Right, just so people dont get confused, the following is from the NZ National Champs in Nelson that were held three weeks ago. Yes, thats a long time ago. Yes, we are slack. And yes, it seems odd to bother putting this up after a report on the following round? well, deal with it. We had been meaning to do a full report, but the weekend was too painful to think about so it got put on the back burner. Then the day I decide to actually pull my finger out, Sam wrote the report for Auckland, so instead of a full report here is a photo essay of crap photos I took with Adams MyFirstCamera.


Joe Barnes jumping 'The Forty Footer', which was actaully not even thirty feet long. For bonus info Hes jumping this switch footed.


Giant Glorys are ugly so i tried to beautify this shot of one. didnt work


Ebony and Ivory.


Another Tin Donkey.


Some dude who spends alot of time colour coordinating his attire.


The bit before the road crossing.Which way was faster? to the left off the log or to the right going low and across the log. Either way there was a huck to flat. strangely the landing looks really big and inviting but in real life it was pathetically small and mincy.


Uplift. Riders complained of not enough runs. The upligt dudes went on break whenever they fancied it regardless of actual race schedules. Trucks broke down. Trucks crashed into parked cars. It was hella dusty. and Sam had his shifter snapped off on the uplift on the way to his race run.


Dusty.


Sam on the step down at the finish.


Podium for Pro Elite.


My short lived 4x race. DQ'd a fraction of a second after this photo was taken.


Thanks to Ginger Si's mom and dad letting us stay for the weekend. Their hot tub was put to good use.

Posted by SEB

The course was good, although some of the modifications made the day before the race could only be described as "bizarre" digging your own braking bumps is a definite first. Much of the jump construction would best be described as pikey and someone definitely got a bit over zealous with the chainsaw.

Thankfully this track wasn't in England, otherwise health and safety would have
put a stop to the race before it had even begun, laying logs across the track? hello? anyway most of the logs rolled off when the more pedestrian of the riders hit them.

But despite my whinging I really enjoyed the track, fast, a bit loose and tricky enough to mean I didn't have time to smoke my Sherlock Holmes pipe or drink any tea on the way down, contrary to what any commentators had to say.

Riders wise the usual people looked fast and the other people looked slow, no surprises there, race results are available on some other website that you checked before you looked here anyway.

Joe Barneseses poomerow finally gave up the ghost with a bust main pivot, fortunately James shirley had put himself out of the game with a tree hugging incident so he hopped on James vp-free and promptly broke that too.

A quick note for Si Paton, I've broken another set of your pedals. Big thanks to the philanthropic James shirley for the lend of some pedals.

In other British news Alex stock seems to have recovered from his mauling by Pc Pooch with a solid result there.

Coming up shortly is the final round in Levin where I'll be keeping it realer than a Brazilian Bureau du Change (work that joke out if you can be bothered).

Back in the day if you wanted to impress the kids in your cul-de-sac all you had to do was a big fat skid down the drive way. Then things moved on and the skid didn't cut it anymore and the only way of showing off in front of the girls hanging out behind the bike sheds at was to pop a wheelie. Then the Hans Rey phenonmenon kicked in and you had to do back hops outside the off-license whilst Sid the local homeless dude was inside getting your bottle of Scrumpy. These moves were great to do because they made you feel like a super star amongst mere mortals, even if the truth is that you just looked like a big headed little show off.

So in an ever changing and fickle world it’s no surprise that the wheelie and the skid just don’t hold the same sort of kudos anymore. At the NZ nationals we noticed the emergence of the Car park Cuttie as the de riguer move for little bastards. It seems that after practice runs every young git with a full TLD outfit is expected to make his way back to fathers Merc doing a fish tail all the way through the car park.

It’s not big and it’s not clever. Every time a kid comes barreling through the car park doing cutties it throws up dust clouds that waft into your open car window, covers your sandwich in a thick layer of carpark crap, and which you later digest. To make matters worse impressionable young Adam has latched on to the craze. Instead of going riding he often spends half an hour having a cuttie session in our driveway.

So here is a detailed how-to on carpark cutties…

Step one: If you feel the need to do a car park cuttie then the first thing you need is a good length of rope.

Step two: Tie the rope in a knot and pass it over a tree branch.

Step three: Put your neck through the knot and jump.


Cutties, JUST DON’T DO IT!

Posted by SEB


That says it all really

News:
There is none.

Instead here is a photo. If you're really bored then please leave a caption in the comments below. Best one kills time.



ps. this is not photoshopped

vanessa quinn (aka VOQ or V-Quizzle or "whos that fit bird on the blue Intense?") broke her neck at recent NZ nationals. She did it in her seeding run when she hucked to flat and did a proper head banger on the bars.

