Steve Thomas Live

Back on bicycle island

2012-02-13T19:14:00.001-08:00

Just dropped in to check out the Perdana Gallery on Langkawi island, Malaysia. They have a small but interesting collection of bikes - from made in malaysia retro to an old wooden hobby horse, a trishaw, and a replica Mapei Colnago team bike - made for the former PM..

Pai-Mae Hong Son loop, Thailand - this week

2012-02-08T01:46:00.001-08:00

A few snaps from a technique shoot in Thailand, yesterday

2012-02-05T00:19:00.000-08:00

Chiang Mai by night, X100 again

2012-01-24T21:36:00.000-08:00

More X100 pano trials, Pai, Thailand

2012-01-17T00:57:00.000-08:00

180 pano

120 pano

X100 long shots

2012-01-12T17:33:00.000-08:00

Just in Langkawi trying to figure out my new Fuji X100, been dull for a few days, but here are a few test shots taken in Velvia mode, manual settings - the pano's are 180 degrees. I spent ages getting some great 180 beach sunset shots, but hadn't figured on the waves not liking being stitched together....

Riding Jacobs Creek, from my bikenewsasia.com site

2011-12-15T18:27:00.000-08:00

Riding up Jacob’s Creek

With almost guaranteed sunshine, endless roads and more wine that you can wave your glass at Steve Thomas takes a visit to South Australia;

Being something of a wine buff, or should I say a budding wino, I simply could not resist the chance to take a cycling trip around the Barossa Valley, Australia’s premier wine growing region, which is nestled just on the outskirts of Adelaide in sunny South Australia.

This region strikes a cord and whets the taste buds of any a wine lover, and could be considered the heart and home of Australian wine producing, and the nations major supplier of wines to the rest of the world. Not only that – it was January, mid winter in the northern hemisphere, while the thermometer hardly dips bellow 30 degrees here at this time of year, a seemingly perfect duo of reasons to be in the area. And of course - add in the fantastic cycling in the area, and it’s an easy call to make.

Needless to say the local cyclists such as Stuart O’Grady and Luke Roberts have long been pounding the roads of this region, but if first came to world prominence as a cycling destination a few years back - thanks to the Tour Down Under.

It was mid January, and the Tour it’s self was about to hit the self same roads as we use on our rides. The valley lies just over 50-km from Adelaide, which makes it the perfect destination for the pro teams who turn out to train here before the tour each year, and there were certainly plenty of them around whenever we chose to pedal out. But I guess they weren't too fussed about stopping off for a cappuccino or sampling the local Shiraz.

We’d come in to Barossa through the hills from Adelaide, where I’d spent a few days riding through the surprisingly hilly and tree clad hills of the suburbs. I really hadn’t expected such terrain in the area, but could see why it was such a popular destination for visiting cyclists.

Leaving the Adelaide Hills behind the first thing that struck me was how much the landscape changes in such a short period of time. The long climbs and tree shaded meandering roads gradually faded out, and like a recovering heart rate profile things smoothed out and spread out some, making it a whole lot friendlier towards legs and lungs.

The valley it’s self is fairly flat, with just one real hiccup thrown in to the pot to get you sweating - Mengler's Hill, a regular KOM shaker in the TDU. We’d planned a couple of days riding in the valley, and chose to base ourselves in Tanunda, the town at the heart of the local wine and tourism industry. The towns in this region are very Germanic looking, as many of the early settlers and original wine producers were from Germany.

The town is also right at the foot of Mengler's Hill; so we had to deal with it before we’d even had time to straighten our helmets (which are obligatory in Oz), which is kind of a cruel kick start to the ride. The climb is quite steep in places, but thankfully not long enough to cause too much damage. The views through the trees as you climb are quite special, although you’ll probably be panting too much to appreciate them. Huge wide-open vistas over a patchwork quilt like valley, spread out behind you, all dotted with small lakes is what you’ll see if you glance over your shoulder. The whole wine region is panned out before you from here, and it looks surprisingly dry and arid, but none the less spectacular.

As soon as you pass over the summit you find yourself hurtling down through tree lined agricultural farm roads, which are really peaceful and great to ride. On the horizon is the town of Angaston, a sleepy but interesting place, and well worth the slight diversion. Old Lutheran churches and Germanic style buildings characterise the place.

Heading back from here is a real treat; more sun dappled and tree lined roads lead towards Springton, a small outpost seemingly long lost in time terms. Although we took the main road, we also checked out the dirt roads around here, which are excellent if you’re up for a little rough and tumble. On these roads you can really get away from things, as long as you have decent wide profile tyres that is.

Facilities are sparse once you get away from the main tourist hubs; just the odd shop and pub where you can get hold of a staple pie and tinny, so it’s well worth stocking up on water and food before you hit the roads for long rides, especially considering the heat.

Springton was more or less the turn around point for us on day one, so we swung back towards Williams Town. This is a great stretch or road, lined with tall trees, and meandering it’s way through the countryside. We passed a couple of the pro teams and the national team riding this stretch, as well as numerous local cyclists, so it’s not exactly a secret, but at least we were in good company.

With the sun beating down we returned to Tanunda, part one of pilgrimage fulfilled, well almost - you couldn’t make a pilgrimage to the Barossa without partaking of the local holy water, can you? That would be a sin!

The Santos Tour Down Under

Each January the Tour Down Under takes place in the region. The race is based around Adelaide, although stages ride out all around the region. The race takes place late in January. Many of the top European and US pro teams flock to the area not only for the race, but some pre race training in the area, so you can expect to see them on the local roads during this period.

There are also a number of amateur races taking place around the event, so a whole carnival like atmosphere can be expected. There is also a TDU “Etape” style ride over one of the stages.

For details of the race and the ride check out www.tourdownunder.com.au

Bike shops

There are not many places in the wine regions to get hold of bikes and bits, but Adelaide has loads of decent bike shops. Check this one out - it’s particularly good.

Bicycle Express

124 Halifax Street

Adelaide SA 5000

www.bicycleexpress.com.au

Life is black & white

2011-12-11T04:55:00.001-08:00

Sometimes life is tough, like now, well - always ;) They say things are black and white, but black is just dark grey, or is it white is just light black? Ahh, whatever - anyway, I always liked this pic - it was shot in the 2007 Tour of Qinghai Lake, in a snow storm on a mountain, howling gale, freezing beneath a rock - I'd lost my main camera, and fumbling and frozen fingers turned my back up to black & white by accident. To me it sums up how tough and confounding bike racing can be... and life for that matter.

Cyclo cross, down and dirty

2011-11-21T19:03:00.001-08:00

From my www.bikenewsasia.com site - the next part will be posted there tomorrow

Cyclo-Cross – Mud, Sweat, and Beers

Dirty, cold, painful, but great fun, it’s like racing on a knife-edge, almost gladiatorial in many ways. It’s cyclo-cross time again, so we thought we’d take a broader look at what the sport is all about.

Cowbells clang boldly as if there is a mass stampeded taking place, air horns blast out in unison, while regional and national flags rage above the frantic crowds, all cheering insanely for their favourites. No it’s not the Super Bowl; it’s atypical Belgian cyclo-cross race.

If you could imagine all the roar and atmosphere of a finale of a Tour de France stage on the great Alpe d’Huez, and then bring it all into the centre of a small town for everyone to join in then you’ll get a feel of what it’s like at a major cyclo-cross race on a cold winters day in Belgium, or in anywhere else within driving distance of the tiny beer and fritte producing nation, which is without a doubt the original homeland of all things bike racing.

To many people cyclo-cross is seen as some kind of strange sport that involves riding and running around in the cold and the mud (which it is), and could well seem kind of pointless. After all, that’s what mountain bikes are for, aren’t they? But say that to any Belgian cyclo-cross fan and you’ll probably be hung and strung by his braces and battered by his cowbells.

Sure enough Belgium has more than its fair share of great classic bike races to go at, not to mention top bike riders and teams, and the place virtually drowns in cycling culture and history. But when it comes to cyclo-cross they become that extra little bit fanatical, and when it comes to the racing rule the roost in every single aspect of the wintertime discipline too.

The frosted and misty cabbage fields of Flanders are a bleak and unforgiving place in winter. The wind roars, the rain cuts sideways, and in-between the rains the ice freezes its ploughed furrows. It’s these sorts of conditions that have moulded the Flandrians over the years, and is partly why they have such tough bike racers. So the thought of getting out and racing around these fields in such conditions is not exactly alien to the wind hardened northerners, and coming out to watch them do it is great entertainment on a cold and dreary winters weekend.

On any given weekend between September and late February there will be local cyclo-cross races taking place all over Belgium and Northern Europe. These races have all of the usual race categories, are held on circuits of about a mile in distance; and for the senior riders races are usually raced for one hour plus one lap, almost like a big muddy critirium

Conditions vary; but a typical Belgian race circuit will contain a number of obstacles, lots of twisty grass riding, short road sections and a few technical bits plus a short run or two. Most aficionados don’t consider a race to be a true cyclo-cross unless the circuit is also caped in ankle deep mud, and they often are.

The sport started out around a century ago as a way for road riders of the day to keep fit during the harsh winter off-season. But these days with longer and more demanding road race seasons to cope with, and the easier availability of cheap sunshine in southern Europe, not so many of the really top line road riders compete seriously in cross. Although many top road pro’s do still regularly ride the mud; riders such as Lance Armstrong, John Gadret and Roger Hammond are all fans of playing dirty.

Cyclo-cross has grown in stature and standard dramatically since its official “incarnation” in 1950. Belgium leads the major players by a long muddy stick, while Holland, Czech Republic, Switzerland and France follow on, with smaller cross powers like the USA, UK, Italy and Germany trailing a little behind. That said; from a participation numbers stand point the US pretty much rules – with some events attracting over 1000 riders, more than many road events get.

There are a number of potential reasons for the sports popularity; from an average riders point of view it’s great fun, it really works well as a way of maintaining and boosting fitness – which forces them to ride more and cross train during the winter. It’s also great for bike handling work, and it’s all over with in an hour – an intensive hour that could all too easily have been spent in front of a TV on that wet day.

It’s also a great way to be able to race at weekends for riders who simply do not have the time available to put in the long training hours that are required to even stay in the bunch of an average road race.

