Cycling is like life. Cycling with no goal is meaningless. What meaning is there cycling in circles? Or living aimlessly? Meaning comes from direction and destination. Join me in my life's journey on a mountain bike :)

Blogging since 2003. Thank you for reading :))

Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Oct: 586 km

Wed 29 Oct: The classic collection
To Sembawang, 37 km. One inch tubing. Threaded headsets. Three old guys with three old bikes, in steel / chromoly and titanium. But boy, do we kick butt! T is 64, D is 56. D really gives a good run most of the time. Today, I lead the ride to explore Sembawang before returning to familiar roads. Twice, we separate and twice, I have to tear after cyclists to keep us together. WH leads us to a nice jetty at Sembawang Park, where we have a nice chat before going to Casuarina Road for a theological discussion.

Tech note Many people overtake me uphill. Why? Is it the overall weight, cassette or wheel? Read that aerodynamic wheels are good for flats and downhills while light wheels are good for acceleration and uphills. I have downhill rims - is that why I lag uphill but lead downhill and on flats?

Wed 8 Oct: Five days in a row
To Mandai and Bukit Timah, 44 km. I've been cycling five days in a row, since Sat. I'm addicted to biking. I ask "padre" to lead us for a short ride but that's not to be; we tear down Mandai and Bukit Timah, and going at 35 km/h is slow. I lose sight of the roadies and two mountain bikers including D on his Merlin. Sigh, I used to be the first MTB rider to reach the end point after the roadies. Even WH, on a 10-year-old cromoly with dented pedals, cranks out a decent speed before she heads for home. (Her bike, with front suspension, is about the same weight as my rigid bike! Sweet of her to join us for a while before heading home for a conference call.) We have two guests today: RL (from Penang Jamboree) and friend.

Tue 7 Oct: Pit stop
To Old Upper Thomson Road, 20 km.
Tech note It's a ritual; after every tough ride, I see bikeshop man. This time, it's to fix the headset, which keeps coming loose. To increase the amount of thread, I want v-brakes so that the headset thingy for cantilever brakes is not needed. Bikeshop man says, change the thingy for $10. He says v-brakes plus brake levers cost $50. I ask him to remove my pedals. He taps twice and it's free. How does he do it? "Qigong," he says. I shift the cleats from my old shoes to my Shimano M082 for the first time. After adjusting by the roadside, my left foot still feels uncomfortable; aftermath of last weekend's Penang ride? Today is the first time I cycle with contact lenses - and sun glasses. I look so cool! But once in a while, my vision blurs. Blink, blink - is the wind causing the lenses to shudder? Back home, I clean my chain, having figured out how to do so without making a mess: use Jif first on a cloth, then use Chain Gang.

Wed 1 Oct: The gang is back
To Yishun, 32 km. After a couple of week's absence, the regular Wed night ride gang is back: the "padre", GKT, G, B and I, plus two guests. We start slow, chatting most of the way. Only on the last leg to Casuarina Road do we sprint. One rider calls the initial slow pace "long foreplay". The sprint must be the climax. I lose the race; as it turns out, I had a slow leak. I pump up the tyre and get home before total deflation.

Tech note Back home, I struggle to remove the tyre. My tyre levers lose their leverage. I resort to a metal tool and damage my rim, so I file the damage away. Tonight, I wear my new Shimano M082 shoes for the first time. The studs catch dangerously on my platform pedal - Power Grip combo. I modify the shoes by removing the studs.

Sunday, October 26, 2003

The good, the bad, the ugly

Deepavali long weekend 24-26 Oct
To Sedili and Kota Tinggi, Johore, 242 km. And there we are at Kota Tinggi, watching a programme from a Singapore TV channel: "The good, the bad, the ugly". This ride too has the good, the bad and the ugly.

