Swept away

Moving off in the morning mist

Jun distance: 325 km

9-11 Jun, Pahang, Malaysia, 283 km

Background
Charity Bike n Blade #11, a charity ride in aid of Beyond Social Service and Peacehaven (The Salvation Army). Over 80 cyclists raised close to SGD300,000, which, with government matching grants, amount in total to about SGD500,000.

Route: Day 1 by bus to Kuantan (non-cycling day), Day 2 to Lanjut 142 km, Day 3 to Tanjung Leman 141 km.

Ride details
Day 2. At “wheels up”, I take care to hang back so I don't cycle with the fastest. After a great two hours, I drop off. My lack of training (just over 40 km per week for a month) shows.

Another breath taking sight

M comes up behind me and says “Hi, I think I'll stick behind you." Then she offers to pull me along. "I might not be able to keep up," I confess. "I'll pull you at 20 km/h,” she says. That doesn’t last long. When I see a support car by the roadside, I and stop to top up on Gatorade (sponsored) and bananas. She pedals on.

The crew take good care of me. When they drive past, they ask if I need anything and stop when I do.

The broom wagon comes along at 1pm. I ask for permision to carry on and it is granted. Two other cyclists get off to join me, including intrepid sweeper S. It’s so early in the afternoon, why be swept up? The reason is lunch, or rather the lack of it. There is no food along the way other than Gatorade, bread and bananas from support vehicles.

I arrive at 2 pm, 2 hours later than the faster cyclists. At least, I make it on my own steam, in the steaming heat.

Day 3 is like Day 2: a great 1-2 hours speeding through the cool morning air, then the first stop at a water point. I linger and watch the roadies ride off. I'm solo most of the time now. While people overtake me, I don't see the recumbent cyclist. It seems some other cyclists don't ride today, not just the casualties from yesterday who lost skin and blood when wheels touched and when someone went into a pot hole and took others down.

Whole lot of calories. Thanks, crew
for keeping me going

To save time, I don't have a hot lunch today when I could’ve, just bread and bananas. I pass a roadie who stopped upslope. "I am done," he says, and claps to cheer me on.

Sweeper S and my room mate KC debus. S says he'll ride with me. He punctures and changes two
tubes before his tyre is fixed. Time ticks away. A support car comes along and the crew ask me to go on. I speed to avoid being swept up. Barely 12 km from the end point, the broom wagon catches up with me, sweeping me up. We see KC, there is no room on board for him. S is apologetic as I don't get to finish the ride but I’m glad we get to ride together; in past years, he’s the sweeper while I’m ahead.  We arrive just after 2 pm. What's the rush this time? To catch the bus home.

Why am I slow this year? Besides my lack of training, Day 2 offers high heat and headwinds while Day 3 has high heat and rolling hills. And fat tyres don’t help!

Nightstops
Zenith Hotel, Kuantan: this big hotel feels new and things work. The hotel sets aside an empty hall to lock up our bikes.
Lanjut Golden Beach and Golf Resort: I've been here before. It's more dismal this time. The ceiling pours when the shower is turned on. The toilet doesn't flush well. For another cyclist, the aircon in his room doesn't work, but he got a room change.
Tanjung Leman: Felda Residence Tanjung Leman. We don’t spend the night here, but I wish I did as it has big and luxurious grounds. The hotel lets us stop here to shower and ready our bikes for the bus ride back to Singapore.

Tech note
After struggling with a stock saddle that came with my then new bicycle in Sep 2014, I'm back to my Brooks saddle, owned since 2011. After several adjustments, I've gotten to the bottom of it and found the sweet spot. Sweet! The only pain isn't at my rear end, just heart ache that I got swept up and didn't ride all the way to the end.

Oh! This is my 800th post on this blog :)

Micro adjustments, major pain

A dead end is a pain; a poorly adjusted saddle is a rear end pain

May distance: 156 km

Seletar, 39 km. Millimetre by millimetre, I adjust my saddle, because I know the pain that comes from thousands of kilometres of pain that comes from a “maladjusted” saddle. Too high or too low? Too far forward or too far aft? Nose tilted too high or too low? Trail and error is a pain, and only time will tell.

I got my current beau, Matt Black, in Sep 2014. Why adjust the saddle again after taking a year dialling in the stock Selle saddle that came with Matt Black? Because I decided to replace the stock saddle with my Brooks saddle, which I bought in 2011 for my now-retired Little Red Bike.

Due process

Mar distance: 51 km

Buangkok, 18 km. My bicycle has been squeaking. As usual, I wondered at the multitude of things that could be loose. This time, I didn’t quite bother to troubleshoot what the problem was. I lubricated the chain though, because it was on schedule (in terms of km since the last lubrication). And presto, silent service from my bicycle.

That’s the wonderful thing about processes. Follow them, and things tend to work out without undue fuss.