At the top end it’s a different story; many European riders first cut their knees in muddy cyclo-cross fields, so it is pretty much in their blood. Plus for those on a higher level, it’s an incredibly lucrative sport too, and they are virtual super-stars in their home countries – especially in Belgium. Besides the usual team sponsorship and prize money, most elite riders will receive handsome start money for races, especially for the bigger events. A rider of the prominence of Sven Nys could earn up to $10,000 in start money for a major race – and race 40 times during a season. Major race organisers are full time commercial set ups, so the standards are always high in every aspect.

The upper echelon of cyclo-cross is comparatively rich when compared to other branches of the sport, why? Imagine Frazer Vs. Ali, the Super Bowl or the World Series taking place every weekend somewhere close to your home town, and once a year within walking distance – and for free!

Just as they do with other major sports, the average fans in Belgium know all of the riders. Bart Wellens even has a weekly TV docu-soap show following his every move; so when they come to town everyone comes to watch. Add in the fact that the circuit distance and layout means they can see the riders every 2-3 minutes, and it’s great free entertainment.

Bike racing is a tough sport, and in Belgium it has always been associated with the tough working classes, so when these working class cycling heroes come out to race the atmosphere is nothing short of electric. But, or course you have to add in the other great Belgian element – beer! Yes beer; the Belgians make more of it, and better beer than anybody, and they love to drink the stuff too. What better accessory for a cyclo-cross bubba watching a race? And then by late afternoon it’s all over, and they can make it home in time to watch the race on TV, because all of the major races are televised. This accounts for the sponsorship, popularity, and the high awareness factor of the sport in Northern Europe. When it comes to filming a cyclo-cross it’s a piece of cake, and cheap when compared to following a road race.

Outside of Northern Europe there’s the Czech Republic Although the former eastern block nation has no great cycling culture, its system has always produced great cyclo-cross riders. Back in the communist days they produced several World Champions, drawn in to sport by the great potential bonus offers; and even now they rank second to Belgium on a performance scale.

In the USA the sport really kicked off in the late 1970’s, but now it’s quite huge, and American riders are making regular top positions in big Euro races too; the great Nike add with Lance certainly helped things along on the popularity front.

Elsewhere cyclo-cross gets harder to find. In Japan there are a few races; and the Kansai Series is very popular, and sometimes attracts visiting Europeans. In China there is a very small series in Beijing, and a bigger series in Shanghai, and Mongolia sent a small team of riders to try their hands at the sport in Europe – with the support of Johan Musseuw’s bike manufacturing company. So it really is slowly taking on the World.

** Thanks to UCI technical guru Simon Burney for his help.

To be continued

It's Loi Krathong in Thailand this week - here's a few pics form last year

2011-11-09T21:12:00.001-08:00

Phil Anderson, the original...

2011-11-03T20:37:00.001-07:00

Here's an extract from a story we ran on velonews.com and bikenewsasia.com while back..

Bike racing sure is being forced into changing its once Eurocentric face; what a year, especially in the Tour de France, an Australian taking the yellow jersey, amazing!

But, we’re not talking about Cadel Evans and the 2011 Tour, we’re going back a whole 30 years to 1981 when another Australian first made his mark on the Tour, taking the most prized cycling garment there is – the yellow leaders jersey of the biggest and most prestigious bike race on earth.

In July of 1981 a 23-year old Aussie named Phil Anderson made cycling history by becoming the first ever none European leader of the Tour de France, a feat which broke the ice set in motion a whole new era in bike racing, an era where the greatest race in the world would be dominated by English speakers; “At the time I had no idea of the significance of taking the jersey, you don’t tend to dwell on your results. I wasn’t trying to be the first, I wasn’t trying to be the first, I just wanted to get the best results for myself and the team.”

It was to be a few months later, when he finally had time to hear the applause, that things sunk in; “ It wasn’t until I came back (To Australia) that people started patting me on the back that I realised it was significant. You get no credit in Europe for being the first Aussie to wear the jersey, and there were no real financial gains from being the first none European to do it. I was just focussed on doing as well as I could.”

The road to Paris

Anderson was riding in his first Tour, and this was his second season of riding with the illustrious French Peugeot team, where he was bunked alongside Scottish climber Robert Millar; both were graduates of the Parisian based ACBB club, where earning a “scholarship” to ride for the was prized as one of the greatest opportunities in cycling for aspiring riders from “none mainstream” cycling nations; such as Australia, USA, UK, and Ireland.

Graduation from the ACBB was another level all together, and only the creamiest of the cream made it through to the pro ranks; names like Yates, Bauer, Roche, and Millar amongst their number, with the club’s bike sponsors, Peugeot, being the most popular pro team port of call.

Unusually for a bike rider of the era Anderson came form a fairly comfortable background, and was well educated, unlike many of his piers; “The thing about cycling is that it’s a great leveller. I know Millar and other guys had a rough background, but we never spoke about it and just did what we could. Back home all of my friends were going to university, so I always had the option of doing that, which others didn’t any alternative. If it hadn’t worked out for me that’s what I would have done (Gone back to education).”

A victory in the 1978 Commonwealth Games Road Race in Edmonton had opened the door to Europe for Anderson. “I was given the opportunity and took it. I went over there in 79 and my aim was to get to the next level, and the logical step was getting selection for the 1980 Moscow Olympics.”

But another unplanned option reared its head; “I did well, very well, while I was there. I was approached by a couple of pro teams, as Millar was. We would both probably have made the Olympic team, but threw caution to the wind and turned pro rather than gamble on a one day race.”

The awakening

Back then cycling was very much a minority sport (At best) in countries such as Australia and the US. There was no internet, and virtually no chance for Australian cyclists to get any kind of a glimpse into the big wide world of pro bike racing; “I didn’t really know what to expect, there was so little cycling culture in Australia. I had no pre-conceived ideas. I knew it would be hard, and expected the worse. I got over there and there were 250 riders in a 1 day race, while in Australia there were probably not even 250 riders in the whole country. The difference was huge. Some riders were not prepared and got sent home.”

The concept of professionalism was naively new to the young Aussie; “I didn’t really know that it existed. I mean, we had professionals in Australia, but the only difference (Compared to amateurs) was a few extra dollars (I think) for a licence.”

On coming to Europe he was introduced to a whole new world; “ When I started racing in Europe I became a lot more aware of the pro circuit. The Sun Tour (Paris-Nice) started nearby to where we were living (In Paris), and I remember going down there and seeing the riders; Hinault, Knetemann and Lubberding, all warming up. I’d never seen the professional aspect of the sport before and I though it would be great to be racing on the pro circuit. During the year I got offers from teams, and it just got better and better.”

Even getting from Australia to Europe was a huge factor; “To make the trip over there was a big sacrifice, so I had to the best I could. It was a long way, and very expensive (More than it costs today, 31-years on). There was no going home; even the Brits could go home (Comparatively) easily.”

The French factor

Being a none European rider, and even more so a none French rider, on a team like Peugeot was no easy task, even if it was one of the few teams at the era to take in these foreign “waifs and strays”. Foreigners were clear outsiders, in every way, and proving yourself and gaining support was a major issue, something highlighted in numerous TV documentaries of the era; including “23 Days In July”, which followed Anderson through the 83 Tour, where he was designated team leader of the Peugeot team.

Things had looked promising that year in the Tour, until his team-mate Pascal Simon attacked and seized his five minutes of glory and took the race lead. For a Frenchman the opportunity was just too much to turn down, and the whole team rallied around him – although the Anglophiles on the squad were certainly not happy about the excessive support given to the Frenchman, who had no serious chance of taking the jersey all of the way to Paris: “He saw the opportunity and took it – pretty much as I’d done in the 81 Tour. You go across against team orders (as I did in 81). I couldn’t really blame him. You wouldn’t see it happen these days; one of Cadels team-mates going up the road and riding away with the Schlecks, but it’s the difference in teams now and back then.”

Just after taking the yellow jersey Simon was involved in a crash, and broke his collarbone; but he was determined to continue and cling onto yellow for as long as he could, Sure, it was the stuff of Tour legend; imagine if Voeckler had broken himself this year.

The whole of France went Simon crazy; but the upshot was that he had to be pushed and nursed by the entire team until he finally conceded. The Tour dream was over for Anderson; “I went into the race as a favourite, but I didn’t come up with the results.”

Some of his comrades in the peloton, and many leading journalists of the day, believed Anderson would have won the Tour had he had the full support of a team; “Things were different back then, and we raced and approached things differently. If I’d had the team backing that Cadel had this year, and been able to focus on certain aspects… But I also went for the classics and other tours; we did 110 day of racing a year back then, which is very different to the pro’s these days. It’s hard to compare, but I think I could have done better, although I don’t think I had it in me to ever win the Tour.”

Moving on

Part driven by the frustration of his 83 Tour he moved on to the Dutch based Panasonic team in 84, under the demanding control of Peter Post, a master tactician and a task master who reputedly broke as many riders as he made; “For me it was exciting. The team was, well, a lot less French. Having Peter Post at the helm, he was a very strong character and the riders all clicked in to his plans. At Peugeot the team meetings were all in French and I was pretty much left out. With Post they were a lot more disciplined team; if I punctured there’d be 7-8 guys waiting for me (not like at Peugeot). For me that was critical, I needed that support.”

Things had moved on in cycling, and English voices were becoming very prominent in the pro pelotons of Europe by the end of the eighties, many of them were the rookie American voices of the 7-11 team; “I’d always wanted to be on 7-11 and the opportunity came up. I hadn’t re-signed yet with TVM, and Jim Ochowicz caught me in a lift, in Montreal and asked if I’d ever thought about coming to the American team. I was excited at the prospect.”

There was limited history and protocol to draw on for a maverick and evolving set up like 7-11; “I really looked forward to joining a non European team, and an English speaking team, and the freshness, and not being bogged down with tradition. It was good in some respects, and bad in others; there were a lot of things they didn’t understand. It was quite a big difference (Coming from a European team). They were mostly all American, not like the more recent incarnations (US Postal, Radioshack), so it was a lot more relaxed. The training and approach to racing was totally different, a fresh mentality.”

The afterlife

Since his retirement form racing in 1994 things have come a long way towards globalisation in cycling; “I think it’s wonderful. The (AIS) pipeline directs riders. Back then it didn’t exist. The US national team would come over and race, and that’s how Greg Lemond got his start. We were good friends (And neighbours). He’d tell me all about it. They were certainly not a pro team, but were very advanced, and racing at a high level. There were countries that had that infrastructure back then, but now the AIS is there too.”

