Tough times

Another lovely sunny rest day in Saint-Sauveur. It would be nice if it were accompanied with the glow of success... These past couple of weekends have been challenging both physically and in the aftermath, mentally.

Killington Stage Race takes place in central Vermont, which at this time of year is lush and humid. All four of us Quebec-based H&R boys were there to contest the race.

Friday was a relatively flat circuit race, each of the 4 laps having a gradual ascent over the first half, and decent to the finish, so we planned to lead out our big boy, Brad, for the fast downhill finish. The technical guide for the race suggested a 55-11 for sprinters!

The race was fast and furious until a break was established, including Nick to represent the black and green. However with a lap to go, it all came together, so we started preparing for the sprint finish. Unfortunately unnamed eager beavers on the team started our leadout way (way way) too early, and we were gassed by 3km to go. The leadout was swarmed and Brad was stuck in the melee. Despite Matt pulling out a surprising 10th and my 14th, the result were worthless for GC (at least 80% of the 115+ riders were still in the peleton, and with a mass finish like that everyone gets the same finish time), stage winnings (money only going 3 deep), and general team happiness at having failed to execute our plan.

The next day's time trial was mostly a false flat, so we were again betting on Brad to crush. That didn't happen, and we didn't really have any other personal victories to rally behind either.

The last day was the road race, featuring two worthy KOMs. We were hopeful that the final huge 4km climb would negate the team tactics of the bigger squads, and with Nick, highest placed in GC, also being a good climber, we wanted to protect him for the finale.

Unfortunately, right after Nick bridged to a break (...er??) I had a blow-out and as I rolled from 50km/h to a stop on $4000 wheels with no air in the back tire, I had a little meltdown.

What can I say? I panicked.

It was very much a Redlands deja vu moment...despite this time being well positioned about 10-15th wheel... Once I stopped swearing, I got off to take my wheel off, realized it was not down the cassette, got back on, started trying to change gears but being SRAM and me freaking out, I changed up instead, as the neutral wheel guy runs up, pulls off the wheel, I finally change down, he throws a wheel on, I hit it, not sure if he will pace me, he pulls his car in front just as we hit a short climb, I kill myself trying to get close to him on the uphill and then get closer on the downhill. He stayed about 3-4 meters away, and we were doing about 45kmh...so eventually he left to catch the peleton.

From there I went as hard as I could and was sooo close to the back of the caravan (i.e. support/officials' cars following the race) just as they hit a decent hill...I was about 100 meters back when the peleton crested, taking the cars with them. Didn't see them again.

I talked to the wheel guy afterwards...they're pro SRAM/Zipp neutral support, so I figured he would be able to tell me what to do. He said that I should be just inches from his back bumper to get a real draft, BUT I had to give him the thumbs down to slow down, because he can't be unexpectedly slowing down in front of riders and freaking them out. Seems reasonable.

Anyway, I TTed for the remaining 2/3 of the race, 65km or so, determined to make time-cut. I experienced absolute hell as I rode through a friggen paradise...old towns, cheering locals, a river running by the road, and hills thick with brilliant green spring foliage, all to make time cut. Ended up passing a few dudes of the final climb, and finished within the timecut, 27 min down...although they don't seem to have cut anyone. I heard Nick fell out of the break, but the break was caught just before the final climb, and he managed to get 8th for the stage.

After a four days to recover, train, taper and generally get my head back in the game, we headed north east to the Charlevoix region of Quebec, know for hills, hills, more hills, and good cheese.


The first race was a 17km TT. I was feeling motivated and quite rested, and dare I say, prepared! Nick helped me tape on a tubular for my rear Zipp 808 the night before, so I was running the triathlete special: 404 front and 808 rear. Light, but deep enough to be wicked-aero. Tuned my gears during a good warmup, and got psyched while avoiding thinking about the brute I would be following down the start ramp (he went on to win the stage).

