It is the early morning in a small outpost, some 20km from the city’s centre.
This far out it sometimes feels that I’m in a different province to those who dwell in the centre, I get a different local environment update to them, despite no local observations thanks to to the smart physicists and their climate and environmental maps.
It is already 30 degrees Celsius at and the sun has been over the horizon for barely an hour, given how the environmental management system struggled yesterday in the heat to cool our rooms, it does not bode well for today’s top of over 40 degrees. As I wait for the morning coffee from the machine I check the food stores, I am low.
A supply run is needed, I start making a list.
I must prepare myself.
Despite being so early in the morning I check the local environmental report for the day: The radiation index is almost off the charts, with risk of smoke from fires in other districts, and the temperature means I must act quickly, some days in the hot season shoes can melt to the ground.
This environment is not what it used to be, while while humanity has claimed to bend this world to us, I would call that a lie. We have corrupted it immeasurably in the name of convenience and sterility, and in doing so have started this planet on a journey for climate change that can’t be stopped. While normally we are protected outside from the local star’s harmful radiation by a layer in the atmosphere, production districts have belched harmful emissions that have stripped this layer from the continent.
There is also a local heatwave in the district, exacerbated by ‘heat islands’ caused from the culling of local vegetation that would shield the ground level from the worst of the star’s heat and radiation.
Coupling this with a viral outbreak planet wide (Some say it escaped from a research centre? Or maybe we just got unlucky eating the local wildlife), a supply run is not the cakewalk it used to be.
To stop the radiation, I don special clothes that don’t transmit it through to my skin, and what sections of my body I can’t clothe, I coat in a special cream that temporarily blocks it. I have a long loose hat and glasses too, to protect my vulnerable neck and eyes, all certified by local labs as helping reduce the radiation risk, but never as keeping me safe.
These clothes also protect me from the worst of the star’s heat, but I plan a route that shields me from the worst of it.
Finally I select a mask, it won’t protect me fully against the virus, neither will the numerous vaccinations. But they will help reduce the spread and keep me from suffering the worst of the effects, and I am grateful for that.
As I exit the door to the outpost, I put on my mask and check my data pad for the list once more.
Bread
Milk
Eggs
Toilet Paper
It is December, 2021 and I walk to the grocery store.
Written in the company of Jo in a noisy inner city cafe
Summer
The Unrelenting heat
Waking to the 5am sun
Sunburn,
Slip Slop Slap
The still mornings
Smell of bush fire smoke
The sickly pale green and bleached light brown of a land without moisture
The smell of dry bush land, and hot concrete
The stinging of sunscreen in the eyes
Sweat
Cicadas
Stillness of noon
The refuge of shade
Oppressive dry heat
Loose clothing
Long sleeves
Short Shorts
Big hats
Sunglasses
Parking with the windows down
Plastics Melting
Too hot to grip the steering wheel
Aircon always on maximum
The chink of ice in a glass
That first gulp of cold water
Cold brew coffee
Ice cream from the van melting too quickly to eat
The beach
The cacophony of thongs flip flopping along
The sand burning your feet
Sea salt and sunscreen
Cheap beers buried in the sand
Running to the water
The crashing of waves
Salt water up the nose
Leaping off the pontoon
Smiling with friends
Fish and chips on the grass
Afternoons on the verandah
Watching a summer storm roll in
Sticky humidity
Thunder
Smell of rain
The Freo Doctor
The late sunsets
A home never cool
The drone of a fan on the highest setting, as it sweeps around the room.
Sleeping without a blanket
The quick cold shower right before bed
Too hot to sleep
Too hot to think
Summer
I didn’t always know you were the one. My soul searching led me far and wide to search for a pair of commuting panniers. My relationship with the last pair was soured within a year of buying them. Their carrying capacity not nearly enough for the rigours of the weekly grocery and grog run, and how they almost fell off on bumpy roads and paths.
It wasn’t an easy search. Upon finding you I was taken aback at your cost, oh I knew you were prestigious, hard working, and durable you were but I didn’t appreciate as much as I should have while looking for my next panniers. I searched high and low for a set like you but without the price tag to no avail. Not even your second hand colleagues were worth buying, with many of them still either too expensive or too far gone.
