I was a real biker rider now
after all, I’d managed to snare my son’s road bike, made of Tinsel Paper I think, cos it weighed less than the drink bottles I installed:
and!
I’d ridden it a short distance already to prove I could do more than 20k without falling off the darn thing
And,
I’d invested in cleats
So off to the weekend Ghost Rider ride from Wangaratta to Bright via Beechworth last weekend
Dennis had assured me there were no hills of any concern throughout the whole 128km trip. Still I was a bit concerned about my capability and the bike’s tall gearing. So I asked Peter Warren to fit a rear cluster more in line with tractor gears than road race gears. He agreed to rush the job through before my departure to Wang, on Friday morning.
All was well in the world until Peter rang that morning, with good and bad news.
The Good News! The gear set had arrived and been fitted.
Good news… it fitted well
Bad News…. It was fitted to HIS bike
With a feeble excuse about it not matching my wheel gadgets…. Paranoia set in quickly but a large sedative settled me down
And away to Wang.
From Wang, the bundle (I can’t spell peloton) of riders set of in remarkable discipline, and held together all the way to Everton, where it was agreed that the section from there to Beechworth was a testosterone free for all.
Well Us real riders with balsa wood road bikes and brand new cleats felt the time was ripe to HAVE A GO.
So I decided to catch Lothar who’d set off a few minutes earlier at the speed of sound, on route to Beechworth. Now I’ve made this mistake before, i.e. chasing Lothar. Still it just proves that I’m not one to learn from experience. After all, Dennis said there was only one short hill between Everton and Beechworth (you’ll note this to be a slight departure from his earlier claim of there being no hills at all????) and that being the case, I could afford to bust the boiler and chase Lothar
It took me about 2km to him, including 2km of hill. But I was cunning. I’d paced my energy so I’d be depleted just as I caught him, and I could then settle down to a rapid but relaxed stroll on the remaining flat section to Beechworth. Ranging alongside Lothar and feeling inclined to chat a bit; I was a bit surprised at Lothar’s seeming reluctance to talk. It was clear he was conserving energy; but why? So I merely said it was a nice day for a ride, and he replied “Yes, but the next 15km of hill isn’t too good a prospect”. I was shattered. Hills for the next 15km!!!@@@#@#. Lucky Dennis was not around at this point.
Wishing Lothar farewell, (I later found out he was chasing Ben) I watched him disappear into the distance and continued at a much deflated pace and gasped my way into Beechworth, where the pelaton presented the Bakery with 78 free coffee vouchers (keeping the local economy alive) and I watched Ben rebuild his rear derailleur.
Morning tea finished, we set off once more, in two groups… the Fast Felllas and the Sane Riders. Still failing to learn from experience, (it must be the effect of tight fitting bike shoes) I’d thought I’d ride with the Fast Fellas. However, I received considerable help on the remainder of the ride to Bright. For this, I must thank Big Mike.
Not only had Big Mike completed a Triathalon the week before, he was still in training for the one next week. To this effect he rode the heaviest mountain bike I’ve come across. To enhance his work rate he’d shod it with knobblies that roared like 4WD treads on the road, and had the rolling resistance of a barb wire fence. And as if that was not enough, he’d deflated his rear tire by 50%. I had no reason to feel stressed when I watched this masochist go contently about his business. And the advantage to me???? Well Mike is so b….. big, that riding behind him is like having a tow rope hooked behind a semi trailer. I loved every bit of it
What a great ride!!!!!!!!
It was somewhat hard to believe that this was the sixth time we had bundled up our bikes and lycra and headed up North to ride this impressive rail trail. Yet when I looked back into the official chronicles of the Ghost Riders, there was no doubting that it was true. The first time we ventured onto this unfamilar territory was in November 2002 where our entire team consisted of just 5 riders - Ross, Duncan, Crasher, Mal and myself. At that time we did not own a yellow jersey between the five of us and Ross was still wearing business shirts and baggy shorts on his mountain bike.
In spite of our inexperience and cycling ineptitude at that early stage of our club I was interested to see that all 5 riders headed off from Wangaratta and completed the entire trail (including the Beechworth climb) on their first attempt. Over the past 4 and a half years we had returned to this ride four more times, each time with a larger group. Although some things had changed there was one feature that remained consistent throughout all our rides on this trail- that was that everyone agreed that this was the best ride we did each year. Not only is the trail fantastic to ride on, but the fun we experience together with our cycling friends is absolutely priceless.
From our humble beginnings such a short time ago, in 2007 our total entourage consisted on no less than 34 riders and support crew. At this rate of growth we will soon be taking on the scale of a Rotary Club Convention in a couple of years.
Very early in our travelling history we had learned to plan every major trip based on the location of the best bakeries and this trip would be no different. Maggie and I set off mid morning and were soon settled in at Yea for our traditional break at the Yea Bakery. We took the time to enjoy a leisurely lunch and cappucino before resuming the drive to Wangaratta. The final 60 km or so up the Hume Highway is just so boring that you need a few grams of caffeine in your blood, just to stay awake.
By 2 pm we were in Wangaratta with some time to have a wander through Dean Woods bike shop. They always have some very interesting bikes on display and this year I was fascinated by the 4 seater than had outside the shop. It had two seats for pedallers and two seats for bludgers. I could picture John and Warren with one of those bikes - of course Joy and Val would be the ones doing the pedalling.
