Brisbane's traditional Australia Day ride - Mt Nebo

The weather didn't look promising for a ride. The entire week it had been raining heavily, bringing back memories of last year's floods. Cranky moods and flying tempers weren't all that surprising.

My mobile, in vibration mode, made a sound like a fat fly on a glass window, zzzsssssssd, zzzsssssssd. The alarm clock showed 6am on the dot. John's text read "No major rain on the radar. Roads are still a little damp though." I knew he was angling for a flatter, easier ride with that dampness hint. Who knows when it started, or why, but Mt Nebo is a Brisbane tradition on Australia Day and I wasn't going to let John off the hook.

Should the road be too treacherous we can turn around, I said. But the roads were fine, it was the air that was as thick as a laundry.

We were late. Other riders, who had probably started from Coronation Drive at the traditional time, were already coming back down, in small groups, in singles and couples, in larger groups.

Our conversation turned to L'Etape du Tour in France in July. We were tapping out a nice steady rhythm and John looked good. I encouraged him to stick to my wheel and increased the pace somewhat because I wanted him to better his time from last week. Pushing a friend to lift the game, dig deeper, try harder, hurt more - that's what friends are for, aren't they?

Humidity and sweat soaked my jersey and knicks, my camera lens fogged up, and there was no dry piece of fabric left on me to clean it. John gasped for air behind me but the effort was worth over a minute in time improvements.

Still on a natural high with thoughts of glory far away on the slopes of La Madeleine, another rider caught up to us from behind. He recognised John, a friendly Hello and then he rolled up to me. So you must be Sandra?!. It turned out to be Sean, the friend of John who also signed up for L'Etape du Tour this year. The three of us chatted and climbed the few kilometres to Jolly's lookout, where Sean turned around. John and I kept going to Mt Nebo village, so it was See you in France in July.

The Boombana Cafe at Mt Nebo village appeared closed, despite signage outside. Disappointed we were just discussing other options when a friendly woman stuck her head out the door and offered to make us coffees. They weren't meant to open for another half an hour, she explained, and kitchen wasn't quite ready, yet, but the coffee machine was already going. It's not always true that the early bird catches the fattest worm.

Usually, riders only stop briefly at Mt Nebo village - if at all - and continue across to Mt Glorious, another 15 or so kilometres, but given that the time was approaching nine thirty, we were content to just head straight back down. The beauty about Mt Nebo is that the short (and often welcome) down-hill stretches on the uphill turn into short, sharp up-hill parts on the downhill. The attacks on those are great value because they squeeze the last bit juice out of burning legs.

The motivation derived from a stellar performance on John's part and a carelessly thrown in comment on my part If you keep improving at this rate, you'll smash my best time in three weeks let to a challenge accepted. A race - what else if you put two competitive people on a bike!?

6.5 km up to McAfees, the Tuesday before we fly to Europe, it's on! Watch the trailer and place your bets it the comments section!

Ampelmännchen

"Have you noticed cyclists getting ruder and more inconsiderate lately?"

"Yes, it's a good sign that more and more drivers are swapping their cars for a bike!"

This joke was published in the German magazine "Der Spiegel" back in September.

On my Fixie, at a red traffic light in downtown Brisbane the other day, a cyclist almost ran into me when he ran the red light. Swear words flew at me for blocking his clear run across the intersection. Then, another cyclist rode straight pass me and the waiting cars and the red light. Abuse from drivers feels almost normal but from another cyclists? It felt like betrayal. Aren't we supposed to be on the same side, we cyclists?

How must the drivers have felt?

Most East German products and designs disappeared after the wall came down in 1989. Some were resurrected in waves of East German nostalgia. But one East German icon not only survived the end of the GDR but even achieved cult status in the last few years. That's the East German Ampelmännchen, the little traffic light man. I read that Berlin traffic lights are getting equipped with the East German version again. How cool!

Every child growing up in East Germany knew the cartoons with these two characters sharing road safe advise and traffic rules with us kids. Stop! the red Ampelmann would call before telling the little boy off for running a red light. Stop, my dear boy, stop at once! is what I want to call out in the same familiar voice that still rings in my ears from childhood days.

Maybe beloved lovely Ampelmännchen are the solution for Australia, too, because never once did I see anyone running a red traffic light during my four week visit in Germany last October. Every pedestrian, cyclist and driver waited patiently, and no one seemed to mind.

The ultimate cycling holiday

Now that the bomb shell dropped at work and the cat's out of the sack, I finally feel free to write about our 2012 plans and goals here. It has been burning under my nails to tell but I've been too busy and excited to find some quiet moments and gather my thoughts for a blog post.