Working holiday

Sembawang, 35 km. I've a cycling holiday coming up. Not a holiday from cycling, but a holiday for cycling.

Trip preparation involves:

• Route planning. This includes looking at distances, terrain, sights and sites (for food and sleep). Sitting at a table, looking down, pouring over data: sounds like work but doesn't feel like it.
• Cycling to keep in shape for the big ride, That sounds like fun but it feels like work. 

Weird. Why does sitting on a bicycle, slicing through the air feel like work? Perhaps it's the traffic. Dodging traffic is no fun. But that's only a partial explanation. Perhaps cycling to be in shape, rather than solely for fun, makes it no fun.

Tech note: at several bike shops, I was told the solution to wailing brake pads was to replace them. So, new brake pads each time I ride in the rain? Twice, I remove the pads, wash them with soap and soaked them overnight. It works, until the next downpour; a cheap but tedious solution. Next, I tried "flossing" the brake pads: soak cloth in water (without soap). Slip the cloth between the pads (remove wheel first) and floss. It works: a cheap and easy solution.

Stick to the schedule

Lentor, 20 km. I’ve been fiddling with my derailleurs as shifting seems to be deteriorating. Fiddling to no avail. Then, as penance for neglecting my ride (while training for an ultra marathon), I lube the chain.

Presto, shifting improves like new.

Now, if only I’d stuck to the schedule of tender loving care for drive train after a specified distance or a messy ride, whichever comes first.

"Elementary, my dear Watson"

Aug distance: 57 kn

Upper Thomson, 16 km.  After weeks of suffering and wondering what caused my bike to click on pedal downstrokes, I finally found out.

What it wasn't:

• seatpost or seat; 
• fork
• headset.

If it was so, there'd be clicking even as I coasted over bumps.

It wasn't:

• chainrings, bolts seemed tight
• bearings; there was no "play" in the crank
• crankarms; bolts were tight
• chain. This was a major suspect, as I'd botched up installation. But it wasn't, as I'd lubed it, and the links weren't stiff. 

What ut was ... the right pedal. There are reasons why it couldn't have been, so it was the last thing I checked. As Sherlock Holmes said, "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth".

Double click

Upper Thomson, 25 km. First, it was one click. Now, with each pedal downstroke, there are two clicks. A properly functioning computer mouse must double click. A smoothly functioning bicycle does not single click, much less double click.

The sound, while small, is ominous. There is no play in my cranks. So what is malfunctioning, such that single click has become double?

Small is big, big is small

Jul distance: 100 km

A firefly is tiny, the size of a fingernail. Yet, seeing it creates a big sense of wonder. Fireflies have been sighted on this island, so what I saw might not have been a figment of my imagination. I saw a wild boar piglet too, rooting about in the ground.

Another big deal for me is the tiny clicking sound when I downstroke at the 11 o’clock position. Having failed to isolate its location, it is driving me round the bend.

Making the best of a mess

Upper Thomson, 16 km. I've sprayed and lubed. Tightened and hoped. But my bike still clicks when I downstroke.

When I improve my pedal form and pull up with my left foot, the click disappears. So, the click reminds me to pedal properly.

Alone with my thoughts on a quiet road (but for the clicks), I think I see a light float in the cool night air. Am I seeing things? No, it's a firefly!

Then I think I'm seeing things - a large blob of neon, then it's gone. Must be my imagination ... until, round the bend, I see a runner with lights. I'd say he's an ultramarathoner type, rather than a marathoner.

Making noise

Sembawang, 32 km. There's an irritating click when I pedal. I'd cleaned my chain, for the first time without degreaser but with lube, then lubed it. It's clean, but something still clicks.

I also hear a strange noise, a "toink" that could be from my inner tube (or is that from air fork?). In all my years of riding, I've not heard anything like this.

Baffling, and anxiety inducing. Dreadful even, if this is related to my front wheel, as that would mean immediate loss of steering control and up to 80% of braking power.

Right and wrong

Mar distance: 696 km

Woodlands, 46 km. Bikehop man is annoyed. He glares at me and says he knows what he’s doing. But it’s not by the book. Shimano manual categorically states “the chain’s level of strength [in A] is enhanced compared to the method in Fig. B”. He doesn’t even look at the instructions in my hand.

I've told this to two mechanics in two other shops before. Each time, they are surprised as they don't think there's a difference, but they do as Shimano says. But not this guy.

This will not do. I remove the chain and redo it under his supervision: I need to learn how to install a chain anyway. I’m amazed how a brand new gleaming chain can leave so much black oil on my hands. The pamphlet in the box says nothing about Fig. A and B.

It’s only when I download the full manual that I’m filled with horror. Besides the position of the outer and inner links, chains have a forward and reverse side. I’d a 50-50 chance of getting it right, but I got it wrong.