The Collective has received one of action sports films highest honors by winning the “Best Director” Award from the X-Dance Action Sports Film Festival in Park City, Utah. Why it should recieve an award for gnarly dancing is beyond me. Maybe i havent found the secret bonus section where the Claw takes it to the dancefloor.

Whilst out riding around in the wilds of cyberspace in my G-wagon i came across a rumour that Nico Vouilloz will be returning to competitive downhill racing. Just to remind everyone Nico comes from a time where grown men like Steve Jones had the choice between the rough and rugged Shaun Palmer or the nice boy Nico Vouilloz for their wet dreams. It was like the choice between beating off to the Spice Girls or All Saints.

I sent him an email to find out for real.....
Nico Hi are you the real Jill Kintner? :-) the 4x star? Amazing season congratulations!
NZDiaries.com No sorry Nico its NZDiairies.com. I had a shit season, thanks for reminding me arsehole! Anyway whats le 411?
Nico Yes I will be present on 2 WC events, probably WC2 and 5! I will also compet in rally car in a new IRC serie (like european championnish) I really do that for fun and challenging myself! After 4/5 years, it should be really difficult to come into top 5! The top guys, specially Sam look very fast...
NZDiaries.com Do you mean Angry Sam Gothorp?
Nico Have a good season! Bye Nico"

Steve Peat bust his ankle doing street riding...[GROAN]...apparently he wasnt doing an Abubaca on a plant pot (have you seen Aaron Chases section in NWD7!! no? GOOD!), in fact he was doing some stair hucks with Brendon Fairclough. WTF? Surely thats not condonned in the Team Honda G-cross training manual?

posted by SEB

With 2 rounds down of the New Zealand national series down the NZ-Diaries team had little to show for it. We had lost a team member in the first round and hadn’t even managed to breakout into the top 20 since. Fingers were pointed, accusations made, “locals knew the tracks better”, “ there not even proper race courses”. But all the banter had to be put aside, round three was upon us and from what we had heard it was the first proper track on the series featuring rocky technical sections, tight wooded single track, and little bit wide open mayhem.

The riders:

Another bad finish would not be tolerated and our training efforts were doubled in the week prior to the race. Seb upped his cigarettes and coffee intake. He managed to hire a circus midget to role his cigarettes so he could spend more time inhaling and he had a espresso intravenous drip rigged up but later abandoned it after a face killing incident at work. Sam upped his hating from mildly distraught to raving. He spent his days prior to the race roaming the streets of Wanaka and slapping children reminding them why they weren’t good enough. And I upped my egg intact from 4 eggs a day to 2 cartons. My heart is slowly starting to stop but that doesn’t matter. A true champion must be able to not only win the race but grab his bike snap it over his head on the podium.

So you have heard about our hardcore training regiments but I haven’t even mentioned the emotional fires we had burning inside. Seb’s goal of podium was completely dropped after his humiliating defeat by me at Trebble cone (.09 sec.). He all of a sudden took a new angle on life. He was determined to beat me not only on the track but also off. Racing me to the kitchen for frying pan supremacy, fighting over who was a better driver, and even stealing my all egg and tuna diet thinking that that might be my (.09sec) edge. Sam was determined to pull together a good race run and finally prove to the world that he was not only the smartest but the fastest racer and that yes one can race with a monocle and top hat under his helmet and still be 95.4% race affective


Hardcore race prep

Myself, I had yet to experience how I had first visualized mountain bike racing; crossing the finish line only to be showered by roses and big busted women screaming my name and praising me on how great I am, at which point I would break out into a academy award winning song and dance number that would only further my greatness.

The mood was set, we all new what we wanted and had the tools to get them. All we needed now was the stage...

The Track:

The track was located on signal hill, only a 10-minute walk from down town Dunedin. Access to the track was available via a paved road that wound its way through residential neighborhoods located hillside. The course ended in the local high schools soccer field. The high school was gracious enough to extend their arm to the event and allow riders use of their washrooms and hoses that were much needed come race day.

The course itself was a complete opposite of the two previous stages. The two prior races, Coronet and Treble cone, were both alpine tracks with no trees. Coronet was wide open with jumps and berms where as treble cone was just wide open, both having little to no technical sections. Dunedin had a little bit of everything.

The top of the course had a few wide-open berms through a field into a next to impossible 12ft step-down. Another berm and a jump and you found your self in the woods with a long but fairly flat 2-part rock section. To many riders this was there favorite section of the track. The technical rock section featured many different lines for riders to choose from none of them being too risky due to the lack of slope. The 2 rock sections were split up by flat road that you had to pedal your ass off in order to clear a death double, luckily the huck spat you back into the woods and rocks. After another bout in the rocks you were shot out into a steep open field featuring a few high speed doubles, a ski jump, a sweet 30ft step up and a hipped road gap that claimed bones all weekend. Next up was a flowy single-track section through some dense and lush, almost tropical woods. The course ended with a steep technical rocky-rooty section that opened up into the soccer field and finish line.


