bikes

I am a bald man, yet I have never bought, or thought of buying, any magic hair-growth concoctions.  When a Conservative politician opens his (in Australia, it's much more likely to be a 'he') mouth, I know he is lying.  When an advertisement flashes on the television for a miracle weight-loss regime; an end to back pain; or a instant cure for migraines, I inevitably nod knowingly and wonder how many suckers fall for such nonsense.  And yet, I must confess, I have recently joined the seemingly endless line of stupid people believing in the unbelievable. My dupe? SealSkinz Waterproof Socks. I know, WATERPROOF socks! And only $45 a pair! What idiot would spend his hard-earned on such a charade? A bald middle-aged cycling idiot, that's who. I ride my bike in all conditions, subscribing to the Billy Connolly philosophy that 'there is no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes.' This is a sensible attitude from the cold and wet Scottish Highlands to the wind...

Today I went for my daily ride in the Blue Mountains - a thirty-kilometre loop with the temperature hovering at 4 degrees celsius in early May. The westerly blew stronger than usual and dropped the wind chill down to 1 degree. In the coming months, it�s only going to get colder. It�s time I penned a few thoughts on what to wear in this weather. I�ll start from the top. Apart from the compulsory helmet, I wear my treasured Fausto Coppi headwear - it�s a fabric tube that can be turned into neck warmer; bandana; ear warmer; head warmer or full-kit balaclava. I bought it for 10 euros (A$15) at the summit of Passo Dello Stelvio after a lovely three-hour climb from Bormio. At six o�clock in the evening, with two-metre high snow drifts beside the road, I knew I was in for a chilly descent. Fausto kept me snug and warm. The material is thin enough to hear approaching traffic, yet offers optimum warmth and stretches comfortably over my fat head. My favourite winter item. Wanker alert: Most of t...

I've been cycling in Thailand for the past six days, beginning in the Northern city of Chiang Mai and travelling over the mountains to Lampang and now onto the Central Plains town of Kamphaeng Phet. So far, we've travelled 560 kilometres on a variety of roads, from the main highway over the mountains to quiet back roads in parts of the country that rarely see tourists. Today, on one such road, every child who saw us smiled and called hello. Even a bunch of roadworkers seemed thrilled at our appearance, all waving and smiling as we rode past.  I've cycled in Thailand before, but I'm always amazed at the quality of the road surface - smooth with a wide shoulder, perfect for cycling. On one section of road today, there were two wide lanes in each direction and a shoulder large enough to drive a truck. I kid you not. We could have ridden three abreast if we'd chosen and still not infringed onto the dual carriageway. This was not a main highway, but a secondary road.  Ev...

This year I cycled over 8,200 kilometres, mostly on a circuit around my beloved Blue Mountains. However, I�m extremely fortunate to have an occupation that requires regular travel. On these trips, I always take my bicycle, or hire one when I reach my destination. Here�s a Top Ten of my favourite bicycle trips for 2013. It�s divided between flat rides along beguiling paths and roads and invigorating climbs in the mountains.  Number 10 - The Brisbane River loop A gentle thirty-four kilometre meander on both sides of the muddy Brisbane River which includes a breezy cycle on dedicated bike paths beside the river and quiet roads through some of the leafy and wealthy suburbs of my home town. It�s a pedal down memory lane for me, although when I was ten years old, there were no cycle paths and thankfully, fewer aggressive motorists. Any city that has three dedicated cycle/pedestrian bridges earns my vote as the bike capital of Australia. It looks as though Queensland will also be the fir...

I ride my bicycle every day. I wave and say hello to each cyclist I see, from the Lycra-clad racer with his head down to the bearded guy at the shops riding an old clunker with plastic bags for panniers. I�m sure many people view me as a few spokes short of a complete wheel, but when I�m on a bike, the world is a beautiful place. I want to hug everyone.  Last week, the cycling world did its best to rid me of this beatific serenity.  In Melbourne, the Total Rush bicycle store held a party to celebrate a million dollar refit of its Punt Road premises. The owner chose to hire young topless women dressed in pink body paint, lace panties and high heels. When photos were posted on social media, the paint hit the fan.  Comments ranged from the outraged to vows to never shop at the store again. Many people took to the store�s Facebook page to express disappointment and anger. These comments appear to have been removed from the site, with only a smattering of �supportive� remarks...

It�s fair to say I was a sceptical first-time ebook author.  I�d had twenty �real� books released with reputable publishers, who had assigned extremely experienced and helpful editors to assist in transforming my messy manuscripts into readable books. These publishers also spent considerable time, money and expertise in providing quality covers and design work, as well as marketing and publicising the book when it eventually hit the shops. They had, to varying degrees, also released ebook versions of the paperback books. So far, these ebooks have accounted for only 5% of total sales. Not the supposed ebook revolution we�ve been told is just around the corner. However, in 2012 I�d written a travel memoir that I knew was highly unlikely to be accepted by one of my publishers. Not because it wasn�t well written (come on!!), but because it was aimed at a rather small niche market.  baguettes and bicycles  is the tale of my cycle across France from the Atlantic Ocean to the Ge...

One of the first books I remember reading as a teenager was �Green Mountains� by Bernard O�Reilly. I borrowed it from the local library and was transfixed by the account of his search for and discovery of the Stinson aircraft that crashed in 1937 in the largely unexplored MacPherson Ranges. While the official search was out to sea off Ballina, Bernard O�Reilly followed his own intuition and set off alone to scour the remote ridges and valleys near the O�Reilly property. He found the wreck on the second day of his search and then trekked sixteen kilometres to raise the alarm and guide the rescuers back to the crash-site. Three men survived the crash, but, tragically James Westray fell to his death while going to get help. But for the tenacity and bushcraft of Bernard O�Reilly, the two survivors would have also perished. Years later, I read the wonderful Judith Wright poem, �The Lost Man� a haunting, almost gothic account, of the imagined final moments of James Westray.  Although the...