I headed out at a good clip, conserving a little since it was slightly downhill and a tailwind. Road was a little bumpy, and then crack! Oh god, not the 808... Still seemed to be rolling fine. A short while later, another crack...and I felt my position was now a little off: seat post had slipped down. Crap. I still rode hard, but gradually my seat got to the point where I was riding a clown bike. My quads were on fire, but I hadn't been passed...was I keeping my Garneau 30-second man at bay? No, it turns out my 30-second and minute men hadn't started the race, so I had kept my one-and-a-half (or maybe even 2 minute) man at bay, just, so I ended up 2:20 behind the winner for 41st. Boo.

Back to motel, eat, sleep, eat, warmup for crit, snafu at the lineup so we started at the back. I worked my way up to not-quite-at-the-back for 43rd. Boo x 2.

Last stage on Sunday, 3rd race in 24 hours. Beautiful course, quite a bit of climb up to the two-thirds mark, then ridiculous amounts of climbing. I sucked, finished in the 3rd group for around 40th. Definitely the hardest result to deal with...no excuses for this one... Perhaps it's time to try my hand at golf? haha Nick finished 7th, so he is in great form for Beauce next week.

A little sightseeing and dinner in Quebec City was a nice way to lift the spirits before the long drive home.
Shrine of Sainte Anne de Beaupré

Getting settled

This year has seemed somewhat like a regression from a productive and financially independent member of society to a starving bum. A generally happy bum though, as opposed to one sitting on the street corner yelling obscenities at his genitals. The first week of Montreal followed this trend, as I slept on Patrick and Cricri's couch, then moved to McGill University residences.

I find it more enjoyable to treat tough weeks as mental training: two hour roller/trainer ride in the dorm? No problem. Pouring rain while circumnavigating Iles des Montreal, soaked to the bone? Get 'er done. Finishing said ride via downtown in rush-hour as the down-pour continues? Crit-like acceptance of fear.

Nick and I headed up north of Montreal to check out some hillier terrain, and found a cool four-bedroom house in the ski town of Saint-Sauveur-des-Mont. The area is a cycling paradise. Matt and Brad joined us there last Friday before I did a solo run east of Montreal to GP Granby, a 19km TT.

Ugh, the TT...not a shining moment in my cycling year. I found it hard to get into the world-of-pain headspace and chugged out a mediocre time for 21st out of 38. Garneau-Club Chaussures look to be the dominant force in the area, taking 1st and 2nd and 7 of the top 12. I'm told the flat course is a good example of most of the road race routes.

Right after the TT, I headed to Toronto. Unfortuantely Sunday's crit there was cancelled, but that gave me ample time to be befuddled by a mechanic speaking English, find some good riding north of Toronto, pre-ride the Nationals course (12km of dead flat, 600m of straight up)and, saving the best for last, hang out with the Kelster after her genius convention.

Now back in Quebec, and had a day to get in some more amazing riding around my new home, before getting back on the road with the boys to head to GP St Raymond, up near Quebec City.

North and east

Been a little slack on the post-Redlands blogging. I usually only write something when something interesting happens. Or I race. I think the time has come...

I got back to Calgary early in April, with an option of immediately jumping in the car and getting out east in time for Tour of the Battenkill. Once I got back though, I knew that trying to pack my life in a few boxes and get sorted within 24 hours, to give me a fighting chance of making it out to the race in time, was unrealistic. Instead I stayed at Trev's, donned the winter riding gear and tried to train, while waiting for team bikes that were always arriving "in a couple of days". Eventually, enough was enough and we hit the road.

It turns out that Nick and I are not very good at road-tripping.

We should have realized after we took until 8pm to drive 6 hours to Redlands, when we had all day. Of course it would also just be a reasonable assumption based on my past history. After being led astray by Kelly the night before I left (although it did include my first trip to the Banff hotsprings and a wild deer sniffing my hand, outstretched more for self-defense than a gesture of inter-species friendliness) and one last ride in Calgary, I met Nick only an hour late at 2pm, and after putting a few things in the car, we set off promptly at 7pm.

