Registrations for last year’s OCBC Cycle Singapore reached almost 11,000, spread across a diverse array of events designed to cater to most ages and abilities. Though the new Cycle Asia series is also primarily designed to attract recreational cyclists, of particular note to pro cycling fans is Spectrum’s intention to include the popular evening criteriums that currently headline OCBC Cycle Singapore and OCBC Cycle Malaysia – first held in 2009 and 2011, respectively – in the schedules of Cycle Asia’s other events.

“Our various Criterium categories also remain a real highlight and we will continue to invite a selection of elite international cyclists to be a part of Cycle Asia events”, Spectrum’s Managing Director Chris Robb is quoted as saying in a company-issued press release. “The professional cyclists are always excited to travel here to race and we’re also thrilled to bring them to Asian audiences to help to further grow the sport through live broadcast and spectatorship.”

Start of the 2012 OCBC Cycle Singapore criterium, won by retired ORICA-GreenEDGE pro, and now Cycle Asia ambassador, Robbie McEwen.

Cycling iQ has not yet contacted Spectrum Worldwide directly to confirm whether the Cycle Asia series – which according to the press release is forecast to expand across southeast Asia into Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Myanmar and also northwards into Hong Kong – will seek to synchronise with the UCI AsiaTour calendar to increase the probability that cyclists from AsiaTour races held in proximity could be lured across. Cycle Indonesia, for example, is scheduled to be held only a fortnight after the UCI2.2 Tour of Singkarak.

Also included as a partner event in the series is Australia’s Gold Coast Festival of Cycling. Forming the connection between Australia and Asia in this case is former ORICA-GreenEDGE pro Robbie McEwen, Chairman of the GC Festival of Cycling and also Cycle Asia’s official ambassador.

“It’s a fantastic concept that SW have developed and one that I’m thrilled to see extended across the region under the Cycle Asia banner” said McEwen in a separate launch video uploaded to YouTube. “On a personal level, I’m also really excited to see the 2013 Gold Coast Festival of Cycling also be incorporated in the network of Cycle Asia events. The sport of cycling continues to grow at a massive rate in Asia, and with CA offering cyclists the rare opportunity to ride on safe closed roads in major Asian cities, it goes a long way to further pushing the growth and this should excite all of us.”

2013 Cycle Asia schedule
OCBC Cycle Malaysia | 18-20 January, 2013
OCBC Cycle Singapore | 26-28 April, 2013
Cycle Indonesia | 22/23 June, 2013
Cycle Philippines | October 2013
Gold Coast Festival of Cycling | November 2013

OFFICIAL LAUNCH VIDEO

Already, a number of pro cyclists have recently sampled some of Dubai’s approximately 100 kilometres of purpose-built cycling tracks (as opposed to conventional cycling paths, these tracks were built with the higher speeds of sport cyclists in mind); though it probably goes without saying that the flat parcours has the potential to become as bland as indoor training after a while. However, the biggest benefit is giving riders an alternative option to Dubai’s notoriously dangerous metropolitan roads.

Visitors to Dubai wishing to learn more about the road cycling options that await them can visit the excellent Dubai Roadsters website. Founded in 1997, the club came under the stewardship of local bike shop owner Wolfgang “Wolfi” Hohmann (who stars in the above video) five years later. Participation growth in the years since has meant bunch sizes swelling well beyond 100 riders, necessitating the regular use of a support car during the popular weekend rides.

Organizers of such events understand that the group ride is a central pillar of road cycling culture; they know cyclists have an innate need to compare themselves to, and compete against, other cyclists. Enhancing this bunch experience is the event organizers’ raison d’etre – their mass-participation (otherwise known as gran fondo or cyclosportive) events offer desirable services and locations, with provisions ranging from basic traffic management to sanctuary-like conditions with massages, gourmet food and full road closures.

Now in its 14^th year, Le Race – an iconic journey from Christchurch city to the picturesque French-influenced harbourside village of Akaroa – sits somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. Though the route remains open to vehicles, weekend traffic patterns and an early departure time (08:00am) deliver large tracts of car-free roads. Just in case, cycling “bunch police” are engaged to keep participants mindful of the regulations; they also have authority to pull rule-breaking riders from Le Race.

After years of procrastination and schedule clashes, I finally signed up for the challenging 100km route that features 1,443m elevation gain and, take note, eight cattle stops. Having previously lived in Christchurch for many years, I expected spectacular scenery, exhilarating descents, April (read: often surprising) weather and a lot of climbing. En route to the finish, these expectations were definitely met and, in the case of the climbing, exceeded. Quaffing the sponsor-supplied Leppin energy drink and stuffing my face with Easter buns amongst other happy-looking cyclists on the grassy finisher’s area, I deemed my NZD95 entry fee money well spent.

However, this money also represented a generous race pack, sleek (and disposable) timing chips, temporary road closures, dozens of marshalls, kitted-out volunteers, signage, free coffee and food, amongst many other inclusions. Having heard anecdotes about the profitability of “ride” events (as opposed to “race” events), I decided to seek out Simon Hollander from Tailwind Events to discover where my money went and whether Le Race is a rollicking gravy train for its owner.

CIVIL BEGINNINGS
After an initial post-University stint as a civil engineer in the 1990’s, Hollander is today a branch manager and partner at Harcourts; a successful real estate company with 60% market share in Christchurch, according to Hollander. “It scared me when I saw some of the middle-aged engineers biking to work with their lunch boxes on their panniers and work socks pulled up to their knees. I thought ‘Gosh that’s a wee bit of a scary thought to end up like that when I’m 40.’ I think my Mum thought I was mad to give it up.”

The change in profession proved to be a financially sound one. The ardent cyclist was able to indulge his love of cycling in style; chartered flights to the Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge with 37 of fellow enthusiasts a particular specialty. “I’d been taking a group of cyclists called ‘The Flying 38’ to do Lake Taupo and it was just 38 of us who chartered a plane to the ride. We took the front wheels off the bikes, put them in the ‘boot’ and literally walked onto the tarmac and took off. We did that for about five years then someone said, ‘look, that’s fun Simon but we’ve done Taupo; what else can we do?’ This is when I approached Astrid to buy the race and take it over.”

FOUNDATION
The Astrid mentioned above is Astrid Andersen; a name that, in New Zealand event management circles, is unfortunately associated with a landmark court case that saw the former Le Race director charged with criminal nuisance after a female cyclist died in a head-on collision with a car during the 2001 edition. Andersen was convicted in 2003, though the ruling was overturned on appeal in 2004.