The nationalist approach and state backing is certainly paying off with results, and countries like Australia and the UK now have a profusion of talented riders populating the pelotons. But it could seem as though some of that rebellious character of those groundbreaking days is now lacking? “It’s certainly different to how I came in, and Cadel also took a different route, through mountain biking, and not the Australian track endurance programme. It’s defiantly changed, but it’s not all straightforward for current day riders, you still have to get on to the national team first.”

Arguably many of the early greats would never have made it through the current system; “Like in any federation there is a lot of politics and nepotism involved (In the Australian and other federations), and if you don’t come from the right “blood lines” you can still get left behind; like Ritchie Porte, who was never really favoured by the AIS, and had to do it under the radar. Finally he gets up to lead the Giro and everyone was scrapping to find where he came from. He never got any scholarships or free rides. Its a lot more difficult to do it without the support, but some riders still do manage it; but they have to be outstanding to do it without the federation behind them.”

Now in his early fifties Phil lives along the Great Ocean Road, in Victoria (Close to Cadel Evans). He runs a bike tour company and still rides the odd mass participation event and takes part in triathlons.

You can read the full the rest of the story at

http://velonews.competitor.com/2011/09/news/a-conversation-with-phil-anderson-the-first-australian-in-the-maillot-jaune_193191

The crunch

2011-11-01T02:18:00.000-07:00

Kilian Jornet catches and passes Marco De Gasperi in the closing sector of the Mount Kinabalu Climbathon, and takes his 3rd Climbathon title, but not De Gasperi's course record..

Fresh (and sweaty) from the jungles of Borneo - Tabin Wildlife Reserve

2011-10-26T03:47:00.000-07:00

Kinabalu Climbathon underway

2011-10-22T01:23:00.000-07:00

Just a couple of snap gap pics from today's first day of the annual Mount Kinabalu Climbathon. These are of trail running legend Kilian Jornet preparing for tomorrows men's race.

From my bikenewsasia.com site and Cycling Canada magazine

2011-10-21T00:55:00.001-07:00

Some 25 years ago Canadian rider Alex Stieda took the cycling world by story when he became the first ever North American to teak the lead in the Tour de France, we catch up with him on home turf....

“It’s hard to believe that half of my life has passed since that day, it really doesn’t seem that long ago…” Reflected Alex Stieda on his groundbreaking capture of cycling’s most prized garment, the yellow leaders jersey of the Tour de France, the greatest bike race on earth.

It’s the stuff of dreams, something that just about every boy cyclist dreams of when he climbs on a bike – to one day take part in the Tour de France, and to hold that holy grail of bike racing. But, its something so prized and fiercely fought over that the privilege of wearing it is reserved for a very special few, and even many of cycling’s greatest racers slip into retirement without ever having taken home a yellow jersey. But, not Alex Stieda; for one day in July of 1986 the young Canadian defied tradition and protocol and became the first ever rider from the Americas to take the lead in the race.

It was a chilly winters eve in Calgary, a long way from the scorching French summer of 86, but framed on the wall behind was that very same yellow jersey he earned 25 years before; “I framed it way back, but did a real bad job, so my wife re-did things.” The thing to note is that on that day the young 7-11 team rider’s brave ride not only earned him the yellow jersey, he amassed enough point in the other competitions to take almost all of the other Tour competitions leaders jerseys too; “I took all of the jerseys except the points jersey, which Eric Vanderaerden had, but they’re all badly framed and stashed away somewhere.”

It was the second day of the Tour, and the first road stage, which was an 80km morning blast that was sandwiched between the previous day’s prologue TT and an afternoon team time trial. These early stages of the race are always a tense time, usually controlled by the sprinters teams and often marred by crashes, yet Stieda had quietly come up with his own audacious plan to do all he could to take the race lead, and famously turned out that morning in a skin suit, much to the amusement of the other riders; “Nobody knew why, and I couldn’t even tell my team mates, just in-case it didn’t come together; but, I’d calculated that it was only 80km, just like a crit, and I was a good crit rider – and so didn’t need food and drink. I’d checked the time bonus points along the route, and knew that if I went for it then there was a chance that I could get enough time to take the yellow jersey.”

As he raced away from the peleton many thought it was nothing more than a suicide mission, yet his cunning calculations slowly begun to add up; “I knew that with the TTT in the afternoon that many teams would want an easy ride, and I’d planned on having a small group with me, but ended up on my own.” As the time ticked by so the skin-suited rookie was drawing ever closer to taking the race lead, which caused a stir behind. His closest rival to take the lead was Belgian super sprinter Eric Vanderaerden, who set off in pursuit, along with a small group of other hopefuls; “I knew they were coming, and rode flat out for every time bonus just as if it was the finish of the race, burying myself. Every second was crucial, and I knew that Eric could take the jersey if he won the stage.”

The breakaway group caught Stieda in the closing stages of the race; “I had to keep on pulling to try and keep the group away and get the jersey, which ruled me out for the finishing sprint, and it worked, I got the jersey.” The significance of that day may have been a little lost in the champagne bubbles, but it was the start of something; something that would well and truly change the face flavour of pro bike racing forever, and of course Alex’s life.

Part 2 coming next

The Italian Job, from bikenewsasia.com

2011-10-14T01:46:00.000-07:00

As you head north from the plains of northern Italy the vista suddenly changes, almost as fast as a supermodel on the Milan catwalk. The horizon suddenly becomes rippled, and as you get closer those ripples turn to Alpine mountains, which are often snow capped. Then you reach the stunning lakes of Como and Maggiore, picture perfect images of everything you’d expect of a sexy sixties Italian movie; terraced hillsides, imposing churches, paved piazzas, glamorous ladies sipping cappuccino and eating gelato and fast cars; it really is the true Italian dream at it’s finest, and of course no Italian dream can be complete without the ciclismo, and this region has plenty of it!

There are several places around Europe, and indeed the world, that can be proclaimed as cycling Mecca’s, or at least that can lay claim to be home to a disproportionate number of top level pro bike races, and this region to the north of Milan and centred around the lakes of Maggiore and Como is without doubt one of the World’s true great bike racing Mecca’s – and is home both for many home grown and overseas pro’s. It’s long been a hotbed for top Italian racers, but it really hit the headlines when the Motorola team first based it’s self here – including Lance. Since then the region between Como and Varese has played home to the likes of Garzelli, Basso, Wegelius, Frierre, Cadel Evans and the entire AIS team and it’s recent off-springs, so on any given day of riding in the area you could find yourself hooking on to the wheel of one of the giants of the peleton.

The riding possibilities in this area are endless, and endlessly varied. Out of Como it’s self is stunning and hilly, and is home to the legendary Ghisallo climb, the brutal killing blow in the Giro di Lombardia. To the west of the lake are numerous great climbs, often used as testing grounds for the local pro’s – including Cadel Evans; this is where he honed his Tour de France climbing condition, while his time trail work is done just to the west of the hills, on the flatter roads north of Varese.

And of course no ride in this area is complete without a visit to the tiny yet hugely impressive and humbling Madonna di Ghisallo. This is a place like no other in cycling terms, and the memorabilia on display is truly amazing, while the roll call of fated fellow cyclists and the eternal flame brings a lump to your throat. But for me it was the glance upwards to see the crumpled Caloi that took Fabio Casartelli to his death on that fated July day in 1995 that really brought home the significance of things.

Further to the west the riding is almost a mirror image of the riding around Como, with stunning lakeside rides around Maggiore and numerous meandering mountain roads leading away from the lake. This is where the local pro chain gang trains on most days of the week, so you really should keep one eye over your shoulder.

If you are only planning one trip to Europe this region really should be on your agenda, it truly is a bike rider’s paradise.

The Giro di Lombardia

The Tour of Lombardy is the regions most famous race and is affectionately known as “the race of the falling leaves” because of it’s October scheduling. The race’s first outing in 1905 – when it was known as Milan-Milan, although that all changed 2 years later when it took it’s current name.

The race is traditionally the last serious classic of the season, and is one of the toughest single day races there is. The course of the race changes frequently, but always includes the climb of Ghisallo towards the end, which has recently found it’s home in the streets of Como.

Madonna di Ghisallo

The story of the Ghisallo goes back to medieval times; it is believed that Ghisallo was travelling through the area and was attacked by robbers. Suddenly an apparition of the Virgin Mary appeared at the site of the current church, Ghisallo ran to the spot and was saved, Ever since then the church has been a place of patroness for travellers.

In 1949 the Pope proclaimed Ghisallo as the patron saint of cyclists, hence it’s standing. The small church sits at the top of the climb, and is a must visit place for all cyclists. Inside there is an amazing collection of cycling memorabilia form many of the great champions – past and present. Bikes from the likes of Coppi, Bartali, Moser’s hour record bike and jerseys and trophies from many more great champions adorn the walls and ceiling of the church. There is also a long roll call of dead cyclists. But perhaps the most humbling things are eternal flame for dead cyclists, and Fabio Carsatelli’s bike; crumpled and bent from the crash that killed him – Fabio was a local boy.

Next to the church is a huge cycling museum, which is a must visit.

The climb stats

Distance; in total 10km, although can be 8.8km if you discount the lead in (but you shouldn’t!)

Maximum gradient; 14%

Grade; surprisingly steep and tough

Bottom gear; 39 x 25 (for me))

Altitude; from 206m to 754m

Giro di Lombardia Gran Fondo

The gran fondo version of the classic “falling leaves” race takes place each October, usually the day after the pro race. This is a truly stunning coastal and mountain ride, with the ascent of the Ghisallo being the highlight.

Ain't no mountain high enough

2011-10-12T02:00:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a while since I posted anything - strange, it's easy to get carried away doing paid, and sadly unpaid work, which keeps me away from the blog. It's been a sickly and frustrating couple of months, but some major life changes may do the trick, and I'm now back residing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing - but some tribal locals and some great bike rides - not that I'm in shape to tackle them in any kind of style, but I'm working on things, and have some big new projects also ready to roll.
Lots and nothing happening, as ever. A new website is registered and stuff is uploaded, I just need to find time to get to working out all the usual web geeky stuff in order to be able to go live, and meantime am considering giving the blog a a facelift too - but again, time, a lack of css, html, wtf knowledge is holding back the reins for now, but it's all imminent.
For now it's a bungled and bundled few days of rummaging through boxes trying to find my arsenal for the next mission - the annual Mount Kinabalu Climbathon in Borneo, so will post some images and a story or 2 over the next week or so.