Stop one was Regina, Saskatchewan, at Brad's parents'. His Dad came out, at 3am, to give us a guided tour of the house and generally being an excessively amazing host.

Although having two kayaks and a bike on the roof didn't help, we were only doing 100kmh on the highway, which would normally mean getting about 700km per tank of fuel. With the wind howling out of the east for the first time I can remember in 6 years of living in the prairies, we instead got as little at 370km! Yikes.

Pre-coffeePost-coffee
Winnipeg was our next stop, a meagre 6 hours drive later. Justin opened up his home, and even gave us a tour of downtown Winnipeg, including the largest skate part in western Canada? The next day we drove in the States for a shortcut to Toronto. We left at the crack of dawn...ok, 10am...stopped 2 hours later for a hour ride (which somehow took 3 hours), THEN we got some serious miles in...ok, we stopped for dinner a couple of hours later...then the rain and snow started, and I got tired, so we pulled in short of our planned destination in random tiny town, USA. Ok, the next day was going to be HUGE! Jumped out of bed at 9am, drove 5 minutes and stopped at a diner for breakfast....and so on and so on. Brutal. Nigel even lined up a place in Sarnia, seeing that we wouldn't make it to Toronto, but we didn't even get that far and opted for a $29 hotel in Battle Creek, Michigan.

Finally the next day we made it Toronto. God, it felt great to be back. Awesome friends, familiar surroundings. Missed catching up with everybody, but I'll be back this weekend by the looks of things.

Got to Montreal a couple of days ago, have amazing hosts here, and today found a place in a wicked village north of Montreal. Nick and I went riding there today and trashed ourselves, compensation for house-hunting rather than racing yesterday.

Arriveé en Montreal

We`ve finally arrived in Montreal! Yes, this photo could have been taken anywhere, but obviously not in Calgary - there`s no snow! ;) After a great cruise along the water on the island of Laval (NW Montreal) we went house hunting and had dinner with our wonderful hosts, Patrick and Cricri. Might be doing our first race tomorrow...or securing a roof over our heads.

Moving out and south

Holy, this had been a crazy week! Enjoyed my last Speed Theory rides with the lads and lasses and got back Tuesday morning. Had until Thursday evening to pack up and clean my house, put everything in temporary storage, and catch my flight to Tucson.

I spent the first two days not knowing where to start. Thursday morning my neighbor, Nina, came over and saved the day. Thank you, Nina!! Long story short, we packed and cleaned like a whirlwind, and I caught my flight. Nina and her housemate are coming on the weekend to finish the cleaning, and they even took Sherman, so he has a home for the month!

So when I got my two bikes on the plane, all for the price of the second and third bag charge, I was on the moon: 1) I had officially made the flight in time, and 2) I saved the $100 bike charges. Love Westjet!

Now I'm down at Stephen's house in Tucson again. Fellow H&R teammates Dustin and Kris are here for spring break, so I joined them today for my first H&R team ride. Dustin took us along a route that included a short diversion on what we think is some guy's drive way. Starts out with a little steep gravel, then it becomes paved and kicks up to, get this, 45%! according to Kris's SRM powermeter. We rode about 50 meters to the first switchback, then bailed and continued on with our base ride.

Here's Kris and Dustin heading back:

Last Speed Theory rides

Got out to Victoria, BC, last weekend for some stellar weather, 7 degrees - almost as warm as Ottawa! but better than -20 in Calgary. More importantly, dry and sunny. Did a solid day on Victoria hills on Friday, which was apparently Marcy's first group road ride! Wow. Ran a flawless leadout on Saturday to avenge last year's loss on the Wheelers/Burnside ride and did a huge day Sunday to Jordan River, much of which was on the sweet Galloping Goose path system, pictured below.

AZ brevet

I was back down in Tucson this past weekend for another dose of long-distance suffering. Randonneurs are long distance cyclists, brevets is what the event is called. I'd say "those people", except that since I'm two for two on the Arizona rando circuit so far this year, I'm in danger of being required to say "we"!!

