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 16th 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