I break the chain and put it the right way round. It’s the first time I break a chain. Did I get it right?

Afternoon: to answer the above question, I go to another bakeshop and I’m told, there’s no way to tell. And I should’ve used a Missing Link anyway to join the chain. Well, what did people do before Missing Link was invented. Time will tell if I did the right thing.

Changing times

Woodlands, 60 km. Shimano used to be ubiquitous. Not anymore. Even neighbourhood bike shops carry KMC chains. The shops that deal with Shimano have no stock. The fifth shop I go to has SRAM, then directs me to the nearest Shimano dealer, which has the chain for almost half the price of a KMC chain. And that's why it's far easier to find KMC chains: it costs more and so has a higher margin?

How times have changed: Shimano chains used to be ubiquitous.

As Bob Dylan put it, "the times they are a-changin'".

Tests

Jan distance: 210 km

Seletar, 40 km. A few days ago, I took a test which was administered immediately after a course. I've not sat for a test since last century. Somehow, I passed the written test (multiple choice) with full marks, followed by a practical then oral tests.

Today, instead of being tested, I do the testing. On equipment: a Revelate bag, on loan from V (she even delivered it!) In my tours, I've always used a seat post rack. This bag doesn't need a rack at all.

Test over, now to do the "scoring" of bag with rack vs Revelate bike packing bag.

PS: it's not quite true I'm testing the equipment. It's also true my equipment test me, to see if I know how to use them.

Lighting and thunder

Upper Thomson Road, 57 km. Weather girl says it'll rain. I think, maybe they'll get it wrong today as they have on some other days.

As I head out, I see dark clouds. So I ride towards the light. Perhaps I was in the eye of the storm; suddenly the sky turns dark and rain pours. The storm is directly above me; I can tell from the split second between lightning and thunder. That's close!

The trees arch overhead, like a tunnel. In between is a light grey of heavy rain, undergirded by the dark grey of asphalt. The rain stings as it hits my bare arms and face. Yes, the weatherman is wrong: this is not a "shower" (a shower is like what you feel in the bathroom); this is a thunderstorm.

My disc brakes squeal in protest as I brake downhill. But I've figured out how to fix the noise without removing the pads and lathering them up. Squeeze the brakes, the manual equivalent of anti-braking system. Perhaps that gets rid of oily film. Or perhaps the storm is so heavy, it flushed oil off the road.

Making the numbers

Pasir Ris: beauty of friendship

Dec distance: 388 km

Pasir Ris, Upper Thomson, Seletar, Ubin, Lim Chu Kang 317 km*. I was resigned to 2015 being the year of my lowest mileage ever since I started serious cycling 12 years ago, in 2003 (the year of my first expedition). But I didn't want this year, a tumultuous one, to end that way.

Mileage is within my sphere of influence, though this year's haze (supposedly the longest in local history) was not. So I resolved to ride the miles and make the numbers. But this wasn't going to be mindless performance driven. I want to have some fun too, and ride to nice places, not do mindless loops like a demented hamster or a trapped rodent in the rat race.

Reflections

As I ride, I have flash backs of good things in life, mostly abroad with friends and family. Not about work. Someday, work ends. But friends and family: in a life well lived, friends and family will be gathered around my deathbed. Worked till death, no.

Christmas is meant to be a merry occasion ("merry Christmas"). But not for someone I passed on the road. He passed away. He lies on the grass, with a "fatal accident" sign metres away from him. A small crowd gathers around him, all deathly silent. He's still, but probably still alive [afternote: when I passed the site again, I notice the fatal accident sign is dated Nov. No confirmation bias here!].

Ubin: blue skies and sunshine

I erred elsewhere though. Newbie errors. At Ubin, I wipe out twice: first, my wheels lose traction over roots; second, I make a tight turn on the trail and stall. Somehow, no falls at the black diamond trail (ok, I got off to walk at the neck breaking spots).

I'm happy overall. Ubin, on this weekday, has people including a skateboarder who ignored my warning and blundered into my path. The coffee shop is closed. For "lunch" I've an ice cream cone from a nice lady and a cereal bar.

2x2 matrix

If I take a pessimist's view, the km target will be within grasp, but slip away. So many km, so few days left - and worse, if the remaining days of the year are dreary and wet instead of bright and sunny. If I take an optimist's view, the remaining days might be bright, not grey.

Rain or shine, I want to make the numbers and have fun in the process. On New Year's Eve, I'm

If life's a bitch, heal at the beach

rained on twice. And twice, metal nearly hits me. The first is elbow distance away. The taxi driver who saw the near miss was astounded and shouted in my support. The second near miss comes from behind - the driver jammed brake in time. In both cases, I'd the right of way. I could've been dead right …

I reckon I could plot all rides on a 2x2 matrix (sun or rain, safe or unsafe). The "magic quadrant" (would be the top right box: bright and safe). This ride is both wet and unsafe. But it's successful. I exceed my target. This year has been horrible, but it isn't an all-time low mileage.

