Cycling with the Tar Babies.

I had not been out with the Tar Babies for some time, but it was a beautiful day and I decided it was time I cycled with a group again. It is a different experience than cycling alone and is more testing. As I waited at the meeting place I hoped people of my skill level would also appear. My ability puts me in the slowest group and sometimes puts me last in the slowest group. I had not got an email so I was not sure where the ride was heading.
At first there were four of us but within minutes there was fifty or more gathered and ready to go. Ride etiquette plus the route was read out. One gentleman complained that on the weekend before he had got a puncture and no-one had stopped. It was raining and he had no tyre levers so had to ring up his partner to get him. He was not a happy man and I was surprised that he had come back. I hoped he had bought some tyre levers. We advised him to come with us as we would look out for him. In fact he would be hard to lose as he stood out somewhat in his pink lycra bike shorts with 'Wiggles' written on them.

The route included the Korokoros. I was glad I had not known this before as that route includes some steep climbs. We would end up in Maungaraki which means 'mountain in the sky'. They then said the last group would forgo the Korokoros and would instead would take the flat ride out to Wallaceville and back. I had a sigh of relief and relaxed a little.

We started by winding down a steep grade to State Highway Two. I am a bit of a Nana down hills but I went a little harder than usual due to pressure of the group and was only passed by most of the group instead of all of them. An orange light at the bottom greeted me, and good cyclist that I am, I stopped, hoping the group in front would wait. They were on their best behaviour probably because of the Wiggles pants man and actually did wait.

We rode single file out towards the  Hutt. This surprised me as this was not the way straight to Wallaceville. It dawned upon me that decisions and been made and things had changed. We were going to do the Korokoros. We took the over-bridge and started the long climb up to Maungaraki. Once at the top, I discovered we weren't at the top at all. We undulated while getting higher and higher. We regrouped at a crossing and I was pretty pleased with myself as I had kept up and felt good. After one last short steep and nasty little hill we cruised down once more and were quickly beside the motorway. Here about four riders felt they had had enough and left to return to the city. I continued out with the rest of them for the long flat ride to Wallaceville knowing that once we returned we would have the wind behind us and all would be sweet. The ride was very pleasant and civilised with only a couple of drivers tooting  and a couple of bogans yelling obscenities out the window at us for no particular reason as they were on the other side of the road. Dodging glass on the road was the usual hazard most needed to be considered. I had my suspicions the beer bottles had been deliberately thrown along the roadside by the afore mentioned bogans on previous nights.
Those at the head of the ride then decided we would go to the top of Whitemans Hill before retracing our steps. The faster groups were doing the Whitemans Valley loop to add the kilometres but not us thank goodness as I was beginning to feel the distance. It was a haul up the hill and I was last due to others having peeled off earlier. It was great to see Some Ngati Poneke women training up and down the hill, working towards the  Iron Maori Duathlon challenge that is happening in this area next month They looked good and strong in their uniforms.
At the top of the hill we took a break. I ate my banana and had a swig of my drink while watching the group of chickens that seem to live in this area.

On the return I had to work on not dropping off the group. With the wind behind them they sped up a little and I struggled to hang on. As we rode the State Highway Two on the way back it was important to stay together to be more visible and there are a couple of squeeze points where there is not much room for cyclists. For most of it however there was a wide shoulder and with the help of the wind it was a fun ride. I then heard a call as someone had a puncture It was the Wiggles pants man so we were all sure to stop and act concerned. Lets hope he had bought some tyre levers or words might have been spoken. As he was a Brit and maybe new to NZ cycling I hope he knew to check his tyres for glass chips after every ride due to the afore mentioned bogans tossing their empties onto the road. Drinking and driving is still alive and well in New Zealand by the number of smashed beer bottles we had to avoid.

The stop refreshed me but not for long. I was flagging. A good bloke came in front of me to tow me along but I was getting to the point where I no longer wished to be pushed. There was a point on the road where most went left off the main road as it was safer for bigger groups. I signed I would continue along the road as I knew it well from cycling to and from work. It was also a short cut which put me ahead of the group and made me feel better. I dropped off the pace and enjoyed my last ten kilometres, nursing myself up the Ngaio Gorge and home. I had completed 78 ks, 70 at a reasonable pace.
I checked my tyres and flicked out three pieces of glass, grateful they had not penetrated deeper.
I looked forward to a warm bath and an afternoon snooze to recover from my efforts, and  plan to cruise again with the Tarbabies in the not too distant future.