Dejected I walked into my final store having found no alternative, the store that held you. I picked you up, admiring your red and black structure, your bulletproof PVC finish and your gargantuan volume. My wallet much lighter than intended I walked out proudly holding you.I realised midway through my first grocery and grog run why everyone loves you and how I did too. You held all my groceries, beer and had room left over to stash whatever else I could find. The very straps that helped make you waterproof also made you a breeze to carry off the bike. Your securing mechanism is second to none in both security and ease of mounting. You’ve carried my belongings, groceries and camping gear through winter storms, scorching summers and everything in between.
At one point in everyone’s life (Well anyone worth speaking about), the N+1 rule hits and they buy another bicycle. This purchase falls into one of two categories:
1: A carefully thought out purchase which has been budgeted for, planned for and all relevant parties have been consulted with throughout the entire process. This is usually followed by the selling of another bicycle.
2: A late night booze aided gumtree binge search, usually for some bike style you’ve ever owned before, you go out having consulted no one (especially your partner) and with a fist full of cash. This bicycle will have will have one or more of the following characteristics:
a: Be far too expensive (But still such a steal compared to buying new)
b: Super sketchy (Freshly painted, little history from the owner, possibly stolen)
c: Either broken or soon to be broken.
We here at Mymumthinksimcool don’t really like to talk about people who undertake number 1, so we shall lump them in with people who don’t ever own more than one bike at a time (Unless they give free beer, then they can be redeemed).
Do a number 2 if you ever get the chance (hehehehehe), yes you’ll be eating noodles and rice for a week. But you never know, the bike might end up as your favourite. It did for me. In fact I hit all 3 of the characteristics with my Masi singlespeed, I paid way too much, broke the back wheel within 2 months and has had half the components replaced for one reason or another. Due to the paint beyond being a Masi I have no idea what it really is, and I don’t really care. The drivetrain cracks and clicks no matter how much money I throw at it (And so far at over double the price I bought it for). But with over a thousand k’s in 6 months down I have no regrets, except that I didn’t buy it sooner. This bike has propelled me down deserted streets at night on my way home, been laden down with shopping bags and parked anywhere and everywhere without fear or concern. If I’m out in the city for a few drinks you can guarantee I’ll be riding this bike home.
After all, if anything goes wrong I can always buy another one right?
You too can own a shitty bike like this for way more than it is worth!
You didn’t take much notice at first, the presence of dirty hiking packs and dusty chalk bags. Pantry stuffed with musli bars and dehydrated food. Everyone has to have a hobby right?
You didn’t take much notice at first, the presence of dirty hiking packs and dusty chalk bags. Pantry stuffed with musli bars and dehydrated food. Everyone has to have a hobby right?
Wrong.
You didn’t realise that it could ever be like ‘this’.
Instead of dreaming about cute dinner dates or trips to new cities, they dream of the next bike tour or 48 hour hiking trip. They don’t want earrings or fancy clothes, but rather budget rending climbing harnesses or yet another stove and cooking set, each one lighter than the previous. You may have noticed a difference in behaviour as well. They seem content to make a meal entirely of easy mac and cuppa soups (Or just block of cheese). Their idea of relaxing is a ‘short’ loop of the local mountain bike trail, or to camp out without even so much as a tent. Finally; for them the best beer comes in the following order: free, then cold.
Don’t lose hope.
You can do something about this, much like a heavy smoker or alcoholic, a total withdrawal will not work, in order for a successful reintegration into non outdoors enthusiast society the best approach is to gain their trust. Take the odd fishing trip with them, buy a mountain bike and join them on a few trails. This way you can learn to think like them, get into their mind and understand why they enjoy spending so much time in nature. Drop in your new knowledge on their hobbies in conversation, revel in the new connection you both form.