Anyway, this event was a 300km - the same one I did two years ago, and again I was put up at a little piece of paradise owned by the esteemed Mr Kenny Phd (suffering) (...we always kid that he has a Phd in suffering. I'm pretty sure he has a few business degrees, but they aren't quite as intimidating on big rides/climbs).

Started out in darkness at 6am, in very chilly conditions. It wasn't REALLY cold, since I was escaping -17 degrees in Calgary by being in Arizona, but when you expect it to get up to 25 or so, and so you hope to pack all your cold-weather clothing in pockets and saddlebags designed to hold a powerbar or multi-tool, you dress just warm enough to not freeze. Since it was dark as we set out, it only got colder over the next couple of hours until the sun rose! Brr!

After the first checkpoint, the glorious sun was up and the temp came up a highly appreciated 10 degrees right quick. Our blinky lights seemed quite unnecessary by now, so while I was last in line, I leant down to turn off my blinky on my rear fork. I slipped, and OW! I had a millisecond to realize what might be happening, before I saw that I'd snatched my hand out the rear spokes, fingers intact. With a smarting finger, from what turned out to be a nice gash, as a reminder, I had the next 200km to think about how close I'd come to losing a finger in order to save the batteries in a $3 blinky light...

Now past the 100km mark, we were willing to start digging a little deeper on our pulls. Our lead group of 12 or so was making good progress, and I was feeling pretty good after the sugar-cocktail of my last energy bar, so I got a bit over-enthusiastic on a pull up a hill, where the young dude in our group, Taylor, took over and hammered the rest of the way. By the top, Stephen was calling out for us to "ease up there, young punks" because we'd lost everyone else. Oops.

We made good progress on the next 60km or so through to Sweetwater Rd, which, if you can see in this terrible photo taken by my iphone the day before, has a super-fun/brutal set of rollers, leading to the big climb of the day up through Gates Pass. I was still feeling great, thanks to the training and nutrition plan from super-coach Trev (and advice of unrelated super-physio Dave Holmes), and couldn't help but lay it down. Entirely un-nice/un-rando of me, and by Gates Pass, it was again just the three of us chugging up the front side and then clocking 70kmh on the descent and into the second and final checkpoint.

I've been finding on these long rides that it's the last third that really wears on you. Last year I bonked and recovered and bonked about seven times between this checkpoint and the end, so I was pretty stoked that we camped out for a few minutes to relax and refuel. We rolled out with a good group of 5 or so.

Without the break-neck speed start from last year, and no Trev drilling it, we were a little behind last year's schedule, and so it seemed that instead of having an hour of tailwind, we turned back north at just the right time to have it be pretty consistently head-wind for the entire ride. Fortunately the wind was very light, but it's still kinda like being up hill both ways!

Frontage Rd is a mind-numbingly straight, sanity-testing road that runs between a railway and interstate for about 40 km, but everyone was taking good pulls and didn't complain (until later). Taylor and I launch a couple of attacks to keep things entertaining, but Stephen wasn't buying it and just rolled us up with his unreleting rando pace after maybe a minute each time. Wim was considerate enough to flat just as we missed crossing the tracks before a mile-long cargo train passed, so we really lost no time we wouldn't have anyway.

By the time we were pulling through the bustling metropolis of Eloy (pop. 200), I was definitely in need of sustenance, but could not bring myself to eat yet another chocolate powerbar. I started trying to barter with the other riders, but Russ insisted on just giving me (apparently I wasn't doing a great job promoting my power bar) a pistachio, almond, honey, etc etc little piece of heaven, that saved me from bonking right into the ditch within spitting distance of the finish.

Well, it seemed like spitting distance. Around then, I saw a sign that said 17 miles to Casa Grande, our destination, but who knows where they measure that from, and those friggen mile things...gah! We'd all run out of water by this point (I was thirsty and I could see everyone else was out, so I didn't bother asking) and we just had to grind out that last bit to the finish.

