This weekend and a little story from 2007
David Olle
We're off to Forrest for the weekend and tomorrow's Otway Odyssey MTB
marathon.
Following that we're continuing on to Adelaide for the National MTB
championships.
Topbike sponsors the Atherton (FNQ) cycling club and we are hosting a couple
of young brothers from up there, Luke and Will Marnane, 13 & 14, about 100kg
between them and the oldest one is just touching 180cm.
We're all racing the 50k tomorrow in preparation for next week's
championship, where we'll race the team relay on Wednesday, and the boys
will race in their respective age groups on Thursday.
We won't be around to ride next Wednesday on the Boulevard, but feel free to
meet near the bridge at 6.30 etc. I'm hoping these rides will continue,
even while we are in Europe.
Please remember, when you reply to any emails that have
TopBik...@googlegroups.com as part of the address, your response goes
to nearly 100 people, and if at any stage you get too many emails from this
group, you can manage your subscription (as Seips mentioned the other day)
through the google website, and you can receive just one email per day,
maximum, if you wish, or just un-subscribe, it's all manageable.
Here's a story I wrote back in 2007, when Emma was aiming for Beijing. Some
of you may have read it, but here it is again, I like it, mainly because it
is a different style of cycling story.
PS tonight's Top Bike TV is all about cyclocross, 7.30pm Melbourne, C31.
Houffalize (Belgium) Saturday August 5, 2007
Do you want a Caesar with that?
Waking up to the alarm at 7.00am, when you are officially on holidays is
always questionable, but as my beautiful wife (MBW) has mountainbike
marathon world championships in one week's time, I push the question aside
and get to the task of making her morning coffee, the first one usually
consumed in bed, and if I can have the morning paper there too, it will
generally be a good day for all.
After a quick look at the BBC news on the teev, breakfast and more coffee,
we are ready to depart at 9.00am (so not too much rushing has taken place).
It's a lovely morning with clear blue skies, unlike two days ago when we
rode our bikes for 3 hours with rain dripping from our noses. May I remind
the reader here, that we are in Europe, and it is August. Joseph, our host
here in Houffalize has disappeared somewhere, to feed the holidaying
neighbour's cat we suspect. So we begin our ride, ticking our legs over, up
and down our 'roue'. Joseph re-appears from the farm a couple of doors up,
mumbling loudly in his best English 'Bebe cow arreev'. We pull over and,
after a bit of translation, work out that the vet is coming to deliver a
calf. He also says something to the effect of 'caesarian' which MBW and I
puzzle over, wondering if we heard correctly, assuming that this would have
to be the same word in most languages, and it would not be out of context in
this situation.
Joseph is keen to ride also, as we prepare to wait for him to change from
cat feeding clothes in to cycling kit, the vet arrives.
Always keen to see if the country vet really does function along the lines
of 'Mr 'Eriot' we move into the barn and take up a place to watch the
proceedings. The cow is a typical Belgian Blue, and for those of you
unfamiliar with bovine varieties, if you can imagine a cow version of Arnie
Swarzchenegger at his worst, you are getting close. These animals bulge at
every muscle, the bulls in particular look like they are ready to enter, and
win a weight lifting competition, and then immediately fail the drug test.
All of us know someone who has ridiculously large calves (no pun intended
here) but the Belgian Blue is lacking the gene for myostatin (if I am
correct), which regulates muscle growth, if you don't have it, you get
massive muscles.
Meanwhile, the Belgian vet has already sprung into action, tieing rear legs
together, quickly administering aneasthetics to the rear end area, and has
cleaned and shaved the left quarter along with replacing the cigarette
dangling from his bottom lip with a scalpel. As he deftly plunges the blade
into the newly shaved area, quickly cutting through skin and other things,
assorted entrails try and make their escape and blood noisily trickles onto
the ground. He chooses this moment to blithely commence a conversation with
us in german. This is not uncommon, as a lot of large germans make their
holiday in this area, and as I said earlier it is August. But as MBW and I
would not broach 120kgs between us, even after a 5 courser, and we have been
constantly chatting in English, albeit with Australian (not Austrian)
accents, we find it surprising. 'Nous sommes d'australie' MBW replies.
'Ah, English, that's even better' he says in a voice reminiscent of Gabriele
Gate (a French chef now famous in Australia). He continues on in an accent
normally heard discussing successful soufflé recipes, scalpel still dangling
from the bottom lip, both hands deep inside the cow, describing how the
cow's vagina is large enough for the calf to exit, but the pelvic bones are
not, and as Belgian Blue calfs are generally big, 90% of them are delivered
this way. This is the fifth one for this very cow. We look to the front of
the animal for any facial acknowledgement of this, maybe not quite expecting
a nod, just a raised eyebrow would suffice, but she appears ignorant of the
conversation and possibly even more so of the gaping hole in her left flank,
and a man almost half inside her.
The setting in the barn at present could be used for an abstract artist's
nativity scene, with 3 skinny lycra clad cyclists and a couple of aging
farmhands contently watching the main attraction, half man-half cow, an
anti-christ version of Pan really, replete with scalpel, sans flute.
The vet pushes, pulls and cuts an assortment of organs through the open
wound, eventually pulling out a couple of legs. Here one of the aging
farmhand leaps into action, looping a prepared piece of twine around the
limbs, and in one quick movement the calf is out and dumped unceremoniously
into a timber box located nearby. We peer into the box, seeing no signs of
life at all, no movement from the chest, assuming the calf to be stillborn.
Shortly the vet finishes his immediate job inside the cow, and inspects the
calf, sticking his fingers up its nostrils, causing the little beast to
snort and spring into life, chest heaving at last. With a bit of rubbing
down with some hay, the little (well, not so little really) animal seems
content to lie around while the show goes on around him.
Joseph is looking keen to get moving, he has a big evening coming up,
playing trumpet in the local brass band, as part of the 'Festival du Soleil'
which is held in Houffa every August. We watch as a string of stitches
appear before our eyes in one of the contained organs, explain we have to
go, and give the Vet a round of applause, which is graciously received with
a bow.
Note well, at no time, unlike Mr 'Eriot who seemed to do it as a matter of
course, did I ever see the vet stick his hand up the cow's arse.
The remainder of the ride was fairly uneventful, 70k around the forested
rolling hills and farm paddocks of the Ardennes, past many a war memorial
(but that's another story, the battle of the bulge was fought out near here)
except for the exceptional golden crispy frites purchased upon my return,
washed down with a local beer in the shade of a tree, solo, while Joseph
went home to polish his trumpet and MBW busied herself clocking up an even
100k for the day.
David Olle.
David Olle
Topbike Tours (just book it)
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Thanks, as always to GIANT bikes, SMP Saddles, Salice Sunglasses, Excell
Travel, Nalini Clothing, Brunetti, Divella pasta, MTBskills.com.au,
Videocraft, Channel 31, Cycling Tips and cyclesportnews.com
Cuckoo Clock Sales
Hello David, Sounds like that shoulder op. has rehabilitated well and riding is back to top level.
What was the reply when you asked 'Skippy' if he was returning to the pro pelaton ?
And, do you think I would be capable in riding Masters age group Tour of Bright ?, I'm looking for a goal to work on for the year ahead . Wes.
--
Best regards,
Westly Windsor:Box Hill Clock Service & Cuckoo Clock Sales