Photos Lisa Ng

Racing is life. Fifteen bucks buys you a ticket to ride. Like-minded souls forget the social constructs that dictate hierachy, ditch the stiff working week threads, let down their hair and kick back to relax in the ambience of blood, mud, sweat and heckles. The only thing that counts here is how hard you can pedal. And if you can keep it upright. 

While cyclocross itself harks back to 1902 it still brings a punk rock attitude to the mosh pit. That’s part of its appeal. A more free expression of self-persecution on the pedal sticks. With the governing body currently MIA, the rules of cyclocross in New Zealand are a little like those of Fight Club…there are only about eight of them and all anyone can remember is the first one. Something, something, blah, blah, bell lap. 

Last week, the UCI updated their axe-wielding to chop their definition of permitted manmade obstacles down to steps, barriers and sand. Those crazy Yanks may need to put their haybales, tractor tyres, planter boxes and other whacky cyclocross course adornments back where they found them when the Euros arrive in town this season. The good news is chicks and chaps must both tackle the same obstacles. No girly height barriers. Next they’ll be giving everyone the same race duration. And equal prizemoney. Heaven forbid. 

In 2018, Huttcross has stayed pretty true to the requirements coming straight outta Aigle. Moving away from Fight Club Rule #7 (fights will go on as long as they have to) to a consistent application of 30, 45 or 60 minutes between the tape (depending on the vintage of your selected grade) and with remarkably Euro vibes to the courses in distance and format. Aside from the punga that brought a dash of Aotearoa to Round 3 and felled a few bunnyhopping egos in the process. Life in the braaap lane at Round 4’s Speedway could easily have had a tail stuck on it and been called a fox. Would that change the hallowed turf on which ‘crossers ad lib? Would anyone even bother turning up? There’s probably only one way to find out.

While great questions about the universe’s even greater mysteries continue to be wrestled with, grassroots racing continues to rev hard. 

The outstanding facility of Wellington Family Speedway delivered plenty of fun between the tape without too much demolition derby. The lower North Island’s temperate climate provided authentic ‘cross conditions despite our volunteer crew praying for Australian weather. The racing line was well worn in by the end of C Grade and forced more off-the-bike antics by the time A Grade rolled up to face less traction opportunities. 

It was a day for epic duels across the pointy ends of all grades. Man-o-man battles ensued with outcomes measured by millimeters gained by chopping your adversary’s line through the corner. The mantra, “Rubbing is racing” rang louder than the bell lap. The 10-minute kids’ race displayed the tightest fight with no holds barred right down to the line. The next gen have spoken. We hope to extend the racing we offer up to the youth of today in 2019. And hopefully the Mad Hatter gets to throw an official tea party one day. 

In the meantime, the first rule of Huttcross is…