All in all, though, I felt pretty amazing for having done another ludicrously long ride, and not even cowering in the peleton, either. I definitely got my money's worth at the all-you-can-eat sushi that night!

Gran Fondo Whistler

Gran Fondo Whistler is a 120km ride/race from Vancouver to Whistler, with a total of 2400m of ascent - yeeha!


I left after work on Thursday with team mate Charles, and we gunned it all the way to Kamloops, where we stopped in a random, dodgy, highway-side hotel. Next morning, we had the beats cranked as we made our way through at least 19 bouts of rain and fog...no wonder it's so green!..and got to Van by noon.

Once in town, we hit up a great bakery, Uprising Breads, and we met up with buddy Sean, who is now well and truly the high-rolling lawyer type, complete with massive, 300 sq ft, downtown Van condo. Did a short ride out to Kits' Beach and the UBC campus. That evening we walked to registration, and saw the beginnings of usual Friday night mayhem on Robson & Granville streets.

Ok, it's Saturday morning we're up insanely early, and riding the city streets, silently joined by other cyclists, converging on the start. Wild atmosphere...as the sun came up, 4000+ people have ammassed for an early rendition of the national anthem. A blast of the air-horn and the 150 Giro riders (the Gran Fondo's race group) clip in and accelerate toward Stanley Park and the Lion's Gate Bridge. It's pretty sketchy riding...the course is set up for a fun ride, so typical race course logic, like avoiding the use of pylons, was out the window. There is a strong cat 1/2/3 field in the hunt for a share of the $12,000 prize money, so pack-ninja skills are paramount. Right after the bridge, all 150 of us fill the sweeping exit ramp and try to maintain a good line to avoid crashes, all at around 50km/h - everyone's trying to look a few riders ahead to be aware, when suddenly there's a police motorcycle parked on the side! The pack is gutter to gutter, so no chance of swerving - luckily I was in the middle of the pack, and sailed past it unharmed, but I heard tyres lock up, followed by a thuds and crunches of bodies and bikes hitting a large stationary object. Ouch. Charles said he was one of them, but after sliding in sideways and a quick hip-check to the motorbike, he bounced back to straight and kept going!! Others were not so fortunate.

Next is a right turn onto Taylor Way and a hammer up the hill. Another crash, but this time low speed. Then we are on the highway. I understand the view is quite nice, but to maintain position in the pack, avoid unaligned pylons, and wheels of riders doing the same, and keep up the pace, I honestly could be riding in a tunnel. The pace is good through the rolling terrain, until we hit Furry Creek: go time! The pro boys are leading the charge up the hill, others that were at the front are going backwards; it's the general panic of selection #1. I can't quite hang with the leaders, but cresting the hill, I'm quickly joined by a dozen or so motivated dudes, and we quickly start a rolling paceline. A few kilometres of hard work and we catch the leaders as we come into Squamish, the half-way point, and we're joined by another large chase group soon after. Not long to recover: another major hill and hammer time!

Time to hurt...this time I feel better, but I can't sit on a wheel...gaps are opening ahead. I work my way forward, but I can see a major gap ahead. The yellow jersey of Gord Jewett pulls past me and he bridges. C'mon, I tell myself! Embrace the pain! I'm behind just one wheel, but I see a gap open ahead, and can't summon the energy for the sprint to make the gap. As we came up on the plateau, the 15 leaders are already ramping their speed and losing us. A group of about 10 assembles with me...paceline time! No, the group is spent. The leaders are still just a up the road. Ian Auld of Top Gear launches an attack to bridge. I also hit it, catch up, and we do some motivation-assisting two-man pacing up the hill, hurting like hell. But we aren't making ground on the leaders, and the group behind us eventually starts gaining, so we shut 'er down and assimilate back into the chase group.

There are motorbikes coming by, giving us the splits for the leaders and chase groups - cool! But we're down by 4 mintues now. I try a couple of times to get a good paceline going, but any time I raise the tempo, I'm off the front, and the four or so Trek Red Truck riders are pulling, content to let me dangle but not put time into them, so I eventually settle in with the group.

