Blueberry and Sugar

Whilst many of your favourite characters were otherwise engaged on Saturday with either illness, or work, or family commitments, a surprising number of Positivistas (8?) gathered along the Tama on Saturday morning with a plan to tackle some climbs and get some kilometres under our belts.

Sagamiko marked the first point that our numbers declined with Jamie and Bryon heading for a climb up the back of Otarumi and then back to Tokyo. Jamie regretting the lack of a compact crank and a ‚climbing‘ cassette, Bryon on call for a heavily pregnant wife due to deliver a son imminently.

The remainder continued on to Fujino for a turn north and into the hills on Route 522.

Stops here and there to re-group, fill water bottles or just generally enjoy the scenery were the order of the day, and Michael H. was therefore able to keep his peeing to his regular schedule of every 8 minutes. This is obviously his superpower. Mine is sausage eating.

It became obvious very quickly that David C. was struggling. Quite out of character and cause for some concern and discussion. Failing to find his mojo, David decided to head back towards Uenohara and then home.

We continued up Route 18 enjoying the brisk, clear conditions and the short but fairly steep climbs that characterize this great cycling road. Plenty of 12% inclines for the strong to power up, and for the rest of us to grind it out on.

Graham had by this point taking on the role of ‚lanterne rouge‘, but I am beginning to understand the relationship between Michael H. and him. Graham’s lower pace gives Michael plenty of time to scout out possible lunch venues and restaurants, and of course, to have a pee. It is quite surprising how many soba restaurants this intrepid duo have discovered in what are seemingly uninhabited villages. That said this route is certainly lacking in the usual compliment of conbinis that we are spoiled with riding in the Japanese countryside. Food supplies were low.

We arrived at Lake Okutama. Michael moaning that he still had another climb before he could lunch. Graham choosing to head down to Ome directly having done enough for his first bike ride of the year now his running marathons is done. Whilst we stopped to refill bottles, have a drink and consume the last of any food that could be found hiding in jersey pockets, Michael disappeared. Obviously time for another pee, but no! He returned clutching a secret weapon. Having chatted up the restaurant cashier, she had sold him some ‚blueberry and black sugar‘ candy. It was pure sugar, no blueberry and not very tasty. We finished it all anyway.

Tomin no Mori beckoned and off we set. Team High5 of James and Yair zoomed off into the distance and I decided to stick with Michael H. who I thought might have needed moral support in order to break into the 2000m+ climbing gang. This proved prescient. Michael H. and I summited around the 60 minute mark, Michael now at a personal best daily elevation. We descended rapidly in the cold to then stop and consume cha-han, soup and sit inside reheating our bits. Oh, and for Michael to have a pee.

Some banter at this point as to exit strategies. Itsukaichi, Hachioji, Tachikawa were options, but with the time quickly passing and dusk falling in the not too distant future, Itsukaichi it was for Michael and I. Coffees and pastries could not be resisted before jumping the (slow) train to Tokyo at 5:07pm. James and Yair pushed on to Hachioji before calling it a day.

160ishkm, 2500ish climbing, 7hrs riding, 5hrs peeing, brilliant.

http://www.flickr.com/apps/slideshow/show.swf?v=71649

http://connect.garmin.com:80/activity/embed/28777311

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Sunday Ride?

This weekend finds me with no Brevet and no work/family conflicts on Sunday (in contrast to Saturday, today, which has both work and family conflicts),  … so I very much hope to ride tomorrow.  I want to get in one of the traditional routes I have not yet done this year — one or more of Kazahari, Tawa/Tsuru, Matsuhime/O-toge and/or Yanagisawa passes, and in typical P.E. fashion the plan may be more ambitious than the actual trip.  It looks like it will be cold in Okutama, but sunny, so dress warmly and in layers.  I’ll leave my home at 7AM and plan to be at Tamagawahara-bashi at 7:30AM.  Any interest?

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Ankling

Ankling and more ankling

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Into the Heart of Coldness

„I raised my head. The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky–seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.“ (1)

And so our trip to Chichibu began on that fateful day of March 31st in the year of the Lord 2010 as we assembled along the shores of the river Tamagawa. The air was humid and cold and despite several layers of clothes wrapped around our moribund bodies we froze as if we had entered eternal purgatory.