Tech note: there is a colourful film of oil in puddles which spray up onto rotors and brake pads. I guess this causes my new brake pads (just a few weeks old) to screech. The screech went away after I poured water on the pads and squeezed them against the rotor. The screech came back after I wipe the rotor dry …

Well, I sure am not going to get a third set of pads! I replace the new pads with the initial stock brake pads. No screech!

Bikeshop man had asked me to buy new pads, because once oil gets on the pads, they will screech. Fixes include using a blow torch to burn away the oil, or to use prescribed solvent that won't damage the pads or rotor. Thinking there should be less drastic solutions, I brushed the stock pads with detergent and soaked them for several nights. Let's see how they work on the road.

*Instead of writing a post for every ride, this is the first time I'm combining several days' ride (25-31 Dec) into one post.

Peace and quiet

Nov distance: 152 km

Central Business District, 33 km. I head to town to get Matt Black tuned up. The shrieking front brake persists despite persistent washing. At the bikeshop, I explain the problem and the solution is not more solution (liquid) but replacement. Huh? The pad is barely wornout. Whereas, the solutions thrown up by Mr Google involve washing with various liquids / sprays to remove oil.

So how did oil get on my front brakes? Road spray? Do motorbikes don't seem to have this problem too?

On the way home, I look for a road to peace and quiet, and find it.

Back home, I do my sums and find, to my pleasant surprise, that Matt Black has covered about 1,800 km. How did that happen, since I was riding Little Red Tank too?

Blue skies!

Layers of colours

Oct distance: 107 km

Sembawang, 41 km Smell it! See it! That's right! Pollutant Standards Index is an almost good 56, and it remains so. Sunlight pours down from the clear blue sky through cotton ball white clouds, instead of being shrouded like a corpse in toxic grey ashes.

I cycle to the sea, well, the straits. And stop at a bar which hasn't opened yet (it is afternoon). She serves me a Coke anyway. I have the place all to myself, as staff arrive to start work.

After the ride, I find my tyre flat. What looks like the tip of a nail is stuck in the tyre, beside a knob. The metal didn't hit any knob, the knob didn't elevate the tyre over the tip. Somehow, the tip hit where the rubber meets the road, the point which would cause damage. In thousands of km riding on knobbies, I don't recall finding debris on knobs. Do knobs repel debris back onto the road or onto the tyre where it'd cause damage? Perhaps, it's more likely debris would miss knobs since a smaller surface area of a tyre is knobby?

Saddled with a problem

Aug distance: 648 km

Woodlands, 52 km. It's a pain in the butt to deal with a pain in the butt.

I ride with a different pair of shorts and find myself fiddling with the saddle, mm by mm. Then it hits me: when I cycle uphill, I feel better. Perhaps it's not the fore-aft saddle position that's the answer.

I raise the saddle. Have I found the sweet spot? In a few days' time, when I do a >300 km charity ride, I'll find out.

I also modify my sponsored helmet. The built-in visor dries out my contact lenses. And I need my sight to spot car drivers who veer across my lane to turn, and parents who let their kids play on the road then lose track of how many kids they have. They caution one kid that I'm coming. I jam my hydraulic brakes (my first emergency braking on this rig!), skid and see the dad reach out - not to steady me, but to grab his other kid.

Traffic. What a pain.

The one thing

Around my home, 11 km. My bicycle creaks incessantly. It's not the seat post. Is it the chainring? Chain? Crank arm? Bottom bracket? To get rid of the noise, get rid of the bike? That's over the top.

On a whim, I change the pedals. I crank it up, no noise, no matter how hard I try.

I've neglected my pedals for so long. I brush off the dirt and oil it with tender loving care.

What's the one thing in your life you need to change?

Deft handling

Apr distance: 151 km

Pasir Ris, 36 km. A front derailleur that shifts to the big chain ring, the granny ring but skips the middle? And the problem is not fixed after more than one trip to the bikeshop? Ok, I'll take a look at this strange phenomenon on L's foldie, though I'm doubtful I can fix it if professional bike mechanics can't.

The derailleur plates and all three chain rings are aligned. The chain can go up the big ring, but won't come down to the middle; it stays on the big one and grinds away on the derailleur plate. Click again, and the chain goes to the small ring. Two clicks, two chain rings. Well, it's not as if the chain jumps from big ring to granny in one click. This can only mean one thing.

I fiddle with the barrel adjuster and voila, job done, just a few seconds.

On my way back, I see another phenomenon. A guy doing a track stand. He doesn't even have his hands on the handlebar. We're not talking about a split second here! Now that is what I call a master.