Saturday Feb 21st 2004
Return to Toolangi

The first time I made the climb through Toolangi and past Mt. St Leonard I was feeling more than a little cheated. At the start of the ride Bob had assured me that he had chosen a "nice gentle ride" with "no big hills", but another 70 mins further into the ride I could see that he had blatently lied through his (missing) teeth. During the long climb to the summit I had to stop twice for a drink and a short rest to catch my breath. Although I had to admit it was a very pretty ride, I felt that I had been lured there under false pretenses.

Now, a few months later, I had convinced the majority of the Ghost Riders to join in another climb through the hills of Toolangi. At least this time I would know what to expect, but I felt somewhat sorry for Richard and, our newest guest rider, Paul Barbieri who had both joined us at Yarra Glen with their mountain bikes. I am not sure whoever christened these heavy metal beasts "mountain bikes", but I am sure it must have been someone who had never actually pedaled one of them up any sort of mountain in their life.

Matty Doswell Another chip off the old block and already starting to look like a Ghost Rider

At least the weather was looking promising, fine and cool with only a gentle breeze. Although there was a little high cloud it did not seriously look as if it was going to rain. As our group gathered and prepared for the ride we were introduced to Paul.

Mal also presented his eldest son Matthew who was also joining us for the first time. He certainly looked like a rider, decked out in new lycra and about 1 quarter of the age of the next youngest participant. With Richard proudly sporting his new yellow jersey for the first time we were all getting anxious to make a start.

"Where's Bob?", someone queried. I looked around, but could quickly see that Bob had not yet arrived. "Let's wait a few minutes", I confidently replied, "I am sure that he will be here". About 30 minutes later my confidence was starting to flag. "How much longer are we going to wait for that useless bag of wind?", Mal asked (obviously getting impatient).

At that point I decided to give Bob a call to see if he was lying injured on the road, somewhere between his home and the meeting place. After a few rings a sleepy voice answered "Hello, who's there?". Apparently Bob had decided to sleep in and had forgotten all about the day's ride. For a current reigning monarch, this was absolutely appalling behaviour. I gently told him to get his lazy butt out of the cot and onto his bike and to meet us on the outward ride.

A couple of minutes later the other seven riders were heading off in high spirits towards Healesville. Mal and Mat quickly asserted their testosterone and opened up a lead on the peloton, while Richard and Paul gamely pedaled up the rolling hills in the rear. After a few minutes Peter turned and headed back to his car. Surely he wasn't going to quit that early in the ride? Apparently he had just gone back to retrieve his mobile phone. I suspected that he was just staging and was planning to unleash the power of his massive legs to ride over us later in the climb. Anyone who was willing to hire out space on his legs for advertising could be guilty of any form of poor sportmanship.

At the turnoff to Toolangi I waited for the rest of the peloton to regroup, but Mal and Mat lost all semblence of riding discipline and proceeded to ride out of sight. When all riders were safely around the bend I headed off in pursuit. At this section of the ride there is a steady climb for the next 15 or so km, all the way up to Toolangi. It is not particularly steep, but it does seem to go on and on for a long time.

I decided to just settle in to my natural rhythm and not worry to much about what speed anyone else was doing. I was also pleased that, even with the higher gears on my new Cannondale, I was only in the third lowest gear. Although this was harder to push, it seemed that it required less energy. To my surprise I also discovered that I could ride all the way to the summit without a stop. I have learned that all performances are relative, and the most satisfying reward is when you find that you have improved on your previous best effort. About half way up to the top I was joined by Bob, who was taking great pains not to mention his disgraceful start to the day.

The peloton gathered at Toolangi from left - Ross, Dennis, Mal, Bob, Peter, Richard and Paul.

At the small Toolangi General Store we settled down for a rest and a chat in the unusual little adjoining picnic area. We were surrounded by a somewhat eclectic mix of picnic tables and strange wooden structures. It was a nice place to discuss the ride so far, while we enjoyed our drinks and muesli bars. Paul and Richard could finally take some comfort now that the worst part of the ride was safely behind us.

Before remounting for the, long anticipated, descent down to Healesville we took a few moments for the obligatory photo shoot. Although Paul's jersey did not have the official Warby Logo, if you closed one eye and shut the other, he could almost pass for another genuine rider.

Another group photo to give Mat a chance to get in the picture. (Otherwise his mates would never believe he was that silly.)

After Toolangi there is another couple of km before reaching the actual crest of the hill, but once that point is reached, it's simply a matter of hang on tight for the rapid descent for the next 12 km.

Weaving wildly from one side of the road to the other all 8 riders went careering at breakneck speed, hoping that disaster would not strike at any minute. I am sure that this was the greatest rush that you can experience.

I have a theory that riding a bike up a mountain must be a bit like childbirth - it hurts like hell while you are going through it, but once you are past the critical moment, the pain is all forgotten in the euphoria of what quickly follows.

A very important part of any ride is the stop at the coffee shop and this was not going to be an exception to that rule. As we sat outside the shop in Healesville the main topics of conversation were the (progressively exaggerated) speeds we had just attained, and various suggestions as to where we might ride to next.

The final 12 km back to Yarra Glen were travelled at a more sensible rate, at least until the final few 100 metres, when a frantic sprint broke out between some of the riders. A poor memory prevents me from recalling who actually won the sprint, all I know is that it wasn't me.

When we were all finally gathered around our cars I think we agreed that it had been a great ride. Even the mountain bike riders seemed to have enjoyed themselves. I am sure that we are all eagerly looking forward to our next monthly ride with unbridled impatience. Look out Wangaratta - here come the Warbies!