Considering the conditions of the roads, we made good speed along the Tamagawa until we reached this hotbed of modern decadence, the sixties Saigon of Yamanashi-Ken, the city called Ome on the fringes of metropolitan Tokyo, this last outpost of civilisation before time comes to a final, sudden and grinding stop.

Luckily our friends and loved-ones did not catch us red-handed as we engaged in an orgy of absolute evil at Aurore bakery. Shamelessly we indulged in the indifferent consumption of „Royal Milk Bread“; the only king we are loyal to being the master of pain in the upper calves, waiting for us behind the passes into foreign Chichibuian land. But we needed to fill our stomachs thoroughly, as we would enter civilisation again only after a long journey through the impervious jungles and hills of the land to the North of us.We mounted our trusted gear the next morning and after a while we reached the holy fountain, a place where mysterious powers would emasculate the prejudiced riders.  A group of young riders from a minor educational institution (Waseda Univ., that is) came back from a trip surveying the edge of the known world and greeted us heartily.  Never will they know the horrors of life, until after graduation.

The first test of manliness awaited us at Yamabushi Pass. A German expedition led by Colonel Manfred von Holstein has conquered this hill some time ago and their unbelievable deeds have been engraved in the cornerstone of cycling forever (in plain language: see Togebaka # 12 to the right). Jerome, our svelte French cook, Dominic, the ruthless colonel of the aborigine regiment, David, the American maverick of unequivocal lineage and myself, all (seven) of us charged ahead with full speed:

„Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred:
‚Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns‘ he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“ (2)

Even after I had climbed up for what seemed to me an endless amount of time (15 minutes, to be precise), I could still feel the warm breath of Jerome blowing in rapid convulsions against my neck. I gave all I could and conquering the last bends of the road I was finally on my own and arrived at the lofty heights of Yamabushi in respectable time. So did Jerome, Dominic and David as well, as they are brave and respectable fellows indeed.

But in the cold no break could be made: the sweat we produced so plentiful during the climbs became solid slabs of ice on our bodies within no time. There was no choice but to continue to the next hill of Shomaru Toge. A strange place where coffee is served (but no tea) to the travelers who bode no ill. Where water is a priceless commodity, photos celebrate the visit of Prince Takamatsu and Princess Chichibu in 1953, and people hover over bare holes in the grounds to get finally rid of the remains of Royal Milk Bread and other lustful offenses of the past.

Again, down into the valley of the death (route 299) we charged while the cold got almost unbearable. And up again we clambered towards the heights of Karibazaka, a place talked about in whispers on stormy nights when the one-legged and the crazies gather around the fireplace to tell the lore of times long past (in plain language: see Togebaka No. 17 to the right).

A yellowed photo taken on the pass may give the curious reader an impression of the hardness the men endured.Along the ridge we proceeded until we came to the hedonic temple of Takayama Fudo and again made a charge into the valley of the death (Route 299). As the strain of the journey mounted, the men were beginning to show their nerves: „It is the 10th birthday of my daughter today – I must go home!“ cried one of them in an uncontrollable rage, before jumping through the bushes into the wild never to be seen again. Or perhaps he made it indeed, but as the distance to home was long, he surely did not make it before the 11th birthday of his little princess.

What remained of the men, now reduced in strength by illness and desertion to about 3/4 of their former and full force, continued along the road and then made a fateful left turn towards the center of hedonic worship: The temple of Nennogongen, guarded not only by two fierce deities but also by steep slopes with ridiculous gradients.

„Surely the way straight is shorter and will lead back to civilisation. I must go there!“ uttered one brave man when finally faith abandoned him. With all earthly powers spent and not one grain left to keep him away from his foolish deeds, he disappeared in front of our eyes up the road toward doom. Our once glorious platoon had by now lost 50% of its men, and the thin French cook and I readied ourselves for a last, long and dangerous climb up to the temple awaiting in the mist ahead.

After a while the Frenchman showed his nerves as well; aimlessly he was wandering from the right to the left and barely could he keep his gear under control. I did all I could to keep him away from fate, telling him stories about the beloved left behind. How surely wonderful the places must be that we were certain to reach at any minute. Waiting for us behind that last curve. That turned out to be the second last curve. No the third-last. Not even this. And with the last drop of power almost spent, we arrived at the parade ground in front of the temple and rode up the last few hundred meters. Everything that was told about the place is true. The curious reader may wish to find out for himself.Now riding down in small numbers the bends of the unbelievably steep slopes, we headed for the last and ultimate goal of our journey: The temple of Takedera, where according to our secret assignment, Mr. Kurtz was supposed to hide.

