Considering I'm living at the beach for the next month, I thought I'd may as well create a beach only post instead of lots of little ones. Hope your New Years break is as beachy as mine.

Henley Beach.

Boat Harbour Bay - Deep Creek

Brighton to Seacliff - where I am being forced to spend my Christmas Holidays.......

Glenelg.

Port Noarlunga - Where the Onkaparinga River meets the ocean and my old stomping ground.

Second Valley - We met up with some of Rach's friends and had a great day at one of the most beautiful beaches I've had the pleasure of visiting.

 it's amazing what you find washed up on the rocks........

G'day Tim,
I'm currently on the hunt for a new touring frame (700c/29") with a few requirements that may be problematic.
1. Rohloff drop-outs (Not really a problem as i know you can do that)
2. Tyre clearance for 29er MTB tyres (2.1")
3. Disc tabs
Basically I'm planing on doing the Tasmanian Trail on it (rear racks not BOB). As far as I have read it's more or less fire trail type trails which could probably be handled with 38mm touring tyres but I have some other future plans and wouldn't mind the clearance for larger tyres.
Would you consider creating such a bike or do you have any recommendations.
If so, what would the price roughly be (frame only, no fork, 1 1/8 head tube) and could it be done for by December?
Thanks
Ty

That was the first correspondence I had with Tim from Velosmith. His reply?
Thanks for you enquiry. All the requirements you mention are not a problem.

From that moment on it was a series of simple questions and transactions before my frame arrived in the mail. Two hours later I had it built with my bits and pieces and was test riding the new creation.

So how did it go? Well, if you’ve read the story below you will have noticed that I didn’t mention the bike once. That’s the way it should be, it just worked.

Tim’s selection of tubing and expert building skills ensured the frame handled perfectly and stayed in one piece. The combination of Reba forks (with lockout), Rohloff hub (sliding dropouts), Avid brakes, Tubus racks and Ortlieb panniers left me with my perfect off road touring machine.

I’d really like to write more but there isn’t a whole lot more to say, so enjoy the pictures and give Tim a yell when you want something a little different.

The Build:
Frame: Custom (as described above)
Drivetrain: Rohloff hub (external gearbox)
Forks: Rockshox Raba SL
Cranks: Middleburn
Pedals: Crank Brothers, Egg-Beater S
Wheels: Velocity VXC, DT Swiss spokes, Velocity front hub
Brakes: Avid BB7
Tyres: Maxxis Crossmark
Headset: Chris King
Bars: Salsa Pro-moto 17 degree sweep
Grips: JetBlack foam (Get them!!)
Stem: Salsa Pro Scandium SUL
Bar ends: Profile Stubbies
Seat Post: Thomson
Saddle: SDG BelAir
Cages: Chris King SS
Rack: Tubus
Panniers: Ortlieb
Bar bag: Topeak

And some pics from my visit to the home of Velosmith, just in case you missed them in the story. Enjoy.

EDIT: News just in - the bike rides just as good naked!

Removed the racks and other paraphernalia and took the her for a ride at Eagle Hill MTB park. Perfect!

The best way for me to describe the ride was that it felt just like my Ventana singlespeed, but with a Rohloff attached. I used to think that the Rohloff caused some of the handling problems I had had with it attatched to other bikes, but it seems as though it must have been the frames (Surly Karate Monkey and Slingshot Farmboy). Had a ball on this thing today and am just overwhelmed at how the bike can handle anything!

I'm sitting here waiting for the bus back to Devonport then the boat back to the fatherland. It's been raining for almost two days now and although I had a great trip I did cut it slightly short and am pretty grateful not to be on the bike, wet and cold today. I am still way ahead of schedule, allowing nine days to complete the journey and return to Melbourne I ended up taking four and a half to get from Devonport to Hobart; so with some rescheduling I will have been in Tasmania for only six days.

The story started in Melbourne, where Tom dropped me at the Spirit of Tasmania ferry right on check in time; only to find out there was a bomb scare and check in was pushed back an hour and a half. I suppose this gave me a chance to actually ride my new frame fully laden. Great preparation on my behalf.

Boarding was easy, as technically I was classed as a vehicle, but walked through the passenger door. The result of such a phantasmagorical loop-hole was that I was able to board, find my room and purchase dinner before anyone else was close to the gangway. I busied myself with final preparations in my cabin before being rocked to sleep by the four metre seas of the Tasman Strait.

