REUSSIR BIEN!!!

The tour has been so exciting. Lance and Cadel have never really been contendors and it is Reigning  Spain as it has for the last few years.
The French are also having a great race and I am so happy for them.
Sadly this blog must now come to an end for reasons above human understanding.  I shall remember this race, the country for always as it has brought to my life the greatest memories sweet like summer wine.

Reussir bien, nous ne rencontrerons jamais encore...

Long live Alberto Contador!

LE TOUR EST ARRIVE    

The 'Tour' has arrived, Aberto Contador is causciously optimistic, todays stage will be decisive with 13kms of cobbles and only 6kms to to the end from this point. The Schlecks have been on the tarmac and Cancellera proved that a great leader of the tour dictates how the peloton should race.

He put an end to racing after a dangerous descent, I don't recall anyone ever doing this in recent years and the only other rider that I do remember doing this is Bernard Hinault of France decades back.

Is this deja vu or what? Just the other day I was saying to my wife would it not be marvelous if the French could wear the Mailot Jaune as they have not won the Tour for such a long time. Chavanel may not win the Tour but he sure can hold on to that 'jersey' for at least 10days.

The old dogs like Sastre and Armstrong are in there with a shout but neither will win this year's race.
Cadel can't win this tour either and maybe the only jersey he'll be wearing for a while is the 'rainbow jersey'.

Tony Martin looks good but we will have to see and as always Spain looks to be the strongest.   This tour is going to be a great one.

THE COUNTDOWN HAS BEGUN!

There are only a few hours left to the greatest sporting event in world cycling; Le Tour de France.
We will congregate on mountain, hill, valley, flatlands, over radio, on television, and on world wide web where-ever it is possible to get a glimpse of this unequivocal event, we will shed tears, cheer and debate but most importantly we will get great satisfaction from this marvelous sport.

They say World Cup Soccer brings the World together for 31 days, well, we will not boast for fear of hypocrisy or pride, we will simply say; go to the Tour de France 'yourself' and you will discover that your life has been changed for-ever...Vive le France!

So as this countdown begins it is only fitting to quote the great Henry des Grange at the presentation of the 1906 Tour.

"Through torrid afternooons, entire populations will present themselves before you, their hands raised in applause, their eyes wide open to catch a lasting memory of the battle.
In the evening, as nature slumbers peacefully, tired after the long day, the peasant, burnt by the sun, will falll silent to celebrate your passing.  Then, after the pain, honour will follow. alive again, you will enter Paris in sporting glory.  And later, you will remember your exploits at the Tour de France, and you will be able to say with pride; I was there".

Final Classification of the Giro d’ Italia

The Giro is over, Basso has won, can’t say that I am unhappy about that. The Grand Tour awaits, July is around the corner and the Sunflowers are waiting to bow to the cavalcade soon to thrill us yet again.

Final General Classification

1  Ivan BASSO (LIQ)                      87:44:01

2  David ARROYO DURAN (GCE)                + 1:51

3  Vincenzo NIBALI (LIQ)                   + 2:37

4  Michele SCARPONI (AND)                  + 2:50

5  Cadel EVANS (BMC)                       + 3:27

6  Alexandre VINOKOUROV (AST)              + 7:06

7  Richie PORTE (SAX)                      + 7:22

8  Carlos SASTRE CANDIL (CTT)              + 9:39

9  Marco PINOTTI (THR)                    + 14:20

10 Robert KISERLOVSKI (LIQ)               + 14:51

The Splendour of France

In June, when the winter cold is biting and an opportunity has passed me by, my heart longs for France and its splendour.

When you go there you will understand the sadness that comes over me when I am not there in July.

The liveliness of the Trocadero, the serenity of the Seine, the speed of the Place del a Concorde, the busy-ness of the Champse lyses that meets the solidity of the Arc De Triomphe are just a few icons that greets you in gay-Paris.

The sidewalks are dreamy, and I wouldn’t blame you if you slipped off into one of the cobbled side streets to view the beauty from the loom that brings you world fashion and if you get hungry along the way, you can pop into a lah-di-dah restaurant called l’Abbaye de Theleme and dine in opulence, or just go down the street and order McDonalds.