What seemed to be quite an enjoyable ride along a stream turned out to be a hellish ascent for the last 500 meters. Who would have thought that this would prove to become the most difficult part of our journey? While we Christians are punished for our earthly deeds after death when we are judged by our lord, the pagans are punished already on the way to their places of worship.

Arriving finally at this wonderful place we were informed that we were too late: Representatives of the colonial powers of Singapore and Australia have already come and taken samples of the place. Surely it was a most beautiful place and the climb up to the Honden provided us with some compensation for the things we have been through. But nothing was left but to return to our world after we have seen:

„The Horror! The Horror!“


So brought to senses by the foolishness of the things we were chasing after in vain, we made the run for home. Just like speeding human bullets, faster than ever before did we rode along the roads that would surely bring us back to civilisation. There, finally a light along the road. No, this time it wasn’t a fee fire but the illumination of this wonderful place called Tamajiman where only too soon more social events will take place.

And there, to our great joy, David greeted us, holding out for the last few days he had even managed not to touch the remaining two slices of pizza lying so temptingly in front of him, and bearing the names „Jerome“ and „Michael“.

Yes, we all made it back into the lap of civilisation, with its warm toilet seats and glass washing basins, and I am here to tell you the story of our adventures. The rest is shortly told: In the darkness we rode back along the shores of the river Tamagawa and all of us arrived between 7 and 8pm that evening at home. Great was the joy there when we could re-unite with our loved ones (unfortunately 2/3 of my loved ones were at the ice skating rink and the remaining 1/3 experienced a sudden and powerful attack of puberty- one may think about reinstating proven, good traditions).

More than 200 km of riding and far more than than 2.000 meters of climbing (excluding barometric tolerances).

PS By the way, in many ways this was also a very classical Positivo Espresso ride. We started very fast, slowed down considerably and were equally fast in the end as in the beginning. The only non-classical element was, that 50% of us stuck with the original riding plan.

(1) from „Heart of Darkness“ by Joseph Conrad, 1902
(2) from „Charge of the Light Brigade“ by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1854

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Murphy’s Law of Cycling

Murphy’s Law Of Cycling (Source: Cycling Tips)

Murphy’s Law states that anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

Murphy’s Law #1


Murphy’s Law #2

Murphy’s Law #3

Murphy’s Law #4

Murphy’s Law #5

Murphy’s Law #6

and of course it will also rain when you do bring a rain jacket…




Not necessarily “Murphy’s Laws”, but a few other Laws of Cycling that always hold true:

  • When you go into a bikeshop with intentions to buy some handlebar tape you’ll come out at least $300 poorer every time.
  • You will always be home from a ride 30mins later than you told your wife. Always blame Law#5 and your riding mate.
  • You will drive into your garage with your bike on your roofrack at some stage in your life. Guaranteed.
  • When building a bike from parts you bought over the internet there will always be a piece that doesn’t fit.
  • The day you have an unplanned EPIC 200km wet, windy, cold ride you’ll have big social engagement that evening.

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A Tale of Two Towers

When I arrived in Japan in 1998, I worked the first two years in Hamamatsu/Shizuoka in the factory of a now famous Swiss elevator company. I was transferred to Tokyo in 2000 and since I am returning to Germany in a few weeks, I thought it might be a nice idea to ride from Tokyo to Hamamatsu on my bike as a conclusion of my stay in Japan. As the distance between the two cities is about 270 km which is hard to ride within one day, I decided to split the trip into two legs. On Saturday evening I rode from Tokyo to Yokohama and on Sunday I did the remaining stretch.

Note: This post is dedicated to the Yellow Giant aka Travis who rode from Tokyo to Nagoya on road 246 and 1 in January this year. He has my full respect as he had stayed on the man roads for more than 400km. As the end point of his journey was the house of his parents in law, I still suspect that the main purpose of his ride was to have an convenient excuse to do absolute nothing there but to lie around, watch TV and eat good food. Also, when asked next year if he will come again, he might answer: „Again? I cannot ride there every year!“.

