While some might find it hard to understand why anyone would want to drive for over 3 hours, just so they could ride a bike for another 200km, for anyone who has discovered the world of cycling the answer is a real no brainer. After all, what better way could there be than to spend a weekend than on a bicycle surounded by your best friends ?
Since Maggie and I had already decided that we would be leaving home at 9.30 am sharp on Friday morning, I was quite relieved to be rolling down the driveway only a little after 10.35 am. With the Avanti safely stowed in the rear of the wagon and 8 bags of Maggie's luggage on the bag seat (actually one of them was mine), we were underway. The sky showed not a cloud in sight and I looked forward eagerly to the prospect of fine and mild weather for the next three days.
Soon the kilometres started to tick by as we followed the Melba Highway through Yarra Glen and Kinglake. It didn't take long for the hungries to start niggling away and so the traditional box of Tiny Teddies proved to be a life saver. I had promised Maggie that we would stop at the Yea Bakery for lunch. We always enjoy eating lunch at the picnic tables in the grassy central plantation and I had been anticipating a nice country pie for the past 90 mins or so as we pulled into the Main St.
After getting food and coffee we were a little disappointed to discover that the central reservation was blocked off for some sort of revegetation. This meant that we had to travel further on the outskirts of town (and a far less attractive spot) before we could enjoy our lunches. I sat down with my lunch and a good book looking forward to a relaxing interlude. "I never could figure out how to open these things", Maggie said as she wrestled with her tomato sauce sachet. A second later there was a loud "pop" as she triumphantly cracked the seal and sent the entire contents hurtling towards me where they deposited themselves conspicuously down the front of my nice clean shirt and all over my favourite book. She was greatly pleased that she had somehow avoided getting any sauce on herself. I, on the other hand, failed to see any humour in the situation at all.
As I spent the next few minutes vainly trying to spread the sauce over an even larger area of my shirt a wind sprung up from nowhere, sending my coffee and sugar flying from the table. If that wasn't bad enough, an aggressive European wasp decided that it would like to share my pie with me. This wasn't turning out the way I had planned. I gulped the pie (burning my mouth) and hurriedly made my way back to the relative safety of the car. Maggie went in search of a toilet. In a constantly changing world it is worth noting that some things never change.
Fortunately the rest of the trip went without incident and shortly after 2.00 pm we were turning into the motel. We were obviously the first to arrive and took the opportunity to have a nice rest while we waited for the rest of the team to begin arriving. By late afternoon we were starting to see a regular arrival of other riders and their partners. Since I did not have an exact idea of how many people would be actually joining us for the weekend it was something of a surprise as each carload of people pulled in. In the final analysis we discovered that we would have 21 riders and about another 10 partners and other family members. This would easily make it our biggest weekend away.
I had booked in at the Hollywood Cafe for dinner. This was only a very short walk from the motel and I was very pleased when they said that we could each order and pay separately. This certainly simplifies matters at the end of the night when everybody has very poor memories of what they have actually eaten. Since we were all starving by this stage we were also relieved to find that the food was served promptly and was of an excellent quality. Unless something totally unexpected happens in the meantime I can safely predict that we will be again using this restaurant for our 2009 trip.
With my tummy full and the sauce stains fading from my shirt I was able to retire to bed on Friday night with excited anticipation of the riding ahead. I carefully positioned the bike at the end of the bed where I could keep a close watch on it and eventually drifted off into a somewhat unsettled sleep. When the alarm went off at 6.30 am the next morning I finally felt like I was ready for some serious sleeping, but forced myself to stagger out of bed to examine the weather outside. Although the sun was still yet to appear over the horizon, it was already obvious that we were going to be blessed with a perfect day.
An hour later I finally started to see other sleepy looking riders gradually emerging from their rooms. Bikes were wheeled into the sunshine and large pumps were enthusiastically wielded to force maximum pressures into straining tyres. There was undoubtedly an air of excitement in the air as the appointed departure time drew inexorably closer. I finally managed to gather most of the riders together for a group photo. Eventually our impressive peloton of 21 riders rolled out onto the Main St and headed to the start of the trail.
In my opinion the first few km of this ride are unforgetable, especially when the country air is still cool and fresh with the last mists of the evening still to be burned off by the sun. We had previously decided that the first section to Everton would be undertaken at a slow pace to enable everyone to stay together and enjoy the experience.
As we pulled into the station, Daryl decided to put on a spectacular re-enactment of his China accident and took an impressive face plant into the loose gravel. When he staggered back to his feet, brushing off the dust and blood, he calmly explained to everyone that it was only a slow crash and therefore of no consequence. (Something else that never changes). Somehow I was reminded of that classic Monty Python line about it "only being a flesh wound".
The next section is the most challenging of the entire ride and we encouraged the slower riders to start on the climb well ahead of the lightweight bolters (aka Werner). The plan was to ensure that most riders arrived at Beechworth at about the same time. Although the slimb is not overly steep it always succeeds in raising a sweat. It also teases the cyclist with a succession of false crests. Since I have now ridden this section half a dozen times, I have learnt to believe that I am not in Beechworth until I can actually see the Bakery. This year I tried to just sit on a steady rhythm and made it to the top in 50 mins. I suspect that the faster riders would have cut at least 10 minutes off this time.
The staggered start worked quite well with the majority of riders arriving at the Bakery over a 15 minute period. Beechworth is a very pretty provincial town and it is always a lovely feeling relaxing in the main street with a nice drink. The bike trail has obviously been a great asset to the town, especially for the Bakery and Bike Shop (which also doubles as the local mower shop).