Day 1 Devenport to Deloraine 119km

We arrived in Van Diemen’s Land greeted by blue skies and perfect temperatures. I collected the Jetboil gas canister they confiscated from me and was on my way out of town, through Latrobe and into the forests. Now, I didn't expect to be held up so soon, so the sight of scores of trees covering what used to be a dirt road took me by surprise. Attempting to walk my beast of burden through the surrounding forests left me short of any thoroughfare, so I had to follow the path of destruction caused by the machinery. Luckily this only lasted a couple of hundred meters but it left a seed of doubt in my mind for what the remainder of the trip may be like.

The ride continued on through a series of legs that followed the old railways lines. I love rail-trails, as they are always flat and easy to follow as trains don’t do steep hills or switch backs.

Soon enough I hit Sheffield and enjoyed a fantastic lunch from the local bakery in front of their local outdoor art gallery, pretty impressive.

The real riding started soon after Sheffield when I hit a real leg testing hill just outside of a place called Paradise. The difficulty in ascending this hill planted the second seed of doubt in my mind. I was getting slightly concerned.

Then it was onto the real dirt and through the Cog Ranges toward my first night’s destination, Deloraine. It was an hour or so of riding that took me over the range with a beautiful descent into the flood plain of the Mersey River. The Cog Range campsite was situated on the plain and was quite average but metres further was the Mersey River with beautiful flat banks and crisp clear water. The round and head sized rocks made the crossing particularly tricky with a heavy bike but it was nice to get the feet and legs wet before a back breaking haul up the banks on the other side.

The section of trail between the river and the bitumen to Deloraine was immensely slow and frustrating, as you seemed to follow new and unmapped forestry trails that backtracked over the hills in every direction but the one you wanted to go. Soon enough I was flying along the bitumen and in the bottle shop of Ye Old Brittish Pub checking into my room for the night.

Day 2 Deloraine to Miena 135km

While standing outside the pub packing my bike a 90 year old man walks by – ‘I used to ride bikes with no gears to the coast and back in a day just for a swim, back then you couldn’t even stop pedaling.’ The original fixter!!

I left Deloraine after a bacon and egg bagel, fresh juice and cappuccino and followed the bitumen for a period before heading into the bush again. More frustrating backtracking and what seemed like deliberate sign removal saw me pushing my bike up hills in error and losing a good hour of my day attempting to find roads that coincided with my waypoints. All was eventually good until I began to follow Claun Tiers Road.

Some time in the future I am likely to be counseled on my irrational hate for contour lines. This behavior will be traced back to the two or three hours of my life spent ascending the Claun Tiers. Looking back it seems funny, but the anger I felt every time I reached a false crest and assumed I was at the top of the range is impossible to describe. The first five times this happened drew me to despair, but the following five drove me to insanity. The strange part was that once I had actually reached the top and started descending I was actually disappointed, talk about a perfect example of STOCKHOLM SYNDROME!!!

The descent was beautiful. Lush greenery, grass covered trails and multi-coloured flowers before another obstacle almost halted what was a great reward after such an enduring climb. I reached a gate to a logging plant that stated ‘no unauthorised entry’. There was absolutely no way I was going to return the way I had come so I ventured through the gate. The sound of machinery and chainsaws echoed through the forest until I was in full view of the plant. There was no clear route through so I began to roll into the camp. A wolf whistle gained my attention and I was ready for some kind of abuse, instead the worker pointed me in the right direction and went on with his work. A thumbs up and I was on my way again – bitumen all the way to Poatina.

I had planned a lunch stop in Poatina – a ‘Lifestyle Resort’ that claimed it was ‘the way life should be’. I arrived and very quickly realized that the town was settled by some kind of religious group and was in fact the old settlement used by the workers during the construction of the hydro-plant across the road. It actually felt a lot like a nineteen sixties school, converted into a town. No real food was available and the option of accommodation was quickly struck from my mind. The dilemma – the only way out of this town was up, onto the central plateau then another 35km to Miena, and it was 3pm.

Up it was then. Two hours later I had traveled 10km, almost entirely in granny gear. I could describe what it felt like but a picture is worth a thousand words.

The reward was the change in weather and the beautiful alpine flora. My legs were so tired that the slightest of uphill gradients brought about the greatest feeling of dread. I’d already done over 100km that day and most of the nine hours on the bike had been spent riding uphill. I was literally at the end of my tether. Luckily the landscape kept me interested and as my speedo clicked over to 135km for the day, I reached the Great Lakes Lodge. A counter meal devoured and I was ready for a great sleep.

