A Kazamidori takes to the streets of UB

About to embark on an urban adventure

Riding in UB not quite like riding in Kobe. But I set off into the urban jungle last weekend, proudly wearing my Kobe Kazamidori jersey. Sorry Clunes Calosi and Ecurie Neep - your time will come!
The pollution stings the back of your throat and the elevation (only about 4300ft) makes the air a little thinner than I'd like. The cars are used to the idea that if there is more than 1 lane and you pull out slowly, then what happens is you get a loud horn blast and the  oncoming cars swerve round you. Consequently they do not actually look at all, they kind of creep out of junctions braced for impact. All well and good when surrounded by several tonnes of metal, not so good when some mad foreigner is plowing down the road at 30kph mounted on a few kg of titanium and surrounded by the rather grey air.
There is also absolutely no lane law so very little in the way of gaps to play with, the 'gutter' is inevitably full of construction debris and the curbs are tall concrete slabs with very few on/off ramps, even at pedestrian crossings. This this makes the switch from sidewalk to road and back again harder to negotiate something that was a frequent answer to traffic in Kobe (sorry Junior). It does make for entertaining rollerball style riding though, it's definitely not for the feint-hearted.  The roads themselves provide more than enough to concentrate on without the traffic. Tarmac switches to concrete slabs with little or nothing in the join, great sections of surface suddenly disappear and the front end of the bike needs lifting as you launch off the road surface into the pot hole for a section of 'offroading' on the concrete rubble hardcore base revealed by freezing temperatures followed by a really wet summer and an inexplicable number of trucks and SUV's. I've never bottomed out 100mm of front suspension on a road before, but here it happens every few minutes.

I was looking for a particular shop, but missed the turn and so thought I'd just work my way back to it rather than turn around and retrace my steps, um, no! There is no grid system, so roads just end, usually in construction sites, new apartment complexes or small ger communities. Yep there in the heart of the 21st century, concrete construction jungle there are still small fenced communities of people living in Gers. After a few miles of exploring looking for the way back, I did eventually give up and turn round to retrace my steps, only to find the road to the shop closed off with large chunks of concrete blocking the way. The road was being resurfaced. I stopped and stared at the shiny black tarmac with disbelief. A road, that looked...well... a lot like a road...a first for me in Mongolia.

 So eventually after 50 mins of 'playing with the traffic' I made it to the bike shop - the first of it's kind in  Mongolia- its a Trek shop, complete with high end carbon time trial machines and 'Wiliers' road machines priced in the millions of tugrig. Who's buying these things, and where in God's name are they riding them?

"2 inner tubes please" I said, and after a little rummaging the lad proudly produced 2 Bontrager boxed inner tubes. So far so good. At least he spoke a little English.
"How much?"
"20,000" (£10/$15)
Pricey I thought but ok for 2, I guess.
"each" he added
I laughed out loud
"Genuine Bontrager" he said
"Where are the cheap ones?" I asked with a smile.
A little rummaging in the cupboard and 2 Bwin tubes came out for 16000 the pair. (£4 each)
"That's more like it. Thank you"

I rode home along the river side having had enough of the traffic and enjoyed the trails riding the flood dyke that separated the apartment complexes from the dirt trails on the river side below. I dropped down onto the dirt trails and found myself riding towards some stacks of tyres about 6 feet tall covered in a Jackson Pollockesque layer of paint. I slowed...then from behind the shack at the end of the trail, 3 figures wearing combat fatigues, knee pads and body armour, complete with helmet and visor, strode purposefully forward and took cover behind separate stacks of tyres. I was turning the bike around rather quickly when I noticed another figure crouched some distance away from the others, with a gun...then it all kicked off...there was movement, shouting, running, diving and coloured balls being launched. Paint ball...who'd of thought, in the flood plain of the Tuul river there is a small paint ball  centre.
 I quickly (well as quickly as the surface, my untrained legs and aching lungs would allow) rode out of there, and back onto the concrete dyke until the trail ended, unsurprisingly in a construction site.  I was forced into dodging earth movers the size of small buildings and weaving around men in hard hats, non of whom seemed to care that I was there, I guess I was wearing a hard hat of sorts. The site soon spat me back out onto concrete road just south of the school, at the golf driving range.

Yep, main roads with potholes that would swallow a mini; dodging dodgy traffic; breathing air with more than its fair share of carbon monoxide and particulates; a visit to a couple of partially completed apartment complexes; a cheery encounter with a young cell phone carrying girl outside a ger community,(which had more than one ger sporting a solar panel and a satellite dish); a Trek shop looking just like every other trek shop you've been in, anywhere in the world; newly laid tarmac; closed roads; trails; men in army fatigues firing paint at each other; monster trucks; hard hats and a golf driving range.