During 2003, Hollander approached Andersen about taking over Le Race. “I said to her ‘if you’re interested, I’m happy to step in and get involved because I can see you’ve been through a heck of a time.’ At the time, she carried on. A year or so later, she asked if the offer was still up. By that time (2005) I had started the Festival of Cycling. We did a pretty good job and had visions of hitting 3,500 participants.”

Event logistics and race organisation for the inaugural two-day Festival of Cycling was contracted to Tailwind Events; an events management company registered by Hollander in May 2005. Andersen’s counter-proposal clearly impressed upon Hollander the possibility of owning multiple events; together with his solicitor, he set up ‘Mainland Cycling’ in July 2005 as an overarching parent for events under his directorship.

COUNTING THE NUMBERS

By 2006, Le Race entries had reached record levels with 1,500 cyclists participating. Interestingly, Giant Bicycles’ New Zealand division recorded its best-ever annual turnover that same year whilst 2007 bicycle imports (ordered in 2006) also reached historic highs on the back of positive sentiment.

As Hollander recalls, Le Race “had lost momentum with the legal issues, then suddenly cycling was in a boom in 2006-08 and (Andersen) got some good numbers. Now, when you’ve got 1500 riders and you used to have 600-700, you start to make some money and it’s all worth it.”

Whatever the factors contributing to that boom were, they were temporary. In the two years following, Le Race participation had fallen to 1000. When asked if this was a by-product of option-based dilution – given the general growth of cycling events – Hollander fishes for answers. “I think there was definitely more on the calendar, so people have more choice. That’s part of it. At the tail end of a recession (referring to the present year), we’ve definitely seen a downturn whereas running events have seen an upturn, interestingly.”

Despite the decline, or maybe aided by it, Mainland Cycling procured Le Race from Andersen in 2008.  Capping the 2009 edition at 1,000 entries, the first edition of Le Race under the new management concluded incident-free, with former world junior road cycling champion Jeremy Yates’ victory validating the quality of the field. Only a few months later, Mainland Cycling bolstered its profile and portfolio by securing the Elite Road Cycling National Championships for three years.

“My concept behind Le Race and Festival of Cycling was ‘bring cycling to the people and they’ll come’”, explains Hollander, “as opposed to the local clubs that had been pushed out into the local towns and the wop-wops. They did that because it was cheaper; they still got similar participation, but no spectators. This is why we bought the elite nationals to downtown Christchurch, and we’ve gotten crowds of 15,000-20,000. That’s massive in terms of a national cycling championship in NZ. But coming with that is the huge costs of running it.”

In 2010, the downward trend of race entries continued across all Mainland Cycling’s mass-participation events. However, race entries would pale into insignificance in the following months, as Christchurch felt the wrath of two major earthquakes. The September 2010 earthquake rattled Christchurch’s infrastructure but mercifully spared lives, but the February 2011 earthquake that followed devastated lives and homes.

Though it was reported that up to one-fifth of Christchurch’s population had fled the crippled city, by March 2011, Tailwind Events communicated its intent to hold the event in October. Amazingly, Le Race was still able to attract 620 entries. Despite another violent earthquake in December 2011, and literally thousands of aftershocks, the 2012 edition recorded a further 13% increase to 697 entries.

THE UPS AND DOWNS OF CYCLING EVENT MANAGEMENT
Mainland Cycling’s dual role as steward of a major sanctioned event and owner of an iconic “fun” race has offered Hollander a glimpse into the unique opportunities and challenges inherent to both models.

“Le Race and the Festival are different because it’s a recreational event and we charge entry fees, etc. The (council) system is so big and cumbersome that the traffic management plans we put in are simply looked at based on traffic and the rulebook. They don’t look at things in terms of cycling and events. Sometimes you just can’t fight that. You’re stuck. It’s a quandary to have a safe race but still lower your costs; you can’t cut safety, so all of these items are locked in.

Traffic management costs have gone from $9,000 four years ago to $16,500 this year (2012). I don’t know if they’ve got any more signs out – I haven’t been out to count them – but the compliance costs are so much more than ever before. Marshalling costs are $4,000-$5,000; there’s no such thing as a volunteer that comes along just for fun anymore. Those days are gone. We have some serious costs in terms of St John’s ambulance who we have in our traffic management plan – $4,000-$5,000, whether we use them or not.

When you start cutting down on prizes and giveaways, people feel that. I’m not prepared to compromise on having good sponsor coverage, finishing rewards and timing. There are a few economies of scale – stock ordering, admin, etc – as we have more than one event.

We’re trying to put back into the local area. We shifted the finish line (in Akaroa) to the main street now, whereas before it used to end down a small side street. We don’t charge a site fee for the locals to have a food stall. The local butcher had a stand and they did hugely well with the sausage sizzle and kids raising money for the local school. Parents from the local school do the marshalling around the hilltop to Akaroa at $40-$50 each, and you’ve got 100 of them, so all of that helps.

The Elite Nationals are unusual. Our hands are tied in that Bike NZ (the national cycling federation) organizes the main sponsor, so I can’t get any more money out of them. 360 volunteers are needed; half of them come along for a free t-shirt and fun and lunch, pretty much. The Elite Nationals used to just come and go without anyone knowing, but now we’re on all the news channels for three nights, we’re on SKY TV, and we’ve got 85 pages of media clippings.

It’s rewarding when you see the media coverage and the crowds, whereas a few years ago there were two cows and three sheep watching; but we can’t sell TV rights in NZ. If you’re rugby, they pay you; but not for cycling.”

THE ROLE OF SPONSORSHIP
With current entries 30% below the preferred level, rising fixed costs have blunted any prospect of profitability from entry fees alone. “I’m sure there’s people that look at the events and do the basic maths”, surmises Hollander. “You know, 700 entries times the entry fee. If you do that, you get nowhere close to our expenses so the rest of it comes from sponsors. The sponsors we have now have stuck with us. It’s all very well saying ‘support us because we’ve had a tough couple of years with the earthquakes in CHCH’, but so have they.”

Does this mean sponsors have to be part philanthropist? “Yes, I think they do. Dare I say it, they have to have a passion and love for the sport otherwise they just wouldn’t get involved. Those that have gotten involved and worked it and leveraged off it have done really well. It’s not the sort of thing where you can throw money at it, then walk away and expect to get a return. Coffee Culture, for instance, did a really cool thing where they had Tour de Coffee Culture. With Facebook etc, it became quite popular. There’s stuff like that they plug into.”

INTROSPECTION – IS IT WORTH IT?
So far, Hollander hasn’t yet benefitted financially from his plunge into cycling event management. “It doesn’t make sense at all financially, so I have just done it for the love. We’ve got a good team of people. There’s a few people here (at Harcourts) that help out, my family helps out, and the core group of three or four turns into 20 and 100 marshalls on the day. I rely on the local cycling clubs and commissaires; I couldn’t do it without them.