Well, actually I enjoyed the last squash match of my life at the TAC with a friend and rode home on my bike afterwards. The next morning I woke up at 5 AM in fabulous shape, ready to roll.

The weather was not really good, cloudy, but at least no rain forecasted until 3 PM. I was blessed with a very strong tailwind, so I made good progress along the Nakahara Kaido and later on road 1 towards Odawara. I tried to control my heart rate and not to overdo it, even when I had a chance to go faster. This early on a weekend day, the traffic was rather light and I arrived at 8 AM at the 7-Eleven on the start of the old Tokaido up to Hakone. One signboard said something about only 100 km left to Shizuoka – cool. I almost made it.

The mountains ahead were completely covered in mist and I was afraid of snow and rain up there. Typical 三寒四温 weather. I started the climb up to Moto-Hakone and again I tried to pace myself in the 140 – 150 HRM range, so that I would not exhaust myself too much. Nevertheless it took me only 54 minutes to reach the top, which is almost as fast as the second time when I went up there with Ludwig and Jerome. It was cold up there, only 1 degree plus, a little bit foggy but no snow and no rain. So I continued to Ashinoko and Hakone pass before taking the very fast downhill road 1 to Mishima without stopping.

First stop after Mishima (this town always reminds me of China) at a 7-Eleven and checking the maps: It looked much better to continue on road 380 along the coast; this is a road we have previously used to ride out of Mishima in direction Western Izu peninsular. Done. This road was also fast and the traffic was acceptable and again in no time I was in Shin-Fuji where I promptly got lost. Looking now at the map, I notice that I made a detour on road 396 but as this is the only other road to cross the Fujikawa river except the road 1 bypass (not allowed to be used by bikes) I had no other choice anyway.

This should happen quite a number of times: While it is no problem to ride on road 1 all the way between Tokyo and Mishima (nevertheless it wouldn’t be my suggestion to do so), large stretches of the same road are barring cyclists from usage. Warning signs not to enter are all over the place and even if I love to take forest roads which are not allowed for public traffic, I hate to ride on these fast roads leading through flyovers, bypasses, bland correct underpasses and the like. How Travis did this – I don’t know. I would have been scared to death out there.
Strangely, the distance to Shizuoka did not decrease during the last three hours of riding as much as it was supposed to decrease. Was this some Kafkanian castle trick from the Japan Highway authorities? And furthermore I have reached the point where the mountains were rising so steeply directly from the sea, that there was hardly any land left between there flanks and the water. And the few land remaining was used for the most important purpose of the country; to accommodate the Tomei highway, the national road 1 and the railroad line.

At the end of road 396 I couldn’t possibly ride on road 1 which was hardly distinguishable from the parallel highway; that much were the number of lanes, the amount of traffic and the speeding of cars and trucks. But luckily there was a signboard showing the way to Satta Toge (薩埵峠) which sounded interesting enough to give it a try. We would not mention these types of passes in our weekly ride report, shallow hills with not much of climbing. But this one had a partly very steep approach of more than 20% slope and after a lot of hours in the saddle every climb becomes (more or less) a respectable challenge. The weather was good on top and to look through the Mikan orchards down on the roads and the sea was quite nice. That is how and why Satta Toge became Positivo Espresso approved.Now, after riding down on the other side, I came into the (rather boring) port city of Shimizu, where after some maneuvering I found road 150 leading along the coast. Another time, road 1 could be avoided. This stretch of road 150 is also known as „Strawberry Line“: On the left side is the beach, even some stretches of sand not covered by giant tetraeder concrete blocks and on the right side are greenhouse after greenhouse filled to the brim with mature strawberries that are screaming: „Sell me! Sell me!“. And this is the precise reason why in intervals of perhaps 20 meters poorly paid students are dressed up as giant strawberries and red pandas. They carry strawberry lampoons on strings which they are twirling through the air to indicate to passing cars that one can buy here, well, strawberries. To be honest, this offers the same degree of excitement as speaking with my wife about recent trends in figure skate dressing.

