The final plan was two be a two day adventure, first from Melbourne, out through the western suburbs, over Mt Macedon and on to Bendigo where we would spend the night in a dim motel room.

Neither Steve nor I had ridden Mt Macedon on the road before. The profile graph looked like a wall, the GPS tried desperately to route us around on flatter roads…

By the time we realised the extent of what we'd signed ourselves up for, we were committed.

These hogs stood vigil over our bikes while we made pigs of ourselves inside the bakery.

Cows chewing cud watched us grind through the last hills into town. With only a few km to go we both succumbed to the first opportunity to buy sugary treats. The chocolate paddle pops tasted better than any childhood memory.

The following morning, after a raid on the towns bakery supplies we would make our way to Ballarat where lunch and a lift home awaited us.

The roll out in the morning was greeted by calm blue skies and empty roads.

Petrol last flowed here when six digit phone numbers worked.

As we rode on along the dead straight roads, the headwind began to bend time like Dali's Persistence of Memory.

Not quite the Arc De Triomphe, but just as surely a sign of an adventure finished.

For cycling that essence is the track bike, seen recently beneath the heel of many a young dandy, and every four years brought fourth into the spotlight through the Olympics.

As I type this, the latest track bike to roll off the Baum line is winging it's way to NAHBS with Darren and Ryan, but that's not the bike I'm here to discuss. This last year I've spent a lot of time on my own titanium beast, all with the aim of riding it for less time.

Perhaps I should back up a bit, a mate has been in my ear for ages, about an idea (a notion if you will), that I should take my track bike and ride it for 1 solitary kilometre. It's a simple idea, one that's been refined into what many simply refer to as "the kilo". The world record for it was set over a decade ago by a Frenchman with legs big enough to house several umbrella collections, that record is 58.875 seconds. On a modern indoor (wooden Olympic) velodrome that's 8 straights, 16 turns and more pain than you previously thought possible.

Like many, I didn't expect my journey to end in national selection, but where there's a challenge, I feel compelled to excel, so through winter I spent time in the weights room, on the ergo and at an indoor track. These often left me curled foetal for some time or unable to walk for a few days, yet none of this came close to what my first competition attempt left me.

At the Victorian Masters Metropolitan Championships I launched out of the gate, 100 inches of gear (52tx14t) driven forth by my heaving muscles, I put everything into the cranks for a lap, then as my coach had planned with me, I eased slightly for the second. That lap was torturous to my mind, surely this was too slow, surely I was going backwards, I was soon to learn the definitions of both those ideas. By the end of my second lap my legs decided I'd not eased up at all, in fact they decided that there was no more to give. My mind raged, and I rode on through sheer force of will, repeatedly slamming the needle of the guage against empty , rolling home with a last lap only a second faster than my first (remember the first is from a standing start). 1 minute, 13.604 seconds, the time that had elapsed. 5 minutes 23 seconds, the time it took to walk 100m back to where my stuff was. 45 minutes, the time it took to not feel nauseous any more and to find a way to lay that was comfortable for my legs.

The next few months leading up to the Victorian Masters Championships I spent more time in the gym, more time on the ergo, and time on many different velodromes. I arrived at the champs feeling strong, I'd raced against Olympians at country carnivals, I'd scoured my knowledge of my friends equipment collections and managed to get my hands on fancy kit including ventless aerodynamic helmets. Sitting astride my cubano in the starting gate I felt calm, the clock beeping to let me know there was 10 seconds until I started prompted my hands down onto the bars. 5 seconds, 4 seconds, 3 seconds, 2 seconds, stand up, 1 seconds, rock back and say "and go". GO! Tubular tyres with 180psi forced down into the track, each pedal stroke like the many deadlifts I'd done, through the first two turns still out of the saddle. Into the back straight and sit down, putting my arms into the TT bars. Ease the acceleration and hold temp for a lap. Embrace the panic that you're not going hard enough, find a calm place, things will get ugly quicker than you can imagine. 2 laps down, 2 to go, the signal from the sidelines is to lift the pace. Push harder on the pedals, mentally check my position on the bike is low and flat. Keep pushing on the pedals, and ignore the growing pain and alarm coming from your lower extremities. Into that final lap my legs finally walked off the job, time distended as I used every neuron in my brain to keep my legs going around, squares are better than nothing. Keep your knees in, stay ahead of the cadence, anything possible to not slow the pace I'd killed myself to achieve. 1 minute 10.542 seconds. A new PB by 3 seconds.