Day 3 - Miena to Ouse 125km

While waiting for a coffee at the Great Lakes General Store a gent asked me how I had gotten there. I told him I had ridden up the mountain the previous day. He chuckled, I assured him I wouldn’t be trying that again in my lifetime.

A great expanse of treeless plain greeted me the next morning as I left Miena. The good dirt road was occasionally terrifying as full and empty logging trucks frequently passed by, the dirt thrown up stinging my sun burnt skin. A series of fresh water streams and lagoons lined the route before the way became hilly and rocky once again. I was warned against the off-road route into Bronte Park but thought I’d check it out just in case it had changed. A very rocky downhill trail brought me to the area that should have intersected with my trail. No trail and no signs, just massive boulders. Back onto the road I flew the remainder of the way to Bronte, but the sight of numerous locals hooning around the ‘trailer-park’ type town, in Commodores and dressed in sleeveless flanos ensured that I wasn’t going to stop.

Not far from Bronte I turned onto Victoria Valley Road and enjoyed the journey through the forest, which took me to Dee Lagoon. A quick breather before I was off again and exploring the various abandoned farmhouses I came across. Many still with ornate front gates, fruit trees and paths that lead you to the front door; once inside some still had fittings and crockery left behind as the owners either passed on or moved to greener pastures. It was mysterious to think that I was enjoying the same view that someone once enjoyed from their front porch or kitchen window as they did the dishes on a balmy afternoon.

I followed the road as it wound through open farmland and into the town of Ouse, where I found another pub, a counter meal and a bed.

Day 4 Ouse to Mountain River 125km

Standing outside the store in Ellendale ready to remount a gent asks, are you going the right way or the wrong way? – to the North was uphill and into a severe head wind. ‘No, I’m lucky today, heading South,’ I replied. He smiled and waved me on my way.

I left Ouse and headed toward Repulse dam before heading uphill toward the trail I wished to follow. The uphill was constant and it took about half an hour for me to reach the top of the range. I reached a four-way intersection with two roads heading roughly due north, the map was of no use as it was hard to tell the roads apart so I took a gamble and followed one. I had a ball flying through the pine forest and into a valley – where the trail abruptly ended! I climbed all the way out of the valley and took the other alternative, which also soon ended. The was no option but to head all the way back to the dam and take the bitumen – two hours of my day wasted.

I stopped in Ellendale for a toasted sanga and coffee. As I sat at the table waiting for my treats the lyrics to the song on the stereo registered with me – ‘You are a son of God’. Almost immediately a sever gust of wind blew into the small town, chairs were falling over, dust was flying and the lady behind the counter ran to shut the front door of the shop. A ‘dry-thunderstorm’ had just hit, out of nowhere – was the big man angry? This gave me something to contemplate for the next few hours………

I had a moment of déjà vu as I reached Glenora and bought a punnet of raspberries, I felt just as if I was back in Scandinavia where a regular pastime for me and Tim was to ride bikes through the country side and devour massive amounts of fresh berries. They tasted great, just as they did today.

Next was the climb over Black Hills and into New Norfolk. It was late afternoon and I was still feeling good so the plan was to see how I felt once I reached Lachlan. The only options were to stop at Lachlan or to head up Jeffrey’s Track and over another significant range. Feeling good I stopped in Lachlan to replenish my supplies and thought I’d ask about the state of Jeffrey’s Track. The response was consistent – it’s possible in a 4WD but you have no hope on a bike. After some consideration I decided I would attempt it and, as it was late afternoon, I could stop and camp if it all became to much for me. I decided to ask the fire brigade what the fire danger was like for campers and his response was the same, as he looked me up and down, ‘You won’t make it anyway’. I was slightly concerned but got on my way. An hour later I was on top of the range.

I was disappointed by the extensive damage to the roads by bogans in 4wds and on bikes, with empty cartons of Bundy and UDLs, but the ride was quite enjoyable. I contacted Tim, of Velosmith, the builder of my frame and he invited me for some cold beers at his place. I followed his directions down the mountain over some of the most technical terrain I had experienced so far. He claimed it was an easy ride to his place once on the roads, but neglected to mention he lived at the top of a hill!

