Our new BB30 system has our signature bottom bracket shell shape with the outer section stepping up to a larger diameter to increase strength in the critical area of the bottom bracket (sorry we don’t have a cool name or acronym for this - we threw some ideas around over lunch and came up with Baum Bottom Bracket Bump or B4).
There are more images of this bike on our flickr page.
Modern cycling media regales us with stories of the zone, the place where everything is going perfectly and your mind and body are as one. It's a lovely place, but one with a dark, seldom talked about relative, the box.
Riding in the hills? Odds on, you're in the box.
Riding in the gutter with a heavy cross wind? Odds on, you're in the box.
Riding on the trainer? Odds on, you're in the box.
Riding with faster riders? Odds on, you're in the box.
All cyclists will be familiar with the box, it's not the box seat, it's the box of hurt. No one else could possibly understand how much you're suffering, it's you're own personal hell. Your legs pedal squares. Your bike is going backwards. You're in the box, all by yourself.
So, here's what I've been wondering, are all boxes created equal? Is there a commonality to everyone's box? Is it worse to be in a big or small box? Are boxes custom made? Can I get mine in Ti?
Distance – 95km
Altitude gain - 965m
Going – Mostly downhill, with two or three climbs and a flat sprint finish into Dili
Surface – Mix of dirt and bitumen surfaces.
Sitting around after stage 4, I mentioned that the final stage, would be "the last chance for me/us to launch ridiculous attacks". Despite being said to garner a smile from tired friends, I knew that at their heart the comment was based on a very real desire to do well. I like to finish a race strongly, possibly more than I like to chase rabbits, leaving every bit of energy and every bit of doubt on the trail/road is hugely satisfying.
I got up early and packed my tent for the last time, like all the nights before, my sleep had been broken, but it was now par for the course and I gave it little thought. The sunrise through the hills we had climbed the day before was gorgeous. I'd like to use it to draw some parallel or quasi superstitious statement, but really I just thought it nice to take some time out and appreciate the quiet of the morning.
I rolled down to the start line early, stood around for a moment, then headed up the road to warm up my legs. I rode a couple of kms, out of the saddle, legs growing warm from the effort. A few locals thought they were seeing the start of the race and cheered, I giggled at the thought of me with this much of a gap, but shook my head to indicate I was just out riding.
Back down to the start line, I was still early, so tried to put myself close to the front. Somewhere behind me in Maubisse someone was cranking some heavy metal, I'm sure the sight of my bowed head and horns thrown up in the air was amusing to behold. For me it was a moment of peace, heavily distorted guitars moulding my mind for the race to come.
The stage started with a wave of an arm, and a surge from the front. There was a fight for 1st outright on GC, as well as plenty looking for a stage win. With some slower riders between me and the attacks I had to work my way forwards, past riders strung out from km 0.
Soon enough I crested the first climb and pointed the bike downwards, big legs may not have helped me up the climbs, but they were certainly helping me on the descents. Even with an unfair descending advantage I sought to maximise momentum and minimise effort. Apexing sweeping turns, hopping obstacles and drafting where I could I continued to move past riders and up places. As the roads hit the first flatter section I joined with a few riders who had jumped on my wheel and set about swapping turns together, eating away at the kms and catching riders shelled from the front bunch.
The small climbs that peppered the descent were usually ridden in a long line, a single rider setting the tempo, I set the pace for one, but was happy to let others dictate the speed for the rest. Once or twice I felt stretched, but I reminded myself that this was the last day to do silly things, and went back to chewing on my bars. The short nature of the climbs meant that I was inevitably soon recovered and feeling strong.
The KOM climb for the day was a rough fire road, one of the other mountain bikers in our bunch set the pace and I sat on his wheel while behind us the roadies were getting strung out. Over the KOM, it was time for the real giggles to begin with an extended fast rocky descent. Small pieces of singletrack (walking/goat trail) hugged the edge of the road in spots, we weaved and dived across the road, searching for the smoothest path. Bikes twisting, arms shaking, grins plastered from ear to ear.
The final descent was soon on us, open sealed road with fast flowing corners and a vista off the the left, much like the descent down Mt Buffalo. My tyres, grey from the dusty sections, had the side knobs scrubbed black. Lent into corner after corner the dirt had long since been ripped off to reveal clean rubber.
We reached the coast without much fanfare, a view of the turquoise ocean and a headwind were the only things to greet us. Knowing that we were within the last 15km, I sat in the bunch, opting out of the continual turns that had been the staple of my day. The rest gave me time to evaluate the race, we had around 12 riders, too many to ensure myself a good sprint result, something was going to have to change.