Where's Lockie? (I'm #51)
Photo: tesseract33

10km to go: a young lad from Picci attacks, joined by a Trek Red Truck rider. They get about 100 metres out, and another TRT rider attacks, joined by a 4th. I'm boxed in on the gutter. From then on, we know that this is the race. 5km to go...attacks are going, but no one can bridge to the breakaway. It is keeping our pace very high though, and we catch the break.

1km to go: The Welcome to Whistler sign suddenly appears. Nearly done! With so many TRT riders, one of them must be saving themselves. Plus there's probably fresh legs amongst the slackers in the group. There's a right and left turn just before the finish, so I attack. I hit the corner at speed and get a small break...but I'm hurting and there's a short downhill right after, so the group gets in my draft. We're strung out. There are hundreds of spectators, and I'm shocked at how loud the cheering crowd is. I lead around the last corner. But the finish is still quite a ways...I'm blowing up as the group swarms with 100 to go...I roll through in 24th.

How to do a lead out for the competition, by Lachlan. Starting 40seconds in.


What a fun race! Chatting with riders later, I hear Tyler Trace of TRT took our field sprint for 15th, and Andrew Pinfold of US pro team United Healthcare took the overall.

Sean came up that arvo and we stayed to party in Whistler Sat night, then knocked off the drive back to Calgary in one shot on Sunday.

Montana road trip

Last month, I did a solo drive down to Bozeman, Montana, to ride in an amazing stage race, which I blogged about on the Speed Theory team blog. In the interests of brevity, and keeping it mostly cycling-focused, I skipped mentioning a few details...

First, I had a slight money debacle. I currently don't have a credit card, because after I lost it back in May, I didn't want to tell the bank and have to memorize another number (I have the memory of goldfish). I stopped in at the Speed Theory store before I left Calgary, and half an hour out of town I got a call from Speed Theory saying I'd left my debit card at the store. Crap! I was running a bit late (who, me?) so I didn't turn around, but hey, no problem - I had a bunch of cash in my wallet...

It wasn't until I got to the border that I realised I was forgetting a little detail about the whole different currency thing. I had to exchange $10 with some other travellers just to get my visa-waiver to enter the States. With the $4 change from that, I bought a gallon of gas, which was enough to get to Bozeman Fri night, and then to the TT Sat morning. After the TT, I couldn't rely on my winnings (having come last), but thankfully I met a French Canadian expat, who exchanged my remaining $60. I had enough to get another tank of gas, buy half a pizza Sat night, and after my host bought a couple of tubes off me, I had enough to get back to Calgary!!

I realized/learned/was told back when I was a
stingythrifty rock-climber, that communities are much happier to see you if you spend money while you're there, so I always make an effort to fill up with gas and buy food in whatever town I stay in/near. Obviously I couldn't do that this time around. Instead, I subsisted mostly on canned beans and canned fish, which I brought as a backup, for the road-side bivvy I expected to need on the way back on Sunday.


Surprisingly, the combination of garbanzo, black and lima beans didn't make me more farty than usual...it's possible my body was in a state of shock that weekend at the treatment it was receiving.

Driving down, I was pretty amazed by the Montana scenery that unfolded before me, even just what was visible from the highway. Wanting to do the trip in a reasonable amount of time (ended up being 9:30 hours there, and just 8:15 on the way back), I didn't stop to take photos, so here are a few of the pics I shot from my car, generally while straddling a couple of lanes...

Battle Abbey

It's been far too long since my trip to Battle Abbey to still not have a post about it. I'm reconsidering my approach to this, and I'm using the reasoning that Rome wasn't built in a day... Not that this post should be compared to Rome.

