Off the Grid – Darien Gap
WOW, that’s a banger! Lucas Brunelle again produced an absolutely amazing video, riding with Chas of Mash SF between Columbia and Panama.
2014 HoBootleg GEO @ Darien Gap
A new chapter begins with GEO, the ultimate adventure-bike for the offroad travel, which will take you where no one has before. Tested and refined crossing the incredible Darien Gap, the most secluded jungle on the earth, between Columbia and Panama, where the Pan-American road stops.
Ridden by Lucas Brunelle and Chas Christiansen, the GEO is the latest evolution of the Cinelli Bootleg adventure bikes line, expanding the travel-experience also to the off-road lands.
Lucas Brunelle is the world-famous filmmaker who introduced the first-person point-of-view shooting technique in cycling races thanks to his great riding skills and the innovative helmet-integrated cameras-system with which is filming and reporting the most extreme race contests all over the globe since more than ten years.
Chas Christiansen, 100% pure San Francisco, is one of the top riders of the Cinelli Mash Team, iconic figure of the fixed-gear culture, always on the highest steps of Criteriums, Alleycats and Cyclo-Cross Single-Speed races and podiums.
For more info about HoBootleg concept and bicyle please visit
cinelli.it
bootleg.it
Red Hook Criterium Barcelona n2
Red Hook Crit Championship Series held the second edition in Barcelona last Saturday 30th August and we were there to enjoy it. This event is promoted by Trimble Racing and is the main race on track bikes worldwide. The following lines are the story and the experience of our team, Good Times Roll Racing Team. Everything started back on January 2014 by a group of friends, our main of objective was taking part at the European locations of this Championship and so we did!
About the event: David Trimble and all his team are making a superb job with this race. It is not just the 40 minutes of racing, it is everything around, the result of working really hard on the idea that everyone should have a great time. It is all about building a community that meets every now and then at some different location over the world. In Barcelona almost all the riders stayed at a huge hostel – already arranged by the organization- which made really easy to meet people for riding the city the days before and get to know more riders. A super cool pre-party was arranged with our friends from Dosnoventa at their headquarters and finally they selected another really suitable place for the race’s post-party, with plenty of room for each of the 250 riders and friends willing to attend.
Enjoying was exactly what we did the days before; we had some great time rolling on the main avenues of the city and along the harbor. Barceloneta, the old fishermen’s district, was our second home since one of the main meeting points was the shop and workshop Barceloneta Bikes (thanks for the last time bike checks). There was also a track day organized by Pista BCN at the Olympic velodrome, we were so sorry that we missed it, it was the same day of our arrival, but we have heard it was a blast. We are pretty amazed how all the main players within the Fixed Gear community in the city organized themselves to provide help and activities on what they know doing best.
All pics by Constantin Gerlach
Returning to what it is all about: the race. For our recently built team it was a learning experience, most of all. The odds of cashing are really high, this race is physical, but you need to save some energy to think and control your environment to minimize the possibilities of touching the hard and rough floor, and we learnt that. Nils crashed in the qualifications and got to the Last Chance race. He couldn’t make it, but he had a terrific experience on a real race environment. Sam and Carlos got to the start group, in the middle-back part though. The truth is, if you get into the group where the fastest guys are, it is easier for an average rider to get a better position, in the first qualification groups you are on your own to get your fastest lap.
The start bell rang and Carlos got from the 64th place to near the 50th just in the first 50m and got the way to the middle group. Sam started at the 55th and jumped on his back to pass him as soon as it was possible. Some laps later a terrible mess of bikes stood on the floor of one of the fastest corners, Sam got over it but a rider besides him could not and pushed him to the safety-fence, their race was over. No excuses, next time Sam would be more cautious!
Carlos continued in the middle group on a comfortable speed and stayed there for the whole race, with Tommasso Nolli tired of carrying the pressure of making pace, he neutralized one of the most dramatic cuts in that group, again caused by another crash. He finished the race on 45th position. On the last laps some warning flags were raised, it really got the whole group a little bit confused, slowing down the pace, then the buzz of the motorbike in the back created a tense moment in the very last lap.
Finally, about the race format, combining all the pieces to build a race enjoyed by the fans and the crowd; where pros, amateurs and newcomers could have their own race experience is definitely not an easy thing and the Red Hook has made it. I am just wondering which will be the format designs for future events, the start-line is getting full of pros (Edit: by PRO we mean people performing on a superior level, not the common meaning of a “professional” making a living from cycling) right now that is a teaser for the less trained riders but could end up being a downer after some editions.
Congratulations to all the participants and specially to the winners Julio Padilla and Ainara Elbusto.
We would like to end up this review, sending our greetings to people who were there with us in one way or another: Constantin Gerlach Photography, Barceloneta Bikes, Dosnoventa, Mianzi Rei, Alex Kummer, Steffan Shot (8Bar) , FixedPott guys and finally David Trimble, the organization team and the volunteers.
