Pic Updates from Last Month in Malaysia

This is a fortune telling parrot. He's usually used for gambling purposes.
He sits in the cage, and when prompted he comes out and picks out a card from the deck.

This lizard had a huge belly, and was may in the middle of a plantation .
Maybe just feasted on a wild chicken?
After this pic, he darted into the underbrush, and circled around behind me.
Scary.

Stuck lorry on a kampong driveway.
Brought the whole village out for entertainment.

This is the go-to hawker stand for Rose and I for 2015.
We've eaten here too many times to count. They all know us.

Curry Laksa. The oily spots are from Coconut Milk. It's delicious.

Me and Ken, my best friend from Johor. I'll miss this guy. 

The above series are all from Bandar Seri Alam Rides. See it while you can.
It's a beautiful forest area, surrounding a reservoir, and it's shrinking by the day.

 

Restoran Hill Xuan. This was our local restaurant. 

We had Currry Leaf  La La every time we ate there.
Look at all those curry leaves.

Wild Boar Curry. One of the best curries I've ever had.

Chapter 1's dessert specialty. They hollow out homemade bread, cover the insides in butter and honey, bake the break again to make it all toasty and crusty, and cover it with fresh  berries, strawberry sauce, vanilla ice cream. It takes 20 minutes, and it would be worth it if it took twice that long. 

Was almost home one day from a 40 km ride, when I ran into this big group of school kids. They were heading out into the plantation for a 20 km charity ride. Many  of them were on fixies, road bikes, all sorts of bikes that shouldn't be in the plantations. They had huge smiles, and were having a blast. I joined them for a bit. Cool kids. 

Fresh Henna, and Hakka Fermented Soy Bean Deep Fried Portk. MMMMMMMM.

Handmade cards from Rose.

Mango cake, and Raspberry loaf. 

Two of our favorite local drinks.
Sweetheart 3 layer tea for Rose,
Hot honey lemon for me. 

Rose's first day of Chinese Tuition.

Fried Popiah from a biking buddy's hawker stall. 

Plantation roads like this are where I spent a lot of my time in 2015.
This was my training ground, my playground, my church, and my sanctuary. 

Some of these plantations even contain secret little single track lines.
They are the MTB equivalent of dork lines from skiing.

Unfortunately, these plantations are vanguards of environmental mismanagement.
And yet, in the middle of them, there are still little slices of jungle havens to be found,.

Secret Hindi temple on the border between pineapple farms and palm plantations. 

Limau Ais, Nasi Ayam Penyet, Pan Mien, Satay

Ayam Penyet is all the rage right now. It's originally Indonesian street food.
You marinate the chicken with tons of turmeric, coat it with a very crispy batter, and fry it.
It's served with extra fried crumbs, hot dog or meat balls, sliced cucumbers, and some sort of veggie.
The star of the dish, in addition to the chicken, is the chili paste. It's made with fermented shrimp. It has a stunning depth of flavor, and a heat that creeps up on you, such that by the end of the meal, you're pouring sweat. 

Pan Mien: a Johor specialty. It's a simple anchovy based fish stock. Some spinach, fish balls, and extra anchovies are added.
Then it's mixed with fresh, hand made noodles, just out of the hand crank machine. The noodles are the star, and they are perfection. 

The second place dude at Kek Seng 99.9 bike race. The following week he crashed out, but he's a hell of a rider. 

Fatbike champion; 23/1100 overall. My best result ever. Until a week later. 

Shrek in his natural environment, with his cohorts. 

The Pink Panther. 

Rose showing off my winner's jersey, medal, and trophy. 

Oh yeah!!! Droppin' teeth!!!!

The jumping off point for the finished product. All the bundles of palm seeds are brought here by the tractor load, after being picked by dudes with scythes on the end of 10 meter long poles. Then a lorry drives up under this ramp, and the lorry is loaded up for a trip to the processing plant. The palm oil price is dropping because people are catching on to the fact it's super bad for you, and bad for the environment. But it's still used in a lot of cosmetics, and this industry isn't going anywhere.
Don't eat palm oil.
More importantly, don't support Indonesia.
BOYCOTT INDONESIA!!!!!!!