Tim had built the frame for me and mailed it to Canberra less than two weeks earlier, only to have me build it up and ride it back to his home in the mountains behind Hobart. It was great to see his beautiful hand built home and see exactly where my bike was made. Being greeted with a cold beer and hand made pasta was an added bonus. After some great conversation and many new bike ideas taking form I crashed at the house and awoke the next morning to the sound of rain on the tin roof.

Day 5 Mountain River to Hobart 40km

My plan to continue South to Dover was short lived as my investigation unveiled possibilities of the trails being unrecognizable through the heavily logged areas to the North of Dover. As I already had plan to return to Tasmania and follow the coastline some time in the not too distant future, it seemed pointless to head along the coast this time round – especially with two days of rain scheduled.

So I headed direct for Hobart along the Old Huon Road. What a great little journey to take in the rain! The scenic and winding roads were a perfect end to the trip, the rain just made it all that more beautiful on this occasion. Although, once over the last hill it was a long descent into Hobart, one I wish I hadn’t had to do wet - I froze. Reaching the Astor Hotel wet and freezing, Tildy told me to get into my room and warmed up before fixing up the details later.

I explored Hobart in the rain and enjoyed a rest for the remainder of the day. Awaking the next day I ensured I made it to the Lark Distillery where I tried many a Single Malt Whiskey before making my selection – Barrel 94 of the Cask Strength selection. Several samples of the 58% APV selecton before noon, I left feeling quite content with the world, and with two bottles of whiskey I needed to fit into my panniers!

Then it was farewell to Hobart and onto the bus to Devenport; farewell to Tassie and onto the ferry for an overnighter to Melbourne. Five metre seas ensured I got less than a couple of hours sleep before riding to Tom’s house and helping him move soil into his back garden, great timing. Although, even better timing was the spoke that gave way as a rounded the corner to Tom’s house! After 500km of touring it was the cobbled streets of Richmond that were too much.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and riding to various establishments, enjoying summer fashion and a few beers, then a BBQ and a night on the town.

My new custom Velosmith touring frame arrived today.

Lots of Columbus tubing, made for 29" tyres, Rohloff, racks, disc brakes and lots of bottles. More to come!!

The weekend just gone was the Australian Singlespeed National Championships, held at Wangi Wangi, just South of Newcastle. People from all over turned up for a total of around 80 riders; the weather also turned itself on for a top of 36  degrees on  race day.

Sponsored by Coopers the weekend unsurprisingly started on the Friday night with a small race around the peninsular beside the caravan park, finishing at the local RSL. While this sounds easy, the heat, hills and requirement to skull beer halfway through the race made you work for any glory you desired. Additionally, the lack of adequate route description meant that only a handful of riders got to the RSL the shortest way, and without forbidden bitumen roads. Winners were eventually decided upon - no one knew who came in first, no one really cared, but the first seen to buy a beer was the eventual winner!

Decidedly worse for wear, the next morning began with fresh pies from the bakery before we headed 20 minutes out of town for the race venue. Briefings, then the first real event, the time trials. We ventured deep into the valley, where at least it was cool, before being let out at intervals. The idea was to race to the top of the downhill course (event 1) then race down a section of the downhill course (event 2) - no beer involved, although many were consumed at the start line.

Then it was time to relax and wait for the heat of the middle of the day so that we could start the main event. The concept was simple - start in a dismounted bunch, find your bike, race four laps, find a winner. The interesting part came in the ability to take a short cut. The short cut involved drinking a beer instead of riding a section of trail. Depending on your urgency to drink the beer, the shortcut was well worth the buzz of skulling a semi cold beer.

I rode with Bec for a majority of the race and found that my casual drinking of a beer was timed exactly to her completion of the 'non-shortcut'.

Anyway, I drank beer while racing, someone won then it was back to the camp site.

*Huge thanks to Kurt Petersen for some of the photos above. It's always good to have a great photog in attendance when you're too busy to ride, drink AND take photos!!

The main event for the night was the 16" crits. Self explanatory really - large humans riding bikes way too small for them. Questionable brakes, loose soil and general lack of coordination led to a fantastic event.

The finals involved a Le Mans start, with the bikes stacked on the start line. First in best dressed!!!

More beer and more RSL finished off the night before the final events in the morning. The Huffy Toss and the Bunny Hop competition.

A guy from New Zealand won the mens and a chick from France won the womens!?!?!?!? All in good fun, all a good weekend. Looking forward to next year.