Tour of China, part 1

2011-09-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Tour of China – The First Half

By Steve Thomas/www.bikenewsasia.com

Things have got off to an autumnal start in this year’s Tour of China, with wet and chilly weather being the order of the race so far. For Team Champion System the return to Asia has been steady, solid, and well poised during the first four days of racing, although things should get decidedly tougher from here on in.

Competition opened with an individual prologue time trial, where Australian rider Chris Williams showed the benefits of his recent high altitude training by taking 13th place, marking him as the teams best placed rider. Unfortunately the prologue does not count towards the overall standings in the race, but acted more as a seeding run for the road stages ahead.

Wet and windy conditions greeted the riders for the first open road stage, which was held on a flat circuit around Xian. The race was to end up in a mass sprint finish, although the outcome was marred by a nasty crash inside the closing meters. The stage fell to Giant Asia’s Kiwi fast man Rico Rogers, who outgunned a prestigious list of sprinters to take the honours. Best of the CS riders was Mart Ojavee, who stayed safe and sound to claim 17th place.

Stage two saw Norway’s Adrian Gjolberg (Joker) and Uzbekistan rider Muradjan Halmuratov (Giant) steal the show by taking almost four minutes advantage over the peloton, defying the sprinters of another stage bout, and taking a commanding lead (for Halmuratov) over the race in with the deal.

Another mass sprint finish, won by Korean rider Sun Jae Jang, closed stage 3 in a flurry, and marked the end of the races early flat stages. Following today’s rest day the battle re-commences tomorrow, and the hills await the riders. Best placed CS team rider overall is Wu Kin San, who sits 3.43 off the lead, and just seconds off a podium slot. But with most of the assumed GC contenders all within that same time frame a podium slot is a tough task, and solid stage results will take a strong focus for the team. Unfortunately yesterday's rough ride saw Steven Wong eliminated from the race, along with many other riders.

We’ll be back during the next few stages, and hope to bring some good news along too.

Overall standings;

1. Muradjan Halmuratov – Giant Asia

2. Sun Jae Jang – Korea @ 3.27

3. Alexander Serov – Russia @ 3.31

32 Wu Kin San, 63 Deon Locke, 73 Chris Williams, 74 Mart Ojavee, 81 Simon Chau.

The image stealers

2011-09-12T21:12:00.000-07:00

Strange how people seem to think pictures just come for free - I see my images all over the place, unauthorised, unrequested, unpaid for and without so much as a word of thanks. Earlier this year I lost around US$20,000 of kit in just a few days through wet mishaps, I also ended up in a ditch a couple of time on the back of a motorbike, pulled out 20 hour days for a week, still have not been paid for the work - and yet those images appear all over - when you approach people about this theft you get a myriad of responses - everything from, "ahh can't you add a credit" to "hahaha" to absolutely nothing - when it is actually illegal. I mean, these guys hardly come along and help in any way with anything when things do go wrong, or even have the good manners to ask first?
A big consideration is that a photo credit does not pay any bills, and on a small poky website it sure aint ever going to benefit me - after 20 years of risking my ass and financial being doing this.
I came across a couple of guys online this week and had to pull them up - blateatly lifting content from me, other sites and even Reuters - this stuff doesn't come for free, and I sure don't make a fortune out of it...
I wonder howe they'd feel if I came along and stole their dinner, or even their work they'd toiled over for days?

The 39 (thousand) Steps

2011-08-30T19:33:00.000-07:00

Another oldie, but we goldie... from my bikenewsasia.com site

Determined to spend Christmas his way Steve Thomas becomes the first biker ever to ride down the Kuala Lumpur Telecom Tower, one of the tallest buildings on the planet.

“Why?” they ask, again and again. Well, at least some do, others just say “Wow!” Me, well, I’ve never been one of the “why” community, they tend to be the conservative sort that just do not see the point in doing things differently. So what exactly am I talking about? My recent “ride” down the Telekom Tower in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

It was Christmas Eve and heading in to dusk – and I had a late plane to catch. Yet there I was, with a bike, on top of one of the world’s tallest buildings (4^th tallest telecom tower). To be honest I hadn’t really given the whole thing any serious thought, I never do – but it was at this point that I really ought to of at least considered the three letter why question, and maybe even of answered it to myself, but no.

Things were not quite as anticipated you see. For a whole two years I’d eyed this project, and dearly wanted to become the first biker to ride down this most impressive of buildings, and now here I was some 400 odd meters high in the sky and facing the ride on my life. I’d tried every possible link in order to track down someone who may just be confused enough to allow me to attempt the feat, and had all but given up. Then one fated afternoon, at a travel show in London, I was introduced to the towers manager. This was an opportunity too good to miss, so within seconds I’d hit him with my plan; “Bicycle, down?” Came the disbelieving response. He all but dismissed the idea on the spot as some life threateningly deadly and silly idea. But with a few weeks worth of follow up e mails the no melted into a maybe, and then in to an agreement to meet in KL with the towers insurers and safety guys for a possible attempt on the ride.

Before that evening all I knew was that there were going to be a whole load of steps, though from the stair plan document I’d seen they looked to be wide and fairly shallow, a piece of cake I figured. Huh, the plans they’d shown me were for the turns, not the steps, and the first I knew of that was when I was presented in front of an assembled crowd and pointed down towards one of the hairiest and longest staircases in the world!

“Okay, you go now?” Grinned the staff. But from where I stood the task looked more or less impossible. Not only were the concrete steps incredibly steep, they were real shallow, and the whole stairwell was only just over a bars width wide, it was like facing one huge great drainpipe to hell, or potentially a concrete coffin. How could I explain to the crowd that it was just too steep – and that my short travel full suss trail bike was simply not the tool for the job, well I couldn’t really, could I?

With a huge gulp and a sweaty brow I launched myself into the abyss of the tower, rattling down the steps like a pinball. This was steep, insanely steep, though with the short flights of stairs their wasn’t really much room to hang back, so it became a case of hold on tight and hope for the best. It was fast becoming clear that the steps were not the only problem. Every 20 or so bumps I was faced with a 180 degree turn, which was so narrow that the bike couldn’t even fit long ways into the gap. After a while I perfected the stair hop jam turn, riding up against the wall and flipping my wheel round as I dropped on to the first step of the next rung, dicey, but the only way around things.

By the half way mark I’d taken a couple of near endos, a back drop or two, and my arms were shaking like crazy with the constant rattling around. I was also sweating like a pig, as there was simply no air in the great concrete box. Even so the only way out was down, and so the show went on.

Some 2058 steps, and an amazing 421 meters later, with a flat rear tyre, and I burst through the main exit doors of the tower to the applause and congratulation of the staff and assembled tourists. Two years after first seeing the tower and now I’d finally ridden down it, and without a single “why?” all day!

The return of the long-shots...

2011-08-22T23:10:00.000-07:00

I've been clearing out the boxes, and scrubbing off the dust - and that's just me ;) I came across one of my favourite shots from a few years back, captured on good old slide film and using an x-pan panoramic camera, which I guess is kinda super cool in a retro way (ahem), so along with a not so old Noblex that's been kicking around for a while (see the blog header pic) I'm going to resurrect things, and try and get hold of some film and sort out the scanner, it's far more fun that this instant digital stuff..

For no reason at all...

2011-08-18T07:17:00.000-07:00

...just because I kinda like this pic. To me it tells a who different and wider story outside of the race action - which is what I try to do, well, it's what it's all about from my end of the shutter button.
But usually when you show people race images they just flick straight to the bread and butter action, the ten a penny basics, which always disappoints the artist in me. But I guess to some it's just a guy in the way of a nice pic ;)

Music, mud, Mulu and more

2011-07-19T03:38:00.000-07:00

Just back from a trip to Sarawak in Borneo, where I found some great new mountain biking, trekked through the magnificent Mulu National Park and dropped by the Rainforest World Music Festival - more pics on my Flickr stream if you want to take a look...

The charmed life of a freelancer

2011-06-09T18:51:00.001-07:00

After 20 year's you'd think it would be water off a ducks back - but here's a few quotes from the past 2 weeks..

From editors -

"Those Iranian race pics just don't look Iranian enough..."

On a shoot from the Philippines -

"It just doesn't look like New Zealand..."

On Cuban sports school cyclist pics -

"The bikes look too old..."

On a 75% rate reduction (for me, not him) -

"It's the global economic crisis..."

After being requested to give a full brief and proposal for a 14 page Thai feature (from a mag/guide book publisher who's initials sound like an old long play record..)

"Ohh, that sounds great - thanks. Now I think we'll send our staff writers instead..."

After hanging off the back of a motorbike in rain for 9 days, risking life and limb shooting a race (and losing money) - from riders/teams who used images without asking, or a word of thanks, and without a credit, after following up - and informing that credits are not even legal tender;

"Haha"

"Can't you add something..."

"But they are so beautiful, I want to use them..."

"Do you have any more?"

Mountain biking Camarines Sur, Philippines - today

2011-06-01T04:28:00.000-07:00

Tour of Camsur in miniature ;)

2011-05-29T20:24:00.000-07:00

Still hanging off the back of motorbikes in the rain...

2011-05-27T17:45:00.000-07:00

Filipino fling

2011-05-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

.......just killing several hours between schedules and re-schedules, so posting a few pics from the in-motion Tour of Camsur

The Grossglockner, from bikenewsasia.com

2011-05-18T23:45:00.000-07:00

Err, umm, no; this definitely was not “Baby Dance Bar”. My rendezvous had been thwarted for the night. So much for my understanding of the German language. Somehow or other in a desperate attempt to dodge a torrential evening downpour I had indeed ended up in a dance bar. But baby, no – the horns blew and the lederhosen clad dancers yodelled their very best for the assembled and ageing coach tourists. I had to grin; it was probably for the best, considering I’d ridden out the mighty Grossglockner Pass earlier that day.