Pocong Night Race

1st Fatbike / 7th Overall (1200 Riders)

Flybys

As happy as I was to hit my goals last week (I was shooting for 1st fatbike and top 25 overall; I got fatbike champion and 23rd overall), I knew that I was on the cusp of performing much better. Strava has a feature they call Flybys, which lets you see your ride in fastfoward and compare it to Strava users who rode the same trail. I must have watched the Kek Seng flyby ten times. Others surged far ahead of me in the beginning, I was stuck, on Strava little dot barely moved. By the time I got past the traffic jams, many people were almost 1/4 of the racetrack ahead of me. Though the end result was acceptable, watching those flybys made me realize how critical a good start would be if I was going to get better results in the overall category.

Dick move

So, I showed up an hour before the race, and pulled the Malaysian trick. I bullied my way to the second row of the starting line, and I refused to get off my bike or be pushed back. It was a frustratingly long wait, but it put me in the top 75 or so at the start.
When we got moving, I let nobody past. There was a few hundred metres of tarmac to start, and I managed to move even further up the pack. When we hit plantation roads, there was a climb right away, and I used the fatbike traction to cruise up the middle lane.

The Zone

Looking ahead, about 1km into the race, I realized I was in the top ten. I settled down and held that position. One girl (maybe a dude with long hair?) came barreling past me on the first DH section, going way too fast. I'm a very fast descender, and even by my standards, this rider was out of control. Sure enough, around the next bend, I watched as the rider literally bounced around on the trail, and knocked somebody off their line and sent them careening into the plantation. It was a flurry of Chinese curse words, and headlights slicing frantically through the dark.
I passed the melee and settled into a nice zone, somewhere around 7th place overall. I recognized one rider right away, in a group of four riders that passed me about 3 or 4 km into the race. He was one of the top juniors in the last race, and beat me. They passed me, but then slowed down. I think it's the fatbike effect, not wanting to be behind a fatbike but not realizing how fast I was going. I reeled them in on a steep, punchy climb, and passed all of them but the junior. Then he dropped his water bottle, and stopped to get it. I never saw him again.

Fireworks

The first section was great: fast plantation roads. CP1 was 12 km into the race. As we approached it, I was alone, but close to the rider in front of me. A round of red fireworks went off pretty close ahead. It meant I was close to CP1, and close to the leader.
I got my sticker, doused myself in a bottle of water, and pushed on. This next section was great for me. It was on trails that I had ridden a lot. Grassy plantation roads that wind around, mostly following the contours of the hills north of Sungai Ulu Tiram. I kept reeling in two groups. One was a group of three riders working together. The other was a single rider. I finally caught the single rider at CP2. He was faster than me on the uphills and on the smooth sections, but I really gained on him on downhills. There was one section in particular, a river crossing, where I all but passed him. He dismounted and ran across. I plowed into the creek, and powered up the other side. Go Fatties!!! Judging by the reaction of the four policemen watching the river, I was the first one to actually ride the crossing. From then I was on his heels until CP2. CP2 was at the top of a killer hill. Straight up into the night sky. Shimano took a break to drink his water. I doused myself and bombed through the palm leaves, down into some tight plantation roads. I never saw Shimano again.

Home Alone

I think that the three riders also might have stopped at CP2. I never saw them again. I was now really alone, but I was in great spirits: all my equipment was working, and I was on roads I knew and rode all the time.
Just when I thought we might skirt it without ever going through it, we dove into Ladang Ulu Tiram. This section was awesome. It's right in the heart of my usual loops, and it's a village I'd ridden through probably a dozen times this year. Even though it was almost ten at night, all the kids and families were out cheering.
It was slick, slippery, one lane tarmac. I bombed down a long straight road. I was hauling ass but caught snippets of Bahasa: "Tiga! Tiga!" I was in third place. And then "Fatbike. Wah lau wei!! Fatbike!" people love fatbikes in Malaysia, especially the kids.
I tried to put on a show, and I sped through town, sprinting the flat sections. In the main intersection in town I pushed a bit too hard and almost slid out making the turn. I recovered, and dove down past the temple over the bridge.
Cardiac hill was next. I knew this hill. Killer, but doable. I felt like I was in the TDF, with all the locals out cheering me on. I hammered the hill out of my saddle: pushing so hard, I peeled out a couple times on the pavement.

