the ability, it is the belief in their ability. This is not some innate female quality, but the product of 40 years of being treated differently. Of being more protected, of having more risk ‘managed’ out of their lives. Of being sent subtle, or not so subtle, messages that mountain bike riding is dangerous and women shouldn’t do dangerous things. It’s buying your daughter a pink bike with a basket and streamers that is basically useless for actual riding and getting your son a BMX. My brother and I got Malvern Stars one Christmas. I was far more ‘sporty’ than he was but I still got the pink step-through style while he got the one with the high top tube. To be honest there may have been no difference in performance between them, but you never see someone on a step-through racing. The message was clear and still is.

My partner and I took his boys to the park to kick a football around last week. I don’t like to blow my own trumpet but I was nailing the kicks, left and right footed – straight to the hands. It occurred to me there are few women my age who could do that. The only reason I CAN do that is because of year 11 PE. One semester the girls were told they were doing netball and the boys would be doing AFL. Being a feminist far beyond my time, and not really understanding the attraction of netball, I protest loudly and to my teacher’s credit, I was permitted to play AFL. But why weren’t all the girls playing AFL? Or the boys doing a semester of netball? The differences in speed and strength could have been evened out with mixed teams. My other love was soccer but the only girl I knew who played had to play for a men’s team as there weren’t any women’s teams. I finally got to play in senior year as things were moving with the times. The fact we now have women’s AFL and World Cup just blows me away and I don’t think young women today realise what a huge change that has been. (Note, I believe that sports based on physical strength and speed should still be segregated due to the physical differences outlined in the start of this article. And that includes ‘transgender’ women who, despite the same testosterone levels now, possess greater response to testosterone and will never be biologically matched to women. But that’s another blog post!)

I don’t want to focus too much on elite sport. When I was deep in that world it was hugely important. Now I wonder, if all the professional sport disappeared, would that have any impact on the everyday person aside from less time spent in front of the TV and less overpriced branded gear bought. It actually might encourage more community level participation as there is little correlation between elite sport and recreational participation rates.

But there I was yesterday, the only woman in Elite, racing the state mountain bike championships which is a far cry from world cup ‘elite’ level sport. Racing isn’t for everyone and that could be a personal preference. But when women are outnumbered by the men 20 to 1, I cannot believe that can be accounted for by differences in personal preference. Statistically, there is no reason why women should want to compete less than men, unless they are receiving messages from society that competition is bad or not ‘feminine’. Mountain biking is a very male dominated sport, period, and I don’t think anyone – from clubs, MTBA, race promoters – is really aware why. Competence breeds confidence. And everyone, from parents down, is telling girls that mountain biking is not the sport for them. Particularly the technical side of mountain biking which includes steep descending and obstacles. The women I teach have no confidence because they have no competence. They were not encouraged to ride, do wheelies, or take risks as kids so they are now playing catch up. There has been huge progress in mountain bike skills in juniors over the past decade, but the gulf between the average girl and the average boy remains because the messages remain.

I got to ride with some close mates from Brisbane at Maydena recently including my mate Matt, who basically got me into mountain biking. As we were shredding down black trails at similar speeds, he said “I forgot you don’t ride like a chick”. And he’s right. I don’t ride like the average female. I am much more confident in my ability and am still looking to get better as skills don’t have much to do with age. I can’t tell you why, other than speculate that a childhood growing up without a car meant I had a foundation of confidence on a bike. This made it easier for me to transition to riding off road. I rode with people who were better than me and I wasn’t afraid to fail. I didn’t see falling off as embarrassing but a realistic reflection of how long I had been riding and the work I’d put in to learning the skills. I have no competence with swimming so the idea of being with a couple of hundred other thrashing bodies in the open water doesn’t appeal to me at all. My friend Gill is a very competent swimmer so she often competes, although she wouldn’t line up for a mountain bike race.  We both compete, but our competence lies in different areas.

Having competence in different areas which influences our preferences and attendance at events is all fine, unless our preferences are being dictated to us by gender attitudes in society. I can cut my hair and wear pants but I’ll still be recognised as female due to bone structure and other physical tells. And your subconscious bias will come into play which is why we need things like quotas for female participation in business and politics. Are the differences in gender participation at mountain bike events concerning for anyone other than race promoters who want more profit from race fees? Doubtful. I’m more alarmed at the drop in participation in sport generally when people transition from childhood to adulthood than I am about the participation difference between girls and boys in physical activity (around 10% depending on where you read). But sport tends to be a reflection of society so the alarm is that, as enlightened as we believe we have become, gender stereotypes are alive and well and perhaps doing away with gender as a concept is a worthy goal.  I do not accept that men and women have different preferences and abilities in physical or mental skills so any significant deviation from a 50% participation rate in any field deserves closer analysis of social conditioning. Women are not naturally crap at mountain biking and leading companies any more than men are naturally crap at talking about emotions and nursing. They both conform to expectations and conditioning. It will take many generations to address the inequality so the sooner we start the better.

Check out these podcasts too:
Rethinking evil - on the real reasons for violent crimes by men. Calling bullshit on the testosterone argument
Be the Change - A couple's fight to raise their child free of gender