All in one 90 minute ride, surreal no, not at all surreal for life in this most unusual of cities.

So glad I've got my bike, now the exploring really begins.

Ok lets roll

It's here!

Oh happy days.

We got a message at school yesterday, the shipment was in UB, to which Sarah's reaction was tears, much to the dismay of the receptionist who broke the news to her. A woman from the Monex company turned up in school to get some papers signed and left saying they would deliver it to the apartment but not when they would deliver. Gerel, the receptionist, bless her, then phoned to see when it would arrive but at 4:00pm there was no news so we did what all good teachers do on a sunny Friday, we went to the nearest pub and sat in the sun drinking beer.
Until, at shortly before 5, we got a call from Monex saying they would be at the apartment around 6. Needless to say we finished our drinks and left.
True to their word at 6 they arrived.

apparently we sent rather more than we thought

That's my bike that is

first things first - locate the whisky

both intact - nice

guard those bottle with your life Barkley

So with all that stuff and no shelves I was once more forced to improvise - a sharp knife - some sticky tape and a hey presto cardboard shelves.

...and then on to the important jobs.

Always wanted to be able to keep my bikes in in the living room, no other option here.

Got a bit of rubbish to get rid of though.
That said before the boxes were even at my door two old mongolians were chirping away about something. We had to call one of the secretaries to translate and he was wanting 50,000 tugrik £25 to take the boxes away - apparently we cant leave good quality boxes  on the stair, Sheep's heads, cigarette butts, and the occasional drunk are all de rigeur but quality cardboard is strictly not allowed and requires payment to move.
Anyway in theory he settled for 1500 and will turn up in the next few minutes. I'll update you on that saga later. (update: he turned up an hour late but at the time he had originally said he would and took the boxes away - handed him a wad of bills and off he went. Kind of worked I guess).

In the meantime I'm as happy as happy can be - except Sarah has gone off shopping for furniture to put all this stuff in so no doubt there will be more difficulties ahead...she's just back and found a couple of shops selling IKEA stuff - god help me - more bloody flat pack IKEA.

Leadville

And so it was to Leadville.

The mountainbike race came and went. It was hard, much harder than it should have been, but then a glance at my training log kind of explained why. I had ridden more in the States in the lead up to and including the race than I had in the six months before. I knew deep down I could tough out any 50 mile mountain bike race and so it proved but it wasn't big and it wasn't clever. Still I finished and that's what counts in the end, for large parts it was an enjoyable grind and for one short (3-4 mile) section coming out of Printerboy aid station on the way back it really really wasn't.

Bring it on!

Bang! Now get out of the way.

I had the best crew!

Printerboy on the way out.

Right that's that bit done then.

Splits are here Silver Rush 50 Mile Mountain bike Race . I should have been faster, I should have hurt less, but then maybe just maybe I should have trained, even just a little might have helped.

Gunnison and Crested Butte

Both these places were brilliant very close together (about 30 miles) but as different as different could be.

We camped at the Tall Texan on the edge of Gunnison and immediately headed up the road to Crested Butte to get something to eat and to see what was happening during the bike festival weekend.

The place was buzzing with bikes of every shape and size and a whole load of people in fancy dress having just completed a 'chainless' race.

The next couple of day were spent exploring the Black Canyon of Gunnison and running and riding around Hartman Rocks just outside of Gunnison. The Black Canyon was stunning, Hartman Rocks more high desert and more hot wind and dust, but good fun. I liked Gunnison it was a small ranching town with a university and a growing outdoor culture. It just felt very 'right' if a little empty - maybe the college being out gave it that feel.
Garmin on the run ride Bike here  Run Here




Then we moved up to Crested Butte for a few days, it was a wonderful place mixing hippy culture with mountain life. The ranchers, the ski bums that never left, the bike bums that have just arrived, the rafters, kayakers,  everyone, just got on and had a fine old time in a beautiful place.

The riding and running weren't bad either. MTB Run

And so it began

It all arrived ok and took less time to unpack and reassemble than it looks.