What's good: the coastal scenery enroute to Sedili. It's great to be able to cycle within sight of the sea. It's no great coastal road, but it sure is better than Changi Coast Road where the sea is out of sight. The fireflies at Kota Tinggi are great too; never before have I set eyes on such a sight: a Christmas light-up in a mangrove. Once in a while, a fly will buzz by our boat. It's so ephemeral, so beautiful, yet so fragile. And, as usual, it's good to have a wide open road ahead of me with no traffic lights. And only me can stop me from going as fast as I want. This is also my first ride in Malaysia with SPDs without even a scratch! And no food poisoning - I eat and drink from roadside stalls with abandon. And I do not feel threatened at all throughout the 200 km of Malaysian roads. So what if the roads aren't always smooth and there's fast heavy traffic enroute to Singapore - Malaysian drivers are friendly and mild-mannered. Also good - I regain my form in day 2 and 3.

What's bad: trying to draft behind Bikerboey, whose bike has become three speed thanks to a faulty rear d shifter. Darn it, I can't keep up with her 33-35 km/h on the first day. My left calf cramps and I get a headache. Why? Is it because (a) the sun is too hot? (b) I'm dehydrated (we cover over 100 km the first day to Sedili) (c) my headband is too tight, just like monkey god's? (d) all of the above? It's also bad that I mount a solo search party, looking for the speedsters who are no where in sight while us laggards wonder where the hotel is. And the "pasar malam" at Singapore customs where, for some reason, I have to unpack my two bags and offer my waist pouch for inspection twice (the officer forgot he'd already checked it!).
What's ugly: the sight (and smell) of road pizzas - birds, monitor lizards and other unidentified dessicated objects. One particular corpse is curled up on the road, dried to a husk, contorted in its death throe.

Tech note After having failed to keep up with Bikerboey on Day 1, and considering the epic 1,200 km ride I'm contemplating, I contemplate getting a new bicycle. I draw up a matrix with buying criteria and grade the options using Harvey balls. But there are too many unknowns. And going to Cheap John's enroute home is just bewildering when I see all the beauties (bikes, not humans) hanging around. Anyway, do I really need a new bicycle? One cyclist on this ride has a chromoly Parkpre and two panniers which is much heavier than my bike - so what? It doesn't mar his enjoyment and he just powers on. Anyway, I think the reason why people tend to overtake me on hills is because of my gear ratios - my bike is seven speed. Of course, this excuse doesn't explain why Bikerboey could overtake me with three speeds!

Saturday, October 18, 2003

A little bit of grit, a whole lot of grief

Sat-Sun 17-18 Oct
Round island#5, 124 km. With Status Quo's "Paper Airplane" reveberating in my mind , I'm really high. At Pasir Ris, I stop at the biggest display of bikes I've ever seen at a bike shop. Bikeshop boy says: "Is that an Iron Horse? That's a classic." At Changi Coast Road, I draft a motorcyclist: 41, 42, 43 km/h ... At West Coast, my blood sugar plummets. I eat and I refuel again at Jurong. At Jalan Bahar, pain shoots up my left leg. I stretch, massage, pedal with one leg. At Kranji, I rest for 20 minutes until 2 am. Pain remains. It's eerie as usual at Kranji. As usual, dogs greet me joyfully, four of them rushing across three lanes and a road divider to welcome me into their rabid mouths. At Mandai, I have an epiphany, remove my left cleat and the grit, then put back the cleat. A tiny change (the width of a grain of sand?) that leads to a big difference. From barely being able to put my foot down, I can complete my ride.

Sunday, October 12, 2003

A moving experience

Sat-Sun 11-12 Oct
To Orchard Road, 26 km. We don't actually go anywhere, but it's a moving experience. Wendy Chan and friends spin 24 hours on stationery bicycles off Orchard Road to raise funds for Children's Cancer Foundation. Time crawls; I spin for what seems to be a long time, look at my watch ... only five minutes have passed. Butt hurts from the saddle; left knee hurts too. And the guys in front of me start eating brownies. Aaargh! I pedal two hours non-stop from 1.10-3.10 am, then seize a brownie as compensation.