I had a friend in the bunch (Sam), so I suggested that we should 1-2 the bunch, he nodded in acknowledgement and like that I had a plan. One of us would attack, while the other sat in the bunch. If/when the first rider was brought back the second would attack. This process can be repeated a few times, slowly wearing down anyone willing to work to bring back the attacks, and leaving one of us up the road, clear for a good result.
As the crowds started to grow along the side of the road, it became difficult to spot landmarks and judge our progress though I had a rough idea how far there was to go by checking the Jesus statue further around the bay.
Into a big round about near the airport I launched myself past the bunch, head down, legs pumping the pedals, form gone in favour of raw power. After a few moments of mindless, all out effort I brought my brain back online and could sense a rider or two on my wheel. I flicked my elbow only to have Sam roll through. Ok so this wasn't quite the plan, but having a friend with me was perfect, it increased my odds. Sam looked tired, so I relieved him quickly. A few moments later I threw the elbow out again only to hear "there's like 3km to go man!". I looked over my shoulder and saw I had the company of 2-3 blokes including Sam, the rest of the bunch was stretched out 20-30 metres behind. I yelled a few times and when no one came through I attacked again. If they're not willing to work to create a break then I was going to break them.
By the time I turned my brain on again after the second attack I had been well and truly covered, the riders were sitting on my wheel. This time they pulled some turns but I was feeling the attack and dropped off when one of the Malaysians put a surge in up the right hand side of the road. I almost gave up, but he sat up along with the rider who had covered him, I was soon back across and we were together again.
The Malaysian rider tried to slow the tempo to allow a team mate to get across to us, so I surged again. I liked having friends with me, but I wasn't going to allow someone else to have the same advantage, especially considering the Malaysian sprinting prowess.
Headlong into the crowds covering the roads we went, police motorcycles, with sirens wailing, carved a passage for us. Faces blurred, all that existed was the small ribbon of road between the us and the motorbike. Suddenly the flags of the finish appeared in front of us. I felt the Malaysian to my right kick, I stood and put everything I had into my pedals. His kick had gained him a bike length, but it wasn't getting bigger, time stretched to seem like an eternity, I desperately searched for a few more Watts, to get my wheel past his. The line came and went in a flash. 5 days of pain sweat and gears were over, that was it, all that was left was to suck desperately at the air, to try and get some oxygen to my screaming body.
I rolled into the palace compound, a sea of emotion flooding through my tired body, there weren't many riders hanging around, I hoped this meant a good result.
SBS has footage of my final sprint here at 1:05. You can see the Malaysian kick on the left a few moments before me (2nd from left).
My trusty Cubano with the flag I was handed moments before I attacked.
5 days of racing is always going to end with helmet hair.
Post race nap time!
Stage time: 3:31.02
Official Stage place: 9th
Stage place: 8th
Overall place: 20th
There was an issue with timing for the stage, somehow they'd missed counting me and the rider behind me. When we were getting this sorted out they entered his name before mine, and when asked about the fact that this put him in 8th and me in 9th they responded "why does the place matter? you get the same time". It mattered a lot to me, but the timing was done by volunteers who'd worked their arses off all week, so we left knowing in our minds that Neil rather than Nell had secured 8th. Next year I might ensure I spell my name right so that I get ALL the credit. :P
Distance – 70km
Altitude gain - 2350m
Going – Significant climbing, to a peak of 1835m, then winding back down to 1464
Surface – Largely bitumen with small sections of dirt washouts.
Ze Mountain Climb.
A gradual introduction, a long steady gradient, a gradient to scare goats then a descent. With the GC leader's jersey changing hands after yesterday's breakaway, and the stage profile indicating decent time to be made or lost.... we'll let's just say I wasn't holding out great hope of this being my day.
The pace on the false flat from the beach was reasonable, all the contenders had guys at the front, just tapping out the ks. As we reached the lower slopes of the climb the road that on the course profile looked steady turned out to be kickers followed by flat followed by kickers. My legs ate up the short pinches, but I could feel my heart rate steadily climbing, by the time the steady climb up to and through Same (pronounced Sarm-ey) started I had hit my limit and fallen off the back. I was to later find out that it was then that the winning attacks were starting to go off the front.
Through Same the day started to get warm, some might even call it hot. Knowing the length of the climb and the gradient increases towards the top I decided that I would try to hold a steady tempo and search for shady sections of road to ride in whenever possible. I soon joined another rider and we set about getting through the day.