Once everyone was rested and refueled we took the much easier downhill ride back to the fork at Everton. When you are rolling down this section you are reminded afresh as to how much you had climbed on the uphill leg. At the base of the climb we waited for others to arrive so that we could form into larger groups for the ride to Myrtleford.
I was pleased to find that, although the sky was completely clear, the temperature was still quite cool making it an ideal day for riding. It was also worth noting that the contrast between the 2007 and 2008 was quite amazing. When we rode this way just twelve months ago the paddocks were completely bare and the area was in the midst of the strictest water restrictions imaginable. This year the paddocks appeared to have plenty of grass and the general landscape was tinged liberally with green. The restrictions had been dropped back to level 1, meaning that people could even water their lawns in town. Water surely makes a huge difference.
I found myself riding with a group of about 8 to 10 others and we generally rode at about 25 kph for most of the way to Myrtleford. The only significant obstacle in this section is the steady climb up to "The Gap". Once over the gap the remainder of the ride to Myrtleford is either downhill or flat. I had previously taken pains to warn riders about the rough bridge on the downhill section, but several apparently forget my words in the exhileration of the descent.
It seemed that most riders were still travelling well and everyone seemed in high spirits as we rode up the Main St of Myrtleford. The first stop was the Bakery to, once again, replenish our stores of food and drink, before crossing the road to the park.
Once everyone had successfully made it to Myrtleford we sat down to enjoy a long and leisurely lunch on the cool grass. As we munched down on salad rolls and sweet cakes we were able to reflect on what an enjoyable ride we had experienced. It would be hard to imagine how the day could have gone any better than this. All that remained was the short final section of about 27km to Bright.
Although we had orignally planned for the entire group to ride together for the last section, for a number of reasons this did not happen. Most riders found themselves in a group travelling at a speed they were comfortable with. I suspect that in many ways, not many wanted to hurry the ride too much because it was just so much fun to be able to prolong the ride as long as possible. It was in this section that I first noticed a growing twinge in my left knee. At first it was nothing more than a distraction, but as the time went by it developed into a real pain. By the time we pulled up at the old railway station I felt like someone had attacked my knee with an angle grinder.
Back at the motel I staggered into the room and tried to massage the aching joint. Later that afternoon I learned that Mal (Bolter) Doswell also suffered a similar injury during his ride up from Melbourne and he put it down to badly adjusted cleats. Of course it could have also been due to the sheer stupidity of trying to ride 300 km in a single day - but that's another story.
After a relaxing couple of hours at the High Country Inn, it was time for dinner. I had made a group booking for 35 people at the Cosy Kangaroo, meaning that we almost booked the place out. Last year everyone had been very happy with this place and were keen to go back again in 2008. Unfortunately the high standard of twelve months ago was not maintained and some were left a little disappointed with the service and quality of food. I suspect we will be taking our custom somewhere else in 2009.
From my days as a school teacher I always admired Garth's skill on the guitar and he put this talent to good use as a group gathered in one of the motel rooms for a singalong. I was feeling a little depressed as I nursed my knee into bed, feeling that my chances of riding in the morning were next to zero. It would be the first time I had not completed the ride in both directions.
Fortunately I had a good night's sleep and awoke feeling more positive. A look out the window revealed another perfect day and I quickly decided that, knee or no knee, I would at least ride some of the way back to Wangaratta. Breakfast at the High Country Inn is a highlight of any weekend in Bright. The food is great and the outlook through the window is breathtaking. We had decided not to head off until 9.30 am so we had a chance to enjoy another hour and a half relaxing in the courtyard.
When the appointed starting time arrived we had most riders gathered on the road, ready and eager to start. There was no sign of Glenda or Gael. We waited another 5 minutes. Still no sign. Another 5 minutes. You guessed it, still no sign. Another 5 minutes. No sign. By this time there was a hint of rebellion stirring in the midst of the peloton. Some were threatening to leave by themselves, so I had no alternative other than to start the ride.
For variation we decided to stay on the road all the way back to Myrtleford, rather than go back along the trail. The highway is broad and smooth, with a wide bike lane, making it perfect for high speed riding. Soon we were lined up in an impressive team. Maintaining a speed of about 29 kph was quite easy. Within a few km I felt my knee starting to ache again and stopped to readjust the cleat again. A minute later the peloton was out of sight, leaving Paul and me a fast sprint to eventually catch up with them again. It did not take long for me to realise that the changed cleat made a world of difference.
At Myrtleford another extended early lunch in the park was thoroughly savoured by all. The signs indicated that Wangaratta was only about 50 km away and five of us decided to follow the road all the way back. The remaining group of about 10 riders decided to return to the trail.
Riding in a group, taking turns at the front, really made the going fast and easy. Soon we found the kilometres ticking off rapidly. Daryl's daughter Michelle performed very well indeed for someone new to cycling. She also seems to have much better bike handling skills than her dad - not falling off once during the entire weekend.
After a short break for a backside rest, we safely made it back to Wang by 2.00 pm. There was time for a handshake and a cool drink, before a change of clothes and the long drive back to Melbourne.
Not only had it been our biggest Wangaratta ride by far, but also I think it had been the most successful. Many of our riders set personal bests for the longest distance ridden in a single day. In addition Stacey Doswell took her own giant leap of faith when she ran off the side of the mountain on her first paragliding jump. She apparently enjoyed it so much she can't wait for next year. I wonder how many sleeps we need to count before we can head back up North again?