Well, I can choose to get off this ride. Cancer patients and their caregivers don't have the choice of getting off their life's journey as they please. I manage to last two hours because I cycle from song to song on my radio. I guess that's how I'll go through life - choose the right frequency, then go from one song to another. If there's a song I don't like, I just wait it out. Companionship keeps me going too. I'm glad to see my friends there; we didn't arrange it as such, but there are cyclists from togoparts and BOAC. Thank God for friends - Wendy's Bike-Aid pals are there and they liven things up so much. One of the girls is so happy, going on and on, smiling like the bunny on Wendy's bike. As for me, I get back on the bicycle to keep warm, as it's been pouring rain. Thank God for strangers too. A lecturer from UK, currently lecturing at Singapore Polytechnic, rides a unicycle and distributes flyers. He comes back during the graveyard shift and plays the sax for a few hours to keep us going. I think about work on Monday morning and scoot off at 6.30 am, after having spent six hours on site. It's raining, it's cold and I want to crawl into my warm bed.

In a press interview, Wendy is quoted as saying after a tragedy: "Nothing made sense in my life except for cycling ... all I could do was cycle." I guess that's why I'm so demented and desperate about cycling. Wendy and friends raise $10,000 for charity. This is my third charity thingy (#1 being Project Care, #2 being NPCC round island); since I have to ride, might as well clock up some $ besides km.

Wendy calls herself a young urban fiscal failure. I wonder how many fiscally successful have friends like her Bike-Aid pals, and strangers who just show up to give up their time, sweat and sleep to support her.

Tech note Earlier today, I tour a few bikeshops in Tampines. I blunder across one after getting lost - lo and behold, I see two Iron Horses ... one of them is a titanium frame for $1,500. An XT-equipped version would cost abut $2,800. Hmm, should I abandon my old horse for a new one? What is a bike anyway; a tool to be sacrificed in the name of performance? Or part of me - a semi-living thing that should be nursed along in recognition of faithful service? Surely, some things do matter in life? Just look at the bikes of the Bike Aiders. Some of them have machines more venerable and heavier than mine, yet look at the mileage they log.

Monday, October 06, 2003

The examination

Fri 3 Oct - Mon 6 Oct
Penang, 62 km. Going for the Penang Mountain Bike Jamboree is like going for an exam in school. Stories abound of how tough it is. But I'm clueless since my toughest off-road experience was just one ride to Bukit Timah Hill (on semi-slicks) and another to Sentosa (on slicks); that's how clueless I'm about off-road. About 250 cyclists head for the start point at Penang Youth Park. WH tells me not to be so tense. But the only uphill "tests" I've taken are riding up Kent Ridge, Nanyang University, Mount Faber and Telok Blangah hill. It doesn't help that I realise I've left my medication in the hotel; the very thought makes me sick to the stomach.

We wait to start our ride, just like we waited to start to our exams. While there are hundreds of cyclists, each of us is alone. No one can ride for us, just as no one can write for us. Off we go just after 8 am. I'm somewhere at the tail, reluctant to start my journey into the unknown. A roadie at heart, my instincts kick in and I spur my Iron Horse onwards, then rein back to pace myself. We reach our first obstacle - a landslide caused by rain.

Landslide
It's been raining since Thu 2 Oct. When we reach Penang from Singapore on Fri, the 40 hours of rain makes front page news in The Sun newspaper: "Rain havoc in Penang". (While the Sun newspaper is readily available, the real sun isn't. The article is helpfully illustrated with a photo of people wading in water, plus a story of a capsized fishing trawler.) Our shoes and ankles sink in the mud, as we clamber up the 2-metre pile of mud and foilage. We're so slow, a pedestrian overtakes us. The queue builds up behind me. No turning back now. We are jam packed and I am stuck. It's every man for himself on this mudslide (though I hear others later formed a human chain to pass along bikes). I struggle to manhandle my heavy horse up the mud. When clear of it, I push my tyres into the constant stream of water flowing by the roadside to wash away the mud from my rims. The road is so steep, I'll need my brakes.

