Neville's Report

“Lights!” shouted Mike, as we hurtled into the blackness somewhere before the Lewis Pass. Good grief, it’s one thing when the stoker is blind, but when the captain can’t see the black wet road we could be in trouble. I waved frantically at the following van, and soon there was the reassuring glow of light that Mike could steer by.

We'd congregated in Nelson on Friday morning, one of us up since 5am to travel over from Golden Bay. I doubt if Mike had had even that much sleep. We drove to Christchurch in two vehicles to Pete and Lindsay King’s house who hosted us after the long journey with a welcome salad and hot pasta - thanks again, folks. I headed off for an hour's nap while the rest of the team adjusted bikes and organized vehicles, food and clothing. At 11pm we loaded up and drove through the light rain to the city centre which was raucous with exhausts and loud conversation. We huddled under the partial shelter of a building on the edge of Cathedral Square in Christchurch, waiting for the race briefing from Tim Vincent. The annual midnight race alternating in direction between Christchurch and Nelson was pioneered by Tim’s father, the late Les Vincent, and continues as a tribute to his and now Tim’s contribution to cycling. Some intrepid souls cover the distance alone, others in teams of two or three bikes.

While waiting, I overheard one conversation:
“Cycling in a team this year?”
“No, doing it on my own.”
“Why, haven’t you got any friends?”

After a lot of preparation, Mike Watson had cobbled together two tandem teams, four Cannondale bikes, eight riders, wearing the new Avanti Plus colours of Stewarts Cycles in Nelson. We weren’t professionals, just a bunch of keen friends and colleagues from the shop and the Star and Garter Wheelers cycle club. Rick Tregidga, Neville Rogers, Mike Watson, Dave MacManus, Sean Gidall, Darren Richards, Nick Entwistle and Vaughan Watson - in order of seniority, not prowess. Add Bob Watson in driver support, and distant encouragement from wives and partners, and that was us. Lots of enthusiasm, quite a bit of nervousness, and varying degrees of training and fitness. and don’t forget Decoy Duck, the small yellow mascot provided by Rick’s Kimberlee. A dark and rainy night, and miles to go before we sleep.

Midnight, and off we go, following the police car for the first few kilometers to avoid some of the attention from the hoons; Vaughan and Rick, Mike and Neville, hoping to make Amberley before the first changeover. Dismay as we drop off the opposition tandem in front, and a call for the first change after about 30km. Soon after, the other team changes too, and we are all gripped up and tense as we try to chase down the Stoke triple.

“Stick to the game plan,” we shout, determining to ride together to optimize our effort. As it turned out, the stars on the Stoke tandem climbed superbly, opening out a lead that we couldn’t match. We’d miss the line honours, but we would finish respectably.

Another change along SH7, and Mike and I pressed on solidly, expecting to hand over again to the younger chaps for the climb. Suddenly, we were through Waikare – we’d climbed Weka Pass in good style and heading for Culverden. I was delighted; I’d been dreading that hill.

More changes, more kilometers, more rain. Each time, no chance to get dry, just huddle in a blanket and hydrate and eat as well as possible for the next turn out on the road. Endless miles and then the sign for the Hanmer turnoff. Is that all? I’d hoped we were long past. Mike and I managed the first three terraces of the upper Hurunui, then had a break. The rest of the team riding well: Sean and Darren strong and consistent, Vaughan, our youngest but with a few of these races under his belt since early teens, and Rick, our oldest and first event on a tandem, going like Trojans, Nick and Dave moving away well at each change. The only other rider around is a single team member enjoying the shelter of the tandems.

“Are you going to take your turn in front for us?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Well, go away then.” (a slight paraphrase here to keep it seemly.)

Later on he did “go away”, and we followed them at an increasing distance. Well done, guys. We weren’t intending to be nasty, just wanting a break.

More hills as we trudged up the terraces of the Hurunui and Boyle River towards the Lewis Pass. At some stage it was Dave’s turn for a ride and a scream came over the radio, “Cramp”, so Mike and I leap on for a stint. Dave finds some cramp spray and is soon ready for another turn. Vaughan and Rick plugged up the last of the steep corners, with Sean and Darren keeping them company, then over the top of The Lewis for the long run down towards Springs Junction. An exhilarating and exciting descent even for us in the vehicles, let alone the intrepid boys on the bikes. Only a few squeaks of protests from the stokers, apparently – it can be disconcerting when your pair of handlebars don’t turn. Sean and Darren had an exciting moment exiting a bridge into a tight corner going too fast, but recovered well according to Mike who was providing vehicle support behind them at the time. Vaughan and Rick showed us the fast way down.