It was half way through my weeklong biking trip to the Austrian Tyrol, where my main mission had been to conquer the Grossglockner; one of the biggest of all mountain passes in Europe. I’d only once before visited this most mountainous of countries, and that was on a mountain bike. This time I’d shown up on skinny tyres in a bid to seek out this mythical mountain beast. Legend has it that this is not only one of the highest, and toughest, passes around, but that it is also one of the most spectacular mountain roads anywhere on the planet.

Knowledgeable prompts had centred my attention on the twin ski resorts towns of Saalbach and Hinterglem, which lie in a peaceful valley not too far from the chic lakeside resort of Zell am See, this is effectively the doorstep at the foot of the Grossglockner. The town (Hinterglem) it’s self is ultra bike friendly, and even has it’s own bike hotel – which is used by many leading amateur teams as a training base, ideal! Also spending the week training in town was multiple Namibian road champ, and top mountain bike marathon racer, Mannie Heymans. When he heard of my plans to ride out the pass his eyes lit up, and so did the eyes of local bike guide Heinnie, and a date was set.

With a ride like this it’s crucial to get good conditions, as when it’s bad on this pass it is seriously bad, and there had been 20cms of snow on the pass just a few days earlier. With all of this in mind and a 10-kilo camera pack on my back we elected a split assault on the pass; take pics of the guys today, then face the perils the following day. And boy did that ever turn out to be a sensible call, as I’m pretty damn sure the pack and constant stopping for pics would have killed me.

Later that day the deadly duo returned from the ride and shoot, both in quite a state, which was kinda surprising considering their fitness levels; “ Oh the wind; we had a head wind all the way out, and then a head wind all the way home. And that pass was something else!” lamented Mannie; “In the morning the wind rises, and as the temperature warms up it turns around…” Grunted Heinnie. Oh dear, not only was I not so fit, but I was going to have to face the beast without so much as a wheel to sit on, gulp.

Following a bizarre night at a biker bar and a close encounter with the growing number of Harley Davidson riders converging in town and it was time to set pedal for a lunch date with the beast of the Tyrol. Sure enough the wind was in my face from the off. Although I was sure the road pointed downwards I was still pedalling hard. This whole valley was a lot longer than I’d remembered from the previous day’s four-wheeled outing, which didn’t look good for the return leg.

Skirting around the stunning lake at Zell and the sun was shining hard through the wind, though the high swirling clouds somehow offered me a vague hope that it would pour down, forcing mw to turn back honourably. A wrong turn led me to ask directions from a parked lorry “Very bad rain, the pass is closed.” nodded the driver. Either way I was now in Bruck and it didn’t look too bad, so I figured I’d best go and see anyway.

The road through Fusch was quiet sure enough. Maybe he was right after all. Although I’d been climbing gradually for a while now the real slapping was only just about to begin. An evil section through the trees bites for a few kilometres at the ankles of the pass. This is perhaps the most demoralising section of all; I knew it was tough, but being the first climbing of the day it hurts so much more, and you know that you haven’t even started in real terms.

Passing through the tollgates and the valley opens up; it truly is stunning, and inviting – no matter how scary and painful you know it will be. The lower slopes are relentless and steep, though thankfully by the time the gradient eases you’re almost settled into a rhythm. Or should I say resigned to the prospect? It was long and draining grind. Along the way were loads of cyclists on tour, fully laden with panniers stacked a mile high and weaving across the road or pushing their heavy loads along the spine of the mountain beast, oh boy, had they ever got one long old walk ahead.

The higher the road got the more open and dramatic the vistas became. The low clouds swirled around the surrounding mountains, which was so mystically imposing. As the hairpin bends and the “oh so long” kilometres passed slowly by so the snow line drew closer. The sun had dried the road nicely, but the snow banks on the bends stood six feet proud, amazing!

Chilled, relieved, and satisfied I turned around from the summit and headed for home. It was a long and hand-cramping drop off the pass, but nail biting in with the deal. Emerging from three-lined tunnel on the road to Fusch and my wheels hit a vat of treacle. Yes the wind had turned tale on me, damn.

My back ached, my eyes watered, and my thighs burned like crazy - all the way home. By the time I turned into the valley towards Hinterglem I figured the cake was about cooked. Huh! No way, for almost ten miles I had the treat of a face slapping head wind, and every single meter of that ride was up hill. With my bottle empty and fuel tank in the red those last few kilometres were not pleasant, perhaps even as tough as the Grossglockner it’s self, but, a couple of hours later and I had a grin from ear to ear. It really was a mother of a pass, and just about as spectacular as they come! Now for a Wiener Schnitzel and some lederhosen thigh slapping, what better way to round off a big day out in the Tyrol?

Steve’s bitterest hill report

The Grossglockner

Height 2429 meters

Distance 25-30 kms

Gradient, max 13%

Bottom gear 39 x 27

Grade a true mother of a beast

Intimidating, that’s the best word to sum up the prospect of riding the great Grossglockner. In real terms you start the climbing from Zell am See, though some consider Brick, and others Fusch as the start point of the climb. I’m gonna plumb for Bruck, as that’s where the hill climb race starts from.

It’s a steady roll out, until a couple of kilometres after Fusch; that’s when it starts to get nasty. It’s really steep, and yet you’re not even at the toll “entry proper” of the pass! From the toll it just gets tougher, and tougher. The first few kilometres are super tough and step, which is pretty mind blowing. After a short while you kinda get into a rhythm as the vista opens up. This is one long thin air mother of a climb, which goes on forever. As you climb higher that clear mountain chill sets in, and your lungs ring out for help and your thighs go numb. Then just when you think it’s all over the last gruelling section appears from behind an alpine refuge. Those last few hundred meters are torturous, but at least the end is nigh, and what an end it is!

Me in retro-chic action, 15 years ago

2011-05-15T08:57:00.001-07:00

Riding the Amalfi, from the Italian archives

2011-05-08T20:17:00.000-07:00

Squinting directly into the sinking evening sun, I battle on against a

soul-sapping wind blowing in off the sea. Darkness is drawing in

rapidly and, as I weave along the rippled Amalfi Coast road, I dip in

and out of the departing winter sunlight. When I rise up I am blinded,

when I drop down again I am chilled, but no matter whether I’m climbing

or descending, I am wishing away the last few kilometres of an epic

ride.

What has been a long day in the saddle has taken its toll and I am

running on empty. Stupidly, I have somehow got into an impromptu race

with a school bus, and this has turned into a game of yo-yo – I get

dropped on the hills, then catch the bus as it edges down the descents.

In my attempt to keep the race going as long as possible, I have

seriously depleted my reserves for the final slog.

When I finally reach my base in the beautiful resort town of Positano,

the streets are starting to buzz with the day’s gossip being passed

around over early evening drinks. But before I can enjoy the relaxed

atmosphere, I still have one last climb lurking in the dusk ahead of

me. I had ridden down it earlier in the day, and ever since a question

had been playing on my mind. Why had they put a silly one-way system

around the town?

My hotel is halfway down the hill in question, but I am going to have

to climb three or four kilometres up said hill in order to ride back

down again. It is road planners’ revenge of the worst possible kind,

and is heightened by the fact that the cheeky, but much shorter, route

the wrong way up the one-way system is no option either because it is

so steep. So steep, in fact, that a local policeman could walk

alongside me and write out a ticket for the traffic infraction if I

were to tackle it in my fatigued state.

I decide to allow the road planners their revenge, and in the process I

drain my tank fully. Continuing my race with the school bus, I at least

have the scant consolation that the final drop downhill means I won’t

be gasping and dripping with sweat when I get back to the hotel.

This ultimate trial came at the end of day two of my Amalfi mission.

With little time to spare I had gone for the all-in-one ride, covering

most of the coastline and tackling one of the best climbs in the area.

I was quite surprised by the ride as it was a lot tougher and longer

than I had imagined, although I have to say that the sea-hugging

route’s reputation as Europe’s most spectacular coast road is hard to

dispute, and boy, had I ever picked a great day to ride it.

Starting out from the enchanting terraced town of Positano, I climbed

out along the coast to the west. It had been uphill right from the off

and the wind was a killer, but this was a Monday morning in November

and I was riding in the sun, so what was there to complain about?

As I ploughed into the wind, high above the rugged coastline, the air

was sharp and crystal clear, and the roads all but deserted. Winding

along the coast, old ladies with colourful strings of peppers scuttled

out in desperate bids to sell me their wares, although heaven knows

what they expected me to do with them.

Although I had figured on a rolling coastal amble, by mid-afternoon I

had already reached for my 24 sprocket a few times, and was going to

give it some more serious wear before the end of the ride. Climbing

away from the coast the views were amazing, as was the much-appreciated

wind-on-the-back effect as I negotiated the switchbacks. I passed the

northern resorts on the Sorrento peninsula and finally got into the big

sprockets as I climbed back on a circuitous return route to Positano.

With the wind behind, it was an easier run back along the coast to

Positano, but I had made life more difficult by heading past my base in

order to take in Amalfi, the lively fishing villages from which this

stunning coastline takes its name. However, despite having semi-decided

to turn back towards Positano from Amalfi, curiosity and the tailwind

lured me into continuing eastward. I swung a left and headed uphill

towards the beautiful hilltop village of Ravello. Nearing the village,

I noticed a sign for Napoli, and for some reason, I decided to check it

out.

Several kilometres of heavy breathing later, I reached the summit of a

superb and deserted climb just as the sun began to fall. Ahead lay the

distant shadow of Mount Vesuvius, but this was as far as I could go

from Positano.

Although the section from Amalfi back to Positano was into the wind

once more, it was to offer a distinct contrast to the first half of the

ride. The road weaves in and out of rocky coves below steep vine-clad

terraces, with deep caves puncturing the cliffs below. But be warned.

This road is seriously twisty, and you have to keep your wits about

you, and even more so when you are racing for time against the

disappearing sun and trying to keep pace with a blue bus packed with

grinning schoolchildren.

Monte Cerreto

Distance: 12 kilometres

Altitude: 0-950m (approx)

Gear: 42 x 24/25

I stumbled on this Neapolitan nasty almost by accident. You start

climbing straight from the shoreline in Amalfi town. I didn’t breathe

much on the first part of the climb as I was too determined to look

cool for the stunning signorinas, but after swinging left for Ravello I

could ease off and grovel in peace.