A friend of mine, Justin, caught us after 20 or so minutes. Justin takes my award for toughest bloke on the tour, as he rode the entire thing on his Single Speed. Knowing that Justin was on his SS, I had figured him gone for the day after he lost contact with the bunch on the lower slopes. Having him ride through me was a shock, and right then I was ready to write the day off completely. I can't tell you what got me across to his wheel, but we were soon riding together, leaving my previous companion behind.
At the feed station on top the first KOM I took on water, more of it going over my head than went into my bottles. Once on the road again we were joined by the leading female rider, someone I knew well from racing back home, Tory Thomas. Even though she was climbing faster than me, I thought I would help and put myself on the front and set a tempo on the climb. A couple of times I looked back to find I'd ridden off the front and cursed myself for being a bad domestique. After a while as we gained sight of another rider, I decided to go solo and see if I could chase them down.
On the first hard pinch of the summit climb, I stood up and punched it, taking a huge chunk out of their lead. By the third brutal switch back I had caught and passed them. I knew big muscles were good for climbing, bring on the 20-25% gradient efforts!
Stand and sprint, sit and recover then repeat. This was my world for what seemed like an eternity, but it was worth it, I could see another three riders ahead, and the gap was slowly decreasing. Past schools grounds filled with singing children. Past goats hopping up trails, past the tree line, upwards and onwards, always another hairpin to negotiate. Around 1km to the summit the climb suddenly flattened, the hard work was done, I clicked some gears and got some speed, I knew that soon it would be descending time. :)
The descent was incredible, the now standard metre wide potholes and suddenly changing road surface ensured a steady stream of adrenalin to my endorphins soaked brain. A short 2-3 minute climb finished the stage into Maubisse, I'd never caught the final 3 rabbits, but the worst was done.
As a testament to the effort and heat of the stage riders were caked in salty deposits.
A short climb took us to an outcropping where we were camping, the views were breathtaking.
Stage time: 3:31.02
Stage place: 27th
Overall place: 21st
4 stages down. 1 more to go!
Distance – 95km
Altitude gain - 570m
Going – Largely flat, with numerous river bed crossings
Surface – Mix of dirt and bitumen surfaces, rocky river crossings.
The arrival of Timor Tummy (aka. Bali Belly) meant that as far as sleep was going on this tour, I was well down on the field.
I knew today's stage featured less hills, but until I could work out how guys without massive muscles were getting up them faster than me I'd have to settle for doing well on the flatter stages. I took the first stage as a performance guide and aimed to repeat it.... well without the cramps. So, first off there was a climb, I was resigned to the fact that would likely mean a chase to get back to the front bunch, after that I'd sit in and do as little work as possible in preparation for day 4 (you'll see why).
The start line had a surprise for me, they seeded the first 23 riders, which meant I didn't have to fight through the masses in the first few Km. Considering there was a small descent immediately after the start I was pretty bloody relieved. I will happily say, descending in big packs over broken roads scares me. I'll toy with my own life, but don't like the idea of it being in some one else's hands.
I kept my self in the first 15 riders down the descent and in to the bottom of the climb I moved into the first 6-12 riders to give myself the best chance of staying near them. As the climb continued I was surprise that the pace wasn't killing me, sure it hurt some times, but it never felt like I burning away all my reserves. When 2 guys attacked I waited for the pace of the pack to kick up a notch, but it never happened, meaning I stayed with the bunch over the climb and down towards the flat.
On the flat the GC leader sent his team mates to the front to help minimise the damage of the brake away. My race plan was still sound, so I sat in and let others drag me along. The roads were better than yesterday but sections were completely broken up, some had massive pot holes while others were all sand. I did my best to keep towards the front and stay out of trouble.
Once again the locals were enthusiastic during the entire stage, waving and cheering, especially for the Timorese team. In one town they threw water, by then it was a pretty hot day so it did help with cooling, but perhaps throwing bucket fulls was a little too enthusiastic. It caused some funny moments as riders were temporarily drenched head to toe and unable to see. :)
I survived the water, but did have a couple of other moments where I thought I was surely going to crash and crash hard.
The first was when the rider in front of me had his bike completely and utterly sideways right before a massive pothole. I think he was headed for the widest point before he realised it was there and had to take some massive evasive manoeuvres, only getting off the brakes and into a bunny hop inches from the edge. Transfixed by this whole sequence I was riding the brakes so had to haul my bike airward to clear the gaping hole.
The second time also revolved around a big pothole, sadly this time the rider in front didn't make it and crashed hard. I managed to split the 6 inch gap that opened up between his bike and himself. The following medical cars made sure he was ok, but I was torn about racing on or stopping to aid him.
