Fatbike On The Fly

  To help avoid chilling my internal organs and co.  I bought a sleepong mat. This one is inflatable and is the cheaper end of the market, a bout a third or less the price of the expensive Thermarests. To be sure it doesnt have the R value (insulation) of the top models, but 1) we dont often get snow on Australia and 2) I'll throw my current self inflating mat in my pack if the weather's going to be really cold. But the Klymit does have a good review, being thick enough to keep side sleepers elevated. Can't wait! I also got a set of Trekking or Touring Bars. The photos above are quite confusing because the show  two opposite ways to fit the bars. Looks like fun!? Well nothing a good few coffees and head scratching can't sort. The benefit of these guys is to offer at least different hand positions and somewhere else to hang luggage.  All an effort to improve comfort so I can tour happier and longer. 

  My symptoms include lethargy, general aches and fluid retention. Apart from having to endure these sensations I'm annoyed because I reasonable fitness and have ridden similar distances on day rides,  with no problems other than a tender butt.   I have ecperienced bloat at odd times, most notably treated ago after hiking NZ for four days,  This has been an  issue with me previously. After a four day hike in NZ a handful of years ago, I was left bloated.    Possible explanations are:- 1. Carrying a heavier load.  2. Overdoing it prior to leaving home.  3. Eating salty take away beforehand.  4. Drinking too much/ not enough water.  5. Being 60 years of age.  6. Tour diet: cheese, crackers, lollies.. 7. Sleeping on a 25mm  thick air mattress.  8. Sleeping in a small sleeping bag.  9. Camping in damp cold conditions. 10. A spectacular fall from my bike in the driveway after wards.  Well points 3, 4 and 6 relate to a condition called salt sensitivity that I now understand I have.   7,

   The prospect of heading out on my first overnighter came with mixed feelings. Excitement at finally being able leave my two children to fend for themselves and have a bit of me time with nature.  In my experience,  laying on the earth overnight can develop a bond like no other. But,  you know at 60 years of age I am continually flooded with stereotypes that I should be driving a massive caravan about, or cruising on a ship in the South Pacific, putting my feet up and sleeping on thick mattresses,  taking an easy slide into retirement.  I was pretty comfortable writing off that as BS, but I did lack  confidence with bike camping alone a good distance from the support of a doctor,  emergency department,  take away food shop and so on.     But hey,  you never know until you give it a go.  The simple act of saddling up right by Geurie racetrack was a major boost to my fun factor rating. A great start.       This cycle touring jaunt along a party of the Central West Cycle Trail was origi

 I've been battered. Not deep fried, the type of battering when a partner seeks to self-justify having a sly affair and being uncool before ejecting from a relationship of three decades. I resume sole parenting of two senior teens with private aches and bouts of hurtful expression.  Cycling is my therapy. Riding along creamy sand beaches in drizzle; no one can see my tears. Or hear me howling delightfully as the passed is shed as I gorge on nature's pure energy. I read my sand trail; a singular, regular, treadular trace. Aligned, I am in harmony. Skimming over the sands of my childhood, flickers of carefree images emerge freely from the drizzle. Gulls rising weightless on the sea wind, arc away as my fatbike and I roll by.  *S24O is fatbike for a Sub 24 hour Overnight ride. 

 Yesterday afternoon I entered a bike shop which is a strange phenomenon for me,  to pick up ac few bits and pieces.  Some goo or tyre sealant,  new valves, caps to convert presta to Schrader valves, a brake bleeding kit.   It seems that everything in this shop cost around $30.  Goo, $26. The loud speaking sales woman tried to coax me to buy double the quantity because it worked out cheaper and "you'll needs to change it in three months". Sounds like a scam,  that's got some gongoozeler sipping champagne on the beach for the rest of his life.  I got the smaller bottle.  When I read up,  I needed 2oz/ tyre, not the 4oz the saleslady said.  And google reckons to change it each 6 months.   Valves,  2 for $29. Pass! Conversion caps, $30, Pass! The brake bleed kit was $34, without fluid.  I saw it online cheaper.  Pass.  That sales lady would have me spending $80 to replace the goo and put bees new valves. I got the job done for less than $30. I used 75 cent syringe rather

 This morning,  in light rain I took 'Cliffy' to play on the bush and the beach.  But I'm nervous; will my bike hold up,  will I hold up or end up pushing most of the time? I needn't have worried a jot.  Ok, before every downhill comes an uphill.  Well mostly.  I selected a quite suburban street and as luck would have it,  half the distance was closed to car traffic because they were digging the road up.  But Cliffy impressed the flag man and we were invited through. We then Henning a private paved road into the Glenrock National Park. Many MTBs would be familiar with this area because the NPWS encourages bikes to use the area and it's riddled with trails.  But, today I had little interest in any trails. I was ready to hit the beach.  I met two mtb riders going the opposite way,  in light rain we just gads a wave and a few hellos. Up ahead a spray of sand entered the main track.  That's me! Gulp, a small dune. What! My fatty went onto the sand like it was grass.

 I introduced my Kona Wo fatbike to my local roads this morning and it was a blast! It was so good that I decided to take the "dangerous" route home,  more on that later.   The second purpose of the ride was to get a bottle of milk from the nearest village some 14k away.  First of all, we negotiated some dirt; 400m of mountain bikey trail (my driveway!), then 1.5k of good gravel road.  unfortunately for the local livestock I had sprayed a WD40 type product on my disks so we made a kind of James Morrison screaming jazz trumpet sound, times  two,  for some of the rapid descent from home.  It was particularly effective on my daughter's horses.  Halfway down the steepest section the spray must have burned off and it went a lot quieter.  As this was the steepest downhill of the entire ride,  it should have been a hoot, but after being stored in a shed for three years, the hydraulic brake system was a bit airy, and hairy! That slope is probably around 20% and 300m long, followe