Hot Tempers and Bad Sports

We wound through some more plantations in a bit of a confusing section. The signage was not good, and the lights from the highway kept coming in and out with each turn, After a big loop away from the road, there was a long straight paved downhill, on a road I knew very well. They put CP3 at the bottom of the DH, which was confusing. I had to slam on my brakes, got my sticker, and plowed ahead. We went away from the road once more, a long lonely uphill. Two dudes scared me half to death, spectating in the most random spot, hidden by the palms until they were right next to me.
We hit the highway, peeled away again, and then hit the highway again.
I knew this road very well, I had a flat tire here a few weeks ago. It was a killer, long steep hill.
I heard bikes coming behind me. It was the team of three. I was pissed, because the constant loops had allowed me to look back, and I knew I wasn't being followed. Then all of the sudden there were these three dudes. They had cut off one of the loops. I knew it.
No time to think about that though. They would pass me, I knew, but I wanted them to suffer. I climbed that hill well into my red zone. I used all my tricks. Sometimes out of the saddle, sometimes on the nose of my saddle  with my elbows down on the bars, full roadie style.
I held them off until the top of the hill. They passed. It was a team, the Singapore Army Team. Three Malay riders. Matching kits. Serious faces. They seemed agitated. They were yelling at each other. Angry gestures. For a team that worked together the whole night, it was discordant towards the end, to say the least.
After they passed me, they slowed down right in front of me. Blocked me in. Still shouting. I knew we only had 1km, maybe 1.5 to go. I caught my breath, and was going to settle down and sprint with them. But they were so agitated, it was bringing me down, plus they slowed down so much, I just didn't need that much of a break, even if we were going to sprint. I thought I'd go early instead.
I veered left. So did they. I veered right. So did they. "Seriously!?!?" I thought. "Blocking me like this is the TDF!!!" It was unbelievable.
Finally, they parted ways a bit, and I shot through the middle of two of them. I slightly knocked one dude on the elbow. Shouting. Nasty words. I slowed down and apologized. Several times. In English and in BM. Nothing. The dude was glaring at me furiously. I snapped. I switched from apologizing to cursing at him in English.
After a volley of cursing that would have made an NHL enforcer proud, I slammed my bottle back in the cage, and took off in a sprint. I distanced them for a bit. More shouting behind. Then quiet, except for the menacing whoosh of a train of sprinters coming up behind me. I held them off for 1 km or so. I was in my fastest gear. I had to slow for a sharp right turn into the final stretch. They were coming so fast, I was worried they'd slide out and take me with them. I gave them room on the inside. They stuck the turn, two of them passed me on the inside. I sprinted towards the spotlights and the fireworks. People everywhere.
Two of the Angry Army Team beat me, but I did nip one of them to the line. They were processed quicker than me. No awards for them. I had to wait to have my name and info taken for being Fatbike Champion. Then a few rounds of photos.
I finally got a minute. I put my bike down and found the dude to apologize. Actually, he was in the wrong, doubly so: once for a shortcut, and once for that kind of lame gamesmanship. But, I was also in the wrong. Never should have rubbed him. This ain't Nascar. So, I found him. Once. Twice. It wasn't until the third time his hard glare relented a bit and he finally, albeit reluctantly, accepted my apology.
What a jerk.
Then I fished out my phone. It was off. I started it back up, but it was acting funny. For a dude who has become addicted to Strava, it was tough to realize that my best result ever was not recorded.
I need to get a dedicated GPS computer.
Oh well. . . . .
Waited around. Lots of pictures and congratulations. I met the Malaysian National Fatbike Champion. That was cool. Nice guy. 37 years old, just like me. One kid, a daughter, just like me. But I beat him by five minutes or so.
So, technically, I'm the fastest fatbiker in Malaysia right now.
That about sums up my recent races.
STOKED!!!

Kek Seng 99.9 MTB Jamboree

Kek Seng

Kek Seng is the name of the kampong (village), the plantation, and the palm oil processing plant.
The plantation is impressive: it's a large, sprawling, contiguous forest of palms laid out over a undulating area, going from the Senai Desaru Highway, to Sungai Johor, off to the north up towards Kota Tinggi.
The Kampong is nestled down in a serene, verdant valley. To get there, you leave the Johor suburban sprawl, wind out on some rural highways a bit, and then you cross a stunning jungle creek, with a swath of unmolested jungle tracing its edges, it's a great view of how amazing the country was before the palm carpet was laid down.
The road climbs up out of the cool creek valley, and down past an amazing factory: the Palm Oil Processing Plant. It's cloaked in some of the most pungent, unique, industrial aromas you could imagine. I'm not sure how they refine palm oil, but I now know that it's quite odoriferous. Rose and I will never forget it.
We went a day early to get the number plate. It was cool to see the village on a more average day: it's a quiet, peaceful place.