In the evening when the lights come on take your lover to dine at ‘Le Avenue’ and if you really lucky you might spot Hugh Hefner and the girls there too.

If the glamour is not the thing that lights your fire take a taxi down to Gare de Aurterlitz or even Montparnase and take the SNCF - TGV (Société Nationale des Chemins de fer français Trains Grande Vitesse) to Bordeaux, hire a bicycle and taste wine and cheese all day long till the afternoon browns your skin and then lay quietly at night pondering on your exploits of the day.

It is the country of Paris, Tin Tin, Napoleon Bonaparte, St Germaine (the immortal alchemist), Josephine Baker (“Naked at the Feast”), the mighty Louvre, Peugeot and Citroen, sweet wine, a language so fine, its like wiping your ass with silk; and most of all le Grande Boucle; The Tour de France.

I could go on, and tell you about the lady with the fat diamond ring and her pink Château but you get the message so I’ll leave you with this:

I have been to Paris,

I arrived there in the rain…

Have you ever been to Paris?

She has seduced me so.

Now like opium she fills

my veins and it cannot

be undone.

Little cobble streets,

the shimmering Seine,

undisturbed on long, hot summer days.

Cafes rest dreamily on the

sidewalks.

Friendly ladies in heels on

the Velo

and all she is saying

is come play with me!

Its always love in Paris.

Can you just imagine?

If the entire world was in Paris…

What happy bike riders we would be

because love is truly all

We need.

Paris

I love you so

I love you

Dreamy Paris…

My wife doesn’t even know

how I’ve cheated on her with you in

my dreams,

Paris I miss you

so.

Paris, let me see

you once again

My sweet, sweet

Paris.

Giro d' Italia
 
Well after so many days of racing it seems my hopes were built on pigs that do not fly, excuse the phrase.  It seems as always the country that I have been 
supporting all these years still comes to the fore when it 
matters "Spain" viva espana!!!

General Classification after Stage 15
1  David Arroyo (Caisse d'Epargne)   67:48:42     
2  Richie Porte (Saxo Bank)            + 2:35 
3  Ivan Baso (Liquigas)                + 3:33
4  Carlo Sastre (Cervelo)              + 4:21
5  Cadel Evans (BMC)                   + 4:43
6  Alexandre Vinokourov (Astana)       + 5:51
7  Vicenzo Nibali (Liquigas)           + 6:08
8  Michele Scarponi (Androni)          + 6:34
 

Un Vino Veritas!  Giro d' Italia

I am really intending for Alexandre to win this year, he so deserves this win and I 

hope he has made the correct move to be on form this early as the 

Tour de France is still a  

few weeks away.

General Classification after Stage 8
1  Alexandre Vinokourov (Astana)          29:01:26
2  Cadel Evans (BMC)                        + 1:12
3  Vincenzo Nibali (Liquigas)               + 1:33
4  Ivan Basso (Liquigas)                    + 1:51
5  Marco Pinotti (Team HTC-Columbia)        + 2:17
6  Richie Porte (Saxo Bank)                 + 2:26
7  Vladimir Karpets (Katusha)               + 2:34
8  Stefano Garzelli (Acqua e Sapone)        + 2:47

AS I REMEMBER YOU

I have been fortunate to walk where I have walked, to race with whom I have raced and to have met and known all of you.

David Cloete, this dude was large, 6foot tall and few could descend like him, David and I would argue frequently. He was older so he thought he knew more, I was young, black and talented and I “gave him a piece of mind” time and time again but, we were fond of each other in our own way.

One day it was storming, we had just slipped over Constantia neck and we had been dropped just on the cusp of the climb. David said to me’  “sit on my wheel ‘China’"

And so I did, he dragged me down the climb along the flats and I paced him on the climb of Chapman’s Peak, we would do this often as needs be, as I was no good at descending.

Then there is my long standing friend, Ian Gallard, what a great buddy, this was the master descender par excellence. He was lean, mean, hard and relentless on the bike.

David Cloete once said, long steady miles is the answer, spin, be supple and when you are older you will not regret it.

That advice I never forgot, it would make me a superior le grimpeur, much to the disadvantage of others.

