It was dark, eerily quiet and as one would expect in Canberra at 5am, it was also bloody cold. Though through the seemingly peaceful slumber of the assembled tents at the Singlespeed Nationals campground, some muffled giggles and the sound of stumbling cleated-shoes could be heard as they approached our tent. As I rolled over in my sleeping bag to drift through another nightmare about having my bike stolen, Dr Dave, Troy and Tim managed to clumsily manoeuvre their way into their own beds and for several more hours, things were peaceful again.
I opened an eye as the sun blasted it’s way through the flap on our 12-man tent (I adamantly stand by the 12-man rating, though when you have 4 other men who are taller than 6 foot and one of them has a swag, of course they’re going to complain that it’s too “small”) as Matty headed out after getting a good night sleep in preparation for the first day of competition.
With the gentle call of native birds chirping in the trees and the smell of spring wafting through the tent, the sound of Tim groaning in agony as the realisation of just how much alcohol had been consumed the evening before, contrasted nicely to the serene sounds that nature was otherwise providing us. We could hear others stirring awake around the campsite, some sluggish from the night before and others a little over-enthusiastically for my liking at 9am.
Mat and Dave were into their lycra just a little too quickly to go unnoticed, as they were warming up to get ready for the hill-climb time trial that had been kindly arranged to be the very first race of the day. With no bike, and absolutely no desire to ride a bike, I decided to play spectator for the morning along with Troy who like Tim, had begun to realise the effect of his late-evening activities on his morning-eagerness.
The singlespeeders gathered together for the start of the race, with many colours, tutu’s, skin suits and other assorted accessories donning every rider who had decided to dress up for the occasion. Leaving Mat and Dave at the start line and Tim inside his sleeping bag looking an amazing shade of aqua, Troy and I ascended the hill on foot to find some good viewing spots in the singletrack.
The hill climb was brutal. With about 2km of winding singletrack through the pine trees of Majura, the grade was steep and the course was full of false peaks and character-building pinches. Riders were arranged simply by their race plate numbers, so there was plenty of over-taking over the course to make for some exciting passing manoeuvres. Residing on a flat stretch of fire road, Troy and me watched rider after rider come up through the singletrack onto the flat dirt road and yell out in agony as they realised they had to continue into the bush on the other side of the road and climb through the singletrack yet again.
First up for our crew was High Velocity Mat, who smashed past 2 riders onto the fireroad and continued at warp speed through the trees with a level of fitness that had me feeling tired just watching him.
Mat streaking ahead of the pack on the hill climb. This little flat spot was about the half-way mark, fooling most riders into thinking they had finished!
Next up was Dr Dave, who winched his way up the singletrack and gasped for air as he crested the flat fire road. With whoops of “yeah bikes!” and “yeoooowwww!”, he mustered the strength to continue through the trees to finish the climb.
Dr Dave in fine form on the hill climb. Notice that his bowels are still inside his body even though his face may suggest otherwise.
We were about to head back down to the campsite after seeing both Dave and Mat finish the hill climb, when a flash of yellow and blue flickered down bellow us in the trees. Could it be?! Yes it was!!
Tim, who we had last seen clutching his stomach and rolling around in his sleeping bag just 15 minutes before, was smashing his way up the hill and even overtook a rider in front!
He may very well have sweated his bodyweight in Bacardi Breezers by the end of the climb, but he finished it, and he finished it in a full-body skin suit no less!
We thought our eyes deceived us, but it was Tim all right. Never have I seen quite a recovery from a hangover as I witnessed on this day.
For the rest of the day, the organizers had arranged a number of high-profile singlespeed-specific activities worthy of a Nationals event to test competitors skill, fitness and mental strength. These activities included a skidding competition, the coveted Huffy Toss, the 16 inch wheel race and a bunny hop display.
With all sorts of drama and shenanigans, some of the highlights included Aiden Leifmann disappearing down the road towards the highway in a highly controlled 150-metre rear wheel skid, one lady almost taking out the crowd as she swung her Huffy around in an attempt to throw it, and many, many riders eating dirt after trying to bunny hop over the limbo stick.
Some impressive displays of skill in the bunny hop competition
Mat streaking ahead again, though this time he was racing against the huskies that were attached to one of the organisers scooters. Who said Singlespeeders were a weird bunch?
After a day of hard racing, skidding, hopping and throwing, the 120 riders descended on Dickson for dinner and to enjoy some well earned beverages at a party held by the lads at Mal Adjusted bike shop. With some local bands smashing out the tunes and copious amounts of Coopers being passed around, everyone had a chance to remind themselves of what the Singlespeed Nationals is really about, just in case they got too serious during any of the days races.