The last chute

Race Day:

With a dialed day of practice behind us the team was eager to tear apart the track on our race runs. Our unfortunate luck of the previous races was over. We had jammed in as many practice laps as possible the day before even sneaking back up onto the hill at night to practice the jump section. We all knew the every corner, jump and sneaky line on the course. The New Zealand locals were going to finally feel the wrath of NZ-Diaries un-touchable bike skills. Every angle was covered, except for one.

An hour before our seeding runs it started with a slight dribble. “Its okay”, I said, being all too confident in my words, “ its just going to spit down a bit and make the track nice and tacky”. Never before have I eaten my words so bad. It was pouring 10 minutes later and the team was forced into the confines of the Subaru (twin turbo). Racers all around us quickly started tossing on their spikes for they knew all to well what the course was going to turn into. For the three previous years the national race at Dunedin had been done in the rain. Any local knew that to come to Dunedin without spikes was about as smart as moving to new Zealand and investing all your money into a Subaru (twin turbo) instead of the van in which you could fit all your belongings into.

In pouring rain we stood at the top of Signal Hill waiting our turn for seeding. It didn’t take us long once arriving at the top for Sam, Seb, Si and myself to notice that we were the only riders smart enough to not have spikes on. One by one we were given are countdowns and shot down the track. I was the last rider of our pack to start.


Not an uncommon sight

The first 100 ft of my run I was getting more grip than I had expected but the next few corners and this initial thought was crushed .I came into the corner before the impossible step-down and had as much traction as a greased up fat boy gleefully sliding across an ice rink. The days before course consisting of hard packed with a layer of dust on top had turned to a slick clay with a thin layer of grease on top reducing the best of riders into amateurs. My run that followed had my feet off the pedals the whole way down the course. I took chicken runs through the rock garden, and crashed into half the trees on the course. I was feeling very defeated as I slid around in the mud like trying go get back to my bike. A local girl trackside shouted, “Adam get back on your bike, p.s. you’re the best”. Her attempt at positive re-enforcement was all I needed. I immediately tore off my shirt and kneepads, tossed my goggles to a female spectator screaming my name, hit a double back bicep pose and shot down the course. I flew over every obstacle on the track turning the slick course into my play toy. I blazed across the finish line coming to skidding stop in front of the time clock, awaiting my UCI point winning time. After the announcers idiotic Canadian comments my time finally flashed up. An 8:14. Four minutes behind the leader!

As it turns out my record number of crashes had put me into a shock induced delirious state. The teen adolescents screaming my name was in fact a much faster racer’s much fatter father, a small boy even accosted me for hitting him with my goggles. My dreams were crushed as were everyone else’s. Sam had gotten a flat just before the rock garden. He decided to sit out the rest of his run and stand trackside at the rock garden. Quietly laughing to himself every time a rider impaled himself on the sharp N-Z rocks. Seb was actually having a fast run right until the technical section before the finish line. As it turns out he was blazing down the section when he thought he saw his long lost love trackside (she will remain nameless but is known to sport toilet bowl scheme apparel) he lunged out to embrace her only to embrace his back around a tree at 40km. I later overheard spectators talking about a racer wearing a black cowboy shirt (Seb) who “crashed so hard it could have paralyzed a cow”. Our choice of tires was definitely showing in our seeding times.

So now the decision at hand was should we man up and crush everyone in our race run even with our nearly slick tires, forever burning team NZ-Diaries into there memories? Fuck that. With the bikes barely hanging onto our bike rack, the Subaru’s twin Turbo’s howled out of the car park before lunchtime. They may have been kings of track that day but we were forever kings of the open road.

Notes: the Pro men category was won by Frenchie Fabien Pendemaud. Female category was won by Scarlet Hagen. Most importantly Seb’s seeding run time beat Adams by 2 minutes therefore silencing the doubts.

Posted by Adam

Heres Pro rider and fast guy Sam Blenkinsopp with a trick I like to call the "Monkey Whip" as Buddy Holly once said "If you aint got it, dont bother". Sam demonstrated his complete lack of style and elan again later when news filtered through that he intentionally put in a slow race run to make sure he didn't win the champs and therefore could continue to wear his sponsors rubbish jersey.






Photo stolen from a website

This guy is one selfish muthafucker. When he decided to stop halfway through the trails and do a spot of breakdancing it was kinda funny, but then we looked closer and noticed that his outfit is the straw that breaks the camels back. i mean, come on, this selfish custard tart has more colour in his outfit than is decent. Theres unfortunate souls in Nuneaton who have to make do with drab and dour outfits because this douch bag stole all the colour in the techno rainbow.