The nest step is to suggest that maybe spending the entirety of their annual leave living out of a tent hiking through the bushland without regular bathing could be instead substituted with a trip to a caravan park and nice day walks. This might be met with resistance, which is to be expected. The best approach is to negotiate a total compromise in which you are dragged on the next major trip. In preparation for this a good training aid is to each week blend a large wad of cash then get beaten up. The pain and lack of financial security is very much like what an outdoors enthusiast experiences.
The big difference between what you feel and they do is that in some sadistic way, they enjoy it. That feeling of waking up fresh is not enough, they want sore muscles, calloused hands, scraped shins. They enjoy picking thorns out of their shoes and socks for weeks. For them, they don’t just enjoy the high of doing what they do, they enjoy the suffering from it even afterwards.
Upon your return to civilisation, flushing toilets and consistent mobile phone coverage, rejoice in the fact that they too suffered through the same experiences. Just bear in mind what you see as a way to connect with them to withdraw them from their ‘addiction’, is to them a sign that you want to do more of this.
So when Christmas rocks around, don’t be surprised if instead of getting that latest movie, tech gadget, you instead are gifted a harness, hiking boots, a bicycle (Usually worth more than your car) or any other of the myriad of gear and books and maps that are used by the outdoors enthusiast.
And well, if you’ve just been gifted all of this, you might as well use it right?
I’ve always been a bit of a gear whore. I can’t help it. I like nifty pieces of kit. As a result I found myself one day standing in an outdoors store faced with a dilemma. Do I delve into the world of Bivvi’s?
What a fucking stupid question of course that’s a yes.
I didn’t need one straight away, I’m mid way through the university semester so I’m not camping (Which sucks). So away I go on my phone like every other millennial and one week and a botched delivery (Eat a dick Australia Post) later I’m holding in my hand possibly the smallest piece of survival kit I’ve ever seen. The product in question is the SOL Emergency Bivvi, purchased from www.boardworld.com.au for around $24 aud, way cheaper than anywhere else I’d seen them. Having had a chance to use it in place of my quilt and sheets twice I’m going to deliver my initial thoughts on this, this isn’t a full review and I as of yet haven’t done an overnighter in it yet, so be warned.
Stowed away when initially delivered it is a tiny package
Size: This is a truly small package, stowed up it is smaller than my clenched fist in the supplied bag, yet when unwrapped it is big enough to fit me in from head to toe. Not only is it long but it is wide too, being approximately 2m by 0.9m. While we all know that when we receive the product it never packs up as tight, SOL has thought of that and the bag will fit it even if roughly stuffed in.
Yet when unfurled it is huge.
Material: This is where the best and worst parts of the bivvi are. It uses a polyethlyne material, which is both lightweight with a reflective coating on the inside keeps the heat where it is needed. The outside has a reflective orange coating which would prove useful if in an actual emergency scenario. Where it does lack however is in breathability. Snuggled in it for an hour revealed that condensation did start to appear on the inside walls, the material does not breathe so you will need to accept this. SOL does acknowledge this and there is a bigger version that is breathable, but it is also costlier and heavier. The material to the hand is soft and has some give in it. SOL does say if you tear or puncture it, duct tape will be an acceptable fix which is good to hear.
Build: The seams and edges of the bivvi are sealed quite well, and while I haven’t had the chance to test it in poor weather I am confident that it will have an acceptable level of water resistance (Just not around the big opening where you stick your body in). Just bear in mind the material is rather thin, it won’t stand up to repeat abuse. It certainly is not something to use for an end to end on the Bib or a month out in the wilderness. Rather it is a last resort item, or something to use as a novelty. For that purpose it is pretty good, just remember the limitations.
Would I buy it again?
Yes.
Would I want to use it in the field?
I’m certainly going to try at least once. But from my limited testing, this is more designed for survival over comfort. This is an excellent gift for that someone that has lacking navigational abilities or is one of those sadistic super ultralight hikers.
Thanks for reading and I’ll see you out on the trails!
Yes, you. The one sitting phone in hand, or on your laptop, maybe even hunched over a desktop. Spring is finally here (Although as I write this, winter is lashing out one more time). Yes the cyclocross season is over. But as a consolation it does get warmer and less muddier. This is conducive I’ve found to my beer drinking, fish and chip intake and bike riding.