With the boys still feeling a little weary from Friday night, we made our way back to the campsite through the dark fire roads and back streets towards Majura, ready for a good kip before the main race on Sunday.
Sunday morning was a nice role reversal for our tent, as we awoke with reasonable enthusiasm whilst listening to the groans and grunts of people in nearby tents that had obviously partied a little harder than most at the party the evening before.
I was lucky enough to be hooked up with a bike to ride for the day and along with the others, we grouped around the start line in anticipation of the big race.
Consisting of a 30-60 minute loop (depending on how hungover you were) that included plenty of windy singletrack climbing and technical descending, the race circuit was one of the most fun tracks I had ever ridden. It was muddy and wet in spots, but it made the course all the more fun and challenging.
At the halfway point in the loop there was a fork in the track that allowed you to make the decision between a longer and more technical loop, or the quicker and easier route through the Coopers Beer Tent. The catch with the beer tent however, was that you had to sink down a Coopers Mild Ale beer before you were allowed to continue on.
This made for some impressive sculling showcases as beer dribbled down peoples mud-covered jerseys and sprayed out of cans onto spectators and over riders helmets. With our first lap down, we decided it was our turn to hit the beer tent and we rolled through for an icy cold beverage that had been my motivation for finishing the first lap.
Though as we moved aside to enjoy our beers (slowly, none of that sculling rubbish) we noticed a couple of St. Johns volunteers crowded around a rider that was lying down on the ground. To our horror we realised it was Mat, who had been sitting in 2nd position behind Aiden Leifmann for the first 2 laps and was looking quick on the bike. With blood pouring from his left knee however, it appeared that his race was over.
A low-speed crash that had caused Mat to fall awkwardly onto a tree stump led to a rather sizeable stick becoming lodged in his knee. Without much hesitation, Troy and I took Mat to the local hospital to have the wound checked out.
Now I won’t go into too many gory details (ask me at the shop if you like!) though I can safely say that watching a doctor fish around 4 inches deep with tweezers inside Mats knee, whilst he writhed and yelled in agony, was possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever witnessed. In fact, I was pretty close to asking the doctor if I could have any of the Nitrous Oxide that was sedating Mat.
Witnessing the true efficiency of the Canberra hospital system first hand, we spent almost the entire day at one hospital, only to be told we had to go to the other main hospital on the other side of town to see an orthopaedic specialist. Leaving the first hospital a little sorer after 5 hours of having someone dig around his knee, Mat still had the stick lodged in his wound and we spent 45min driving to the next hospital (if you’ve ever driven around Canberra you’ll know what I mean…) only to be told we were at the back of the queue at the Emergency Room!
Whilst in transit however, we were able to speak to Dave and Tim who had finished the main race, eaten lunch at the post-race BBQ and gone through the presentations. Although our enthusiasm levels were about as low as they could get, Dave had some amazing news on the phone for us. As part of the presentations, a bunch of prizes were handed out to the winners of each competition, as well as random prizes for costumes and various antics that had been committed over the weekend. Word had gotten around that my bike had been stolen on the first night, and as a gesture of sympathy, the organisers had handed me out a brand spanking new frame and fork!
I couldn’t quite believe it and was touched that they had chosen me to give away such a prize.
And in a way, that kind of wrapped up our weekend – an event of many highs and lows that made it perhaps not the best trip of our life, but a truly memorable one.
Whilst sitting in a pub on Sunday night, we discussed all of the random events and shenanigans that we had experienced over the weekend and had a good old laugh at what we had all been through. Mat was still in hospital and was scheduled to be operated on later that evening to get the remnants of the debris out of his knee and we all felt for him, particularly as he was looking to be in a good position to get on the podium for the main race. It just went to show that none of us could have predicted how the weekend was going to turn out.
In the end however, it wasn’t so much about the race or the competitions, it was about hanging out with some like-minded mates, riding awesome trails and having an experience (good and bad) of a lifetime – all of which we did and with flying colours!
So there you have it; our experience of the 2010 Australian Singlespeed Nationals.
Keep an eye out for a write-up on the 2010 World Singlespeed Event that was in Rotorua shortly after, though for those of you on our Facebook page you will have seen some of the photos and evidence of the debauchery that went on that trip. If you’ve ever thought about entering one of these events, I couldn’t recommend it highly enough – particularly if you’re not the competitive type.
The one thing I would recommend however is to take a big lock with you if you’re ever going to Canberra with your bike!
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