At 600-700 riders, Le Race doesn’t make sense. Ideally, I’d like to cap the race at 1,000 and leave it at that. We want to get back to that level. At 1,500 entries, there were all sorts of traffic problems, issues with getting to Akaroa, traffic jams, and unhappy locals.

Do we acquire more events, or get involved with more events, or do we look after the ones we currently have and make them better? Is there going to be an attrition rate of events anyway? Is that just the local market? I don’t know the answer.

At some stage though, you’ve got to pay the bills. Let’s just say it’s a normal person’s annual income that I’m personally putting into it. My hope with the Elite Nationals is that, after three years, people will now pay a bit more money to get involved with it, but we’ll see.”

The short answer is yes, you can. Every year since 2004, the road up to the fifth station (2,355m elevation) opens to cyclists. However, that’s as far as the sealed road goes; the summit is another 1,421 meters higher. This Sunday, 18 March, registration opens for the 9th edition of Mt Fuji Hillclimb, which takes place on Sunday, 2 June. The 5,500 available places always sell out quickly.

I’ve been fortunate enough to take part in this amazing event for the last three years, and I intend to be lining up again this June. The first time was definitely the most enjoyable; mostly due to the unique atmosphere and surroundings that makes Mt Fuji Hillclimb unlike any other mass-participation ride I’ve done. An account of my 2009 experience (below) was published in RIDE Cycling Review. If anyone would like more personalized information about this race, please contact me at info@cyclingiq.com.

AWAKENING
Sunday, 07 June, 04:30 hours. Only basic physiological necessities, like pissing, should interrupt sleep at this time. Through anchored eyelids, I clutch blindly at the seductively-smothering duvet for the clothes laid out only four hours prior. A duel between mind and body was anticipated. I am knee-deep into winter bib-tights before my feet brush the carpet. My sleep-starved brain screams betrayal.

Purposefully attired, luggage in hand, I pull open the first of several doors standing between me and Fuji-san. My travels to Japan began several days earlier, but the journey begins now. I reach the lobby to discover zombies inhabiting the bodies of my friends. Silently, chastened, we spill out into the frigid morning air and move cumbersomely towards the Toyota sherpa that will provide both temporary warmth and ascension towards our ambitions. Ad summum.

Emerging from the evergreen trees bordering our hotel, an unexpected expanse of blue greets us. Mount Fuji soars. Majestically independent and unrivalled, its baren skin of scarred earth and snow stretched by a peak that seems to yearn indefinitely skywards. For the past five years, at the transition of spring and tsuyu, – the rainy season – thousands of pilgrims, lured by the heady fusion of physical accomplishment and spiritual well-being, spectacularly collide in an eclectic milieu under the all-seeing gaze of a sacred deity.

THE PRELUDE
Friday, 05 June, 05:30 hours. Two days into my week-long Japanese excursion, a pattern is already developing; I clip-clop groggily across the hotel lobby’s marble veneer. Sumi-san greets me enthusiastically. The air is still and slightly humid. An audible giggle can be heard from behind the check-in counter. To the fresh-faced female hotel employees, we must look like we’re off to join a dancing troupé. Okay, I expect this reaction in parts of Japan. Cycle sport is not pervasive as it is in Europe. Baseball and football is the mainstream. Backs turned, right foot clipped in, we push off and roll.

Sumi-san’s head swivels upwards, smoke-lensed Oakley eyewear failing to cloak apprehension. Calmly, naively, I repeated last night’s weather forecast. Fine, 26 degrees. The benign-looking clouds would soon retreat, our arms acquainted with the warmth of the loving sun. Nature lulls us into believing that something familiar must be similar. Not so.

The first small whisps of moisture fall softly on my wrist, moments before arriving in front of RGT Enterprises, home of Assos in Japan. David Marx, RGT’s proprietor, wastes no time in quashing my optimism for a dry ride. Within minutes, a wash of rain ensues. Tea is offered. For the next two hours, we wait for evidence of improvement. It never comes.

CLOSER
Saturday, 06 June, 08:30 hours. A gray pall hangs ominously and completely over the makeshift polyurethane-coated village built upon a sprawling car park. We are situated 1,035m above sea level, at the great mountain’s feet. Having only sighted Fuji through media, I can sense an intangible presence behind the thick veil; mysterious, pulsating, beckoning.

Just as airport terminals prevent simple passage to passport control by the deliberate herding of “pax” through maze-like duty-free sections, so it is for would-be mountain conquerers. Registration is won after negotiating the sprawl of exhibiting bicycle companies. Theirs is part of a separate and, in many ways, more elusive quest. They have set up camp in search of the mighty yen; lately rumoured as a species endangered of extinction.

IT’S TIME
Sunday, 07 June, 06:15 hours. Winter clothing should have been stashed into your numbered race bag and passed in by this time. From here, it would be whisked ahead to the finish line. If it starts raining, a torrid descent awaits. Twenty four wet, gusty, freezing, miserable, kilometres. I hedged the blue skies would remain for at least the time it took to ascend, suck in some frigid air at the top, and blow back down again.

Soon enough, the call to assemble. The first group to begin is the athlete’s class. These gazelles will launch up Fuji in less than one hour and fifteen minutes. The fairer sex are next. I’m in the third group, as a function of my age, not my talent.

Surveying the huddle of 5,480 bobbing helmets around me, a bigger picture strikes. At this time and place, the earth-saving concept of “critical mass” seems plausible. We are surrounded by some of nature’s finest gifts grasping man-made machines designed to silently, efficiently and harmlessly explore. I feel virtuous.

I came to Fuji with a clear objective. It is discarded within minutes of the starting gun. My ride-casually-and-stop-to-take-nice-photos-for-the-magazine manifesto is ruined by a competitive streak I foolishly believed could be subdued. On a beautiful day. On Japan’s most sacred mountain. Surrounded by other cyclists with ambition in their eyes.

Five minutes into the climb, an innocuous-looking gate marks the commencement of the timed section. And the abandonment of pursuing RIDE’s legacy in photographic excellence. Although unrelentlessly uphill, the average gradient of five percent and quality road surface makes the north face of Fuji-san a relatively easy prospect for all. Overwhelmingly, the largest category of riders is 35-44 year-old males.

Weaving around the first of several tutu-wearing female riders, I am overtaken by a flutter of red fabric brandishing a plastic pitch fork. Channeling all the leaping extravagence of Didi Senft, our waifish spectator jumps, bounds and runs alongside our newly-formed group before coming to a halt in anticipation of a new audience.