An interesting prelude to the trip was finding someone to come along. And then when someone did decide to come, not buying their flight until 90 minutes before the flight left Toronto! Nigel, you are setting a bad precedent for procrastinators everywhere! :)

Nigel made it to Calgary, and so Sat morning we drove to meet the chopper in Golden, BC, and fly 150 km south from, well, anything, into the mountains to the hut, with 10 (12?) other skiers, 3 guides and one and a half chefs (two chopper trips) (the second chef was in training, and had recently broken both ankles). Pretty wicked flight - I remember thinking about 30 seconds in that it would take at least 4 hours to cover that ground on skis. Then for the rest of the week, we were skiing from the hut. We had to skin up every bit that we skied down...multiple 1,500foot (about as long at top-to-bottom Mt Buller or maybe half of Lake Louise) runs of untouched powder (we were the first group of the year), racking up something around 32,000 feet of elevation gain for the week. Exhausting but great.

In the mayhem of finding a new abode in the week before the trip, and moving into said abode two days before leaving, I neglected to bring a battery charger for my camera...or a charged battery. I got 6 photos I think, before it died. Moot point though, since I can't find my card reader. Until I find a few select pics to post, here is the group's combined haul:

http://picasaweb.google.com/battleabbey2010/

New Year's bike tour

For New Year's, my buddy Simon and his girlfriend invited me to come on a three day bike ride from Wangaratta to Bright and back.

Ordinarily, 80km in a day would be a walk in the park. Trivial, even. However, add 40 degree heat, mountain bikes, and a 40kg bike trailer and it turns out it's harder than it appears on paper. But we didn't have too hard a time.

Bright was positively jumping on New Year's Eve. We also happened to be in the wettest part of Victoria: 50mm overnight (i.e. deluge). 11pm-12:30am consisted of listening to a band play in the second storey balcony of the pub across the city square, from under our own balcony, and watching kids dance and roll around in the rain in the square.

New Year's Day was pretty easy...ride 60km to Milwa, mostly downhill, stopping for lunch and two wineries for tastings. The following day was even easier: ride 50 metres to the mustard shop for tastings, another 50 metres to the olive shop (fresh olives! Mmm!), 400 metres to the Brown Brothers winery for a comprehensive round of wine tasting, 2.5 km to the cheese factory (yes, more tastings) and finally 18km to Wangaratta.

Feathertop Winery

Mmmmm....cheeeese!

Doing nothing to dispel myths about Australia and spiders...I guess it was drier in the tent

Photos from Toronto

I've heard that it's not the camera that makes a good photo, it's the person behind the camera. Possbily true for outdoor photos during day time...

Had a great time in Toronto last weekend. Met up with great friends, enjoyed the city life, and got in enough sport to make me need a rest when I got back to Calgary.


A couple of iPhone pics of the Cavalcade of Lights fireworks at Nathan Phillips Square that I went to with Nigel, Noah & Gwyn and co.
..


A shot of me taken by Ed with what appeared to be a pretty phat lens, but unfortunately using a Nikon... ;)

Penticton training camp

Wow, what a camp. Headed to Penticton, BC, home of the Iron Man Canada, for 5 days of big rides and bigger hill climbs.

Sunday was a tough intro to local riding: the 180km IMC loop, followed by Apex: 11km of 10-11% grade road. Holy moly. Second day was a gentle 100km to Summerland, a couple of repeats on Giant's Head (2.5km, up to 18%) and a nice ride through the country side. Tuesday we did a monster ride down through the US, back through the most casual border crossing ever (described as a guy sitting in a lawnchair beside a 6 person outhouse)...totalling 220km! Wed my bro Tim and I went back to Summerland to take a bunch of photos of the orchards in full bloom, then we rode through Summerland again, and the Kettle Valley Railroad on the way back.

Giant's Head is the peak on the far left of the horizon:




More orchards:



Thursday was my favourite ride...after a quick stint of work in the morning (while Trev knocked off a 100km ride) Trev and I drove to Oliver, then rode up Mt Baldy, which gained something like 1450 metres in 30 km, oh, and 24km of that was a gravel road! to the ski resort, down the back-side, to the summit of Anarchist, and then down Anarchist, through Osoyoos and back to Oliver. Kewl!