Wednesday 4 September 2013. And the hits just keep coming...

Just when you thought the old Quinny boys blog couldn’t get any more tired and predictable it goes and rewrites the rules on excitement and innovation…. that’s right, a guest no less…

 The following is from one of the group – Claire, a lawyer in her thirties.

One of her friends was signed up to do the ride but had a significant accident. Without knowing anyone else in the group she pushed on with the ride anyway. Given she’s said a few words about the rest of us it wouldn’t be right for me not to shine my torch on her for a few seconds.

She did two long rides in training for this event! She is an absolute machine and did a 100k running event 18 months ago – coming third if you don’t mind  - I’d just got through telling her I’d come 60^th in a school cross country back in the 70’s and it was about that time I knew I was special and was destined for greatness. In the week I met her she didn’t say one boastful thing about herself.

On day one I spoke to her briefly and it was clear (get it?) she didn’t mind a laugh. On day two I was over the other side of the table at dinner with empty seats either side and didn’t know who was going to be sitting next to me – when she walked in and was shown to a seat over the other side.  I’m so unapologetically shallow I physically  can’t sit at a table for a meal where there isn’t some guaranteed entertainment or laughter so I’ve gone Claire, Claire – quick come over this side . She’s given me a look that’s gone why don’t you just fuck right off – and proceeded to stay exactly where she was.

Can I introduce to you a great judge of character, the lovely Claire….  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, Quinny asked me to write a guest post for his blog about our 1100km cycle through Cambodia.  Actually, he didn't - I told him I was going to, he had no choice.

 This was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but an amazing and unforgettable experience.  I first got involved with this through a few mates in Singapore who ended up pulling out before the trip.  I was nervous about going through with it not knowing anyone, but it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made and after only 7 days with a group of strangers, they came to feel like family.  A bit has already been said about them on Quinny's and others' blogs, but I'll just add a few lines of my own, in no particular order: 

Fordy (The Chief)

A machine on the bike, biceps like popeye, and always miles ahead of the rest of the field.  Me and Quinny had bets on him throwing the first strop and lo-and-behold, it happened on the 2nd day, followed by many more through the week. But The Chief's short temper when things didn't go smoothly was only proof of his passion for the cause - it was Fordy who kept reminding me why we were all there, which really helped when the going got tough.  He bollocked my one morning for being late and I made damn sure I was one of the first there every morning after that. He's just that kind of bloke who commands respect, who we all looked up to and all wanted to please.  A great captain, leading us all by example, both on the bike and in the bar.

 

Jonesy

I would say Jonesy was The Rock of the group - steady, stable, unflappable and everyone's friend.  It would be impossible for anyone in the world to dislike this guy.  He was also my trail buddy (along with Croc) on my best day's riding when we absolutely blasted it on the off-road tracks.  He supplied me with all the necessities I'd been too disorganised to bring myself (like zinc, sun cream, gels, bars etc) and generally was the cement in the Nokor Tep team wall.  Amazingly fit, he could keep up with the cyclocross speed demons on his mountain bike.  

Crocpilot

The oldest of the group with a very interesting life story.  He may have a peppered past and he did murder a puppy on the ride, but none of that could mask his obvious heart of gold.  It felt like having my dad on tour.  I found out at the end of the trip he has a daughter my age who’s quite similar to me in a number of ways, which maybe explains why he went out of his way to look after me and watch out for me.  He also taught me about my gears.  I rode the whole first 5 days in a single gear, but thanks to Crocpilot, the last 2 days saw me switching gears and adapting cadence like Contador (..or maybe a bit more like fat Bert Grabsch, but you get my drift…).

 

Matty

There’s no one quite like exuberant, enthusiastic, slightly eccentric, lovable Matty with his man toys, mankini bib-shorts and man tights.  None of us ever knew if he was ahead or behind, where he’d pop up from or what he’d do next, but it was always entertaining.  He rode with about 15 pedal strokes to every one of mine (or maybe only 10 to one after Croc taught me about gears).  When I was in trouble with the Chief on the morning I was late, Matty offered to ride 50km with me on our own so the others could set off first.  Luckily we caught the pack before they left Phnom Penh, but it was very sweet of him to do that for me and I won’t forget how he saved all his chocolate gels for me because they were the only ones I liked. 

 

Wild Karen (Crazy)

 

Her real name’s Wild Karen, but for some reason my post-day’s riding sozzled brain remembered that as “Crazy” and that’s what I called her from then on.  I didn’t like her at first cos she kept calling me a cow, until I realized she was just pointing out upcoming hazards on the road.  Her extremely shrill and extremely Welsh voice will haunt us in our dreams for many months to come.  She was Mother Hen, constantly keeping her brood in check.  There were times when we wanted to punch her in the head, but she was an absolutely necessity and there was never a dull moment with her in the group.  She’s amazingly fit and can just keep going and going….and then want to do it all again…and more.

Yarnie

 

Husband of Crazy, pilot, ex-SAS.  He mostly stuck in the peloton with me and Crazy and the rest, but was really only half trying and could probably have given Fordy a fair run for his money if he’d been allowed off the Crazy Wife leash more often.  He was a Nutrition Nazi, but I learnt the hard way when I ignored him and hit a wall one day after failing to consume the 3.752 bananas he’d prescribed for me at the previous stop.  After that, he ordered every meal of mine and I dutifully ate every scrap.  It was very touching to see Bruce Willis secretly filling my water bottle and quietly dishing out other small kindnesses for members of the group throughout the trip.