By the time the gold medal was around my neck, I was already wondering about going to the national titles in Sydney. If I could shave off more time… ride the distance in less than 70 seconds, that'd make me happy. Yep, I could stop if I rode a sub 1:10 minute time.

Flights were booked, accommodation arranged and time taken off work. A few more efforts that left me on the bathroom floor wondering what I was doing to myself. Eventually I was on the start line, bike held by machines, my feet held by clipless pedals and leather straps. Again 100 gear inches adorned my bike and heaved out of the gate and hurtled me around the track. Everything for half a lap, tempo for one and a half, then everything for the final two. The wall came once again as I entered that last lap, and the race once again became a titanic mental struggle. Pads set on the blue duckboards, that moments before wizzed by with barely a flicker of recognition, now loomed large like icebergs, threatening to sink my dreams. Legs that were capable of squatting bar bending loads lost all power. This was the moment where you find yourself, where I found myself. Despite ever part of my body revolting against me, I pushed on, willing the line closer, willing the clock to stop. As I crossed the line I heard the announcers voice through the fog of pain and the hard carbon shell encasing my head. The voice said "1:09.762".

As the last rider of the session, I took the liberty of continuing to roll around the track, my legs flopping limply against pedals born forward by the inertia of my disc wheel. Even as the realisation of achieving my goal sunk into my brain, I was already wondering if my ability to even stay upright on a bike was an indication that 1 minute and 08 was possible.

So, you've finally got to the end of this little tale, and you're likely wondering what the point is. The point is simple.

You should try out the track, it's a heap of fun, though just because it's simple, doesn't mean it's easy to master…. oh and if you have a friend like my mate Carl, who whispers in your ear that an 1km ITT would be good to do. Tell them they're dreaming.

Ever since it made it up on our Flickr site it has been a huge hit. Appearing on multiple blogs including Velo Liberte, Tumblr and bike forums.

For the time being it'll be tearing up the roads in Malayasia, but soon will be back in Australia – with the owner keen to start racing. Given it looks fast standing still, I'd say the racers in Melbounre should consider themselves warned!

Congratulations Brian, may it continue to turn heads for years to come.

that's correct, our Turanti cyclocross bike is now ready to order. There will be a more in depth look at the Turanti in the coming weeks, however if you would like a read of the first review (and first ride in fact) of it then I highly recommend dropping by your local newsagent and grabbing a copy of the latest RIDE mag. 

However don't hope to grab this particular beauty now that the review is complete, it's already safely in the hands of its new owner and heading to twilight CX races in Adelaide in the coming weeks. Watch out!

Now anyone in the UK considering a Baum for their next bike have one stop shop in place where they can both get their bike fit and order placed, all under the professional guidance of Stephen. Below is just one of the frames that Stephen has in his store.

with more shots of it here and the Prestige Ristretto can be seen here.

Even for those not looking for a new Baum, I still recommend taking a moment to have a stroll through the new site or even a trip down to Brighton for a visit to Stephen's shop and a chance to see some Baum's up close and personal. There's still a bit of Autumn sunshine remaining, maybe even ride there.

Hope you and all at Baum land are fit and well. Sorry it’s taken an age to get back to you with some photos and a brief ride report, truth is I have taken every single spare moment to get out on the road and enjoy the Baum; and stunning it is. So, see below a few snaps, taken whilst out on a late summer century, I thought you’d like the carefully selected views of the English countryside.