The first full-on section of the climb is not too bad, but as the road

narrows down, so the gradient slaps up for a while, perhaps forcing

some thoughts of a swift turnaround into unprepared minds. It is well

worthwhile to stick with it though, because the gradient eases before

the road dips into a valley, although losing altitude is a tad worrying

at this stage.

After another short, sharp grunt followed by a brief respite, it’s on

to the climb proper – this is the section most cyclists never bother to

tackle, which is a shame because they miss out on some stunning

scenery. In total it is a six-kilometre grind along the valley side

to-wards Monte Cerreto, but once into a rhythm it is by no means a

cruel climb, and ultimately the views across to Vesuvius make the

effort well worthwhile.

The route

Distance: 105 kilometres

Starting from Positano, climb out of town along the coastal road in a

westerly direction. Stay with the road as it climbs away from the

coast, and then turn left towards Sorrento (there are two signs, take

the longer distance option).

Follow the road up and over to Sorrento, then around the outskirts of

the town until just before Meta, where you will see the road to Piano

di Sorrento and Positano pointing back to the right. Take this turn and

climb back over the hill and retrace on the coastal road to Positano.

Bypass the town and follow the coastal road on to Amalfi. After passing

through Amalfi, climb out of the bay and then turn left for Ravello.

The road climbs steeply then drops into a valley bellow the town.

Keep right here – but avoid turning right to the town itself – unless

you want to take a look around. Continue uphill and through the tunnel.

From here the road leaves the coast behind and climbs a long mountain

pass.

At the summit take time to admire the views before retracing back

through Ravello, Amalfi and on to Positano.

New cover image

2011-05-05T23:17:00.000-07:00

A few tilt and shift experiments

2011-04-16T00:16:00.000-07:00

The drenched reality of cycling during Songkran

2011-04-08T21:04:00.001-07:00

I always find it really strange when foreigners get all excited about the idea of the annual Thai Songkran water festival. It's Thai New Year, one of many new-years celebrated in "The land of Smiles" and other countries in the region. The Tourist Board promo posters and videos always show beautiful girls all dressed up to the nines in traditional Lanna costumes with alms bowls and flowers gently sprinkling water on the occasional passer but, everyone is all smiles, and all is good. Yes, from the ad's it seems like the perfect time to visit Thailand, particularly the north, where the festival is at it's spashiest.

So, how close to reality are those picture postcard type ads? Answer, about as life like as a Teddy Bear is to a big bad hungry grizzly, which is why long term foreign residents try to either exit the region en-mass for the duration, or stay at home and lock the doors.

Getting to grips with things means taking note that although Songkran is officially just a few days long - in many regions they do as they please, I got pounded a few days ago by water - which is more than a week before things are supposed to kick off, and it goes on until they're just plain bored with the whole nonsense. So this can be anywhere between 8-14 days in all, and there's Jack all you can do about things.

And what about the beautiful water sprinkling girls? Well, they're reserved for the cultural shows! Try entire streets lined with drunken middle aged Thais and crazy kids, hose pipes running all day into barrels of water, huge great buckets dipping into this water and then hurling it full pelt at every single passer by and every car. Throw in a constant procession of pick up trucks driving up and down every road with with barrels of water, buckets and more drunk Thais in the back hurling water with the added wallop of speed to help, and all drunk too - including the driver, and it kinda becomes ridiculous.

You'd think after a few hours people would get fed up with this, just bored; but no, this goes on for the entire duration. near none stop. Officially things start at around 9am, and finish by dark, but trying to stop a bunch of drunken massage girls hurling water while staggering around is not easy. Yes, it's no sprinkling, it's as hard as you can hurl it the better. which can be pretty sharp.

So, for those foolish souls who travel to see and tour the region by bike during this time, ohh dear. It may sound pleasant enough on a hot day, but these churns contain an average of 5 Liters of water a piece, and when a truck thunders by and whacks you it's pretty unpleasant (and it will happen, just about everywhere) there is no hiding. Forget cameras and phones, they'll last about 3 seconds.

Another thing to remember is that these people are often drunk, and running in and out of a wet road - hence Songrkan is also the deadliest time (by far) to be on the road. So what do you do? The only realistic option is to get up at 6am and be back by 8.30am, this gives you a reasonable chance of staying intact. If you see kids at the roadside ready to pound you shout and signal NO, but don't do it with a smile, and don't hold out too much hope.

The other option? A turbo trainer. because getting up early after all-night Songkran karaoke blasting's is also not easy...

1 mad month down...

2011-03-28T00:30:00.000-07:00

It's been a long and rough old month on the road, and am now finally back at base with my second week of heavy colds, coughs and sinus issues[ great. Things started off on the wrong footing when I flipped a kayak at the wrong moment - when I had all my camera gear open and was shooting, in a saltwater mangrove swamp.
Upshot; more gear's worth than I earn in a year dead in seconds. A hurried flight to Canon Singapore confirmed the worse, it could not be revived - so a very expensive day lay ahead, as I had a race than night to shoot. Three days later a torrential rainstorm killed another camera during a race, 3 days later the inevitable flu, followed by a cancelled trip and a week of being rained out in Langkawi - sometimes things just pan out that way, I guess ;)
Meantime, here's a few pics from the last week...

Jelajah Malaysia is underway, so am I

2011-03-08T16:32:00.000-08:00

A few pics from the OCBC event in $ingapore today

2011-03-06T00:46:00.000-08:00

Kohei Yamamoto (Asian Champ) yesterday, Thailand

2011-02-03T22:40:00.000-08:00

A few lantern pics for Chinese New Year

2011-02-02T01:24:00.000-08:00

Mountain Biking Chiang Mai a short while ago

2011-01-28T01:45:00.000-08:00

Tree swinging Chiang Mai, Thailand

2011-01-19T04:25:00.000-08:00

A few pics from the Champion System cycling team training camp in Thailand

2011-01-16T01:42:00.000-08:00

The World's Craziest Singletrack

2011-01-03T02:43:00.000-08:00

This is a bit retro, but is on my bikenewsasia.com site today, and still makes a fun read ;)

With the sangria tainting his already diminished reasoning Steve Thomas set off on the ultimate singletrack ride of all time, along the El Chorro gorge.

Grab a granny night in Fuengirola, and there we were. Mark and myself, four days without a wash, a shave, or even a change of clothes. We’d stumbled upon this rather swanky looking Spanish nitespot on our way back from a big tour to Morocco. Suits and evening gowns were the order of the day for the ageing clientele. Dusty SPD shoes and dirty shorts were our answer to the same dress code.

We were jumping around like hyper jelly beans, trying desperately to blend our 70’s style disco dancing in with the traditional Spanish music which was blurting from the DJ’s turn tables.

One more day; we’d somehow mustered a spare day at the end of the trip. Mark was determined to make the most of the trip, and fancied something a little more exciting than a full English breakfast on the trendy Costa sea front. “ What about El Chorro? “ He quizzed? What on earth he was on about I didn’t know, and in my intoxicated state I didn’t care that much either; “ Yeah, what ever ... “ The trip was on.

Sunny side up

As a special treat we still managed the full English breakfast, but then the serious business of finding El Chorro was on. It turned out Mark didn’t even know where the place was, he’s just seen these insane pictures of people dangling on ropes off the side of some sod off gorge. That was how we’d decided to take on the challenge of El Chorro, even though we had no ropes or harnesses. But, we did have our bikes! Uhhm I smelt disaster straight away. But the sun was shining, so I ignored it.

Our map was so detailed and precise that we were able to find El Chorro and Brighton on the same page, without even closing the page for the previous day’s Moroccan trip. After a couple of hours we finally drew up in El Chorro, which was like something from a TV ad. It had two buildings, one bar, and a railway station. And this was supposed to be the adrenaline hell we were in search of. “Must be the wrong place“ I stated. Even so we decided to check things out. The car was dumped and we were pedalling our way hotly up some deserted rock strewn lane. All very pleasant, but then “Grrrrggg“ All of a sudden there was a terrible roar and a piercing scream. We both nearly fell from our bikes in terror. My heart was pounding. I feared the worse, an earthquake. Nah, it was just the 9.15 train from Malaga to Seville. It just happened that it was roaring some 50 meters above us, directly above us. The huge rock pillars that towered besides us were in fact the supporting pillars for the local railway, which traversed an amazing gorge, this was El Chorro.

So we really were in the right place after all, but where was this rope swinging catwalk we’d seen in the pics? Just a few short meters later we rounded a corner, and low and behold there it was. Gulp, gulp again and then gasp. Yeah, that was it alright. Ha, no way, I’m not going anywhere near that thing I thought aloud to myself, and to Mark.

Curiosity obviously got the better of us, so we just had to make a closer inspection of this ridiculous sight. That closer inspection just confirmed my fears; This really was a decaying old concrete and rusty iron 18” wide path, vaguely pinned to the side of a Grand Canyon style gorge. And not only was it severely lacking in railings, it had great big gaping holes in it too, like, people size, big people size.

Oh the catwalk, yeah

I’ve done a few things in my time, and my insane singletrack ridges have be well documented in psychiatric pages. But this thing, huh, something else. One man made super single track from hell. It is literally a narrow concrete catwalk clinging against decay to the most dramatic of gorges.

They recommend ropes, harnesses and carabinas to traverse it. I say recommend; that is to say they recommend these basic safety precautions if you’re stupid enough to attempt it in the first place. And here we were on bikes, without so much as my trusted washing line between us. The lure was just too strong. We had to at least take a peep at the thing.

Doomfully, a rusty old sign swung loosely from the gorge side at the beginning of the path.

The first section was all of 18” wide, and had a sporadic railing of 18” high attached to it. Oh my god, I was so scared, the side drop was around 100 meters, straight down to the hurling waters bellow. One false move, one clipped bar against the rock face, and that was it. Hasta la vista baby! It was so scary riding that very first section, clipping my left foot in was unthinkable. And this was only the warm up. After around 100 meters we turned 90 degrees right and entered the gorge proper. V, v, v, vertigo, big time. The railings fell away, and a great empty hole appeared, When I say hole I actually mean no catwalk, just great big air, 100 meters deep of the stuff. My heart was pumping like crazy, another two meters and it would have been my first ever fall from a catwalk.