Days 1 & 2

So after several delays being bounced to later flights and endless sitting we collected all the bags including the new reinforced bike bag. I guess tomorrow i'll find out if all that effort and padding did its job. We negotiated the hire car depot and left $500 lighter than planned well the small SUV was not going to carry all our crap let alone Linda and Jacquelyn. So a few hours later than we set off, you got to love crossing the date line, at 10.00pm we checked into a holiday inn in Colorado Springs ate a burger in TGI Fridays drank a Fat Tyre and crashed heavily. The next morning saw us drop a Whole load more cash at REI and set off for Z Lazy B Guest Ranch, which is to serve as a base for the next few days. Well a base when we aren't sitting in or riding around the Enchanted Forest. We spent a day dodging wild fires and playing with cruise control as we inched our way towards McGaffey and the 24 hour mountainbike race that would be the first of the summers planned adventures.
Turns out that American 'rock' stations are just a bit rubbish and the rest of the radio is either talk shows or country. So I have an apology to make to Celia when I see her next. Cruising through New Mexico to good 'ol country is perfectly acceptable. I 'm guessing it isn't going to transfer well to my living room or the earphones round the green belt but here we just keep switching to the next country station when the reception fails.

The Race

We got to Z Lazy B guest ranch late on Thursday, turns out it is not just a mile from race site but about 7 miles. We were so late we went straight there and then had to turn around and go into Gallup for something to eat. We eventually got to bed about midnight. Bob was due to join us the next morning and when he hadn't arrived by noon we set off for the metropolis of Gallup which seems to consist largely of fast food outlets, food shops and casinos. On the way though we met Bob already hard at work being a greeter. He had failed to find Z Lazy B in daylight and decided if he went and hung out at the race site we would turn up eventually. He was right of course. Later that afternoon we pitched our tents on our 'primo plot' and by 4:00 we were all hard at work, Sarah and Bob handing out the race packets and me doing the greeting, relieving people of $5 'donation' towards search and rescue and giving them the shpeel 'no fires or you are disqualified and escorted from the premises, watch out for bears and mountain lions. Where are you from? Which kind of camp do you want uber quiet, kind of quiet, or noisy?'

We worked 4-8:30 and headed back to the cabin for a bit of supper and not a lot of sleep. Sarah was up again and on shift handing out more packets at 8:30 the next morning. Bob and I got to the campsite about 10:00 put the bike together, got a little organized and changed before heading down to the race briefing.

The place was beautiful dry hot windy and very very dusty. We had clearly pissed off some of the locals, one who complained we were too close to the stock pond, and he was right but the organizer had all her permits approved so what can you do? There was another who kept driving by and gunning his 4x4 when we were doing the greeting just so we had to stand in his dust.
The race began as advertised at 12:00 with a road and double track roll out before hitting the single track. 

The course was very pedally with no significant hills but a few long gentle drags made a bit harder for me by the sand and the fact that my lungs were mildly complaining about the altitude. The first lap went well apart from the finding myself sitting at the back of a line of mainly single speeders consisting largely of back of the packers and while it was nice getting a bit of a tow and having some company it did mean eating an awful lot of dirt, until I got my puncture. I fixed it easy enough but lost quite a lot of time.
The rest of the lap was pretty uneventful. Pretty dusty loose singletrack rarely more than 12 inches wide. I stopped, drank, eat a gel, grabbed a handful of trail mix and headed back out. The second lap things had settled down some fewer people were visible and for large sections I was alone. It was then I realized the camel back bite valve was dripping, not a huge problem, but something, which came to annoy me some. 

The climbs were hurting more than they should given that they barely qualify as climbs at all and I became aware that altitude was making sure I didn't really recover properly from every effort and even riding and drinking became a real effort. After 2 laps I stopped and changed clothes. The baggy shorts and the dripping gu brew were beginning to chafe. I ate some more and went out again. The weather was warm, dry, windy, and the dust was blowing everywhere. The riding was very good. Never particularly challenging either physically or technically or at least it wouldn't have been if the race was at sea level, as it was at 8000 ft and every gasp
Of air containing at least a teaspoon of dust I was beginning to feel it. Not least in the backside and the shoulders. 

Riding the Kona on the road ( and I hadn't done enough of even that) does not prepare the arse for the constant slapping riding pedally singletrack gives it nor does it prepare the upper body for being trapped in one of two usable riding positions for a long period of time. I made it through 50 miles in around 6 hours and at about 65 miles or 4 laps decided to call it a day.