Tracking sanguinely upwards, towering pines flanking the road, the heralded white dome would appear intermittently, before sinking below the treeline as the road tacked from left to right. The first of two refreshment stations is placed 10.5km after the start line, with over 600m climbing aft. A centepidal paceline of riders disappears behind a crest several hundred metres ahead. After a brief chase, I connect with the group of fifteen. I continue in this way – aim for group ahead, chase, recover, aim, chase, recover – for the next 6km.

Passing the second station at 17.2km, I do some quick maths and create two new goals; finish in less than 1.10 and average above 20km/h. The steepest sections are still ahead, at around 2,000m altitude, though even these peak below eight percent. I continue to focus on distant riders until the road flattens out at 3km to go and the sound of an upshifting front derailleur communicates the universal language for “sprint”.

Without doubt, this is the most enthralling moment of the day, even with the descent to come. Smiles replace grimaces, we whoop and laugh into the wind, leading out and swapping off, revelling in the joy of riding as the lakes shimmer far below. All too soon, we are cheered across the line and ushered into the pretty finishing village at 2,305m.

One by one, my comrades cross the line. We linger as long as the freezing winds permit, before allowing gravity to provide the impetus. Bookended by motorbike pacers, we descend in a measured manner. Soon enough, gaps opened and riders plummet like larva to the base. Awaiting us, a steaming bowl of udon noodle soup, warm summer air and the long trip home, replete with contentment.

Official website

Transport to/from Tokyo-Narita airport

Road access information

Early in my cycling journey, I was a voracious consumer of performance-related books, journals and magazines. Amongst the volumes of advice, one statement – I think it might have been from Dr Michael Colgan’s ‘Optimum Sports Nutrition’ – stays with me: “consistency is the single-biggest contributor to athletic improvement”. [I’ve still got the book at home; will double-check quote post-vacation].

My last job involved travelling outside of my home country for five to six months per year. When not overseas, I worked out of a home office halfway around the globe from HQ. During the first 18 months, cycling time was squeezed out regularly by (in hindsight) over-zealous commitment to “zero lag” service and communications with customers in Asia and my team in Europe. Prior to this new venture, I cycled almost every day. It didn’t take long for the lack of consistency to eat away at a fitness base built up over many years.

I maintained this travel load for a little over three years before curiosity got the better of me, and Cycling iQ was born. Towards the end of that period, packing my bike for work trips became as natural as packing my passport. Now the pace of life has slowed somewhat, I’d like to offer some advice to frequent travellers that may be struggling to incorporate cycling time into their busy schedules.

ESSENTIALS

The Travel Bike
If you’re not lucky enough to have a spare bike waiting for you when you land, you’ll need to take your own bike. Road cycling is inherently more efficient than mountain biking (reduced equipment, transit time to trails, cleaning, etc), so I’m assuming you will have a road bike.  Over several years, I’ve graduated through four different bikes before settling on my ideal travel bike; a BMC teammachine SLR01, which is my everyday bike at home. It’s embarrassing to realise how obvious a choice this should have been, but some lessons are gained only through experience.The most critical traits of a good travel bike are:

- reliability
- comfort and fit (at 4:30am, jetlagged and sleepless, a bike you enjoy riding is essential)
- gears (singlespeed road bikes are conceptually perfect for travel; after a while, you will yearn for gears)
- light weight; preferably less than 8kg (more on this later)

Initially, I used a Surly Pacer single-speed road bike, which had been fitted with S&S couplings and folded into a airline-friendly travel-specific case. It took ten minutes to assemble/disassemble, and served me well for a few months. I could never find the right gear though.

There's a bike in there. Somewhere.

Next, came a MY2008 BMC teammachine SLT01; an iconic bike whose form language all future BMC road bikes would reference. Unfortunately, this model was discontinued in 2009 after a five-year lifecycle; I couldn’t bear the thought of it being damaged in transit and potentially irreplaceable. (In my eyes, it is amongst the most exquisite road frames ever produced; making the harsh ride almost forgivable.)

An aluminium/carbon MY2008 BMC roadracer SL01 was the next bike recruited. It was almost perfect, with two exceptions: its reach was 5mm longer than the SLT01, and customers (who I always tried to arrange rides with when travelling) were surprised a BMC employee would be riding a three-year old bike with four-year old Campagnolo Veloce. Not an ideal look.

The SLR01 ticked all the boxes for a travel bike; light, perfect fit, very comfortable, latest model and I simply loved riding it.

The Travel Bike bag
A hard case’s main benefit is clear: ultimate protection for your bike. The main downsides are:

- weight of the case alone can easily wipe out almost half a baggage limit
- won’t always fit in a regular taxi
- takes up valuable space in a hotel room (especially the tiny business hotel rooms in metropolitan Japan)
- identifiably a bike case; leniency is less likely at check-in
- cost, relative to soft bags; hard cases can exceed $1,000

I picked up a great soft case from Japanese maker ‘Ostrich’ in 2009. It is fairly basic, but is well padded, has internal wheel compartments, small velcro-closed pockets, external luggage label sleeve and a robust, oversized, external zip to keep everything enclosed. It has a large shoulder strap, making walking with an additional wheeled suitcase relatively easy.

Naturally, soft cases don’t provide the same level of protection as hard cases, but (in my experience) their extreme versatility – when empty and flattened, they can even be used as a stretching mat on wooden floors –light weight and transportability (two bikes in soft cases can fit in the back seat of a regular taxi, plus they’re easier to carry up stairs when using public transport) makes them unbeatable for regular travel.

Bike bag protection and useful accessories
For better protection, wheels should be individually placed in padded wheel bags before being inserted into the internal compartments. I flat-pack two double-layered cardboard boxes and place one between each wheel and the bike, which sits in the middle. Inevitably the bike bag will be side-loaded onto the airport conveyor, so dropout protectors/chain tension device (similar to this one from PRO) are needed at each end to protect against compression damage.

Though I’m meticulous with other people’s bikes, mine is ultimately neglected for months on end. Oil-covered hands are not advised for meetings later in the day so latex gloves are indispensible for the small amount of assembly that is required. The disassembly procedure – thanks to practice – is minimal:

- remove pedals, put in zip-lock bag inside shoe bag
- remove wheels, remove skewers, place in wheelbags, place in bike bag
- insert dropout protectors into frame
- loosen stem faceplate bolts, rotate handlebars around and under top tube, tighten faceplate bolts
- tie protective sleeve around top tube
- unscrew rear derailleur from hanger
- bike goes into bag, with cardboard inserts either side
- helmet (in bag with sunglasses), shoes and clothes placed in gaps around frame

On a good day, this process – and the reverse – takes 5-6 minutes. Also highly useful are a frame-mounted tool canister (I use this one from PRO) for tubes and mini-tool and a spare quick release skewer with round head (for use with indoor trainer*).

