The Great Southern Rail Trail

Australia Day (Jan 26th) 2005

In the Warby's continuing quest for cycling superiority we have a magnificent goal of conquering all the Rail Trails in Victoria. Having heard distant reports of a relatively new rail trail from Leongatha to Foster, we really had no option other than to add that trail to our riding calendar.

Preliminary information about this trail contained some rather interesting descriptions of "unsafe trestle bridges", "rough surfaces suitable only for mountain bikes" and the daunting prospect of "crossing the Hoddle Range". In short, just the sort of challenge the Warbies were looking for. In order to make the task even a little more difficult I planned the ride for the middle of a long hot summer - with any luck we might even get a hot head wind as well.

What an impressive peloton we make !

After the formalities of our Annual Awards Evening were over I gathered the riders together to make the final arrangements for the ride. Hooters had noticed that the weather forecast was for 37C and humid. "You can count me out, that sounds much too hard for a weckweational wider like me", he whined.

Desperately needing someone to make up the rear of the peloton we finally persuaded him to come. He did however, adamently insist that we started 1 hour earlier than originally planned.

Fortunately all the other Warbies (made of much sterner stuff) seemed keen to proceed, in spite of the weather conditions. Our first definite retirement occurred later that evening when Ross said he would not be able to join us on the ride because he had promised his wife to stay home and do the grocery shopping. Personally I would rather ride 300km through the Simpson Desert in 50C heat than go to a shopping centre, but I guess they were running low on alfalfa sprouts and tofu.

On the day before the big ride I was pleased to see that the Weather Bureau had lowered the predicted top temperature to a much more comfortable 36C. With any luck, the climb over the Hoddle would not be much more than a mere doddle. Unfortunately John's courage again proved completely lacking as he rang me the night before the ride to inform me that he had finally decided to spend the entire day floating inert in his swimming pool, instead of riding with his mates. This cowardly withdrawal also meant that Bob would not be able to attend, since he was relying on John for his transport. Since we had altered the start time just for John's benefit, you could say that I was less than impressed.

Some of our riding party at Fish Creek, from left Peter, John D, Donald, Cheryl, Mal, Harold, Richard, Eric (at rear), Brendan, Duncan, Lothar and John R.

As we drove down through the rolling hills of Southern Gippsland (1 hour earlier than originally planned and with John still asleep in his bed) I realised that I had not been in this part of Victoria for almost 30 years. Although we were in late January the countryside still had ample signs of green growth in the paddocks.

At 9.30 we were gathered in Meeniyan, ready to start the ride. Although I had never heard of Meeniyan before, I discovered that it was an attractive town with a typically wide main street and a good selection of shops. I guessed that it must have been a sad day for the townspeople (Meninyites?) when the railway ceased to operate along this line.

With the temperature already near 30C and the humidity rising we were keen to get moving. By 9.45 am our twelve brave riders headed off down the trail into the great unknown. Brendan was proudly sporting his brand new Warby Ghost Riders jersey for the first time, having recently become our 15th official member.

We were soon to discover that the surface of the track was a dream to ride on - very fine grained and hard packed. This makes for low rolling resistance and quiet riding. Even more welcome was the fact that the sides of the trail were surrounded by trees, meaning that we had the protection of dappled shade for the majority of the ride.

Eric - the president of the Great Southern Rail Trail waiting to greet the President of the Warby Ghost Riders

The only negative aspect was the numerous gates that had to be avoided along the way. For each gate there was a narrow side chicane that had to be navigated - a pity that the surface on these sections was not up to the same good standard as the trail itself.

Fish Creek is a pleasant stop on the trail, about 13 km from Meeniyan. On a hot day it was a welcome sight with a shady picnic shelter and plenty of water and shops available. A quick glance around showed that all the local businesses had incorporated something fishy into their names. There was even a Fishooks Computer Store!

The break also gave me a chance to clean some of the gravel out of the bad scratches on my left leg (Damn those soft chicanes!!).