Bob made up some food; Sarah was working the timing tent. I ate, changed again, chatted and chilled (quite literally) before turning in for a few hours of restless tossing and turning. The fact that I'd bought new lights dragged me out of bed at about 2:00 for the first of my night laps. I was having a blast. The new lights were stunning, a big step up from the old lumi's and I battered around the course, some people I caught, some caught me, with some I even had what was the closest thing I had to a ' race ' all day it was just plain good fun until the second puncture. Fixing a puncture in the dark is never fun and usually leads to a bit of a chill and this was no exception except it was kind of fun. Maybe a dozen riders came passed and every one asked if I was ok, whether I needed something, all except on young lady who rolled passed caught me in her head torch and said 'Ah Dang it!' brought a smile to my face. I'm assuming it was a sympathetic comment aimed at me but who knows. I lost my rhythm had got a bit more chilled. I found the ride back to camp hard. Lap 5 done, the idea of calling it a day was already forming in my head and I went into camp sure in the knowledge that I was going out for one more in the dark, that it would get light while I was out there and that lap 6 would be my last. And so it proved. Whether it was mental or general fatigue I just could not get myself going at all. I was cold but moving too slowly to warm up properly and my arse really really hurt. I didn't hand the chip in just in the off chance that I might change my mind but once I was changed out of my cycling clothes and had no other clean dry kit there was no chance so by 6:00 am I had finished my first 24 hr race. I guess that means really I only did an 18 hr race. The rest of the morning was spent eating and drinking chatting and cheering and frantically trying to warm up. 

 The entertainment was provided by '29 and single ' Citlalli an entertainingly loud and friendly young lady riding a 29er singlespeed with a crew of at least 4 friends and relatives who had their crewing duties off in a big way. One would ask her what she needed in the way of food, one saw to any clothes changes while the others sorted the bike. It was remarkably smooth and prompted Bob to comment ' after watching Sitlalli's crew work you should sack us we are pretty crap'. She had had a big off sometime in the evening or night and had broken both brake lever mounts as well as scuffing both knees. Somehow her crew had designed a quite stunning bodge with zip ties supplied by the on site bike tech. Not only did the bodge hold she got up in the morning taped her knees and rode another 2 laps to finish with 7. A quite remarkable achievement all things considered. The day eventually warmed up and we sat cheering on the last remaining riders on the course. We conducted a very rough straw pole of the bike being ridden and came up with the rather surprising discovery that geared full suspension bikes were the most common ( at least the most common still moving on the course between 10-11am) this was somewhat surprising as I have never seen so many singlespeeds in one place before ever. Singlespeeds of all denominations rigid 29er or hardtail were in fact joint second, with geared hardtail. My favorite bikes out on the course were the Pugseys they were just cruising along having some fun a couple of them had stereos mounted somewhere and they'd cruise up behind you playing their tunes and you'd know they were coming and smile while looking for a way to let them passed with the least trouble. They were just plain cool unlike some of the serious 'wannabes' shouting 'wachyerback' as they screamed up behind you. Thankfully they were the exception and everyone else I encountered on the trail was polite, chatty and out to have some fun.

I had a great time I, despite Bob's protests had a great crew to whom I am very grateful and I left the arena tired, very sore arsed, very very dirty and winner of the 'travelled furthest ' prize.

I left my watch in the car charging for one of my laps and garmin says I did 83.54 miles. Enchanted Forest A lap needs adding to that total. Each lap was over 16 miles so with a bit of mathematical wizardry we calculate that I rode just over 100 miles and I have the clunes calosi to prove it. I finished by saying ' glad I did it but not sure I need to do that again' however in the words of another friend 'the further away from actually doing it I get the more it I like the idea of doing it again.

24 hours later the saddle sores are still sore, I'm still washing dust out of my body, my nose bleeds every time I blow it, my skin is so dry it looks scaly and my lips are so chapped and chafed that even the best lip balm softens them for only about 5 minutes. 

Well worth the effort.

Been away a while

I've been busy running and visiting conferences and generally getting my head down to do the job I'm paid to do rather than writing this.
The weather since the snowy trip has been interesting - the following week there was absolutely no snow on the lower slopes of Rokko but a little left at the top. I met up with a nice young couple on the trail, they were a little disoriented and had been advised to turn round and head back to Arima by a group of hikers who had told them that there was too much snow and they weren't properly prepared. They didn't have crampons and ice axes but they were ok for the amount of snow and the general proximity to civilisation. Anyway they hiked with me to the top and then went on their own way. The snow is now all gone and the weather alternates between great and just nasty.

Last weekend the weather was warm and I ran from the apartment into the hills for the first time - all that concrete and tarmac though had my foot hurting for a day or two afterwards.

B&B was fun last night - met up with a bunch of Trek Asia folks, shared some stories, exchanged a few email addresses barracked them about Suzy's bike taking 3 months to get here, and then raced the train home. We were back a full 15 minutes before they rolled in. Good to know we can bike faster than the train (if we have to).