So I’m setting you all a challenge: Ride your bike more. That marvelous self powered contraption sitting disused in the corner of your garage is not just a dust accumulator, it is also a cheap form of transport and an excellent way to exercise and have fun. It is widely known Citation Needed that riding your bike more makes you enjoy it and want to ride more. Yes it is one of those slippery slopes.
This is not a bad slippery slope.
This is like a massive home made waterslide down a hill that is slathered not in dishwashing liquid but nostalgia, beer and fun.
It is a good slope, it can only end in fun, although exercise is a side product.
Here’s a short list of things you can do on your bike over this spring and summer:
Ride your bike through your neighborhood and explore all the side streets.
Ride your bike fast
Ride slow
Ride in traffic
Ride in the cycle lane laughing as you overtake stationary traffic.
Use it to go to the shops
Use it to go to a cafe for coffee
Cycle to the beach
Mount a speaker to it and rock out as you ride.
Take it to a mountain bike trail that it is not at all appropriate for, then ride the trail.
Ride it at night
Race busses
Ride with friends
Ride alone
Ride to your local bike shop
Ride it to work or place of study
Ride up hills
Ride down the other side going whee!
Enjoy not paying for petrol when you cycle everywhere
Ride to your bottle shop and buy a beer, then ride somewhere else and drink it
Let’s all try and ride more this summer, yes the Internet is great and fun to explore, but the outside world is even better.
Rock on guys, and remember: Your Mum thinks you’re cool.
What to expect when you suck at being fast, but still want to try.
I’ve spent the best part of 2 years now as a ‘cyclist’. One of those people. Darting into gaps in traffic, not paying for fuel or parking when commuting to work and uni. It felt goooood. But, me being me decided that wasn’t enough. So while procrastinating the mountain of assignments a few months ago I found myself looking for a form of racing someone who sucks at fitness and has a hybrid can get into. Road racing was out, no drop bars and a desire to not spend money on a new bike was strong, with work slowing down and the need for assignments to be completed piling up. I could have tried mountain biking, I’d been lapping up the articles by Drunk Cyclist and it really seemed cool, again however I was unsure if had the right bike again, plus the drive out to the events can be long.
I needed to look at a style that I could do on my commuting hybrid, shitty front suspension that only slowed me down, with room for tyres too wide for racing, but too narrow for mountain biking. And so I found myself one evening looking at a video on cyclocross.
So for people like you and I, what is cyclocross?
It is a form of racing, with many considerations for skill, experience, fitness and bike type. You race on a circuit that is predominantly grass, dirt, gravel and sand with muddy sections as well. These circuits are typically 1-3 km in length and have a wide range of course conditions, from fast sweeping bends to technical narrow sections to areas so sandy you need to dismount and carry your bike.
Having thought I’d gained an idea of what to expect I began searching around for local clubs and organizations that made these races. I was in luck. While down here in the western part of Australia there isn’t a big cycling culture in general, there is a small cyclocross culture. Checking out forums and the pages I was a little intimidated I’ll admit. People were talking and trading bikes worth more than my previous cars, there were discussions on how to tackle this and that. Not to mention the copious quantities of lycra. Still, I wasn’t going to learn about this from Facebook, so while taking a break from exam study I found myself signing up for a trial membership to Mountain Bikes Australia in order to enter round 3 of the Numbat Cup. The entry fee was cheap, $20 with taxes which gave me one race in C class, and as many practice laps as I could fit in beforehand.
I was excited.
Unsure.
Scared.
Would I suck?
(Definitely)
Would I crash and hurt myself?
(Possibly)
Would the worst happen and my bike break?
(Hopefully not).
I’m glad that my girlfriend was there to tell me to go on. I was excited, but a little scared of doing something I’ve never done before. So in the days leading up to it I swallowed any sense of self doubt and turned my mind to preparing my bike, ignoring the possibility of total and utter failure.