Had I thought about it more carefully, I could have anticipated colleague's and friend's wide range of responses from Good on ya to I hate you. One of our friends openly admitted I'm not sure whether I'm in awe or jealous.

We all have dreams and sometimes we are presented with opportunities to fulfill them. And sometimes we have to take the plunge and make them happen. Some dreams will remain just that forever - dreams!

Some dreams are so outrageously big that it takes a bit of guts and a healthy portion of adventure spirit to decide Hell, we only live once! and Home ownership is overrated let's just blow our house deposit and make dreams come true.

Ever dreamt of flying to Europe to see the Tour de France live? What about the Giro? The Vuelta? Or are you like me a big fan of the spring classics? Which event should we choose? When should we go?

Why choose either-or? Why see only one?

We are going to Europe with our bikes and see it all, the cobbles, the mountains, the races. Heading off at the end of February, we will be spending April in Flanders, May in Italy, June in Spain and Portugal, July in France... an entire race season in Europe, the ultimate cycling holiday! We will be back in Australia in October.

You think I'm kidding? Stay tuned to our blogs, and don't hold back in the comments because... I think we've already heard it all!

Did someone say coffee and layered chocolate fudge?

We all know, coffee is part of our culture, the cycling culture. Hell, coffee was the reason for many of my rides in 2011.

Whenever there are cyclists, there is coffee. Coffee is part of the deal. I only know one cyclist who actually doesn't drink coffee.

And then, every so often I get tired of drinking the same coffee in the same place while talking about the same things. And I wonder why we always stop at this hackneyed coffee shop and not any of the other hundreds along the way. The service is neither fast nor very friendly, the chairs are uncomfortable, the ambiance minimalist-bleak... It's like taking the same old routes through town, or following the same training plan week after week. It gets boring. Surely, that's not just me?! Things become stale if you don't mix it up. And it's no reflection on the company I keep... nor the quality of the coffee, that things become dull. Ok, sometimes the quality of the coffee!

But once in a while you find a new route through town or a new coffee shop that has a good vibe about it and good coffee. And it's cyclist friendly, too. And it's not just the red leather armchairs instead three-legged stools, or the raspberry friands in the glass counter instead gluten-free muesli, or the chalk teaser on blackboard wall: coffee and layered chocolate fudge! The offer so good, we are willing to overlook the spelling error.

And you go back there the week after, and then you show other friends, who also like the place and the coffee and start frequenting it... until that place becomes uncool again.

So I have been wondering: Why do we stop at certain coffee shop and snob others? What are the ingredients for a perfect coffee stop? What makes cyclists come back over and over again?

Apart from outstanding coffee and great company and bike parking, of course...

Wrenching! For girls?

A few months back when I put my new Canyon together at my parent's place in Germany, I garnered admiring looks and words from mum and dad. Sure dad was proud of his 'lil girl to put a bike together, but I've travelled to races interstate by myself often enough to know how to pull a bike apart, and put it back together. I've done it in hotel rooms, at airports, or even by the roadside - not a big deal. Thanks to Alberto!

When I first started cycling, I resented Alberto for not changing my tires, or - heaven forbid - pumping them for me. I knew of many husbands who would do this for their riding wives.

And then I had my first flat on the roadside. I was on my own... and I was able to tell the guy, who stopped to help, that I was fine. A sense of pride filled me... Already as a little girl I appreciated my independence.

Alberto would always help me if I needed help, for example when I wasn't strong enough to loosen the pedals or when I wrestled with the saddle. He would remind me to oil my chain after washing my bike, or deflate the tires before closing the bike box. And he puts a big smile on my face by secretly washing my bike while I'm at work. But I've never done any serious wrenching until this afternoon.

The cassette and chain on my Time were finally due for a change. I anticipated this because I had been measuring it every few months. A new 12-25 cassette and chain sat already on the shelf since June.

This afternoon, after I had washed all my bikes, I asked Alberto to show me how to do this. The pin popped on the old chain, I measured the new chain to the same length, pop, another pin, and fed the chain back through the derailleur. Thanks to Alberto I had memorised how it went before I had started fiddling with it.

The cassette was a bit more tricky. I wouldn't have managed to loosen the old cassette without Alberto's help and the new cassette was in a mess when it came out of the bag. But at the end the puzzle was pieced together.

Tools in hand, I had the time of my life and I felt that same sense of pride when my hands were all greasy and eventually the new chain was humming in the afternoon sun, up and down the sparkling cassette with each push of the gear lever, precise without missing a sprocket. It's a beautiful sound. While at it, I also adjusted the brakes and gears on the Canyon and made sure the seat post of the Fixie was still moving.

Now I want to learn more...