But finally I have made it into Shizuoka city and crossed the Abeguchi river still staying on road 150. However, when I wanted to continue along the road I came to another long tunnel and there was no way I could pass through. Road 150. Tomei highway and the Shinkansen line where all swallowed by mountains and
road 1 had disappeared in the North quite a while ago. After trying some small roads at the tunnel portal to no avail, I rode back to the city and managed my way through thanks to the help of some locals. Road 416 was beautiful and gently swinging along the sexy curves of the coastline. The locals have warned me that I would be moving „up into the mountains“, but what they mean by mountains is something we would refer to as „Yamanote“ perhaps. Also, I asked if there would be any tunnels and the answer was „NO“, spoken in a way like one would say: „Of course, not!“. I came through three of them.

Which was actually good, because by now the weather had very much deteriorated and it began to fizzle. I was getting wet fast so in one semi-tunnel (one side was almost open to the sea with some nice window cut-outs), I decided to a) take a piss looking like a roman statue in an alcove and b) put on my rain jacket. It was high time, outside of the tunnel it had started to rain even harder and I could barely made a few more kilometers before I had to stop at a (yes, I admit it) Family Mart in the town of Yaizu.

Now, again I checked the maps, had some yaki-soba, tried to stay inside as long as possible. As I was looking outside I noticed that it had started to hail. Small white hard balls of something between snow and ice were falling from the dark grey skies and made a tremendous noise when colliding with the sheet metal parts of cars.I was ready to give up. There were at least 80 km left to Hamamatsu, it was already close to 3 PM and the weather didn’t look like becoming better any moment. I thought, OK, let’s give it one more try and I continued to ride. Within minutes I had that typical sensation of wet feet. One knows, that now the socks and shoes are soaked and that this will remain so for the rest of the ride. I was so desperate that I started to hum Rick Astley songs.And suddenly the rain stopped. Just like in Woodstock, 1969. No rain, no rain. Also the surface pf the road was dry and the sky ahead had the color of eye-pleasing grey. But when I looked behind me, the sky had the color of sock-soaking dark grey – so everything I endured must have been true. The wetness of my socks and the last notes of a Risk Astley song reminded me of this truth.

OK, so now I could move on, crossing the Oikawa and riding along road 79 to one of the biggest incidents of ruthless and senseless wasting of tax payers money in the shape of the new Fuji Shizuoka Airport opened in June 2009. I checked the website to make sure that this airport is offering the staggering amount of 20 national and 6 international flights per hour! No, I was joking, this is the number of flights per day. I guess during rush hour there are more trains leaving the station closest to my house per hour than flights the whole day there. JAL has a high share of this flights which is their fate: As a quasi national carrier they have to serve all this micro airports and mini routes in Japan. More flights are done by the home airline, Fuji Dream Airlines (FDA, owned by Suzuyo). I don’t know what you think which you hear the abbreviation FDA, but apart from „Feine Deutsche Art“, a German Punk Band from Duesseldorf in the Eighties, FOOD AND DRUG ADMINISTRATION is probably close to what most people would come up with. I had to laugh which I checked the Japanese website of the FDA (the airline, that is) and they introduce their (three plus one) travel destinations by displaying pictures of typical food of the region. Food after all?Now, how do you come to this airport, if not on the bike from Yokohama? Well, the next train station is 6 km away. Funny enough, the next train line is precisely under the airport, being the Tokaido Shinkansen line, but no train stops there and neitehr are there any plans to built a station. Luckily. And to Shizuoka City it is about an hour by bus. I would dare to say that from many places in Shizuoka, one is equally fast at Haneda airport in Tokyo or at Chubu Airport in Nagoya.

It never stops amazing me, how these dinosaurs of poor infrastructure planing appear suddenly in the middle of nowhere-Japan. It is the same with Fuji Speedway: You ride there by bike or by car, there are no big roads, no signboards, nothing. Suddenly, they pop up in front of you.

OK, I had to stop to get angry with myself and eventually get cancer as a consequence and start doing something for my health, i.e. to continue to ride. Road 79 was quite pleasant with a lot of ups and downs and before long I was in familiar territory in Kikugawa and Kakegawa where I joined again road 1 for a short stretch. Now that I was sure that I would make it and almost in daylight, I decided to pay a short visit to my old factory in Fukuroi.The factory got ISO 9001 approval on Christmas Day, 1997 but even 12 years later it was still lacking Positivo Espresso approval so I changed this quickly. Also the test tower for a budget elevator (Smart) was still standing on the factory ground. As this is one of the few meaningless things I helped to become reality in my working life, I PE-approved the elevator as well before I wanted to leave silently. But, oh God, someone was coming out of the building, he had seen me and there was no way I was going to get away unnoticed. This looked for trouble! But, the guy just got into his car without caring about me and drove home (actually it was precisely 5 PM, so he didn’t even made one minute of service overtime work at the office there). Then I remembered that this was precisely the work attitude of many of my colleges I have worked with at Schindler: If something doesn’t fit into the precise frame of one’s work assignment, it can be ignored safely. I always had my problems with this attitude and I am sad to note that this hasn’t changed ten years later.