NON-ESSENTIAL EQUIPMENT, BUT NICE TO HAVE

Indoor trainer* or rollers
It takes another level of dedication, but a lightweight (7-8kg) indoor trainer is invaluable for 1-2 week trips during NE Asia or European winters. I’ve done this on a handful of occasions. Even though high volumes of indoor cycling in formative years has all but killed my desire to train inside, it has always been worthwhile when faced with the alternative of poorly-equipped, or non-existent, hotel gyms.

When there is no other option. The Ostrich soft case is featured in the background. (With apologies for the woeful picture quality)

Frequent flyer status
Asia-Pacific region travellers are pretty lucky. Carriers in this part of the world are highly accommodating, reasonable and relatively flexible when compared to American or European carriers.

Still – and stating the obvious – it’s beneficial to have status with the major alliances; One World and/or Star Alliance. My bike bag, fully loaded with everything (including clothes) weighs 17 kilograms. I normally pack very light elsewhere, so standard economy baggage limits are usually sufficient. However, having the option to pack extras (and avoid check-in anxiety) is a bonus.

Smartphone with navigation
Self-explanatory. As international data roaming is prohibitively expensive, I normally carried a hard-copy map and only briefly used Google maps when unsure about a street name or turn.

PRE-TRIP PLANNING

Hotel
If you’re fortunate enough to have influence on where you stay, try to book a hotel with proximity to water (lake, river, sea) or parkland; especially in major urban centres. These public spaces are normally bordered by well-serviced roads or even dedicated cycling paths. Though ill-suited for serious training, cycling paths can be a serviceable warm-up before heading out onto the main roads, and they may even help cyclists avoid peak traffic on the way out to more suitable roads.

Water
This could easily be listed under the “essential” category. Safe drinking water is vital. Hotel tap-water in some Asian countries is OK (Singapore, Japan) but definitely not OK in others (emphasis on China).  Bottled water is readily available almost everywhere, but it costs alot and I personally hate the externalities. Luckily, there is an alternative that won’t cost more than two bottles of water – and it may even be entirely free. Hotels in Asia often (I experience this 90% of the time) include one or two “complimentary” bottles of water for guests. Even if they are not replenished daily, hang on to these.

If the hotel offers a gym, spa, sauna, or other recreational facility, it almost certainly will have a filtered water machine nearby. This is your ticket to free, continuous and safe drinking water for the duration of your stay. If you don’t get complimentary bottled water, just buy two bottles from a nearby 7-Eleven, Family Mart, etc, and refill after consumption.

Local bunch rides
I’ve been incredibly fortunate; it has been (and continues to be) my job to know where road cyclists live, where they ride, their favourite hangouts (online and offline) and what infrastructure exists to support their cycling. Local cycling forums and expat community pages are great starting points for business travellers that are planning to ride.  I’ve found the following really helpful:

SOUTH KOREA (Seoul): Dossa forums

CHINA (Shanghai): Flying Hairy Legs Yahoo Group (link to related article here)

CHINA (Beijing): Smarter Than Car (start-point only; example of local riding here)

JAPAN (Tokyo): Tokyo Cycling Club

PHILIPPINES: Pinoy MTBer (don’t let the name fool you)

INDIA: Bikes Zone

THAILAND: Thai MTB (again, don’t let the name fool you – lots of road cyclists here)

MALAYSIA: Togoparts forum (also excellent for Indonesia and Singapore)

SINGAPORE: ANZA Cycling (link to forum off home page)

INDONESIA: Sepedaku.com

AUSTRALIA: Bicycles Network Australia

NEW ZEALAND: Vorb

A surprising number of expats roam these forums. It’s highly likely they arrived in their new home-city with little or no knowledge of the local cycling scene. As a result of their own experiences, they are normally very happy to share their local knowledge with visiting cyclists. Before my first visit to Shanghai, I registered with the FHL group. Shortly after posting a message enquiring about local riding, I received two emails with offers to escort me from my hotel to the local morning bunch ride. These acts of kindness are not uncommon throughout the global cycling community. It’s pretty cool.

Moments like this make the small hassle of travelling with a bike absolutely worthwhile

Before your flight, go riding
It’s a great feeling to board a long-haul flight having ridden beforehand.  If you can, get out for a decent early morning ride on the day of your flight. If your flight departs very early, plan a solid ride the day prior. Even if you intend to ride on the same day you disembark, things don’t always go as planned. Psychologically, it’s easier to skip the first post-flight ride if you already had an intense workout before you boarded. Plan to have an early night and a great ride tomorrow instead.

AFTER LANDING
Depending on the duration of your flight, time of arrival and schedule that day, you may only have time to get to your hotel and go to work. However, there are two important cycling-related tasks that every travelling cyclists should be able to achieve before bed.

Prepare for your ride
Regardless of how tired I am on arrival day, I always assemble my bike and lay out my riding clothes before bedtime. Ignoring the first early-morning alarm after a long, and possibly sleepless, flight is more likely if you haven’t made a meaningful prior commitment to riding.  Make it easier on yourself by having everything ready to go as soon as you wake up.

Confirm your attendance
If you’ve been lucky enough to find a bunch ride to join, SMS (if you have a mobile contact) or message (on the forum) your riding buddies with a message that makes you accountable to the ride.

OTHER TIPS

Ride early
This will be a given for most business travellers with back-to-back meetings all day and inevitable work-related social commitments in the evenings. In most major cities, traffic density really escalates after 07:00. Ideally, your ride will be coming to an end by this time. Admittedly, my cycling obsession is more chronic than most – I’ve often ridden at 04:00 just so I can benefit from the post-ride clarity, endorphins and physical catharsis that endures the entire day after.

05:30 in Pudong, Shanghai. Blissful silence and near-empty roads

Local currency
ALWAYS carry local currency. If you get hopelessly lost, shelve your pride and get a taxi back to your hotel.

Laundry
Most of my cycling clothing is expensive; maybe because it fits so well and feels superb, maybe I’m just a sucker. Hotel laundry services are brutal on clothing, so I developed a simple solution: after your ride, jump into the shower fully-clothed. Use a facecloth (there are normally two facecloths and two towels in most hotel bathrooms) and soap (I use Dove, as it’s mild) to scrub your clothing like your own skin. Remove, rinse, gently wring, then drop onto a spare towel that you’ve laid out beside the shower. Do this layer by layer until everything is removed then – duh – wash yourself.