Some time around these incidents, possibly on one of the many rough sections my drive train started to feel stiff and odd. One of my team mates informed me that I'd lost a jockey wheel. While it was harder to pedal, my bike was still going forwards and appeared to shift, even if the shifting was slightly reluctant. I knew we weren't far from the end so I pushed on, and tried not to worry about the chance of spare jockey wheels and bolts in remote Timor.
I sprinted with the bunch and finished ok. This was the first time the timers had had to deal with bunch finishes to there were some issues with the actual places given in the results.
It turns out it wasn't a lost jockey wheel, but rather my chain had jumped out of the derailleur (the retaining pin/plate at the back had broken). I was pretty worried about the wear, but somehow in my mind it was easier to deal with than a missing jockey wheel.
Sam, shows just how hot and dusty the stage was.
After the race we hung out on top of an old naval lookout tower, enjoying the gentle ocean breeze. Sadly it was the day's podium so we were soon evicted.
Stage time: 2:09.31
Official Stage place: 29th
My opinion: 15th
Overall place: 22nd
3 stages down. 2 more to go.
Distance – 65km
Altitude gain - 1095m
Going – Significant winding climbs over mountain range, downhill for 20km
Surface – 1st half decent quality bitumen, second half poor quality dirt/bitumen mix, final section off road.
The UN security contingent that travelled with us guaranteed our safety, but they weren't able to guarantee a good nights rest. On the floor of an emptied school room I managed sleep in 1-2 hour blocks, it seemed like the whole town was out to party. Not perfect recovery for stage racing.
This stage would be the first time we saw the top 20 riders seeded at the front. I'd been in that top yesterday, right up until the cramping. I had to settle for a row or two behind in the midst of the pack.
The race started, and when the front of the bunch accelerated, my legs didn't have an answer. They turned the pedals, the pedals moved the bike, but the bike wasn't going fast enough.
I began the mental shift needed to race at this speed, I was not going to be in the front bunch, the price to be paid for yesterday's pain.
I rode with a small group up the climb, pulling turns early, then doing my best to sit in and get others to work for me. At the short descent half way up the climb I pushed to the front, looking for fast lines through the broken bitumen and round the off camber corners. To my surprise a small gap opened up behind me.
Easing back on the legs I crossed the bridge that marked the bottom of the descent and the start of the King of the Mountain (KOM) climb. A rider bridged (no pun intended) to me and attacked moments later, I stood up and hit back. The legs, though not fresh, were feeling more responsive than at the start of the day. I passed the rider, grinning. The grin was for me. Maybe the day wasn't lost?
Up the climb I pushed, working to open up a gap and expose everyone else to some pain. A few kms in I looked back and saw one of my team mates bridging up, I eased back just a fraction to allow him to my wheel. As we continued up the steady gradient another rider joined us, one of the Timorese team. Despite them climbing well I just felt I had their measure, I'd opened them up once on a descent and once on a climb and I felt I could do it again.
I pushed towards the top of the climb, getting a small gap before the road turned downwards. The way forward was still bitumen, but it was often cracked and broken. We rode at full alert, as holes and gravel often followed corners.
Through the town of Ossu we were soon well and truly off the beaten path. Through river crossings, down descents covered in fist sized rocks. A wise man once said, "brakes only slow you down". With that advice in mind – floating, bouncing, skidding and grinning – I managed to catch some of the riders from the front group.
The road-track (can't call it a road any more) levelled out and up ahead I could see a few riders. Have I mentioned I love to chase rabbits yet? Head down, racing along dusty fire road, sideways through drifts of sand, I could smell the finish. Through another creek crossing I caught two at once. Clicking through the gears, I put valuable seconds into them.
Round the corner and on to the bitumen, there was the finish line. I slowed slightly to mono over the line, and almost had a hard chasing rider collect me and my hard earned place, it was worth it. :)
The fast, rocky descents on the stage collected a few scalps, with a few riders hitting the deck.
Hidden away, down a small goat track our camp site had a water hole filled by a fresh mountain stream.
After such a fast stage there was enough time to perform some bike maintenance. If I'd fully comprehended how long it would take to clean my chain link by link I might not have been so eager..
Stage time: 2:09.31
Stage place: 23rd
Overall place: 23rd
2 stages down. 3 more to go.
Distance – 130km
Altitude gain - 1705m
Going – Mostly Flat with numerous short hill sections and a final 500m climb
Surface – Largely bitumen with small sections of dirt road.
