Last weekend Nzo got behind two events, at opposite ends of the mountain biking spectrum.
In Manawatu, the local club was hosting ibike4kids. Organising this event is probably about as easy as sorting out a herd of cats, and if people want to have a go at that, we should support it in some small way.
in Rotorua, the local club was hosting the Triple Crown, an event which was a pre-cursor to the whole enduro thing. It is a small event, limited to 60 club members. We have usually supported it, but never got around to entering it. I once rode past the assembled entrants while nursing a freshly broken collarbone, proving that being in the forest at the same time as the Triple Crown is life-threatening, so we leave it to the keen beans.
On the day, the weather forecast was as bad as it could be short of raining cows. On Friday night the loony looking man on TV1 grinned his way through a litany of rain, thunder, high winds including possible tornados as if he was delivering the winning numbers for next week’s lotto. It looked like a good weekend for sorting out the garage or finishing a long book.
On Saturday morning the sky was clear, and sunshine slanted through the kitchen window with a fair amount of enthusiasm. Checking the weather online still showed likely end-of-the-world conditions, but looking out the window was a different story.
Knowing that so many people were signed on to brave whatever climatic conditions might arrive, and looking out into a bright and sparkling day, the decision was made to get out for a ride, and check on a stage or two of the Triple Crown with any luck. With no clue about which trails were being used or in what order, that would be hit-or-miss, but a try was in order.
I pedalled out of the shed on my weather-proof Krampus, no shock bushes to wreck, full cable housings, and a generous helping of wet lube on the greasy bits, just in case.
Once I was moving I couldn’t stop, and while I got wet undercarriage it was nice out. I wandered the woods, no sign of a Triple Crown, until I was as far south and away from home as I could get without leaving the forest.
Then I turned for home, and I could see the hills were obscured by something, hopefully mist.
It was rain. Gentle at first, then persistent, then hypothermic. Saw nothing much and nobody else for the next couple of wet grinding hours, took two showers and a nap to get all of the forest out of my eyes, and on Tuesday my shoes were still damp.
Turns out the kids got a sunny morning with no rain until they had got their prizes and bolted for home, and the Triple Crown was postponed, all the entrants more than likely sorting out their garages or reading long books.