Peter and Ross waiting to go to the toilet
On the ill-fated day back in October 2003 when Ross and I had decided to attempt the "Half the Bay in a Day" ride from Sorrento back to Melbourne, the heavens opened and the plummeting temperatures threatened serious risk of hyperthermia. We eventually abandoned our original plans and finally ended up riding from Mount Martha to Melbourne (and finally back to Doncaster).
Ever since that day, however, we felt that we had been a little cheated. We had really wanted to join the happy throng of cyclists cruising along the bay on the smooth black bitumen. After all, this ride would have no hills, just the adrenaline rush that comes from smooth cruising (or so we thought). With that in mind plans were laid for a special Australia Day Ride from Frankston to Sorrento and return. That would , at least, give us the chance to travel the section of road that we had missed out on previously.
The arrangements were made to meet at Frankston Oval at 10 am in the morning, although a high number of late withdrawals resulted in only three riders turning up for the experience. Peter Warren had lovingly prepared his Avanti Corsa for its first extended ride on bitumen and Ross presented with his Giant TCR 38 geared wonder. For me it gave the opportunity to try out the new Cannondale R4000Si that I had just purchased the previous day.
As we prepared ourselves for the ride we could not help but notice that the surrounding trees were almost bent double and the flags were all flying horizontally. The weather bureau had been predicting a "freshening breeze", although I am not sure it could have got much fresher without a full scale hurricane alert being declared. I just hoped that it would prove to be a tail wind and NOT another evil BDOH (every cyclists' worse nightmare).
We tried not to give attention to the wind and concentrate rather on the positive aspects of the day. "It looks like it might rain" said Peter. "Did you realise that by starting here, we will have to go straight up Oliver's Hill?", asked Ross. "I think I need to go the toilet", said Peter. "I need a muesli bar", said Ross. I could not help but have a flashback to those unforgetable Dad's Army episodes that used to screen on TV. Maybe that's why I seem to look more like Captain Mainwaring every time I look in the bathroom mirror.
By about 10.15 we were ready to depart and headed out of the car park for the short descent to the Nepean Highway. As Ross had correctly predicted, we had hardly got started before we were faced with the challenge of Oliver's Hill. Although the normal road takes a rather steep climb, cyclists are directed to use the service road instead. This takes an even greater gradient (probably about 1 in 10), but fortunately the climb is over fairly quickly. I had been hoping that my new bike would make hill climbing that much easier - WRONG.
After the initial climb over Oliver's Hill the road settled down to a series of gentle undulations and, with the strong wind at our side, we were able to maintain a good overall speed. It was especially encouraging to be able to hold our own with other serious looking cyclists on the road. One such fellow asked me how far we were going. I replied proudly that we were on our way to Sorrento. He replied "Gee, that's a long way. I only go as far as Mornington". I was tempted to comment that the Warbies are not just ordinary cyclists, but held my tongue as I bid him farewell.
Although the next 30 minutes or so went by quite well we were soon confronted by a much longer and more tiring climb than the overrated Oliver's Hill. Peter decided to engage his top gear and let his size 20 legs do the climbing, leaving Ross and I gasping in his wake. It was a relief to finally hit the top and enjoy and drink and a snack. I figured it must be all downhill from there.
I was right about the downhill and, apart from almost riding onto the forbidden freeway, it was a very pleasant and high speed leg down to the coast at Dromana. The only problem was that, once we turned onto the coastal section of the road, we discovered that just about everyone else in Melbourne must have decided to drive down to the Peninsula for the day. The roads were jammed with bumper to bumper cars as we weaved and tottered in and out, trying not to forget to decleat before each frequent stop. This was not what I had envisaged.
Eventually the traffic did thin out enough for us to regain cruising speed again. It was on this section that we started an ongoing duel with a couple of much younger, lycra clad cyclists with shaved legs. They shot past without so much as a greeting. That wasn't very friendly. Maybe they did not know about the Ghost Riders. We decided to test their mettle. We increased the pace. The gap between us started to shrink. Perhaps they weren't so good after all. After sitting on their tails for a while we decided to pass and found they could not respond. I guess they were not up to our standard after all.
About half way between Dromana and Sorrento we passed a couple on mountain bikes. They glanced up, noticed our Warby Ghost Riders jerseys and shouted to Ross "We know Mal Doswell". We never cease to be amazed at how far and wide our fame has spread. We did not have time to satisfy their request for an autograph, as the hour was getting late and we were all starting to get hungry.
The final 10 km or so into Sorrento was completed at well over 30 to 35 kph and soon we were all gathered at the bottom of the Main St looking at the vast array of Audis, Saabs, BMWs, Mercs and the like jamming every available car parking space. Although the shopping centre is amply equipped with coffee shops and cafes, it seemed that we would be struggling to find an empty seat anywhere. After clomping up the road in our cleated shoes we finally did find a suitable spot and were able to enjoy our $10 sandwiches. I guess it must have been a sellers' market after all. We decided that next time we would not ride to Sorrento on a public holiday.
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Peter and Ross waiting to go to the toilet |
In spite of the expensive "surcharge" we did enjoy a pleasant lunch and, after a visit to the Gents, we were soon back on the bikes again heading back towards the city. This time the roaring wind was more of an adversary as it tugged and pushed at our bikes. We knew that the worst section would occur when we turned off at Dromana and headed directly into the gale.
Fortunately by then our legs were well and truly warmed and the push into the wind was achieved without incident, although we were starting to feel a little tired. The long climb back up Red Hill was actually wind assisted to some degree and I think it was a little shorter travelling in this direction.
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Dennis with his new bike |
All too soon we were on the final stretch, although by this time Peter had decided to stretch out a little more than Ross and I, and was nowhere in sight. A few minutes later we were gathered safely back at the cars and already looking forward to the next ride. Although it was a pity we only had a small turnout, it had nevertheless been a most pleasant ride.