Words – Kim Hurst Images – Lisa Ng
Akin to cat skinning, there’s more than one way to bring in the wonga by racing cyclocross. Secure a pro contract. Race for the win. Get presented with one of those supersized cheques at a Super Prestige podium. Or visit the money pit.
Moonshine Park’s money pit had more dollar bills than the back of a hip hop artist’s limousine. We ain’t talking no Fifty Cent. In the mud, cash monies were heavily traded. Major stock exchange opportunities carefully balanced against race positions lost. Some shunned the thought of being so easily bought, while others shamelessly grabbed a handful – possibly in an attempt to offset the maintenance costs for the season ahead.
The frenzy of the money pit was beautifully captured trackside by a wife giving fairly strict instructions to her husband who, as all good husbands do, isn’t listening at all. She reflected post race that, “At least a fiver was better than nothing”.
A Grade moguls missed out on the opportunity to supplement their investment portfolios after the Mighty CX kids piled pressure on the President demanding equal pay to Mums and Dads. Sheesh, the youth of today. Give ’em their own race and nek minnit you’ve got payroll liabilities on your hands.
Although A Grade was cash poor, some B-Grade hitters won the 4-time in a lifetime opportunity to level up for the rest of the season. They took their promotions in good faith and delivered themselves to the maw of the 60-minute mincer at Round 2’s start line.
One of the valorous promotees touted concerns that his early season performance was purely the result of a hefty toot on his asthma inhaler. Thankfully, none of his prescriptions were WADA-prohibited and, as his blood work returned below-Froome levels of salbutamol, the Huttcross Chief Medical Officer rubber stamped his licence upgrade and pushed him to prime time viewing in a brash act of paternalism. “Trust me, I’m a Doctor”, she said.
The community culture this year is on point. Indeed, the Huttcross petri dish is the ideal muse for these post-race reviews. We seem to be striking a perfect blend of searing quads, heavy breathing, camaraderie, jovial banter, and stellar photography to give people who missed out on the party a severe case of FOMO. Our cyclocross apostles would be proud. In fact, my favourite piece of feedback from today was, “This is actually fun!”. High praise indeed. If that doesn’t make you want to come along to Round 3 then I don’t know what will.
The courses are also feeling the love. It seems someone learned a thing or two while in the US of A and has brought those lessons to the classroom Hutt-side. C Grade have loved stepping up to the Full Monty challenge, which included Hutt River pave, a ditch and several sojourns up the stop bank this round. “Did Jens Voigt design this?”, asked a devotee enjoying his mid morning flat white.
While skinsuits are multiplying, mountain bikes are increasingly diluted. Flash Harry disc equipped, tubeless ready, carbon CX rigs are flourishing. Gone are the days of ghetto monster ‘cross bikes cos the real deal just wasn’t imported this far afield from Europe. Nowadays, the Land of the Long White Cloud can deliver a ‘cross bike to your door, even if you’re a junior. It’s a marvellous thing to see.
For those yet to make the conversion, we highly recommend giving it a bash. Riding a mountain bike at a ‘cross race is like turning up to a bare knuckle brawl with an Uzi. While it’s bloody effective, it doesn’t draw the same degree of finesse from the fight. Not to mention, the two-wheeled adventures away from the race scene that are opened up by the ownership of a gravel bike. “But can I really justify another bike?”, you ask. N+1, people. N+1.
