Kirsten Simpson Photography

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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • On the road
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  • It's all about respect:<br />
<br />
When we head out for a spin - whether it's getting to work, rolling with the crew, or taking a group out we always try to ride with respect. That's respect for our other riders, the community, the environment, and other road users. <br />
<br />
That's why we take our rubbish, attempt to consider our impact on the locals, and give a thank you wave when appropriate. Matt from The Climbing Cyclist puts it beautifully:<br />
<br />
"I think it’s important to remember that cyclists are the most vulnerable of all road users and every time we go for a ride we place our lives in the hands of strangers. The greater the respect those strangers have for us cyclists the better.<br />
<br />
Again, this isn’t about telling you what to do when you’re riding on the road. It’s about what I’m going to do to ensure that I’m sharing the road and doing what I can to show motorists (and others) that cyclists can be respectful".<br />
<br />
To check out the full article, head to: http://theclimbingcyclist.com/sharing-the-road-and-leading-the-way/<br />
<br />
To read about the #leadtheway campaign the Hells 500 crew are involved in, visit: https://www.bicyclenetwork.com.au/general/bikes-and-riding/95163/
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  • Everything and Nothing: There is something about an open road. No one else out. No one's wheel to regard. No traffic. No urban chaos. The calm of a long free-wheel and open space on the road gives us all what we are looking for: Time alone with our thoughts. Space to think of everything..... and nothing.
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  • Rising damp: Here’s to the underscrub – overgrown and dripping wet. The dynamic organic backdrop comprised of fern and bracken. The scent of newly wet leaves. The rot of old forest. Here’s to the slick and slippery. The wheelspin and slide. The deep bite of frost and chatter of teeth and chain. The tell-tale flick and spray. The mark of the road less ridden. Here’s to the dank.
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  • Babushka: We all see it. The multiple layers that are slowly revealed as the road pitches up. The furrowed brow, the sweating strained face twisted in disbelief, the look of anguish, the tears, and the cursing. Oh, the cursing. Curiously, dig a little deeper and the first smirk appears. The giveaway grin that shows that you have just tipped over from denial to acceptance. Laughing? Well, that's just delirium.
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  • On the Road near Mitla
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  • That Dotted Line: It used to mark the limit for us. That ragged line of torn bitumen putting an abrupt end to a beautiful climb. No man's land held no allure for us – its surface an ugly pock-marked rouge overseen by a shot-blasted lichen covered sign shouting “GRAVEL!” We’d even seen the other side - gazing longingly (knowing the exact measure of kilometres and a precise quantity of metres gained) but knowing it was out of our reach. We had traced the twisting Dotted Line on the map – but the conventional coffee shop wisdom was that it was out of reach on 23 millimetres of rubber. So we worked around it. Return routes on shoulders strewn with debris and grey junk kays on monotonous highways. Unfortunately even with circuitous workarounds we still knew that we were missing out. That Dotted Line was so small – yet it prevented so much. Stories filtered in third-hand. We heard of a guy who knew someone that had done it. He did not head the capitalised caveat “GRAVEL!” – instead he skimmed potholes and ascended That Dotted Line. So one day, armed with a battalions equipment and the bolshiness only fear of the unknown can bring, we crossed That Dotted Line. No punctures. Bike intact. Job done. Dirt be damned. Before we even finished the ride, we were excitedly joining the dots on new loops, new routes, new roads – all previously ‘inaccessible’. Exploration, adventure, quiet roads and immersive scenery is where it took us – and takes us. Deeper, and deeper each time. That Dotted Line is a part of our history – and the reason why we want to drag you with us this August. Don’t believe everything you hear over a latte.