Our sponsors for this adventure: Relentless Energy Drink, Bagaboo Bags, Maxxis Fahrrad Reifen (Germany), 8Bar, Giro New Road (Germany), NHTC Tattoo, SM-Parts, Chimpanzee Bars.
All pics in this review were made by Constantin Gerlach. Thanks bro!
Let the Good Times ROLL!!
Pax Avant – By Donny Lewis
Im Juni fand die zweite Austragung des von Orbea organisierten Pax Avant Rennens statt. Ein Ausdauer Rennen das unter anderem wie folgt angekündigt wurde:”Dieses Rennen wird deinen Körper und Geist auspressen. Ein Rennen, bei dem sich die Feiglinge nicht anmelden und die schwachen aufgeben werden.” Das texanische Top Model Donny Lewis nahm sich der Herausforderung an, festgehalten wurde sein qualvoller Ritt von Yorick Carroux. Donnys Eindrücke zum Rennen findet ihr im folgenden, weitere Fotos hier.
“When I was first asked if I would be interested in taking part in the Pax Avant it took no convincing. I was game. It seemed like a wonderful idea, a beautiful ride and a good time. From the first, there was always the thought that I would have a few words to go along with the ride. There is of course the wonderful story of the Pax Avant, the historical event from which the event takes its name. Feel free to look that up for yourself, this small bit of time will not be used going over the events of the distant past. My desire is to tell the story or the recent past. What just occurred that perhaps has changed me for the better, only time will tell.
As you arrive in Isaba, where the race was to depart, you get a feel for what it is to climb these mountains. The small winding roads leading ever further up and into the sparsely populated area. You pass an old walled town with the towers of the castle still on view but not a soul in sight, it has been abandoned. Left and deserted, slightly broken, but still standing are those walls. They still stand as a monument made by man. The wall will one day fall, but these mountains will be here as long as the earth continues to turn and make its journey around the sun. You can see, just across from the abandoned town, the beautiful lake Yasa, the color is some shade of turquoise that seems from a dream. It too is man made just like the walls of the abandoned castle, there is even another ancient town buried beneath the water. The sense that there is something special going on keeps growing inside you as we approached the hotel.
Once inside, we were greeted by, and, introduced to, the staff for Orbea. All of them extremely busy, but smiling and happy to pass a moment with you. Discussing whatever comes to your mind before hustling off to the many duties that need to be preformed to pull off a function of this size, in this place. We had arrived around lunch time so had a typical local style lunch in the hotel. Salad, beans, and choice of meat. From there to check the bike and get it “fit” properly. (More on this later as I learned a lesson or two by the end of the event)! The sign-in, (which I forgot but thankfully had taken care of for me), and then the receipt of your number. The fitting of the number on your machine, for me the first time I ever put on a number before a ride. Then the dinner and off to bed. It is an early breakfast at 6am before the depart at 8 the next morning.
As I laid in bed, excitement building, all of the happy busy faces of the staff ran through my head. I counted those smiles like sheep as I drifted off to sleep. The next morning, after a large breakfast of potato omelet and as much coffee as it is possible to imbibe. It was time to dress. Water bottles get mixed. Gels get counted and recounted, the pressure on the tires checked again, little nervous trips to the bathroom made. Then, click click, off to the start line.
It was a bit overwhelming for me, to see all of the people at the start. I was supposed to be out in the front, but was not aware of that until after it was over, so I sat back and soaked in the atmosphere. It was amazing to see the cross section of people it brought. There were of course the serious riders, the ones seeking a podium place in the distance that they chose. The club riders, out with their friends for a ride, a bit of pride on the line. Those like me, alone, more or less, trying to do something for the first time, or the fiftieth. The reasons for doing it only they know. Everyone, expectant in their own way. Even those of us that had no idea what to expect.
After watching a few hundred departures I thought, “Okay, its your turn”. There were so many ideas floating around in my head as we made the gentle climb out of Isaba along the river. Everyone chatting, mostly Spanish with a little Italian and some French thrown in there. As always with a mass start, (I have done a few charity rides and fun rides with large groups), I try to find a pilot fish, a rider I think I can trust to hold his line and seems to know what he is doing. They guy I picked was kitted up all in yellow and moving at a fair clip. We weaved through the crowd and along the winding roads in the wonderful morning cool. It was quickly apparent, however, that my warmers were not necessary. There was not a cloud in the sky and only bright warm sunshine on tap for the day. Not wanting to stop to remove clothing so soon after starting, I waited until the top of the first pass. This was my first mistake, of many, I made. The climbs on paper do not appear to be that difficult. Most have an average of around five percent for twenty kilometers or so. Difficult but doable even for a novice like myself, one that unfortunately did not get a chance to train as much as one should, for this type of undertaking. The average, which means nothing to your legs you learn that in very quick order, as it varies between pitches at just constant enough of a rate to make your slow to learn mind understand that it means nothing. Part of a climb may be only one percent, followed by a spike of seventeen. I opted out of the longest distance at the last moment, still thanking my guardian angel for that! The middle distance would prove to be a monumental task, even without overheating on the very first climb. Note to everyone, heat is not your friend in cycling. When I finally reached the top, I re-filled my water bottles removed my excess layers had a quick refuel of banana and was off again. That first decent saw a bit of carnage as overheated carbon rims popped the tire from the glue, tires without the proper pressure took punctures and a few people overcooked the turns. For my part, I made it through unscathed,physically, though with a mental note to take it easy on those descents.