From there on I rode on road 413 and 1 through Iwate and finally crossed Tenryu river into Hamamatsu. I could now see the second tower, that is the bubble-area Act City skyscraper close to the main station.

An hour later I checked into a small business hotel with bike storage, was sitting in a yakitori bar and drinking beer and munched on some very delicious pieces of something on wooden sticks.The circle was closed, I was back where I started 12 years ago.

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Mid Week Ride Announcement : 31. March (Wed) Chichibu Hills and Sights

For tomorrow, we have scheduled a nice criss-cross ride through some well known areas of Chichibu, including medium climbs and some temples and shrines along the way:

http://www.mapmyride.com/route/jp/chichibu/234126991531058203

Meeting Points are at 7 AM on the Komazawa Dori / Kanpachi Intersection and at 7.30 AM at Tamagawahara Bridge, Tokyo side (km 0).

From there on we will proceed along the Tamagawa towards Ome and have a second breakfast at Aurore bakery (km 32) where we need to pack enough food supplies for the climbs to come.

We will then follow the road to the holy foundation and start the first hill climb time trial up to Yamabushi Toge (participation optional). This will be followed by the short climb to Shomaru Toge and a fast downhill to road 299. From where we will start the second time trial to Karibazaka (again, optional). Eventually this will lead us to Takayama Temple and back to road 299, where we will turn North again and start to climb up to the famous Nennogon Temple (from the non-steep side).

A quick, pointless ride will lead some of us for the first time to Takedera. After everything hard is done, we will make a second rest stop (km 112) and continue back to the Tamagawa and ultimately home.

About 156 km of riding, covering app. 1.900 meter of elevation starting Tamagawahara Bashi.
So far Jerome, David, Dominic (tbc) and me have signed up. If anybody else is interested, please let us know, we can arrange further meeting points if convenient.

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April 11th, 2010

“Just you wait, my dears, and see what happens on the cobbles.

And, indeed, you see soon enough. Or rather, you hear, because it’s the din that hits you first as the pandemonium engulfs you. Press cars and motorbikes roar past you. Everyone is shouting because of the scraping, the falling, the bursting tyres. Everything is falling apart. The bikes have got the jitters: their rattling makes an appalling racket. And you get the full force of it in your arms.

Then comes the silence. You find yourself with two or three other blokes, in tatters like yourself. You guess that one has a puncture and the other has come off the bike; your shoes are lying next to you. You may be a bit of the battlefield, but you know nothing of the continuing battle, either ahead or behind.

Around the next turn you spot more victims, carrying a wheel or an entire bike in their arms.

The cobbles come to an end. On to a tarmac section. you can’t help laughing. Your bike turns back into a bike, tame again.”

Tomorrow, We Ride – Jean Bobet via Rue Da Tropical

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Just because it’s painful, doesn’t mean it hurts.

Frazz

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Old birds, no monkeys & a moose knuckle

After missing 2 early morning spinning sessions I was feeling guilty about being unreliable so I woke up before my alarm. Humphrey and I ventured outside and ascertained it was indeed chilly. My pleasant discovery of the day was that the guilt I had been feeling for missing the Thursday morning spinning session was in fact mistaken as today James K, he of the huge(-ish) quads, let it slip that he too was in such a state after our Wednesday night out that he did not make it either. The pain on Thursday morning was worth it as the previous night I attended an excellent concert by Jools Holland, met him and one of his guest singers, Ruby Turner, for who I worked as security in 1984 when she came to perform at my university. I also bumped into the principal of my children’s school but luckily that was only mid-evening and I was able to pull off the „responsible parent act“. Digression no.1 over. 