My bicycle is a Trek Dual Sport 8.2, a cheap entry level hybrid which when I bought was the coolest thing ever. I’ve since learned it isn’t. After chewing out a drivetrain I decided to upgrade to something not total crap in the vain hopes of it lasting longer. Since buying it I’d also kitted it out for commuting; puncture resistant wide road tyres, trip computer, bike pump, rear pannier rack and a saddle bag for tools and spares. Most of that was stripped off in the half hearted aim of reducing weight, however the process was more analogous to cleaning shit off a statue, I didn’t do much in reality but it looked better. My wallet being a little thin meant that for tyres I was struggling. I didn’t want to invest another $80-$100 for new tyres that I might only use once so I used the ‘most aggressive tyres I can find in the back yard’ strategy, stripping some off a broken bike I had lying around. (It actually turns out this was a fantastic strategy)
Before I knew it race day had arrived. The bike was in the back of my car and armed with a thermos of coffee I set out at the crack of dawn north to the park where the race was held. I arrived to find only a few people there, and a trailer full of what I presumed to be course making supplied waiting to get into the park. After making introductions I was paired with another Andrew, a veteran of a few seasons to go and build part of the course. Having no clue what was in stock I found my shoes soaked through as I trudged through grassland and bushland trying to understand the course I’d be laying as the morning reluctantly started to warm up. Before long we the course started to take shape and I began to realize the monstrosity of the task ahead. Jumping on my bike I got to try my hand at navigating the course as kids crossed over left and right, and I was being overtaken by the more professional riders and determined kids alike.
‘This is going to suck’
‘Oh well, no one ever got good or had amazing stories from sitting around all day, let’s get my race on’
And then there I was, at the start line, as far back as I could go without being conspicuous. C grade it it seems has a lot more competitive riders than I thought. As the starting whistle blew I was left in the dust of the 30 something other riders in my class and we all came up the first hill. I spent the first lap trying to pace myself, this was a half an hour race so I had to do the best I could and not die at the end of lap one.
One thing that I didn’t realize was the hand ups. To a slow struggling rider like myself this was a gift from god. Pedaling through the timing box each rider is offered an ‘electrolyte drink’ for hydration. Only it was beer. The most glorious and magnificent of substances. For that second lap I grabbed the cup, directing as much of the marvelous contents into my mouth as I could between my ragged gasps for breath before crushing and throwing the container down to put the power on for a second lap. My only hopes at this stage was not to be dead last (I was 3rd last wooo!) and to not stack it in the muddy sections, which had almost claimed a rider on the previous lap. Despite what my facial expression indicated I was starting to like the race, it was fun, people were cheering and the handups meant you didn’t need to be serious about it. What I didn’t realise is that whatever lap you are on after the 30 minutes is the last lap.
Bad news for me, I’d just entered my third lap a few minutes before the cutoff time.
Good news, I still wasn’t last, having overtaken some kid half my size on the start-finish straight, gaining a spot (WOOOO). And being realistic, one more lap of pure suck is nothing really, I was already slow so couldn’t go slower, the mud and sand would soon be over and I could collapse in a heap and regret this terrible choice.
And just like that, I was done, 40 something minutes after being left behind at the start line I was now crossing the finish line. Panting and wheezing, I hobbled over to my stuff and collapsed in a heap. After I managed to stop wheezing and panting I decided to celebrate by admiring the small pile of mud my bike had accumulated as I munched down on a sausage sizzle, the most Australian of foods. And them something happened, the frown I had had for most of the race was slowly replaced with a smile, then a grin. I had done it! My first ever race over! Yes I was terrible, but I wasn’t last and had only crashed one time (In practice) so that was a double win.
Hello muddy bike
So to my readers wondering if they should give cyclocross a go, I say do it! You don’t need a fancy bike, lycra or even be super competitive. It has a fantastic community that supports each other, with fun at the core. Not everyone is out there for medals so people are really chill and able to help you where possible. You won’t be miserable.
That’s gonna be the last from me, I’m off to go clean my bike (I’m just going to admire the mud and leave on what won’t break it).
My Mum Thinks I'm Cool 