Ian Gallard, Mark Blewitt, David McGinley and Kevin Green of Paarl belonged to a semi-pro outfit called Sopex. The professional teams in South Africa feared these guys; they were simply magic on their bikes.

I would spot them each time as I was training putting in the miles each day.  During those days there were two groups of cycling in my country.  The whites and the coloureds.  Coloured were generally excellent track racers and never mingled with the whites.

I thought to myself, if I am to be good I will train with the best. The whites had the money and the sponsorships, I had the talent and I sure as hell didn’t care about skin colour. I would train hard and beat them at their own game. Those were the thoughts going through my head.  So one day I stopped the Sopex Cycling Team.

Ian as always was friendly, always eager to help. Mark was a gentleman, David was aloof and Kevin, well he was coloured like me and he needed to protect his place with the ‘white boys’ so, all in all I would race and train with all of them over the years. We would have great fun.

Kevin was their track man; he was really good especially as he hailed from Paarl area, in the Boland.  I always wondered why these guys did so well on the track. Maybe it was all the jungle oats….

As the years went by Mark Blewitt would be one of the first ones to go and ride professionally in France. He had a European passport so he exploited it. France, beautiful France, the place where all our cycling dreams lie.

I also remember Marwaan, I forget his surname but he was Muslim. This guy, he could ride for hours on end.  No matter where you went, no matter how hot, you would find this skinny guy frequenting the mountains; burned dark from the sun looking like a little Columbian.

He always used to ride for the advertising company that employed him.  If there ever was a ‘long distance professor’ he was it.  He would be surprised that I remember him today, but hey that’s me, a memory like an elephant.

And then there was Freddie, he was always happy and laughing or smiling. 

We would get up at 5am to be at the races at 5:30 and 6:00. I hated this early morning starts in South African racing. Really hated it.

There was this middle aged woman with a bum like a drum, curly blonde hair and a long cigarette in the mouth;  Jasmine, she was the race convener, she was a real pain in the butt, no pun intended.

One time we raced this long 250Km race in Franchhoek. After 7 hours of racing, in sweltering heat of 50 degrees and a fire along the mountain side she decided to disqualify my whole team. My team mates were demoralized. Ian Gallard and Idecided, to hell with it, we are going to race on till the end. Once we got over the last climb of the day she re-instated us into the race, by this time most of the race lie in the gutter from heat exhaustion and hungry.

Ian and I finished the race and collected our medals. Those were the days, sweet like summer wine, happy caressing the corners of my mind.

One day we were to gather a team for an all star event. It would be a like a relay event starting with the best runners in the country then a cycling section of 100kms, paddle skiing, wind surfing and swimming.

I was invited to enter a team.

Willie Engelbrecht, the then King of South African Cycling, was also taking part amongst other great riders.

Our team ended up in a very good position within the top 20, we were over the moon as most of the guys competing were pros.

If it wasn’t for our marathon runner and my cycling, we would have come last as our swimmer, swam in the wrong direction. What an ass!  He was this macho swimmer dude; I will not mention his name here today.

Neil (the marathon runner and my sister’s ex) started cycling too, but the wind and rain would always nail him, he had no body fat whatsoever and he crashed a lot. He reminded me of Alex Zuller, some guys just have so much Karma, they are more off the bike than on.

In the end Neil gave it all up.

At that time there were no women cycling but I do remember fondly this one girl who always trained with us. It was comforting to look at her rear end, this German babe Bragidda. Hmmmm, we were fond of each other.  Ian Gallard might have had other ideas and exploits with her…..

One time we were racings down the back side of Cape Town, a place called Scarborough. Cathy Carstens was just a little way off to the rear of my wheel. At the time it was one of my first races, I was racing League. That was for those who were really, really good, the pros and the pro-ams. What on earth was I doing, what on earth was I thinking?

I was falling back and hampering her progress, but she gave me a long push to get back into the front.  If she ever reads this, I wonder if she will remember.

I appreciated it although, I think she loved my firm black bum.

Then there was this tomboy Beverly Adams whose brother was the world famous cricketer Paul ‘Gogga’ Adams.