James K, Michael H, Shane, Jamie (not actually in the Cervelo Test Team), and dangerous looking newcomer, Peter, met at Ebisu. It should be noted that this week Jamie was playing the part of Euro-Cyclist by wearing an all white top. Thankfully this was not accompanied by white booties and if he was wearing a gold chain it was not visible. Although impressed with dangerous-looking Peter’s exquisite taste in windbreaker (Rapha), the Garmin team jersey peaking out from underneath was disconcerting. I soon learnt that he came 2nd in his age group at the Singapore Iron-Man. While on the subject of the Iron-Man allow me one more digression to share with you a priceless comment from Jerome last week: „The Iron-Man is painful for me as I tend not to train much beforehand“. Hard as nails him.

Along the river Jamie filled the role usually taken by Jerome by leading off at a blistering pace. It was Michael’s first ride for a while and he was thinking it was going to be a long day…… Jamie and Peter split off towards Takao and the rest headed uneventfully to The Aurore Bakery in Ome. Shockingly today they had not baked any Royal Milk Bread, the staple diet which sits heavily in the stomachs of PE riders. Perhaps they know that the newly appointed Professor of Cyclology is leaving these shores. Upon enquiry the baker steered me to something smaller with sliced almonds atop which he promised was made from the same dough. Tasted similar, but just wasn’t the real thing. Worth noting that early Saturday morning prices are Y100 for any pastry.

Leaving Ome Michael soon fell behind. As mentioned above he had not ridden for a while and it took him about 100m to work out the reason he couldn’t clip into has pedals was that he had not removed his cleat covers. This happened again amidst the throngs of fans as we were leaving Shinjuku station to head home. He was swallowed up by the crowd and not seen again.


From Ome we crossed the river to Yoshino-kaido and rode to Okutamako. We stopped at the PE-orange bridge for a photo, partly out of deference to our spiritual leader who will depart Japan soon. While posing for photos a group of Japanese riders in full bright gear flashed past us, probably amazed to see 4 riders none of who had any logos or sponsorship on their clothing. This must have struck them as very odd as they passed us for a 2nd look when we stopped for water stop at Watanabe & Watanabe’s (below).

There is no recorded visit here by Herge, author of the Tintin books and creator of the characters of Thompson & Thomson (Dupont & Dupont in the original French text), but he must have somehow got inspiration from W & W.

Allowing for digression no. 3 it is interesting to note that in the Greek version of Tintin books Thompson & Thomson are know asΝτυπόν and Ντιπόν. In other languages: Tik & Tak (Arabic), Schultze & Schulze (German), Dupont & Duvon (Japanese), Uys & Buys (Afrikaans) and Hernandez and Fernandez (Spanish). Now you know.


Along Rte 139 we climbed the beautiful climb to the top of Matsuhime (officially 1,250m and my Garmin agreed). Views were stunning and road condition was good with most snow having melted. It wasn’t until I was 50m from the top that I realised I had been there before with mob last year.

That time we had climbed from the other side and caught up and rode with a middle aged Japanese lady (Y.I.) with a triple up front who knew more routes than all PE riders combined. I remember being so exhausted that my only contribution to the conversation was a few grunts. While enjoying the views we chatted to 2 local riders who came tearing up the hill a few minutes after us. Both weighed 60kg or less, had single digit body fat and were the proverbial lungs-on-a-stick. Cheating.


We endured a cold descent towards Otsuki with headwinds blasting at us through the tunnels. In true PE tradition we did not exactly stick to the plan but made a detour to Sarubashi for an ice-cream. This gave Michael the opportunity to charm the local old birds running the shops.

No monkeys were spotted on the famous bridge. Note that this trip missed out on the obligatory pointless ride. We went to Otsuki, bought plenty of beer for recovery and boarded the train to Shinjuku. While a young lady diagonally opposite us was clearly checking out Michael’s and my sculpted leg muscles, James had to endure a moose knuckle (taking a photo could have led to arrest).

Shane, James and I stopped for a beer at Bondi Cafe in Hiroo. This place is the idealost-ride venue. Indoor and outdoor seating, welcomes humans, dogs, children and even lycra-clad cyclists. All I will say is the manager is extremely easy on the eye and a far cry from the obasan of Sarubashi (half the age and weight, double the height and good power to weight ratio). This place is a worthy candidate for Positivo-Espresso club-house (central Tokyo chapter) and I herewith propose it for official approval.


147km, 1843m of climbing, 6hrs 20 in the saddle and 4 beers.


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