Holy shit

Gingerly we clambered our way across the hole, then passed the bikes across. What the hell had we started? Huddled in a recess just past the hole were a couple of Spanish trekkers. They were quivering like two geriatric porn stars. The hole had shaken them some, despite their rucksacks full of safety devices. And even though it had pretty much the same effect on the pair of us this really meant that we had reached the point of no return. The honour and repute of mountain bikers world wide was now in our hands, what a responsibility. It was forwards and onwards.

Rounding the next crevice the cause of their tremblings became blatantly apparent; There was no track at all, however there was a pipeline bridge crossing the gorge about fifty meters further on. A rusty gurder was all that remained of the tracks foundations. The adjacent rock face was decorated in harness points for carabinas. A sagging safety wire loomed menacingly above us. We looked in horror at each other, then proceeded to tight rope walk across the rusting death trap. Every step across being a step closer and further towards the blindingly ridiculous. If it hadn’t have been for the trembling walkers I think we’d have taken up residence in that self same crevice by now. But there was too much at stake. Plus, if I didn’t get the pictures, then I wouldn’t get paid for the feature, so it just had to happen, what ever the consequences. The poor bemused couple looked on in total astonishment as we rode and hopped back and forth taking pictures of the insane act, clinging desperately to our bikes and swaying from side to side in a bid to prevent ourselves and our beloved machines from face planting in the raging torrent way bellow us.

A shimmy across the following pipe bridge lead us deeper and deeper still in to the gorge. Each and every blind corner provided a new horizon, and yet another narrowing challenge for us. The track which had seemed so scary in those first few steps of the catwalk now seemed like a great super highway, lined with padded safety rails and bounded by a cotton wool drop to it’s side. This was true progression, and it made every single glance backwards something of a reassurance.

By now return was not a feasible option, we had to go all of the way. And that was some seven kilometres of knifes edge single tracking, the kind you don’t get anywhere else on earth. Until that was we reached the other end of the catwalk.

Then it dawned on us that the only way back was by the same way we’d arrived, the Camino Del Rey, the catwalk from hell. At least the bar was still open when we finally quivered back to El Chorro, although the locals simply didn’t believe that we’d biked the gorge, thankfully!

Seriously

Do not attempt to ride along the track ! It is a silly idea. The Camino Del Rey, as it’s known, is a decaying old catwalk built in the twenties to transport equipment when building the hydro dam further along the gorge. It is truly spectacular, but totally insane and highly dangerous.

To even walk the route you do need ropes, a harness, and carabinas. Many sections are totally exposed, and flaky to say the least.

The first section of the Camino is now non-existent, so it can not be done any more

Von Ryan’s Express

The classic film Von Ryan’s Express (Which was set in Italy ) was filmed in and around El Chorro. In the last ten minutes of the film you get some pretty impressive views of the gorge as they desperately try to avoid Nazi capture and make off with the gold.

Unfortunately the explosions you see in those closing minutes were the very cause of the great big holes in the Camino Del Rey, which so nearly wiped us out.

Happy New Year!!!

2010-12-30T19:51:00.000-08:00

It's that time again - love it or hate it - new year is here. Between nursing injuries to myself, cameras and computers I'm out getting a few pics - here's some from a brief visit to a tribal festival in Northern Thailand.
Lets hope 2011 will be all upwards in one way, and downhill in others ;)

Santa snores

2010-12-20T02:46:00.000-08:00

Well, no matter where you are in the world they still have Christmas, not quite the same as in Europe, and in some places they have no idea what it means ;) But anyway, those irritating Santa hats can be found all over the world - here's a few Xmas pics from around the world.

Iron Butt Rider

2010-12-05T20:52:00.001-08:00

Ever wondered what it's like to be one of those guys you hardly see at big bike races - the guys hanging off the back of a motorbike? The guys that bring the pictures to you?

Stumbling into a strange and new hotel lobby, 20 kilo backpack on, two monster cameras around your neck, and dragging a huge suitcase. Time to try and get your room, along with 200 or so other race riders, officials and more.

Everybody's tired. I mean they've just ridden a bike race, and the officials have had to sit in cars all day, bored stiff. Us, the photographers; well - we're usually filthy, wet, and by this stage can hardly open our eyes after a day with grit and wind in your eyes (you cant use shades with a camera). Somebody comes across and asks if you can give them some photos for their website - free of course. You politely tell them that while they're having their dinner, massage, or watching TV you'll still be in the same clothes working your way through the 500 or so images you've shot during the day - sizing, cleaning, captioning, backing them up - and of course finding a way to get them all out that same evening. The shower and the beer comes somewhere after midnight, and then you clean and pack your gear before leaving the hotel at somewhere between 5 and 8 am the following morning. They walk away with a frown.

Things are a bit different here in Asia, compared to Europe. In the major European races moto pilots and their photographers are as one - they have years of experience and work as a team on intuition. In Asia it's a bit different, and all too often you're taking your life in your hands when you hop on the back of a strange motorbike with a leather clad man.

Moto pilots are assigned to you, often a different one each day, and many of them have little or no experience of this situation, and of course then there's the language barrier - or blockade; forms of sign language are rapidly developed; codes and instructions translated however you can, and then you hit the road in anticipation.

This is when you find out that your pilot doesn't feel too happy getting close to the riders, and has no idea of where to ride. as the peleton swings from side to side so he hits the brakes - riders yell and gesture, you hit the dirt as he panics and the commisaire blows his whistle at you, another close shave.

The best bits are when you find yourself coming off a wet and snowy mountain and the driver is trying to follow the race - I have actually abandoned ship a couple of times in this situation, going off the road once was enough,

Meantime back in the peleton a team car swerves right instead of the regulation left, a fellow cameraman and his rider smack into the back of the car, going through the window and ending up impaled on the team tool kit, ouch. That means I need to do his work for a couple of days too ;(

Climbing the biggest mountain in Asia, and real close in shooting a rider - he throws off his race cap - mid race my moto pilot stops, the straining bunch swerve around him as he runs for the souvenir cap.

Just after the feed zone my pilot veers off-road and starts collecting souvenir musettes - with his foot, while still moving. Angrily I explain that we need to catch the race - we miss the finish.. silence.

Then there's the guy on the 125cc scooter; a whole week of 5 hours a day on the back, unable to keep up with the race on the fast sections, and ohh my butt - there's no room to move, and the even smaller bike given to me for another race, the riders kept lapping us, it was hillaroius...

Ah, we love it really - so much more exciting than Europe - thanks to all the pilots who have to put up with our tired and stressed moments ;)

Flickr revamp and freshen up

2010-12-02T20:28:00.000-08:00

Just incase you want to look through my images online I've been working hard on updating the format of my flickr photo-stream to make things a little easier to navigate. The original sets are still all there, but I've added collections to sub divide regions and subjects, and then broken down the various collections into smaller and more detailed collections, which makes specific pics, events and places much easier to locate and view.
Sounds complicated, but it does make like much easier for everyone - kinda like organising your socks and undies to make the dressing process smoother ;)
The flickr stream was originally only intended as a "sampler" of images and places, and is but a fraction of my full image bank, but it seems many editors take it as said that it's the full monty - I can assure you that it's not even the tip of the iceberg, so if you're an editor or picture buyer please get in touch and I'll happily send more samples. meantime I'll be adding to the stream from archival and fresh material - time permitting ;) http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevethomaspix/

how I feel after endless small screen hours

More from Loy Krathong

2010-11-21T20:36:00.000-08:00

More from Loi Krathong - which is this weekend

2010-11-18T23:15:00.000-08:00

Loi Krathong

2010-11-13T22:35:00.000-08:00

It's Loi Krathong time in Northern Thailand, a festival which is to thank the gods and spirits of the water - although I guess in the flood stricken south that's kinda not top of their list right now. Anyway, here's a few pre festival pics.

Bend it like... b...

2010-11-06T23:26:00.000-07:00

Into recovery mode - I hope, so here's a couple of pics from the Myanmar border region from earlier this week - being as they have an election today, wonder who'll win :)
The reason the focus is kinda odd is not because I'm drunk, or because I lost mu contact lens, it's a test run of a Lensbaby Composer selective focus lens - but so far I have to say that the jury is out for any commercial use - but will post more as I go...

Anybody know who this is?

2010-10-31T18:17:00.000-07:00

Take a stab at it on http://www.facebook.com/pages/bikenewsasia/11621443842

And the answer was former Tour de France winner Carlos Sastre

KL people watching

2010-10-27T01:14:00.000-07:00

Kinabalu Climbathon 2011

2010-10-27T01:11:00.000-07:00

Grounded

2010-10-26T00:31:00.000-07:00

Fully laden with cold makes things unpleasant at the best of times, throw in a few sleepless nights, trans-Borneo drives, shooting the Kinabalu Climbathon and things don't ease up too much. Just for good measure hop on a flight to experience the ear pounding agony, followed by nausea and deafness just for good effect, yes, all too familiar I'm afraid; for now I'm stuck in KL with popped ears and several cancelled flights, just waiting for things to clear enough to get on another flight, kinda deja vu...
So here's a couple of Climbathon and KL pics from previous trips, more when I can hear what I'm writing...

Borneo to be wild

2010-10-22T22:41:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, but I'm back in the backwaters of Borneo again, with the usual trials and tribulations. Here's a few pics from the "saga" so far; Proboscis monkeys, more monkeys, images from the Filipino night market, and just one igrit...

Next up is the Kinabalu Climbathon - but from behind the lens ;)

Rainy days and Mondays...

2010-09-26T05:19:00.000-07:00

..... always get me down. Well, there's a Monday every week, and right now it seems like theirs a rainy day every, err day. The wet and rainy season in Asia has dragged on some this year, which is very frustrating and confining, but I guess at least it's not cold. But, combined with other things it does restrict just about everything else, apart from sitting behind a computer that is.
Anyway, when it stops raining, which should be very soon, I'll be back in action of some kind, meantime here's a rainy pic or two..

No news is, no news...

2010-09-04T02:47:00.000-07:00

It's been a month, and even a month and a bit - there's lots happening, as ever - but not so much that can be written about. So meantime here's a few recent pics from Chiang Mai in Thailand, and hopefully I'll have more interesting stuff to tell you about soon ;)

Rainforest Music, Bau Biking and Bako Boating

2010-07-16T05:43:00.000-07:00

Just back from this years Rainforest World Music Festival in Sarawak. Once again an amazing show of ethnic and fused music and artists from around the world, which as a none music expert never ceases to blow me away, even in the traditional torrential tropical trickles..
In-between I managed to get in a little mountain biking, which is fantastic in this part of Sarawak, and took in a visit and a hike to the craggy jungle clad Bako National Park, all in a very short timescale.
Meantime it's back to computer nightmares and more, enjoy the pics.