Post-shower, twist the spare towel around the clothes tightly to wring out excess water. Then hang your clothing from anything that’s going. It’s diligent to have two sets of cycling clothing on rotation.

FINAL WORDS
Individual physiologies respond differently to high travel loads. I’m not advocating falling out of bed after one hour’s sleep, then heading out into Gangnam-gu traffic in December – while it’s raining – following a multi-leg trip from east-coast USA. Safety and common sense come first.

Apart from the physical benefits of cycling while travelling, there is excellent potential to have an amazing riding experience and meet new friends. I hope some of the above tips come in useful for frequent travellers seeking to maintain cycling fitness in spite of the challenges.

Spoiler alert: do not read beyond this point if you do not wish to know the winner of the 2009 RAAM, which this book provides coverage of.

Snyder is herself an accomplished endurance athlete cyclist but, for ‘Hell On Two Wheels’, she chose to swap her road bike for a car seat to follow 28 (largely self-funded) individuals striving to complete the 3,000 mile trans-continental journey from West to East coast USA; within an improbably short time period – the winner of 2009 RAAM, which Snyder followed, crossed the finish line in a little over eight days. 13 starters, almost half the solo field, would not finish.

Cyclists with attention spans not ideally suited to digesting hardback tomes should be captivated from page one. Following a brief overview of RAAM, readers are then presented a handful of better-known extreme sporting events to give RAAM’s figures some context.

“The Race Across America is the most brutal organized sporting event you’ve never heard of and one of the best-kept secrets in the sports world. Called the “toughest test of endurance in the world” by Outside magazine, RAAM is a bicycle race like no other. Once the starting gun goes off, the clock doesn’t stop, so if you sleep, you lose.

RAAM cyclists…average 22 hours of racing each day. Unlike their ProTour brethren, they are forbidden from taking shelter behind their fellow racers or support vehicles. They ride alone. The numbers tell the story: more than 3,000 people have stood on the roof of the world at the Everest summit, but only 200 men and women own a RAAM finisher’s medal” [Snyder notes that RAAM finishers receive no prize money, only a medal and personal accomplishment]

Snyder also neatly qualifies the type of people who enter RAAM, including some of the physical ailments that contestants will knowingly suffer at some time during their quest.

“RAAM racers also experience a horrifying physical condition rarely seen anywhere else. After days of nonstop cycling spent hunched over on a bike, a racer’s neck muscles can suddenly fail from the continuous strain of holding up his head. Known as Shermer’s Neck, this condition causes a cyclist’s head to flop forward like a rag doll’s that has had its chin pinned to its chest. No matter how hard he tries, once his neck muscles fail, just like a newborn infant, a cyclist is as helpless to lift his head up. When one rider succumbed to this condition, a member of his crew said, “His head was flopping around like he had no bones in his neck.”

Though eponymously an American ordeal, RAAM has only been won by American cyclists a handful of times since the inaugural race in 1982 (it was initially named the ‘Great American Bike Race’, before evolving into RAAM the following year). Hardened European cyclists – almost always not professionals in the contemporary sense – continue to frequent the top RAAM podium step, lending ‘Hell On Two Wheels’ a broad geographical backdrop. In fact, Snyder takes a journalistic approach to her story; following Slovenian “freak”, and four-time RAAM winner, Jure Robic, back to his homeland after his moral-crushing exit from the 2009 race.

Whilst not quite in the same league of penmanship as Jon Krakauer’s ‘Into Thin Air’, this book gives a highly enjoyable insight into the unique psychologies, physiologies, team eco-systems and personalities that, for ten days, bind together in a convulsing mass to create RAAM.

More information:

Official site
[Cycling iQ's copy purchased online, from the Book Depository.]

Checklist for aspiring road cyclists in Tonga: National Cycling Federation? Not really. National Race Series? No. Weekend racing? No. Bunch rides? No. Bike shops? No. Not even one? No. Roads? Check! Good, at least the fundamentals are in place. How about participation? A recent press release intro from Tonga’s Ministry of Information & Communications website captures what Tongans – and nearby Pacific Islands nations like Samoa – are really into:

“Today, the nation was filled with an overwhelming sense of national pride and patriotism as thousands of people flanked the main roads of Tongatapu from the Fua’amotu International Airport, where tens of hundreds awaited impatiently to greet and welcome home the ‘Ikale Tahi.”

Rugby is King (in addition to the official King) in Tonga. Of the 93 rugby-playing nations ranked by the International Rugby Board, Tonga is ranked 9^th. So how many of the nation’s 106,000 residents – only one-fifth of the archipelago’s 169 islands are inhabited, with a quarter of Tonga’s population living in the Tongan capital of Nuku’alofa - prefer cleats to studs, and are 184km’s of paved roads enough for everybody? At least two organizations in Tonga are working on the answers.

Founded as a not-for-profit organization, Pasikala Nuku’alofa set out with an admirable list of objectives in its official constitution, adopted in December 2009:

2.1 encourage and promote cycling of all types throughout Tonga.
2.2 promote cycling as an alternative means of transport to the motor vehicle.
2.3 promote cycling as a viable means of reducing non communicable diseases.
2.4 promote cycling as a means of reducing the impact of climate change.
2.5 provide a means of providing an affordable bicycle for all Tongan residents.
2.6 provide appropriate skills to local residents in the sport of cycling and maintenance of bicycles.
2.7 develop cycling as a competitive sport.
2.8 lobby relevant government departments to promote safety among all road users including cyclists.
2.9 provide for the above objectives through being a not for profit organization

Since last year, Pasikala Nuku’alofa has held several community events to introduce locals to cycling; this effort was further boosted by a substantial donation of 300 bicycles from Australian NGO ‘Australian Goodwill Bicycles’ in July 2011.

When there's a cycling jersey made, you know the people are serious.

Meanwhile, the ‘Friendly Islands Triathlon Association’ (FIT – accredited earlier this year as an ITU Federation) is providing the competitive environment crucial to converting interest into ambition. Tricia Emberson, secretary of FIT, lent Cycling iQ an insight into the development of cycling in Tonga.

Who are the people behind FIT?
Pesi Fonua, Alo Feiloakitau and myself

Are there any corporate backers?
There are no official sponsors. Mostly (it’s the) people behind FIT who have other businesses.

What is FIT doing to improve the professionalism of cycling in Tonga?
Alo has attended numerous international events and is now our technical expert. We have introduced mandatory bike helmets as well as bike inspections prior to an official event. Alo assists Pasikala Nuku’alofa with bicycle inspections at their events as well.