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  • Cycling on the Street in Cholula
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  • This beautiful sport of ours:<br />
<br />
Let’s face it. For a sport that defines itself with its climbing it really has been a downhill run lately. On the iconic barren moonscape of Ventoux we witnessed the slightly clinical peloton-shredding tempo of SKY come to life, followed by Froome’s attack after attack that looks to have put the tour beyond doubt.<br />
<br />
So what has our sport come to when a clean rider without a shadowy past is immediately presumed guilty until proven otherwise? As cyclists we should limit casting aspersions – there are plenty outside of the sport to do that. Instead, let’s just take a deep breath and remind ourselves of the reason’s we DO ride. The solitude, the cols, the suffering, and the glory.
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  • On the outside, looking back:<br />
<br />
Although we sometimes feel like adventurers, it is always humbling chatting to a local and hearing how trodden the path we take truly is. In looking for an interesting story on the former logging railway at Donna Buang, we found out about something much more interesting..<br />
<br />
Donna Buang in the early 30's was home to a small ski resort, complete with a ski jump. A competition attracting more than 4,000 spectators saw a visiting Norwegian jump more than 60ft. A fire in 1939 took out the majority of the facilities, but a more permanent structure was built - at one point in the 50's attracting international ski jumpers to participate in a competition organised by the Ski Club of Victoria. <br />
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Travelling on bike we get the opportunity to slow down and appreciate things - but sometimes to see the whole picture you need to move backwards.
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  • Instead of expressing their gratitude for the rain by getting wet, people walk around with umbrellas. Nature is an old lady with few friends these days, and those who wish to make use of her charms, she rewards passionately." Tim Krabbe, 'The Rider'Soggy, sodden, cold, and damp perhaps - but these are the rides we remember. Stop making excuses and just get out there.
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  • Rule #9: If you are out riding in bad weather, it means you are a badass. Period.<br />
<br />
"Fair-weather riding is a luxury preserved for Sunday afternoons and wide boulevards. Those who ride in foul weather... are members of a special club of riders who, on the morning of a big ride, pull back the curtain to check the weather and, upon seeing rain falling from the skies, allow a wry smile to spread across their face" (The Velominati).
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  • Looking back: It all started with a ragtag bunch of cyclists keen on pushing limits and riding the hills for cheap thrills. United in our quest to redefine epic - we'd always look out for each other. 'No man left behind' was less about ideals, and more about ensuring no one missed out on their share of the suffering. These days there is plenty of pain to go around, and we're still looking back.
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  • Crew: The key to riding better is simple. Surround yourself with people that are better than you. The hard-working rouler. The silky-smooth bomb descender. The enragingly effortless climber.. or in the Hells 500 crew’s case – the combination of all three with the added inspiring ultra endurance of rider Joel Nicholson. For us the association is not so much a case of etching in a new chapter in skilling-up, it’s re-writing the book. Push yourself by riding with someone better, and the worst that will happen is you'll learn a thing or two*. Get the inside running on how he approaches ultra-endurance riding both mentally and physically at Endless Revolutions (http://endlessrevolutions.wordpress.com/). <br />
*and possibly a couple of new and inventive ways to suffer.
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  • Summer stats don’t lie: Last summer the Hells crew teamed up with The Climbing Cyclist in a series designed to cast a little light on why climbing hills can be so enjoyable. Cyclists are constantly surrounded by stats – and our post-series summary was no different. Presenting to you, the 7 Peaks Domestic Series – in numbers.<br />
<br />
Over 4 months we:<br />
- Presented 12 testing mountain ride options<br />
- Pounded 959 individual stamps onto 7 Peaks passports<br />
- On average joined a rather social 77 riders per event<br />
- Collectively (and casually) punched out more than 45,000 kilometres in the bumpy High Country<br />
- Cracked out more than one million vertical metres (!)<br />
- Delivered 170+ riders to the awaiting sausage sizzle at Lake Mountain<br />
- On one ride proudly welcomed more than 50 women, who then proceeded to ‘chick’ riders left, right, and centre<br />
- Landed the biggest group on Baw Baw outside of the classic. Twice.<br />
- Had our amazing volunteers pour over 500 litres of quenching Emma & Toms juice down your gullets<br />
- Kept the bonking (relatively) at bay with more than 2,000 Winners Bars, Gels, and Chews handed out<br />
- Argued over the most worthy recipients of 65 Cycling Express vouchers, one set of wheels, a cracking merino top, a full cycling wardrobe, and a bunch of other sweet prizes<br />
- Had a video shot at Buffalo which will form part of a Tourism Vic campaign, and a video shot at Baw Baw that was picked up by the cycling show ‘2 better than 4’ (subsequently shown in more than 65 countries)<br />
- Were joined by a bunch of domestic and international professional riders - including a kiwi lad by the name of Hendo currently cutting The Big Lap of France.<br />
<br />
Those stats are great – but it’s the friendships, fresh riding buddies, new Strava nemeses, and *ahem* even a romance that we are most proud of.<br />
<br />
See you in 2013/14.