Standing on the starting line, hundreds of cheering people crowding the edges of the street seeking vantage points to watch us, I'll admit I was nervous.
The race start was met by cheers and the scrabbling sound of riders trying to clip in.
Slowly we wound our way through the streets, riders nervously awaiting the first hill starting literally from the edge of town. The road turned upwards and the pace lifted, around me breathing started to grow heavy, my own laboured breaths soon joined them. I had hoped to stick with the front 10-15 riders, but somehow their small lightweight bodies were propelling them up the hill faster than me. How was this possible?! Surely you need big muscles to go up hills. :)
I crested the first hill with a mono, wasted energy it may have been, but the yell of the crowd filled my ears. It was almost impossible not to grin like the Cheshire Cat from their enthusiasm.
Down the other side and onto the flat, I could see the lead bunch a few hundred meters up the road, one or two riders between us desperately trying to bridge the gap. I crouched low and drove hard, catching one rider we worked together to get back on to the bunch, only 110km to go, and already 2 riders were up the road in a breakaway.
I worked a few turns, more to get a feel for my own legs than to drive the pace. As a group of around 20 we rolled smoothly until the second climb when the pace lifted again, once more shattering any illusions I had about my climbing abilities. Once more I set myself for an ITT effort to chase the bunch back down, managing to make the back right before they all stopped for a water break!
At around 20km to go a few attacks came stretching out the bunch, hurting legs and creating gaps, I was in the hurting camp rather than the attacking camp. At 15km to go we started the final climb, shortly after I was alone, well as alone as one can be when every villager was standing cheering me onwards, upwards. There were points when they covered the road, running along side for a moment then disappearing back into the crowd.
Towards the top of the climb I caught sight of another rider, a rabbit, I like to chase rabbits. I lifted my pace slightly and had caught him as we entered the long flat plateau. Down low on the bars I did my best to gain valuable time. 
Down low on the bars I felt the first twinge of a cramp in my leg. I stood and shook it out, then got back low and kept the pace up. Down low on the bars I felt both legs begin to cramp, I repeated the shake out remedy and began to worry about how much time I was losing to the rider behind.
I was soon back turning the pedals but knew that I had to take it a little easier. Sadly turning the pedals at all turned out to be too much and I was soon at a complete stop, both legs locked in agony.
The rider behind passed me. The bunch behind him passed me. I managed a few tentative steps, then a few more, I hazarded an attempt to ride again and soon found that I had made it to 500m from the final descent. Just a few more pedal strokes and I would have rolled to the finish regardless of the cramps.
At the end tales of pain and suffering were told by every mouth. Some had crashed, everyone was cramping.
A trip to the local stream fed pool didn't stop the cramping, in fact most people cramped while in the pool. Someone (me) even managed to cramp mid dive. :)
Stage time: 4:36.00
Stage place: 25th
Overall place: 25th
1 stage down, 4 more to go.
I'm now home after spending a few days in Timor post the race and thought it would be best to give you a few words and images to help understand the stage by stage account to come. Before I get to that, I'd like to state for the record, the message Steve received wasn't from me. I was too busy suffering in the hills to call anyone to tell them that I was suffering.
I left Melbourne on a cold afternoon, the temperature hovering around 13C, when I arrived in Dili (the Capital) the following morning it was already pushing 28 on it's way to the mid 30's. Just to try and get ahead of the hydration curve I was drinking 6-8L of water per day, and with tap water a no go it meant lots of the bottled stuff.
Dili is a small flat area on the coast, surrounded by hills, in fact as you fly in you'll notice that the whole country is basically tiny bits of coastline set against some big hills. Perfect for big boys like me......
The country is one of contrasts. Squalid looking homes with satellite television. Pot holes big enough to hide the Spanish inquisition, and just as unforgiving, smooth hotmix that turns to rocky gravel nightmares, well nightmares for the roadies, with almost no notice. Basically roads that require serious 4WDs when none are owned.
The race was in it's first year so had some minor bugs. My name was listed as Nell rather than Neil. A couple of times I was shown placing worse (same/similar time) that I finished. It was definitely not all bad though, we had great support at all the towns we stayed in. Food was provided in mountains and our safety was ensured by by UN troops with guns big enough to make Arnie cry.
Presuming the race format suits me next year, this one will definitely be on the calendar. It'd be impossible not to want to spend 5 days of winter racing in such stunning scenery with friends old and new.
If you can't wait for the details of each stage you can check out some of the following:
The race website, sadly it doesn't have results yet.
Cycling news coverage of the first 4 stages.
SBS has highlights packs. First couple of days. Day three. Day four. Day five.