Is there a national cycling calendar?
Not really. The Pasikala Nuku’alofa is in its infancy and they are running programmes on an ad hoc basis. Eventually, they will come up with a calendar. Friendly Islands Triathlon (FIT) does have an annual calendar, although not limited to cycling only. There are no road cycling events at this stage. Within FIT we have discussed such and may schedule something in 2012. Anyone can enter any of our events.

Are there many good roads to train on?
We have good roads compared to many other Pacific Islands. The main island, Tongatapu, is mostly flat though with only ONE hill. There is one team, which is the triathlon (FIT) cyclists combined with some of the Pasikala Nuku’alofa cyclists

Is it easy to find high-end road/triathlon bikes in local stores?
There are no bike stores. Amongst the FIT athletes, Trek, Giant and Avanti are the popular bike brands.

Cycling expats and business travelers have also contributed to cycling’s visibility in emerging countries. Chris Bennett, a Sydney-based civil engineer within the World Bank’s transportation sector department, has visited Tonga more than a dozen times. A competitive cyclist with bikes spread across the globe – ready for when he lands in a regular overseas destination – Chris often sees locals out on the roads during his early-morning rides. I emailed Chris to understand if a serious cyclist can get their training fix in Tonga.

“The main roads are comparatively good – I’m a road engineer and fixing them. If you go to secondary roads, it’s definitely an issue. The lack of any hills is an impediment for sure, but you can always get around that by using a stationary trainer. I think that if you are serious, you find a way of getting in your training (which is why I have a bike in Tonga, bikes and trainers in Tarawa, Sydney, D.C. and Toronto). There is one hole in the wall repair shop for non-serious bikes, but anything high tech or for a serious cyclist must be imported.”

It’s a stretch to think one day there could be a UCI-accredited ‘Tonga Cup’ or ‘Tour de Tonga’, but visiting road cyclists will be encouraged to learn the Tour de France is already shown on local television and, just as purists do worldwide, a post-ride breakfast at the local café is already an established part of FIT’s group rides.

[Thanks to Tricia and Chris for their time]

More information

Pasifika Nuku’alofa

FIT

Goodwill bicycles

Christchurch’s famous Summit Road – closed (or “munted” as Kiwi’s might say) since the earthquake in February 2011 – image taken with iPhone

*Note: I originally wrote this a few days after the earthquake.

I bound from the plane, powerwalk (I would have run had my bike been less awkward to carry) to a cab, spill out, frantically unpack my bike and skip dinner to summit the Port Hills before it gets dark. Pushing out from the Rydges Hotel on Oxford Street, I cut straight through Cathedral Square. Onto Colombo Street. Watch for buses. Left at Moorehouse Ave, and along Ferry Road towards Sumner. Marvel at how many people are on bikes, and just how serene cycling through the elegantly gothic city is when compared to Sydney. Everything is familiar, but better than I last remember. The honeymoon that never ends.

SOL (South of Lichfield) Square, a cool laneway centre minutes walk from the famous Cathedral Square

Passing through Ferrymead, the first cool ocean breeze brushes a refreshing saltiness against my limbs which, in spite of the evening chill, I leave bare to the pure atmosphere that embraces New Zealand like a protective parent. I stare down the long, straight road traversing the estuary. Instantly, memories of past rides along this dead span of road converge. Condenses to an admixture of uplifting joy, somehow eliminating the ubiquitous headwind.

Buoyed by smiling faces milling about Redcliffs village, and now warm from time-trialling the last handful of KM’s, I sweep along the sheltered road bordering the cliffs of Moncks Bay. A last right-hand bend before Sumner, with a small radius that demands a motorist’s attention – but compels speed from a cyclist – farewells my back wheel. It moves ever closer towards elevation.

I remember Joe’s Garage is close. I’ve never been there before. No time to stop now. Ride first, coffee later. Riding always comes first. Besides, I have great legs today.

Eventually, the lonely road over Evans Pass appears as a dull-grey single ribbon against a hillside whose colour palette mimics the feathers of a kea – from green to tussock-brown, and all shades in between. A bus waits solemnly at the start of the climb, as if to gather breath before the ascent. Eager to test my lungs after sporadic months of barely-undulating out-and-back rides along Melbourne’s Beach Road I shift my hand position, immediately denying my index finger its resting place against the polished shifter.

The big ring challenge begins.

Several hundred metres later, the first drop of sweat dribbles into the inside corner of my eyeball cavity. Oh, yeah. Time to replace my helmet pads. I grip the bars tightly. Shit, this is steeper than I remember. Click. Still in the big ring. Go champ. Hehe, my last boss always hated hearing that word. Champion, champ, buddy. I understand Rob, it is pretty annoying. Two additional shifts up the cassette and my inner mechanic speaks. That’s the worst gear for your chain to be in, you know? Shut up.

Clunk. You win.

Sometime during the next couple of minutes, a realisation that I don’t notice my legs so much. Cadence has settled and smoothed. chi va piano va sano e lontano. Slow and steady wins the race. Where did I read that? Pretty sure it was Cycle Sport UK magazine, maybe that Max Sciandri interview. So weird to think he’s Asst DS for our professional team now. The 7pm sky is so blue and close. Almost tactile.

Feeling good now. There’s the switchback ahead. One last pinch. Clunk. Uff. Glad nobody’s here to listen to this bike. Nobody’s here. Just me. With my bike, on a perfect day. Not really a bunch-riding guy. I need my thinking time. There’s so much to process. Always work-related. Feeling lucky to love my job. Wonder what I would do otherwise. Day-dream until I reach the intersection with Summit Road. Roll to the side. Clip out.

Contemplate turning around to rip the descent. Don’t know when I’ll be back again. On a perfect day. Dinner can wait. Clip in. Push on.

Long live the Surly Pacer! I’ve since started taking my regular carbon fibre road bike on international travel – it’s only been damaged once so far… image taken with iPhone

Gricey and I used to ride the big ring all the way to Dyer’s Pass from here. When we were young. He loved that steel Pinarello. His “dream bike”. Imagine having just one bike, forever. Not me. Straight out of Uni and into a bike shop. My first job. Bikes changed with the seasons. I wonder what happened to Gricey?

The big gear challenge resumes.

Hi, how are you? Why do I always ask that when I pass someone? I never hear their reply. Too focused. Too much to process. Legs feel great. Back not so good. If I can’t get on top of the gear sitting down, I’ll stand. That’ll be Mum’s Scottish grit manifesting. Bloody stubborness.

