CityCycle Assault on Mt Coot-tha

I've got to be the first to admit it.  The CityCycles are a fascinating machine.  As heavy as a tank, similarly armoured and with a three speed gear chain.  And if the brightly coloured safety yellow wheel spat isn't enough, they are festooned with beacons to announce your arrival.  

Then Doc started the conversation on how fast they could go and we got to hypothesising and concluded that with a three speed gear system, optimised for an armoured bicycle, on the street, high speed could only be obtained through the use of a decline.  And when it got around to declines suited to bicycles, then the only destination in Brisbane is Mt Coot-tha!  

So there it was, could anyone ride a CityCycle up Mt Coot-tha?  Would anyone ride a CityCycle up Mt-Coot-tha, simply to see how fast they could go down? Lord knows, it's tough enough getting up there on a road bike.

But now, every time I saw Coot-tha it beckoned like a beacon, daring, tempting and challenging, to see how fast a CityCycle could descend.

At 10 AM on 30 July I found myself at Tank St, picking out some CityCycles with Doc to use for our carefully planned assault on Mt Coot-tha.  Today was the day were going to ride 'Coot-tha' to put to rest the worry that you could die wondering;...or die trying.

As always cheap was the objective so we staged at the old West End Milk Factory and made those final critical adjustments that would serve for the next 18 KM

 And we were off, with the speed of a CityCycle planning to conserve energy on the way.  Coursing over the Go Between Bridge we were overtaken on the uphill run by a Cadel inspired lycra clad, carbon jockey.  As we discussed his speed, newness of his kit and the fact we were gaining on the down hill run, and how funny it would be to slipstream him, his partner went past.  Similarly clad and also astride a carbon steed.  

With no further encouragement, or thought, we were off with the speed of a robber's dog.  Two CityCycles slipstreaming two carbon bikes on the Bicentennial Bikeway.  The carbon jockeys, bent over, head down, tails up, teeth gritted and pedals spinning.  Right behind we were, bolt upright, glowing lights, on armoured bikes cruising leisurely. Peletons of cyclists going in the opposite direction flashed past in a blur of colour.

Life was good, the sun was shining and the scenery was flashing by.  Good time was being made and on a CityCycle, time is money.  At least it is after 30 minutes.

About 2 Kms down the Bicentennial one of the carbon jockeys turned to his partner to speak and that's when he noticed us glued to their back wheels.  A filthy look ensured and they slowed, pulled to the side and let us past.

And on to Mt Coot-tha.

With the exception of a jogger yelling OMG I see someone riding a hire bike the trip to the base of Mt Coot-tha was relatively un-eventful.

Stopping at the base of the Mt was necessary, not because we were tired, not because of the lactic acid and not because we were out of breath.  We stopped in the long established traditions of all those mountaineers climbing their own Everest, to establish a Base Camp.

Unlike Everest, at Base Camp, the shortness of breath disappeared, the lactic acid was reduced and we stopped feeling tired.

Last drinks - water; and then the climb started 3rd gear was dropped to 2nd and 2nd was dropped to 1st and we plodded and plodded, marvelling at the view across Brisbane as we ascended toward Bicycle Heaven where we would eventually reach some kind of nirvana.

Bus after bus overtook us on the ascent.  It was remarkable the number of buses going up the Mt on a Saturday morning.  Eventually the lower gear ratios, coupled with the weight of the bikes, linked to the age of the cyclists, compounded by the training regime, we discovered two critical facts.  

1. Talking about it does not constitute training;
2. How pushbikes came to be called pushbikes.

And so we proceeded, eventually remounting and ascending further and further into the Heavens.  

At the halfway mark we passed a radar trap, positioned to capture unsuspecting motorists, or cyclists exceeding the 50 KmH speed limit.

The officer manning it clearly enjoyed his work, greeting us cheerfully and wanting to know what it was like to ride a CityCycle up Mt Coot-tha?

We were unanimous in our views that we could think of better things to be doing on a Saturday morning.  So why were we doing it?  Not having the heart to tell him it was to see how fast we could go downhill we explained it just seemed like a good idea about half an hour ago.

And we pedalled on. Up and up, now wondering if a CityCycle could exceed 50 KmH? and if getting a speeding ticket on a CityCycle would qualify for some sort of hall of fame entry?

Finally, gasping and wheezing, lungs turned inside out, legs complaining we arrived at the final intersection

Unfortunately, there we interrupted a tender moment between a young couple.  He, proudly standing upright in front of the turn off sign with his trusty road bike, splendidly decked in lycra, posing, both fists up in triumph as his partner who had obviously driven there was taking photos to prove his prowess.

For the second time that day we greeted with an "Oh My God!" followed by "Look at what those old guys have ridden up here on?" Ego deflated, he vacated the scene and we were able to take a CityCycle photo opportunity.

And then it was on to the last 100 metres through the carpark to the top of Coot-tha.

We took in the views, took in some water, took in lots of air and then it was time.  Our destiny awaited.  The descent was in front of us. With GPS strapped to the basket and no further fanfare we were off!

Around the bus stop past the carpark, through the give way sign and away!  Faster and faster, the GPS speed increased alarmingly.  Pedalling no longer had any effect.  The speed was far faster than ever intended for the top gear.  Between the vibrations in the basket and the jarring of my teeth I could read the numerals on the GPS and was calling them out to Doc, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57; past the spot where that radar trap was.  Good no radar trap now.  The bike was surprisingly stable.  I arched back and crouched down, (just like Cadel going down hill) and the speed increased, faster and faster finally with the stop sign at the bottom of the Mt. approaching it hit 63 KmH!  A new CityCycle speed record. 

Vigorous braking meant the back wheel kept bouncing off the ground but finally a stop was achieved.

Another run past the Botanic Gardens hit 60 KmH and then it was time for a leisurely cruise, down the Bicentennial Bikeway and to check in at the bike station at the Old Milk Factory.

I'm hoping that no one will insist that speed should be measured in both directions then averaged to claim a record.