 

Commissioning a hand build bike is no small task; you are faced with a vast range of choices in deciding on geometry, ride feel and components, and let’s be honest, if you’re spending a fair wedge of cash it also needs to look sweet. Now I am of course biased, but I am delighted with the outcome, the care and detail that has gone into the welds and paintwork is a true labor of love. The bike was build up by Barry and his team at Bespoke (thanks guys, faultless work), Matt the mechanic commented on the 20 tiny welds on each side of the cable stop on the chainstay and the overall quality of the build, per·fec·tion!

So to the ride, on commissioning the Corretto I asked for a ride that would be compliant, comfortable enough to spend hours in the saddle and snappy to respond to a jump when required. To be honest it has taken me this long to fully appreciate what I have on my hands, the Baum is a huge step up from my vintage steel frame, I selected components to respect the quality of the build (slight departure from financial reality required) and create something that would take me to the next level of ability and fitness, it is truly the sum of its parts. The Corretto is responsive without being jittery, compliant without being harsh and smooth as the finest Jersey butter. Weird as this may sound, the Baum has removed the mechanical element from my rides, I am locked in to position, feel fluid and have supreme confidence in the bike.

 

A big thank you to you all:

Nick for listening and allowing me to change direction several times often at the 11th hour

Daren for understanding my needs and building something truly unique (still can’t get over the 1in chainstays)

And Jared for pushing the boundaries of what is possible with paint 

Quite the finished build there, we are very impressed and certain there will be many, many happy miles in store for the owner.

Happy riding!

The final stage will again be a criterium race around the streets of Carlton, complete with the sights, sounds and fantastic tastes that Lygon street has to offer. The course is below

With the trade show running all day. 

So if you are coming in to town to watch the race please do not hesitate to drop in the stand and say hello. You might even be able to get a closer look at one of the new beauties we'll have on display. You can get a sneak peek below

Trust me, in real life it's even better!

Look forward to seeing you down there.

Which coupled with Di2 and Reynolds 32mm carbon wheels makes for the perfect understated race machine come Sunday bunch ride cruiser. 

The first time process might have taken a bit to perfect, but now I think you'll agree the hard work was worth it. Come tomorrow afternoon there is going to be one very happy owner of this new beauty.

More shots and our others can be found on our Flickr site.

When yesterday dawned clear over the Great Ocean Road, we all agreed it would be a lovely day for a ride with mates. A bunch of us, including The Boss lined up for a roll in the sun for the Amy Gillet Gran Fondo. This isn't a story about the event (it was great, awesome cause, amazing roads, you should totally do it next year),  no, this is a story of a sneaky attack, about a battle against all odds. About one man who attacked when no one else would dare attack.

It began on the quiet streets of Lorne, 2,500 people and 5,000 wheels (many of them deep section) lined up for 120 odd km of idyllic riding on closed roads.

We rolled out along the base of cliffs and had a bit of fun, sometimes chatting, sometimes attacking but mostly just grinning at how good a day it was to be on the bike. Up front was Nick and Dave, guys happy to set solid tempo all day long. Jim, The Boss and I floated behind them and further back Steve lurked.

When the bunch hit Skenes Creek and the base of the day's main climb conversation ceased and everyone set their own pained pace. I'm not ashamed to say that Dave quietly went about tearing my legs off, while Nick rocketed off ahead of us both to take KOM honours.

At the top we stopped and chatted quietly as one by one we regrouped. Well, not all of us regrouped, Steve took one look at us off our bikes and attacked! He was off like a struck cat, piling in the Watts while we all wondered what had just occurred. To shortcut this story slightly, that was the winning move, only Jim was to see Steve again, but narrowly missed catching him before the top of Mt Benwerrin and the finish line. So that's it, Steve was the winner of the inaugural Amy Gillet Gran Fondo "Those crazy Baum guys" team cup. Your cheque is in the mail.

Thanks to all the volunteers and everyone that said g'day.