As part of my research prior to the ride I had spoken to a local called Eric, who is the President of the Great Southern Rail Trail Committee. Now, while we rested in the Fish Creek shelter we noticed a guy walking purposefully towards us. He soon introduced himself as the mysterious Eric and announced that he would like to join us on our quest to make it 'over the Hoddle'. A quick glance at his bike revealed that he must have known something that we didn't.

He had equipped himself with two huge panniers of supplies, including tents, food and water. He even had adorned his bike with a large Australian flag, presumably to help search parties locate us from the air. After a brief photo shoot he strapped his young dog to his handlebars, wished us good luck and wobbled off down the trail. Ahead of us still lay the 'Hoddle'.

Part of the "Welcome the Warbies" celebrations at Foster

The rest of our peloton was soon remounted and heading off in pursuit. Brendan discovered that Eric was also an ambulance paramedic and spent the next few km talking shop.

Although the gradient of the track was slightly uphill, the high quality of the surface made the going quite easy. Only time would tell how well we would cope when we reached the 'dreaded Hoddle'. And how would we survive the ordeal without tents, sleeping bags, food and guides ?

After about 30 minutes of gentle climbing we seemed to reach a summit. Surely this was not the big hill we had been repeatedly warned about? Apparently it was, because from that point on the trail went steadily downhill all the way to Foster. On the descent we were rewarded with sweeping views down to Wilsons Promontory.

At about noon we reached the outskirts of Foster. We had time to regroup and form a tight peloton for the final ride into town. It was so exciting to be able to see so many riders in uniform, actually riding in precision formation. No wonder the locals were so impressed.

As we turned into the main street we could see they had prepared a special welcome for us, complete with free BBQ lunch, balloons and an outdoor band. I guess towns like Foster do not see elite cyclists like the Warbies very often.

Enjoying the free lunch at Foster

It was nice to be able to lie in the shade on the cool grass and enjoy the show they had prepared for us. About 10 minutes later Eric arrived with the remains of his dog still attached to his handlebars.

Little John and Larry Dodd attacked the free sausages with a vengeance, but I needed caffeine to keep me going. I started to look for a coffee shop but, to our dismay, they all appeared to have closed for the day as part of the 'Welcome the Warbies' celebrations.

We did eventually find ourselves ensconced in the cool loungeroom of the local pub, enjoying the ambience and the coffee (but not the high price of their cakes).

After the long break at Foster it was time to remount for the return ride. Perhaps we might even find the elusive Hoddle that had apparently gone missing on the outward ride. The afternoon was starting to get warm, but still not as hot as we had feared.

On the return ride some of the less disciplined members of the peloton (led by Mal) staged a breakaway and disappeared into the distance. The rest of us proceeded at a more sensible pace, thankful for the shady trees along the way. Back at Fish Creek we took the opportunity to stage a water fight and cool down before the final leg back to Meeniyan.

By mid afternoon all our riders were safely back at their cars and ready to share the feeling of exhilaration that always accompanies the completion of a good ride. All agreed that it had been another very successful ride and were glad that they had faced the heat and the unknown and emerged victorious over the Hoddle. (I am still not sure what actually happened to the Hoddle Range, but perhaps, like the elusive town of Brigadoon, it only makes an appearance every hundred years or so).

All that remained to complete the afternoon was a short drive back to Leongatha where we all enjoyed a cool drink in the Macdonalds Restaurant and spent a pleasant time rubbishing John Seamons unmercifully behind his back. (I also noted that Brendan had somehow manage to liberally smear his new yellow jersey with black grease.) What a perfect end to a great day together.

The Peloton - John Dawson, Richard 'Larry' Dodd, Dennis Dawson, Cheryl Leary, Donald Ellsmore, John Ruigrok, Mal Doswell, Lothar Rockmann, Brendan Noone, Peter Warren, Duncan Mayall and a special guest rider called Harold.