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  • The trade winds: “We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails” – Bertha Calloway. Both coxswain and master, a rider must always observe conditions with the curious eye of opportunity. A squall to some is a windfall to others – the trade winds providing mixed fortune. Toe the line, analyse your opponents, and take on the cut of their jib – for throwing three sheets to the wind is all above board when it comes to taking the plunder.
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  • Brisk dismissed: The forward propelling pawl of stubborn pride is the key to driving a stake through the dark heart of a black winter. Anticipation of an inevitable bone-raking cold descent requires a mental fortitude long forgotten in the heady scent of spring. And that descent will come. Fingers seek futile refuge behind tiny levers while deep breaths control the worst of the rigors. A hazy memory of operable toes compete with flushed burning ears for the prize of immediate attention. And as the glove wring dry, and icy fingers fumble with impossible buckle clasps, a crack of a smile appears through the foggy numbness of the post-ride buzz. Welcome to The Winter.
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  • Solus: "...the route traced a slow curve - heading away from the granite tors, making a gentle arc toward the foothills. Every crest revealed new countryside, every crossroad a promising distraction in all directions. It was a solo ride for the soul. It was solus." Maus [abridged]. With the change of seasons proper, it's time to discover. New routes, new rides, new directions. It is the season for adventure.
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  • Those chattering teeth: Cassette cogs chatter, click and whir mechanically under the strain of a pained load – driving and meshing and propelling forward. The intricacy of its simplicity is the key to its beauty, those chattering teeth.
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  • Motivation: No bones about it, Sunday's epic will hurt. While our riders chart out a previously unridden route, our brains will be mapping fresh neural pathways to more efficiently deliver pain. We have trained our bodies to withstand the physical trauma, and now switch to mentally preparing for the dark moments that will invariably come. We seek a source of motivation.
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  • Substance: There is something unique about a rider who has mettle, yet doesn't wear it pinned to his chest. In a sport of front, dominated by flashy bikes and garish personalities it is refreshing to see quiet efficiency in practice. We all know and see these riders, and at the cafe when talk turns to respect - it's them that everyone agrees on. There is a place for understatement in cycling, and we need to make it as big and brash as possible.
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  • Alone in Company: The chatter long since stopped, replaced with the clatter, click and whir of teeth biting chain, and man chewing tape. In company - but alone with the rush and pound of an earful of heartbeat and a slippery fistful of lever.
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  • Peaks and Troughs: This cycling life is one of peaks and troughs. The key is to not concern yourself with temporary form slumps – any seasoned vet will teach you that this is something to roll with, and to just get on with things. Pick a ‘ride for the soul’ and cleanse yourself. Take a moment to remind yourself why you ride – it will only lead you slowly to your next peak.
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  • Glimpses: It's an insight into the little things. When the sun is sitting just right, loose legs are ticking over, the conversation revolves around the next bakery treat, and the cicadas provide an everlasting soundtrack.
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  • Hells 500 Mount Baw Baw Bunch
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