Like most of my generation I can vividly recall sitting in a picture theatre watching Peter Weir's haunting movie about the shocking events that transpired at Hanging Rock over 100 years earlier. We all remember the story of how Miranda and her friends disappeared while an unseen group of pan pipe players were holding a convention at the rock. In spite of intensive investigation and repeated searches, the true mysery has never been solved, elevating Hanging Rock to the same paranormal proportions as the Bermuda Triangle and the Roswell Incident.
It was with these thoughts raging through my mind that I packed my bike and headed off to the West to lead a cycling foray into the unknown. As I cruised under the blinking toll counters of the Citylink I was suddenly overcome with a dark feeling of foreboding. Perhaps it was because I had just experienced a stabbing pain in my hip pocket, or maybe it was because of a sinister premonition of what was to transpire later that afternoon.
Even though the most infamous occurence at Hanging Rock happened so long ago, there has been a succesion of accounts of weird events that have plagued visitors ever since. UFO sightings, disappearances, gastric upsets and bent forks are just far too frequent to be put down simply to chance. One of the most perplexing phenomena that has been scientifically studied by hundreds of white coated boffins with slide rules and thick glasses, is the enigmatic "Anti Gravity Hill". AS the leader of the 2006 cycling expedition, I could not help but feel a little apprehensive.
As I pulled into Gisborne Station, the starting point for our expedition, I was pleased to see that we already had a sizeable group of riders and support crew assembled for the challenge. The initial group consisted of Chris (our team doctor), Ross, Ray, Michael, Peter, Marysia, Phil, Marg and myself. We were also expecting young Ben on his mountain bike but as we waited for his arrival it soon became obvious that the first disappearance of the day had already taken place. After twenty minutes, it seemed pointless to wait any longer and decided to head off before any more of our peloton went missing. We bade a brave farewell to the support crew and headed off into the unknown.
Being navigationally challenged it took some time to decide which direction was actually West, but we finally reached a majority decision and were soon enjoying a downwind ride on a straight level road. It was good to be finally underway and the surroundings were certainly quite different to those more familiar to us. The most obvious difference we all noticed was how dry the countryside was, with the paddocks completely lacking any green grass. Fortunately the weather was fine and cool, making for perfect riding conditions.
We made good time and managed to reach Riddell's Creek with only another two riders missing. Although this was not an ideal situation, it was certainly not our worst effort and boded well for the rest of the ride. From here the road turned further North and headed towards Romsey. A continuing series of small hills ensured that we had to keep up an honest effort, but the kilometres quickly passed by. The section towards Lancefield consists of a steady climb followed by an exhilerating descent. We waited for the peloton before heading off in search of a coffee shop. By this time we were all in need of a caffeine hit.
After a mug of cappucino and an iced bun, my sugar levels were back to normal again and I was ready to resume our quest for Hanging Rock and Anti-Gravity Hill. Unfortunately this entailed a change of direction, directly into the teeth of a force ten gale. Could this be some primeval agent trying to keep us from reaching our goal? There was no alternative other than to put our heads down and grind away. I looked around for a suitable leader (ie scapegoat) to head us into the wind and appointed Ray to take up the lead position. Anyone who rides 400km every week should be able to easily confront a mere 50 knot wind without raising a sweat.
The howling wind and a few stubborn hills dropped our speed considerably but we eventually reached the turnoff to Hanging Rock at about 1.20 pm. Our original plan had been to continue on to Woodend, before returning via Anti-Gravity Hill before meeting the support crew at the Hanging Rock Picnic Ground. Since this would have added another hour or so to the ride, we felt that it was only fair to the waiting crews, that we head directly to the rock. (Besides, I was starting to feel hungry).
When Ross arrived at the entrance to the park I saw him go completely white in the face and look like he was going to faint. At first I thought it was yet another manifestation of the Hanging Rock Curse, but I discovered that it was just that he had seen that he would have to pay a $4 entry fee. As I watched him struggling to drag his bike under the boom gate I could not help but think that his original name must have been "Ross MacBury".
After a short ride to the picnic area we were soon reunited with our valuable support crews, who had arranged to meet us there with provisions and more hot coffee. Although we were excited to see them waiting for us, a count of heads soon revealed that all was not well. Michael's wife and daughter had "gone missing" somewhere after leaving Gisborne. Score another two for the Rock. Michael looked horrified, jumped on his bike and pedalled off in search of them. He also disappeared. Rock 4, Ghost Riders 0. This was getting ridiculous.
Peter offered to go looking for the others. We tied him to a tree trunk (for his own good). We could not afford to lose any further members of our expedition. For the first time I looked up at the jagged outline of the rock and felt a weird magnetic attraction to climb to its summit. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I caught a glimpse of a young girl in a long white dress. It was definitely time to have a sandwich and a cup of coffee. We could all go searching later in the afternoon.
There is no doubt that the area surrounding Hanging Rock does possess some sort of strange aura, no wonder the aborigines regarded it as a sacred site. A feeling of timelessness seems to pervade the surroundings. Is it really at the end of an uncharted cosmic wormhole, or is there some much more mundane reason for this feeling? I decided that I would investigate further, just as soon as I had finished my salad roll.
With my stomach full and my clothes changed I led a small group towards the rock. As I looked at the steep cliffs and twisted trees clinging to the crevises, I could hear the distant sound of pan pipes wafting through the air. An inner voice urged me to climb higher. The afternoon sun burned through the mist and threw the shadows into sharp relief. In my light headed state I thought I clearly saw the unmistakable silhouette of Queen Victoria, but logic tried to tell me it was just another rock. Could the missing schoolgirls have been led astray by a ghostly apparition of their reigning monarch I wondered.
I climbed higher, losing contact with the rest of my group. My perceptions started to distort, as I looked down at my watch I was sure that the second hand was rotating backwards (strange enough for any watch, but especially strange for a digital watch). I called out to Ray, but there was no answer. Why was I so alone? Was it because I was already in the grip of a space time vortex, or was it because I had ridden 60 km without a shower?
Fighting such strange sensations, I was mightily relieved when Maggie, Estelle and Ross finally appeared at the summit. My relief was unfortunately short lived, as the Rock still had a trick or two up its sleeve. Estelle's face went white as she announced that she had "come over all queer". As she faltered on her feet it was obvious that she was in the grip of yet another otherworldy influence. We managed to get her down to a safer spot and made sure that she did not join the ever growing ranks of the disappeared. A close call indeed.
Finally back down at the visitors centre we had time to regather our wits while we waited for our coffees to be served at the outside table. To our dismay we were still not out of danger, as several of our group started to feel quite ill. At first I thought we were still in the influence of the Rock, but realised that our nausea was probably caused by the putrid vapours emenating from the nearby septic tank. We quickly relocated to the front of the building in an upwind orientation from the offending underground cesspit and tried to count our blessings. Apart from Ben (still missing) all the other missing people had now been located. I guess that was something to be thankful for.
While we had been battling the Rock another adventure had been taking place. Peter, Marysia, Phil and Marg had headed off on their bikes in search of Anti-Gravity Hill. Although they never did find Anti-Gravity Hill, they did discover the very real gravity of Mt Macedon on their way back to Gisborne. Either Anti-Gravity Hill might have been out of order for the day, or it is just another invention of the local Chamber of Commerce to attract more travellers to the district.
A stop at Sunbury on the way home gave us a chance to enjoy dinner at La Porchettas and reflect on our close escape. Now the remaining question is "Will we come back again next year to resume our investigations ?" I suspect we will - it was a good ride.