I keep pushing my bike uphill. My calf (leg, not pet cow) protests at the treatment. Some intrepid bikers actually pedal, but many give up. What's the point of cycling, I say to myself. Walk or ride, it's about 4 km/h anyway. Only in some stretches do I get to ride. This 7-speed horse is heavy and I get a full-body workout. As I push my bicycle with one hand, it tries to bolt and U-turns. Clever horse! I'm the sole rider of an Iron Horse here and the only one with a rigid bike. Around me, Giants, Specialized and Scott bikes abound, with a smattering of Cannondales, Gary Fishers and Santa Cruz. And a single speed bike!

Round the bend
We struggle on. Some cyclists seem to rest at every bend on the road. At each bend, I look up. The road continues to loom ahead, bend after bend. Talk about going round the bend! I tear off my makeshift rain gear: a laundry bag. I'm soaked in sweat. Somewhere along the hill, I top up my water bottle with "alpine water". There's no food. I'm glad I'm up at 5.30 am to get breakfast of bread and jam from 7-Eleven. (No breakfast at the hotel - it's too early.) I see some riders coming downhill - what's going on? JC the Mechanic Smurf yells at me: "Don't give up, you're near the top!" A girl shrieks as she goes downhill. I somehow make it to the top, then ride my brakes down the 40-degree slopes cautiously at about 30 km/h. So glad I'd tweaked the brakes in Singapore; these are the original brake pads. Plus original tyres and inner tubes, no puncture in them since Feb 95.

The off-road begins, downhill. It seems seductively easy at first. Then I see yawning chasms just inches away from the trail. I could fall off and no one would know, since cyclists are now rare sights on the trail. There are also wooden bridges barely wide enough for a biker and bike. Gullies. Slick rocks. Tree trunks. Each step of the way, I heave my horse ahead of me. At the point where there are two tree trunks, my horse falls, taking me with it. I gash my shin on the chainring. I pull up my sock to cover the wound, but my sock recoils at the horror and flops down again. The foilage I ride past embraces the abrasions. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Soon, I'm numb to the pain and soon, the mud covers the wounds.

How bad is the wound? I think of stopping at the waterfalls to wash up - after all, I've loaded up for the first time with alcohol swabs and big plasters. But I go on; maybe there's a first aid post somewhere. I come across a casualty. I have nothing for him except to show concern. He says he's been having leg cramps and waves me on. Now and then, when I come across cyclists, I make way for them. About 10 of them pass me by. Sometimes, I'm embarrassed to hold them up. Other cyclists pass by as I stop to shoot photos and then wrap plastic around my camera each time after that.

One memorable spot is where the trail is almost vertical. A volunteer stations himself to lower bikes one after another. I warn him my horse is heavy. He gasps after holding it with one hand; while that works with aluminium hardtails, it doesn't work with my bike. At another spot, a rider kicks his Specialized downhill and slides after it. Other cyclists carry their bicycles down. As for me, I wheel my bike wherever it goes. Sometimes, I scoot along with my left leg while my right leg remains strapped to the bike with PowerGrip. I'm so glad I didn't use my clipless pedals. Once, my front wheel plunges into a hole and comes to a dead stop. My right foot comes free and easy. Only the paranoid survive. I warn the rider behind me about the hole. He asks me: "Why did we choose this hobby?"

Clear skies
Uphill, it gets so misty in the clouds that I turn on my rear blinkers. On the way down, I catch sight of sea level through the trees. A welcome sight. I haven't asked any marshall "how long more" because I don't want to know in case they give me bad news or tell me "almost there" when it's not. Seeing civilisation within grasp is exciting. I exit the trail near a rubbish dump. I'm now on the main road. Some officials stop traffic just for me. The road is the best part of the ride! I sprint at 33 km/h on my knobbies and mud-encrusted drive train. The mud flies off the tyres, adding to the collection of grit in my mouth from the trail. By now, I've stopped drinking because my waterbottle is mud-encrusted all the way.

I reach the finish line. There are several tents there and I'm not sure where to go - the vibrations from the trail are still addling my brain. I get my medal (which states "Phew, I survived" at the back), down some fluids and food. Time: around noon. Position: 96 out of 250 (I'm told 350 riders registered).