Shit, it’s beautiful up here. I can’t wait to get back home and start planning the move. Maybe I’ll have a shed. A shed! Ha! Sweet. Sweet as. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Tuck into the drops. I’m going to pulverise this false flat. Channel Ullrich. Did that a lot when I dualled up here with Gricey. In the surreal morning mist. Whispering, seductive, chilling. Six months a year.

There’s a cattle-stop up here somewhere. Brrrrrrrrrrrr-iiip! He he, crazy Kiwis. Wonder how many people use the Gondola? Always looks empty. Remember the last ride. Sheep standing nonchalantly, out of sight, around a blind corner. Scared the shit out of me. Poor sheep.

Dyer’s Pass Road getting close. Eyes wander right. Some mad mountain-biking in those trees. Somedays “freerider”, somedays “roadie”. Single, and all the time in the world. Carved the shit out of my right arm the day I flew out to Sydney. Bummed. Brand new video camera fully charged. It was going to be like the ‘Kranked’ series. Road gap, rock garden, step-down, step-ups, berms, eight-foot drop to flat, forty-footer, cave drop. Recorded only by memory with questionable accuracy. Ah well.

Rolling to the intersection. Beautiful silence. Faint “ssshhhhhh” vehicle note rounding a bend in the forest below. I’m going to enjoy the shit out of this descent. I don’t know when I’ll be back again.

Local rider Shannon Bufton leads the way into Beijing’s surrounding mountains

Any traveling cyclist with a sense of direction, a little courage and a GPS-enabled phone can manage to negotiate the streets of a new city without too many dramas. However, travel can involve enough complications and planning (especially on business trips, where the focus is on meetings, agendas, tight logistics, etc) that finding a local riding buddy – or even a local bunch ride – can totally transform the experience, making a good ride truly great.

My bike goes with me every time I travel overseas, as the minor inconvenience of loping about with an extra 20 kilograms is paid off in multiples with one good ride – especially given my well-documented loathing of hotel gyms. Having been lucky enough to ride in Seoul, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Taipei, Singapore and many more of Asia’s great bustling cities, I came to Beijing with a keen awareness of local motorist’s driving behaviours and the often “flexible” traffic regulations.

Thanks to having mutual friends, Shannon, an Aussie expat who’s lived in China for five years, volunteered to take me on an early-morning ride before the start of the Tour of Beijing’s first stage. Here are some highlights of our ride:

Shannon on the first climb, about 30km out of Beijing’s city centre

A local rider happy to see some fellow cyclists

Not fog, but better than in the city. China is reportedly making efforts to improve its notoriously bad air quality

“This is our Cafe Racer” jokes Shannon, referring to Melbourne’s famous cycling-centric cafe

Returning from our ride to see the Tour of Beijing stage 1 course setup nearing completion

Jacob leads the bunch around Pudong International airport

This was exactly the position I found myself in earlier this year. Three years of extensive business travel throughout Asia had greatly reduced my cycling fitness, and the quality of hotel gyms – an innate loathing of gyms aside – was too inconsistent to be a reliable source of cardio maintenance. There was only one option; travel with my bike, no exceptions. Thanks to an opportune encounter at Tokyo’s Cycle Mode show in 2009, I already had a bike bag. The next business trip was to China, so what better time to start a new routine? Simple.

Though several years cycling in Sydney gave me confidence in big-city traffic, I’d been a passenger in Shanghai’s cabs enough times to know that I would need help navigating the roads of Shanghai. Enter Google and Yahoo groups.

FHL’s Yahoo group had an open message board, which meant I was able to browse through posts to form an idea of what to expect. Satisfied I’d arrived at the right place, I registered as a member and submitted my first post. “I’m flying into Shanghai this Thursday evening, and will be in town for three days. I plan to do the airport ride on Saturday (sounds fun!), but could also use a gentle spin early Friday morning to loosen up after the flight. Will ride 60-90 minutes ideally, and I’m OK with loops. Is my best bet to circle Century Park around 05:30 to beat the traffic? I’ll buy coffee post-ride for anyone who’s willing to be my ride escort ”

Almost immediately, an invitation to join a small group of FHL riders for the 6am Century Park ride arrived in my inbox. [This proved to be a great introduction to Shanghai riding, and I’d recommend Century Park to any visiting cyclist on a brief stopover. Though doing laps around this flat circuit does get boring after a while, it beats breathing stale air in a hotel.]

Friday morning, 05:30, on the way to Century Park. Blissfully traffic-free

During my pre-trip “research”, it seemed a big focus on the FHL group pages was the Saturday morning ride – a supposedly serious (fast) 90km loop from the German Center in Pudong to the international airport and back. Invigorated by the Century Park ride, I used the message board later that night to see if anyone could help me get to the starting point (there’s nothing worse than waking up early, excited about a new ride in a new city, than getting lost and arriving well after everyone has left).

Once again – I love that Asia seems to be “switched on” 24/7 – an email promptly appeared. I was given a time and location close to my hotel where I would meet with ‘KP’, a long-time FHL rider, so he could ride with me to the German Center. Sure enough, KP was waiting for me exactly as planned the next morning. This proved to be a great help, as there were many twists and turns along the way and I probably would have missed the start without local expertise.

We arrived 10 minutes early, so I got to chat to several of the crew – many of whom were first-timers like me – as stragglers arrived by bike and by taxi (not unusual, given the size of Shanghai and dirt-cheap taxi fares). The nations of Germany, France, Australia, New Zealand and China were all represented, creating a terrific aural texture throughout the ride.

From the starting gun (figuratively speaking) the pace was on. Jacob Johansen, FHL veteran and former Geman pro cyclist, cranked it up further, flying off the front only 10 minutes into the ride. Latching on to his wheel with a few others, and having no idea whether this was a sustainable (let alone sensible) tempo, a rolling paceline intuitively formed, lasting all the way to the airport surrounds. At this point, we waited for the others before continuing along the closed service roads circumnavigating the airport.

Everyone stopped at a convenience store located – ahem, conveniently – halfway through the ride. I sent a SMS to my wife, marveling at my purchase of Snickers bar, bottled water and biscuits for only $1.60.

All smiles at the halfway point

On the return leg, the bunch once again splintered into smaller groups all the way to Pudong. A tree-lined street marked the finish of the ride, where everyone assembled again for the opportunity to have a good-natured ribbing before dispersing across suburbia.

I’d recommend this ride to anyone with a reasonable level of cycling fitness and a road bike – although a very fit person on a mountain bike could cope, I’m sure. Hint: take your business card, if you have one, to exchange with people after the ride. 

More information:
FHL Yahoo Group message board
FHL Facebook
German Centre: Google map here (Century Park can be seen 3km to the West)