99.9

They call races here Jamborees. This Jamboree is called 99.9 because it's 99.9% dirt; only a few meters are paved, when you cross a road.
I arrived early, but wasn't aware of the Malaysian starting line etiquette. I was probably in position 100 or so when I got there, an hour before starting time. I straddled my bike and waited, figuring I'd guard my good position. Instead, people just walked around to the front of the line, or cut the lines from the side, put their bikes down, and went to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. By the time they were done piling their bikes up, I was probably in 500th position.
When the race started, we stood still for two or three minutes after the event up front started. The race banner was probably ten meters across, in the middle of a football pitch. At the end of the pitch, the road was a double track as it headed into the plantation. It was a crazy traffic jam. Then, at the 2nd or 3rd km, there was a rickety one plank bridge over a small ravine, which made another serious bottleneck. By the bridge I had worked my way up to 450 or so. At the bridge I passed another 50 or so by starting a new line of people who carried our bikes down the ravine, hopped the creek, and climbed up.
Over the next 10 km, up to CP1, I passed a constant stream of riders, probably 300. It was winding, mostly flat or short hills, all plantation road. The fabike's traction is great for passing in these areas. I was able to shoot up the middle, over the loose rocks, in between the lines of riders on each side. There's also passing on the outside when needed, where the big tires and confident handling help.

After CP1, I settled into a groove. I'd set my sights on a rider, or a group of riders & doggedly reel them in. Then they'd tail me for as long as they could, and then I'd drop them. The terrain got hillier, and more technical after CP1, and again after CP2. There were some really nice downhill sections after CP2 especially. At one point, there was even a section that seemed made for this race. It was fresh, loamy, very wide ST that bombed straight down a gulley, winding with the contours of the plantation hill. I was literally screaming with joy, and finally caught up and passed this rider I'd been gunning for for a few kms.
Then, there were a few steep hills heading up and away from the river. Each steep, punchy up was followed by long, fast, straight downhills. During these sections pedaling over the hills was my secret weapon. People refuse to be passed by a fatbike, so they'd hang on next to me. But as the hill crested, they all stood up. I always pedal down through the gears and spin Shrek up to speed, get into a nice aero tuck and cruise down the hill. I made up a lot of ground that way.

Signs of Success

This jamboree had a really cool feature: signs that count down the kms left until the finish line. On a hot morning, where I almost puked once, this really helped me gauge me effort and stay in a good zone. It's a great idea, and one that more races should consider.
With only a few kms left, I went into more of a sprint mode. I knew I was in a good spot, because many of the riders I was passing now were clearly serious riders, and also the fans were getting more numerous, and were shocked to see a fatbike. On one last, long technical downhill, I passed quite a few riders, and then on the last steep, slippery uphill I caught another. In the winding plantation section, the last section, I caught and passed a serious Indonesian rider.
I shot out of the plantation and onto the football pitch. There was a really fun section reminiscent of CX races: tight winding turns on the grass. I smoked that section, fueled by the crowd's cheers and the MC, who I heard announce me as rider #23 overall, and Fatbike Champion. Hells yeah!

1st Fatbike; 23rd out of 1100 overall

This was a great result for me. It was the biggest race I've ever done. Previous biggest race was the Dakota 50 in 2014, and it was less than half this amount. There's cool energy, and amusing diversity in a field that big.
Great social scene at the end of the race. I met tons of fatbikers, and saw a lot of people I've met out on the trails here.
I got to take the podium as the Fatbike Champion and won 700rm cash! It was my biggest prize so far, after the 100$ I won at Maah Daah Hey 2014.

Building up Momentum

Ever Since Tatanka 100 in 2014, I've really been pushing for success. I see this as my window of opportunity, right now. It's been amazing to work so hard for over a year now, and to finally get my rewards. I drink a lot less (beer). I eat a lot less. And I ride sometimes when I really would rather be gaming, or snuggling at home. But it's all for a goal: winning bike races.
I'm now on a roll of 1st place Fatbike Dakota 50 2014; 1st place Fatbike Maah Daah Hey 100 2014; 1st place Fatbike Dry Creek Gravel Grinder 2014; 1st place Fatbike and 3rd overall at Empian Green Ride 2015; and now this result. It's a great start, and I hope there'll be more to come.