 

Jill

While Crazy was mum on the bike, Jill (support team) and was my mum off the bike.  She has a huge personality and a face you just want to look at -  I couldn’t wait to get to each pit stop just to see her there.  How she managed it all I don’t know – shopping, cooking, driving from one stop to the next, persuading locals to let us set up camp in their front yards, cleaning up, dishing out medicine, organizing massages etc.  An all-round amazing woman.

 

Frank

 A man of few words, but when he did come out with something, it was often a gem.  Like when he said he didn’t need a Garmin as he had Quinny’s butt crack (clearly visible through his threadbare white bike shorts) to point him in the right direction. Frank takes the prize for Most Improved on the bike over the course of the week.  I liked riding with him because no cars could get past his elbows  - he had 129” inch handlebars to go with his flash new 29” wheels.

 

Kain

 I was immediately grateful to Kain for helping me reduce the overall ratio of sweaty old men.  Son of Jill and Frank, he looks like a member of the cast of Glee but behaves more like an elderly statesman.  I needed his mum more than he did, and he was kind enough to share her with all of us.  A very impressive and mature young man.

 

Johnny Harriss

 

A man who knew exactly what pace he should go and what he needed to do and not do.  No messing around with Johnny.  Tenacious to the extreme and an inspiration to us all.

Quinny

 

Most of you already know the Quinmeister, but for those who don't, he's about 6 foot 7" and was an All Black in a previous life (though you wouldn't know from his pink bandana and silk green travel purse).  A very funny bloke - the sort who describing himself getting less funny only makes himself 10 times funnier.  He kept us laughing constantly.  But that's not all, there's a lot more to him.  Quinny was suffering from a dodgy gut all week, but soldiered on ignoring his own troubles and helping everyone else.  While I vomited Lake Geneva and let everyone know about it, he spewed the Atlantic Ocean and kept quiet.  What a trooper.  I got through the last 20km of my worst day by drafting in a massive Quinny-shaped slip stream while swearing at the locals and putting curses on their grandmothers.  I did wonder why Quinny kept calling me "one-er" (as in "two-er", "three-er"), till I realised he was actually calling me "winner", which I thought was very sweet.  He started translating from Kiwi into English for me by the end of the week.  An all round top top bloke.

So that’s the team, an amazing bunch of people.  Such an intense and arduous experience made us bond like family.  These people have seen me at my absolute weakest, looking my worst, completely emotionally and physically spent… 

I can’t really describe the extreme up-and-downs involved.  7 days in a row of average 160km over rough terrain is as mentally challenging as it is physically and I had to keep breaking it down into small sections.  There were times when I felt shocking and the tears were welling up in my eyes – in that state, it takes only the most minor adversity to throw you over the edge (like having to ride a few kms further than you thought even when you’ve already done 160 odd kms, or having smudges on your sunglasses, or having to ride over speed strips on the road which I came to hate more than Ian Brady).  But the highs were utterly exhilarating – whether it was the scenery (which no description can do justice), hearing the locals crack up seeing a whole load of old fat white people pedaling kms and kms for no apparent reason, having kids run alongside us for as long as they could keep up, that first cold beer at the end of a very long day.  It’s amazing how much better all good things seem after that much physical exertion – beer tasted like the finest champagne, the fossilized anorexic deep-fried frogs we had for dinner one night were like gourmet beef tenderloin, even the featherless scraggy lizard chickens hit the spot, just lying down or removing my socks was the biggest luxury imaginable.  It did occur to me whether the others in the team were all actually boring nobs, but I’ve seen/spoken to them again since the end of the trip and they are actually the brilliant bunch of people they seemed at the time.

 Riding those distances gives you a lot of time to think. I thought a lot about the people I love and how lucky I am to have them in my life.  I also invented a whole load of stuff to make a cyclist’s life easier.  I reckon Quinny’s onto a “one-er” with his mini travelling ukele idea (see 16^th Aug post).   Quinn, you should source a prototype from China and I’ll sort out your legal contracts.  Only concern is whether anyone can actually play these things. Your target market might only be midgets. But that's ok, they have Little People conventions in the US and I don't see why a giant can't start a business for midgets. You never know, they might start making really useful stuff for you in return, like supersize shot glasses or something. It's a win-win situation...

 

On a more serious note, the reason we all did this (as you know) was to help build a hospital for the women of Cambodia.  I can’t thank those of you who have donated enough and it’s a pity you can’t see for yourselves (as we did) how much that money is helping.  I feel like I’ve had a bit of a tough year, but to be amongst those people who have next to nothing, puts everything in perspective.  The personal stories I heard from Janne, the founder of the Tabitha Foundation, brought tears to my eyes.  I can’t wait to go back as a volunteer house-builder and would encourage anyone else who’s interested (or who’s even vaguely interested in becoming interested) to get involved…

So, I came back to Singapore with aching quads, a sore butt, sunburnt lips and “cyclists’ palsy”, but a very warm heart.  I remember thinking if I had to rotate my legs one more time in my life I’d rather end it, but now I can’t wait for next year’s ride – bring it on!

 

 

 

Gourmet Beef Tenderloin