The site is revamped, now I just need to revamp myself..

2010-06-27T00:35:00.000-07:00

Just keep on riding, and riding...?!

It's a strange old thing, being a cyclist, riding a bike - it's something that's often so hard to explain to those mere mortals around us - people otherwise known as "normal". We all have our reasons for it; freedom, fitness, power, escapism, or even just a lust to punish yourself. Whatever the reason it doesn't matter, it sub-divides us some, but we all know that core feeling - "I WANT TO GO OUT ON MY BIKE!'
Sometimes you get so wrapped up in other things in life - like making a living, running a business, keeping a family and other things, and you lose track of what it's really about - 2 wheels and a few tubes! The freedom of the open road, or the half open trail - ahh, yeah, life is about getting out and enjoying riding your bike - Steve chapter 7, parable 5 - the soon to be released bible of bicycling.
Despite having seen the light many time's I'm probably even more guilty than most when it comes to losing the plot - and neglecting the iron horse that's stabled in a room beneath.
Yeah, yesterday was one of those days; after a month of tough days and little sleep, marinated in barrels of wine and with no barrels of fun, you kinda grind down. The weather has changed, the rains have come; the air was clear, and I had an unfortunate day ahead - appointments with destiny, stuff we don't have to deal with too often in life, and never want to. Three hours sleep and the small furry thing with 4 legs decides to wake me up, leaving just 2 hours till the off - the air was clear, I was wiped out, but needed so much to just get out for half an hour on the bike.
I was aching all over from the lack of sleep, head was pounding and throat rasping - kinda normal here. But for a change something forced me to look around, and start talking to myself again. We haven't been of friendly terms for a while - me and my soul. Finally we agreed with myself - this was what it was all about. A deserted trail, a trail I ride so often suddenly became something else, freedom! As Braveheart said while the hook went into a nasty place.
I could see new trails, that were not at all new. But today I wanted to go, and keep going, see where they went - the internal wresting begun. I had to be somewhere else, it was crucial, seriously crucial. What should I do? Yeah, keep on riding - so I kinda split the cookie, slowed up and enjoyed the ride, putting of the inevitable for another day, or two..
It was a wise decision. Many years ago I went for a ride with a friend, the morning of my wedding (to the ex-witch). The same thoughts drifted through my mind that day - but I turned around. If only I'd listened to that eager devil inside back then, maybe I wouldn't of had to make that decision again, I could still be riding...

Wow, didn't realise

2010-06-16T10:15:00.000-07:00

Seems like things have been down on the site - something went astray while I was trying to switch web domains, which left me in cyber space, and working on other projects - like survival, Anyway, over the past months I've learned a lot both about web technology, and surprisingly about people too - or should I say sadly.
So - check back soon and Ih ope the site will be completely re-born.

Tour of Subic

2010-04-30T00:18:00.000-07:00

Pics from the PPL corporate bike racing league in the Phiilippines

Mount Pinatubo, Philippines

2010-04-30T00:16:00.000-07:00

And to think 20 years ago this was just thought to be another mountain, then it erupted.....

Just passing through, KL at night

2010-04-30T00:15:00.001-07:00

Bridge over the River Kwai

2010-04-13T23:16:00.000-07:00

They Might Be Giants - Giant Asia Racing Team

2010-04-13T23:13:00.001-07:00

Tour of Luzon, part deux

2010-03-07T15:11:00.001-08:00

Brought to you by Jollibee, the nations breakfast of, choise

Tour of Luzon, part 1

2010-03-03T15:08:00.000-08:00

Phew, welcome to the Philippine where the temperature is hot and the burgers almost as happy as the flat pancakes - here's a couple of images from the race

Training Thailand (..not me)

2010-01-30T00:17:00.001-08:00

Three square animals for Xmas

2009-12-22T01:57:00.000-08:00

But how do I wrap them? From Danum Valley, Sabah 2009

Perth by night, and bike

2009-11-13T08:09:00.001-08:00

Perth GP and more

2009-11-13T08:05:00.001-08:00

Yooohoooo

2009-10-23T20:54:00.001-07:00

New Flickr photostream

2009-09-18T00:06:00.000-07:00

At last I've got to work on the backlog of images - just a few that happened to be on the computer and ready sized, more soon.....
http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevethomaspix/

Film lives

2009-08-14T02:43:00.000-07:00

Rainforest World Music

2009-07-19T02:01:00.000-07:00

Just pics

2009-05-29T22:23:00.000-07:00

Splashing out

2009-04-16T05:10:00.000-07:00

A few shots from the on-going Thai Songkran new year festival, and not a red shirt in sight

Retro, long and square..

2009-03-30T03:11:00.000-07:00

.. that's the pics, not me, I think...

Sunny side up

2009-02-09T01:30:00.001-08:00

a few recent images...

On the pull

2009-01-02T04:15:00.000-08:00

Christmas and even more so new year is celebrated in many different ways - here's one from a remote hill tribe village, where the new year is not even 2009...

Oh, and a couple from a nearby town, real contrasts in just a few kilometres

A time for reflection

2008-12-25T23:37:00.000-08:00

.....in many ways, here's a few...

Crossed and plastic

2008-12-01T02:44:00.000-08:00

Film lives, but when there are processing issues best try something new - a few shots of something I found earlier

Cold snaps

2008-12-01T02:02:00.000-08:00

Here's a few snaps from the last couple of weeks in chilly Asia

Borneo bound

2008-11-05T19:19:00.000-08:00

Just a couple of snaps from this months Sabahan tour....

Water babes

2008-10-17T04:51:00.000-07:00

A busy month behind and another ahead. But noting much to shout about -so meantime here's a few pics from a recent stroll to a Hmong hill tribe village in Thailand

Plastic passion

2008-09-12T09:10:00.000-07:00

Strange, maybe even arty - but here's a couple or even two couples of pics from a strange red plastic camera - hope you like me! More to come, if i can remember the tape.

Half an hour on tour

2008-09-03T03:44:00.000-07:00

..that's all I got on this year's Tour of Thailand, seems they want it to be a sercet from the rest of the world - but here's a couple of snaps of two mates in trouble with the road - from todays stage, but don't tell anyone.

Monkey biz

2008-08-25T06:45:00.000-07:00

Well, you could be fooled into thinking I have a monk fixation - a bad habbit I know, hehehehe, but anyway, its a strange old time - and here's a few pics from last weeks Laos journey - where my camera broke and I was left with just a point and shoot and floods....

sateeeve

Sausages and web sites

2008-07-15T04:24:00.000-07:00

For some reason my web site has been down for a couple of weeks - trying to sort things out, so meantime here's a picture of some sausage rings...

No news

2008-05-23T23:07:00.000-07:00

There's not a lot of printable stuff I can say right now, so here's a pic from a recent trip to Sabah

Still here

2008-04-18T01:51:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I posted anything; it's been something of as time, and am only just starting the recovery trail - so here's a pic that happened to be on my desk top, old but gold, more when I'm able.

Caio

Time for reflection

2008-03-10T04:55:00.000-07:00

For some strange reason the blog gremlins have been at work, but it seems things are back right now - and soon I'll be adding slide shows from my ventures to the blog. Meantime I'm back in Thailand and trying to get into some kind of shape and keep working, so here's a snap from the other day.

Hot Iron

2008-02-23T04:04:00.000-08:00

Wow, they say the Langkawi Ironman is the hottest in the world, and after covering the event many times I have to agree, it's even worse lugging cameras around all day when you're burning up and near to passing out, but anyway the show must go on, enough feling sorry for myself. So here's a couple of pics, more from somewhere else next week...

Lost sole

2008-02-21T04:33:00.000-08:00

Selamat malam from Langkawi, my 3rd home. I'm here for the Ironman Triathlon, sick with a cold, as ever - and the usual array of issues. After carting a bike around for a week I finally set off for my first training ride in preperation for the, umm, possible return to racing. But the cranks were bent, then the sole fell offa my shoe, so it's back to square one....

So for now here's a shot, or 3, from last week

Smashing finish

2008-02-14T23:17:00.000-08:00

With just a couple more days or racing to there's everything to play for in this year's Tour de Langkawi, tomorrow the race hits the hills - so here's a shot or three from todays stage finish, a battle royale betwen the sprinters, which ended with many riders biting the Tarmac.

Trus, madi, me

2008-02-10T06:48:00.000-08:00

Roots, rats, rain and leeches, all in a weekends work! I'm just back down from an expedition to the summit of Mount Trusmadi, Malaysia's second highest peak, and a beautifull mountain hidden deep in the heart of Borneo. I made the trip with my good friends Tham, Jungle Jimmy and Maik, and a great weekend of swinging from trees, strumbling over roots, sleeping and shivering with rats in the rain was had by all.
For now it's 24 hours of turn-around before heading to the west, for the Tour de Langkawi, images to be poted soon.

Caio

Gong xi fa cai

2008-02-07T07:39:00.000-08:00

Happy Chinese New year from sunny Sabah. Yeah, for a short time I'm back "home" in Borneo. I was meant to be a whole week in jungles and dangling from ropes on mounains, but as ever pear shaped is the name of the game. But, at least I got chance to catch up with a few things and see yet another CNY here.
A few days in Bangkok preceeded things, so here's a couple of shots from recent travels, following on with the theme of monks and bikes - well, they aren't allowed to ride them, so at least lets get a snap of them together, umm - anwyay, more pics when i return from the jungle.......

Small world

2008-01-30T22:16:00.000-08:00

It really is amazing how small the world can be, I've been on the road in the Golden Triangle area, and bumped into various old mates - including a whole bunch of top Japanese racers training here. I'm heading south now, to the mountains and jungles of Sabah, via Bangkok - so here's a couple of snaps from the week.

Sunbrellas

2008-01-22T03:19:00.000-08:00

More and more strange times, and nothing major to report just yet. So meantime here's a snap from the weekends umberella festival in Bo Song, which I more or less missed. Road trip next, which should be interesting, and then back on the road....