The mood in the groups as they passed, either faster or slower, had changed drastically from that of the start line. It was much warmer now. There was still over one hundred kilometers to go with three more passes to cross. Not so much chatting at this point, even those of us that did not really know what to expect at the start could now see the suffering in our future. The ideas I had for a story about the most beautiful day on my bike. A story, half written already in my head, halfway up the first climb had started to change as well, even before I reached the top. As I looked at what lay before me, the re-writing began.
There is no longer a play by play of what went on located in my memory banks, I’ve looked. From the top of the second climb until the shower when it was all over, I have only impressions with a few clear moments.
As you climb you see streams of cold, snow melt water coming off the rocks. Each one more inviting than the last. You watch your fellow sufferers unclip and clack up the steep grades. You see the car pass with the sad faces of those that abandon. You keep climbing. Passing then a lake of an even richer, more vibrant, turquoise than the Yasa that just the day before seemed like a dream. Looking upon that lake, trying to etch this beauty in your brain as your legs scream at you, “ENOUGH”! Down again, up again. Cross the boarder to France. The final test just up ahead. Bottles are full but it is later now, and the heat has become intense. You see the sign telling you the distance and the grade you must traverse, no longer fooled by this, you pay it no attention. You will go up for as long as it takes. Be it at two percent, ten or twenty, it does not matter. Nothing matters anymore. It will all be a struggle and you know it. Smiling to yourself, (on the inside only so as not to waste the energy on such a silly gesture), you begin.
Here is where I learned why all the others that were riding on borrowed machines had spent a good deal longer getting theirs dialed in the day before the ride. The heat and the pressure causes that oft talked of “cable stretch”, on the new cables. You really should ride around for a while shifting like crazy the day before to get as much of that eliminated before attempting something like this. Too late, I noticed that the shifting was not very smooth. I was hoping it would continue to work until the end, just as I was hoping that I would last to the end. Then, the grade got steeper. Searching for a lighter gear as I went up, it happened. At first it just jumped a cog down. Cursing at the loss of momentum, I try again and it thankfully shifted that time, but no more. Riding along with three more gears on this eleven speed set up, they are of no use to me. I fight, churning up in anger. Standing, grinding, swaying and praying that the end will come. At a point where the grade thankfully decreased for a bit, I unclipped and kicked that derailleur and swung the lever popping it up to eleven. Now, at least, I could spin again, for a bit. It was still a single speed bike, but in a much more manageable gear allowing me to sit and ride. Still, even in the lightest gear, the temptation of the water along the side of the road, coming down in a cool stream, could not be resisted. I stopped, almost blind with spotty heat stained vision. I sat with my feet in the stream, helmet off, pouring cool water over my head, the kind of cool water that reminds you that God loves you, just at a moment when you fear you are in hell. As my vision cleared and I could again see clearly, and after an amount of time I do not know, I got back on the bike to continue the test of wills between me and this mountain. Only a couple of kilometers further up there was a water station. The photographer, thankfully, was able to adjust the derailleur, tightened it enough that at least I could finish the ride using all the gears. Though to be honest, at this point my legs were doing all they could to turn over the pedals in any gear.
Finally, at the top, there was a sign for the turn off for those doing the long ride. It indicated the way back down in order to tackle the way up yet again before heading home. I thanked my angel once again that the sign could be ignored by me. Then, saying a brief prayer for those making that turn, asking God to grant them strength, I made my turn taking the descent slowly so I could enjoy the view. As the decent continued and the feeling began to return, bit by bit, to my legs, I risked a smile on the outside.
The finish line was in sight, my thoughts of, “Why am I doing this”? slowly fading. Rolling through the finish line slowly up to the room. Blessed shower, rubbing down the legs. Still not sure its over. There were so many images and impressions running through my mind. To much to try to explain. Everyone asking me, “How was it”? Making answers, but mostly, just to say something. At that moment, I did not know how it was. It was hard. It was beautiful. Now, as I write this, two days away from the day of the start, the legs again itching for a ride, I can see it clearly. It was my most beautiful day on a bike.
D.”