She and David Cloete worked together for many years in a bicycle shop called Soloped run by a long haired hippie called Richard Prowse.  This dude was a seasoned veteran but also a real good cyclist. He reminded me a bit of Andy Hampsten always complaining and always out of form. There was this really sexy red haired that was always pleasant and would go on training rides with us sometimes. Gosh! I can’t remember her name for the life of me but I am sure David Cloete knows of whom I write. 

Do you guys remember that little German Tyson Unger?

He had all the talent, young, lots of money but sadly faded as time went by.

Shame. Do you remember how we use to go training in summer after work, you, me, Richard and Tyson?

And then there is Sean Batty ‘the animal’ this dude crunched big gears; he would go training even if it was snowing outside.  He was another tall lanky cyclist.

So as the days went on, my cycling became better and soon I was to leave this steal frame behind, I let my father know that I would need a lighter and more professional frame soon.

From my old blue Carlton I progressed to Hansen 501 Reynolds tubing; my father bought me a Hansom from Gotti Hansom Cycles on the Foreshore.

When this was no longer good enough I went to David Cloete who had acquired his own shop, it was called ‘Cycle Logic’ befittingly.

I searched many shops and I wanted something really light, when I walked into David’s shop and told him my problem he took one look at me and pointed me to a carbon bonded frame of alluminium and said; “I have raced with you and know how you climb no bike is better suited for your build than this one.”

There hanging in the shop was a silver bullet, clean without any fancy stickers and devoid of any colour, it was perfect.

It was nothing European but boy; it was light as a feather. The Litage “light age” was something put together by the Americans and the Japanese. The mechanics had it sorted in no time.

In the afternoon that David called me to fetch my bike,  I remember Victor Johnston accompanying me home on a test ride. It was everything I dreamed off.

When winter settled in and all the pretenders hid from the cold, John Cupido, Mark Florence and I would pack our bags and slide on our mountain boots, we would drive to Jongkers Hoek and do 8 hour cross training hikes on foot, through the mountains.

We had a ball of a time. Wayne Stevens would call me on Tuesday evenings and we would watch the latest movies on the now world famous Cape Town Water Front.

This is what we would do for leisure but mostly it was racing, training, cycling, more racing, more training and more cycling not necessarily in that order.  And on a good night I would listen to Ian Gallard give me tips on becoming a more superior climber and stories of bodies that go humping in the night.

Saturdays, Sundays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays were our main racing days, then the odd ‘Contre le Montre’ (Time Trial) in between and some Hill Premiums in the evenings.

But it was the Europeans who always stole my heart, they had such class and finesse on the bicycle.  One year, a tall lanky German, skin burned brown from hours in the sun appeared in Cape Town. His name was Marc Weishaupt and I think he stayed with Davie Cloete for a while while training in the Mother City.

One day he asked David to give him a really long route to train on, something arduous.  David directed him to the four passes about 250kms of long stretches of flat and over high mountains.

This was on a Wednesday, Marc did it all by himself in record time, then came to race with us at Killarney and still finished in the front bunch, then got on his bike and cycled another 30kms home.

Wow! Awesomeness! Magik! What more can I say?

I also remember Russell Clarence, it is amazing the idiosyncrasies of us all, when Russell was on his bike he reminded me of a specific rider in the Tour de France, though I can’t remember his name, Russell had this strange position on the bike, yet he raced pretty well.

And last but not least, Russell Palm, a really good cyclist whom I had met through Mark Florence, he was a man of few words, but had great talent and represented South Africa at the Australia Olympic Games. I am grateful for him for putting up with me when I went to Cape Town to race and also savoured his wife’s great cooking.

One of my uncles, a man from Durban always use to say after a really good time, or really fun party; “all good things must come to an end” so too this article: ‘As I remember you’.

I got an email from Ian Gallard the other day and he spoke to me about nostalgia…

There are few things in this world that can change a man, spiritually, and if there was no other way, I can safely say that cycling could perhaps do that if one gave careful thought to it.

I know my blog is about nostalgia to a certain degree, ok, maybe to a large degree but in the final analysis it too will come to an end  as all things do that are material.