Dawn creeps over the hills, and we’re into dry weather, and, darn it, a head wind. More changes down the valley, with our strong pairs putting a good long run over the Shenandoah down to O’Sullivan’s bridge, and Mike and I get the chance to eat one of Yvonne’s bread rolls and a cup of tea beside a convenient bit of bush. We are ready with Nick and Dave to pedal up through Murchison and into the upper Buller. Nick and Dave swap with Sean and Darren who share the road with us up to Kawatiri. It’s a long haul, and about half way up each hill Mike says, “I forgot about this one.” We gratefully yield to Vaughan and Rick again on Highway 63, we’re in home territory now.

At St Arnaud several of the following single teams catch us, and it’s a thrilling chase between them and us from Top House and down the winding corners to Kerr’s Hill. It’s bright and sunny now, and heat is the discomfort instead of cold at this end of the race. A quick change half way up, and we drive ahead for another change down the valley. Mike and I dig in for the last few hundred metres of the Raey Saddle, and wind up for the downhill hitting 98.4kph, flying past the singles and chasing Sean and Darren, tucked down tight for least wind resistance. Vaughan and Rick take over shortly down the main road at Belgrove, Nick and Dave join them as Sean’s bike develops rear wheel hemorrhage from loose spokes. Mike’s rear wheel goes onto Sean’s bike so that he and Darren can finish the race with their speed to match Vaughan and Rick. One of the singles has caught up and drafts down to the finish.

“He’ll jump them in a sprint to the line,” says Mike,
Vaughan and Rick won’t let that happen,” is my opinion – they don’t give up easily. Sure enough, the Avanti team nudged over just ahead, with our other team caught just behind in the sprint.

We’ve done it. We exchange a few greetings and congratulations with folk at the timed finish, including a warm welcome home from Kimberlee, then we follow the two bikes quietly through to the Cathedral Steps in Nelson. Team photos, welcome hugs from families and partners, then time to “rehydrate” and swap stories at a little table outside a nearby hostelry. We remember the exciting bits, the worrying bits, the challenges and the fun, already planning for next year. They say the human body has a short memory for discomfort and pain.

It’s back to Mike’s shop to unload and sort out the shambles of gear from the support vehicles. Darren gets stuck into the clearing and cleaning as usual. Dave hunts for lost gear, but a few items find their way back to him the next day. I fumble through my stuff trying to find a lost arm warmer by Braille, and eventually find it tucked inside the helmet. Rick is efficient and quiet in gathering his gear together, and Sean has to unearth his share of the eleven intercom radio units we ended up using. Nick finds a lift home, and Vaughan leads away bikes into the shop and contemplates a quiet nap in the near future. Bob loads his car and when there is nothing further he can help with, heads home to Motueka. It’s all over except for the post mortems. I’m stopping at Mike and Yvonne’s for the night, so we queue for the shower. We thought Vaughan might have fallen asleep under the warn water, but soon he’s out and looking for a soft bed. I’m feeling surprisingly good, but the hot water and soap find the seam chafes gained from fourteen hours of wet clothes. Ouch. Soon I stretch out on the bed for a quiet nap, and wake up in the same posture nine hours later. Another six hours of sleep and Mike looks in with an invitation to breakfast, then Debby arrives and delivers us down to prize-giving. Mike can’t make it – he’s already making his next community contribution to the local Cycle Awareness campaign. Prize-giving at The Bush Tavern continues the standard of the event, with Tim putting on a good spread, and giving out a great range of prizes courtesy of his Tineli range and some bike gear courtesy of Mike Watson at Avanti Plus and Mike Gane of Stoke Cycles.

Thanks, guys. Thanks to Tim and his team for running the race. Thanks to the competition – lots of good cheer and friendly rivalry. Thanks to Yvonne and the families and partners for food and encouragement. Thanks to our teams: Rick, Dave, Sean, Darren, Nick, Vaughan. Thanks to Bob, driver, nursemaid, helper, dispenser of cheerful encouragement. And thanks to Mike for hosting, organizing, sponsoring, and managing the team – and captaining a tired old blind stoker through an epic adventure. Next year, chaps? See you at the Cathedral Steps when the bell tolls midnight…

Neville Rogers (Stoker)