The first cyclist comes in around 10.30. It seems they pedal most of the way and are ahead of the pack from the start. The first Singapore rider is position #8. Most of the SACA cyclists finish the ride by 11.30. One of them asks me: "You just came"? While waiting for my assorted pals, I head for the first aid tent. The kid washes away the mud, which means rubbing the wound and applying alcohol to intoxicate the skin. Ouch, ouch, ouch. The kid stops. I say, go on. After the ride, we compare wounds. Some had fallen on the metal drain covers. Major abrasions. TYS and LKS suffer brake failure. I fix TYS' brakes for the ride back to the hotel; that she came soon after me without brakes is testament to her riding - and tumbling - skills. This is my wildest cycling adventure to date. I'm glad I came. I'm glad it's over.

After the ride, I watch the SACA cyclists look after their bicycles before they go for lunch. During dinner under a big tent, we eat in the downpour and watch the video of the ride, reliving the memories, the agony and the ecstasy. I ask rider #8 about my bike; he suggests I lighten my wheelset (some cost $1,500). We also hope to win big lucky draw prizes. Belgian W gets a Scott racing frame. There are also Giant frames and a Santa Cruz. Me, I get a t-shirt.

The beginning, the end
The journey to Penang starts with a ride on a pick-up truck to Beach Road. First time my horsey has been on a vehicle and so far away. The bus company wants us to box our bicycles so we don't damage his upholstery. I sandwich my bike in between two sheets of cardboard. We reach Penang via overnight bus. Our hotel is called "Waterfall". In case we forget that water falls, the ceiling leaks in places. That's the only let down; the staff are kind.

My first ride in Penang is on Sat 4 Oct. If it's a warm up ride, why do I feel cold? It's the rain. It rains so hard, it hurts. My mobile phone drowns despite two layers of plastic. We cycle through padi fields and village tracks. There's just over a dozen of us. I ride today just in case I chicken out on Sun. I'm cold, muddy, miserable and behind. My headset is loose again as usual and I fix it by hand. My bike computer doesn't work. I stop and figure out why - the wheel is the wrong way round. Duh! I chant to myself: "I am having fun, I am having fun."

On Mon, after an overnight bus ride back to Singapore, I cycle home in the drizzle. Piece of cake, after the torrential rain in Penang. I get home safely despite the bad omens of two accidents I see. And a few close calls, including a man at work waving a broom that might've gotten in my spokes, and the usual drivers whose optic nerves aren't wired to see cyclists.

Hall of fame
  • "Making it possible" award to Ling the Merciless and Tchi Mun for arranging the transport and accommodation in the SACA entourage. To Jarod (and Roland) for the pick-up ride to Beach Road. And to Sue Ann, Derrick and the many volunteers who marshalled, stopped traffic, first-aided, fed, watered and cared for hundreds of us in Malaysia's biggest mountain bike event (a Guiness world record)
  • "Grateful thanks" award to the the strangers who helped or simply offered encouragement though they too were going through the same thing
  • "Cheerleader" award to Winnie, Bikerboey, James the Mechanic Smurf. Special thanks to Winnie for telling me about the ride, to Bikerboey who warns me to go with knobbies, to James for the big spanner to fix my headset and to Papa Smurf Nik for telling me: "You came all the way here, at least go and see the Penang trail."
  • "Broken skin but no broken bones" award to those who completed the ride without brakes
  • "Flash" award to the speedy bikers who pedal while others walk. Beykha, of course, already has an official award for being Queen of the Hill, reaching the top in 43 minutes.
  • "Power Man" award to Lynten for using a single-speed bike and to Lioe for riding with the heaviest bike and yet remaining cheerful.
Tech note My new Shimano M082 shoes are now broken in. I've damaged it after removing the studs, but it's safer (and lighter) for use with PowerGrips. And bike has shown how weight is a disadvantage except for boxers and sumo wrestlers. Time for a new bike? It's hard to say goodbye, horsey has served me faithfully for so many years. It hasn't abandoned me, how can I abandon it? As Papa Smurf says, the best bike is the one you have the best memories of. And this ride up "Pain-ang" Hill certainly counts as one of them.