But I know you all will always be a part of my memory……

                                                        

       Above: Cathy Carstens and Lisa Vermaak

Le Femme

I have not known many exceptional cyclists that are female, personally that is, but to me the most elegant and my favourite has to be Leontien ZIJLAARD-Van Moorsel of the Netherlands.

Those pink nails and those pouting full lips were to make any man want to watch her race.

Now that I’ve written that it ‘kinda’ sounds sexist but it is not my intention, she was worth every one of her pedal strokes.

Over the years as I raced in South Africa the women were never quite good enough and maybe I should say it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Today there are a few really good ones and in the South African Team MTN Energade has been nurturing the likes of Miriske Straus, C. Slingerland, Chrissie Viljoen, Carla Swart, Marissa v.d Merwe, Cherise Taylor, Lerissa Kleinmann and M. Nicholson.

With their talent and the keen eye of Douglas Ryder I am sure we will see great things as in the case of Robert Hunter.

In the early years the only real female cyclist who raced with us use to be Cathy Carstens and at least her, I knew. Today at 45 years of age she is still involved with the sport and isn’t that grand?

 In this photo: Frederika Frick, Mayr Haw, Maroesjka Matthee, Leanne Brown-Watson, Cathy Carstens (photo), Tania Myburg

 Since we have a few females/women following this blog it is only fitting that I write about their part in the sport.

I am no ‘fundi’ when it comes to knowledge in their department of cycling and the women that I know of who is following this blog are not even cyclist themselves. How is that for a feather in our cap regarding the world of cycling?  I think it’s pretty neat to say the least.

Whenever I am driving in my automobile and I pass two or three women cyclist I get so excited just to know there are actually women out there who are serious about the sport and even the ones who are just keeping fit.

My wife Gail Engelbrecht has never owned a bike in her life up until just recently. That is really sad as every child should grow up with a bike and not just boys.

After many years of supporting me in my sport all over the world and also helping many cyclists whom I have mentioned on this blog she has finally joined me buying herself a mountain bike and riding with me in the forests of Brisbane.

Ok, enough nepotism, back to cycling, laughs out loud!

Cathy Carstens, Tandi Russell, Beverly Adams, Bragidda and Karen Proctor who cycled for Peninsula cycles are some of the women whom I share memories with from the old days. Just recently I saw a photograph on Facebook of Elizabeth Syndercombe courtesy of Craig Northam in England and I recognized her immediately, what marvelous memories they bring back taking us back to planet fabulon.

Today there are a string of new girls, both in South Africa and abroad, wonderful!

This article was not extensive but in no means is it intended to devalue the part that women play in the greatest sport in the world…….cycling.

Un grandioses merci vous que vous êtes ici!

Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race.  ~H.G. Wells

To Mount Warning

Mount Warning is on the North East Coast of New South Whales, Australia. It is a mountain shrouded in mystery.

To the Bundjalung indigenous people this mountain is known as Wollumbin meaning ‘patriarch of mountains’.

It is the central volcanic remnant of an ancient shield volcano, and this volcano erupted around 23 million years ago as history goes.

                                                   

But it’s not this that’s the main focus in this article. Today as I was driving to a forested area in the direction of Mount Warning I took a bend in a very twisty road littered with thousands of trees and I had to slow down on an incline. Before me was a woman on her bicycle in her 60’s. I waited then passed by carefully and after just a few hundred meters or so there was another.

This early in the morning on such a hard stretch of road there must have been at least 20 riders between the ages of 48 and 65.

There bicycles laden with sleeping gear, food and themselves was a sight to be hold.

To me this was simply magic to see men and women at this age trekking across a very undulating valley road towards a place called Springbrook.

We spoke to them briefly and one gentleman said they were cycling to Mount Warning and then they would climb the mountain when they arrived.

The road ahead of them on the border of Queensland and New South Whales had a whale of a climb, steep and arduous and the descent, a very narrow road with numerous switch backs and even steeper on the New South Whales side to say the least, and this is where they were still heading.

Where we had met them to the border was filled with little climbs, this was a testament, one is never to young or to old to enjoy the sport of cycling.

They still had 70kms to go, I could not believe it but this sight brought a smile to my face and a happy heart.

Long live cycling!