Then it was time to head off to the Warby Lodge (nice of them to name it after us) and get settled in. This also gave time for a well deserved "nana nap" while the rest of the team was still making their long drive up from Melbourne. This would be an essential part of my preparation for the extreme challenges that the rest of the weekend would certainly pose.
While I was thus "preparing" quite a few of the other team members arrived and proceeded to unpack their bikes and ask serious questions about the ride, such as "When is dinner ? I'm starved". Lisa (who has an aversion to any sort of wait), apparently wanted to eat as soon as she stepped out of her car. Her catchcry for the weekend was "I ride to eat !"
I had already made a booking at Marvilla's Restaurant because it was situated directly next door to the motel and it was recommended by the motel owner. By 7 pm we had a hungry group of riders demanding to be fed so we made our way to the restaurant, looking foward to filling our stomachs ready for the long kilometres in the saddle. As we stepped in the door we immediately knew that the air conditioner was working well as it was almost cool enough to need a jumper. We pored over the menu, placed our orders and sat back down in eager anticipation of gastronomic satiation.
We proceeded to wait and wait and wait until the kitchen produced the first meal. It soon became obvious that they were only capable of cooking one meal at a time as each meal was delivered to the table at about 10 minute intervals. When you have over 20 people waiting for their dinners this is not an ideal situation. With some of the lucky early meal recipients already finished their meals the majority were still sucking on their table napkins. I had ordered a serve of garlic bread, hoping that it would not take long to serve, however 60 minutes later it still had not arrived. In fact I received my main course with still no sign of the said garlic bread. Another 30 minutes later, after I had finished my dinner I went to the counter to cancel my order, only to find that it had finally arrived at the table. A very interesting way to run a restaurant.
After the never ending slow presentation of dinners evcryone soon lost interest in deserts because it was getting late and we all needed some rest. The evening was not entirely wasted because we were able to use this experience to add Marvilla's to the list of restaurants we will never return to in the future.
Late in the afternoon a busload of soccer players had arrived at the motel and proceeded to treat the place as if it was their own. Unfortunately their own place must be quite a dump judging by their complete lack of consideration for anyone else trying to sleep. Fortunately Maggie and I were at the end of the building furthest away from the noise and were not as affected as those closer to the action. Talking to the motel owner the next morning I gather they have decided never to take bookings from any other sporting clubs in the future. (I assume that she did not consider the Ghost Riders to be a "sporting" club" - was that an insult or not ?)
I had previously given specific instructions that we would be departing at 8.00 am sharp so I was quite pleased that by 8.30 am most of the riders had finally emerged into the car park and belatedly started to pump up their tyres and apply sunscreen. Glenda busied herself with her latest lipstick. Crasher Lewis started flexing his calves, obviously dreaming that he was waiting for the start of Le Tour. At least I was thankful that the weather was perfect with an absolutely clear blue sky overhead. It was obvious that we would not be troubled by rain during the weekend and, judging by the dry conditions of the surrounding countryside, it was clear that rain had not fallen in this area for a long, long time.
We finally managed to assemble for our group photo before wobbling our way out into the road and on through town towards the rail trail. In the clear, crisp early morning air, this part of the ride is absolutely magical. Everyone is excited with the anticipation of the ride ahead and it is impossible not to feel in the highest of spirits. Turning off onto the trail we set an early pace of about 18 kph. Our instructions were to keep all the riders together till we reached Everton Station and this gave ample opportunity for everyon eto chat together and enjoy the experience.
Following our first drinks stop, about 15 km out of Wangaratta I set off at a very slow speed, thinking that the rest of the peloton was right behind me. Wondering why no-one had pulled in alongside me I slowed my speed even further to about 15 kph. I tried to listen for the familiar sound of following tyres, but could hear nothing. I would have liked to look behind me, but I have not mastered the art of turning aroun without also riding off the trail into the bushes at the side. After a couple of kilometres, my curiosity finally got the better of me so I pulled to a stop and turned around. The trail was deserted!
Just as I was worrying if some mishap had befallen the riders I saw a rather sheepish looking bunch come along the trail about 400 metres away. Apparently they had deliberately set me up, in some vain attempt to demonstrate that I didn't practise "pelotonic discipline". I had always believed that I (unlike some others in the group) was the master of pelotonic unity, so I though t that this tactic was manifestly unfair.
After the group was reassembled we proceeded on to Everton Station where we found a group of the support crew waiting for us. We again assembled for the traditional photo in front of the sign and then prepared for the uphill climb to Beechworth. In spite of the fact that Hooters is actually one of the most experienced riders in the club, he immediately announced that he would NOT be riding up any hills because of lactic acid (probably at Cape Otway). This is just an unnecessarily complicated way of saying that he is too lazy to ride anywhere that requires effort. He had also somehow convinced Warren and Willem to abandon their rides at this point also.
The rest of the riders, including all the women, were not to be so easily put off and started their ride up the hill. This section of the trail is not terribly steep but it does climb about 330 metres in a distance of about 10 km. It also teases the rider with a few false crests near the summit. While some of the more competitive riders bolted into the distance the rest of us just looked to find a consistent rhythm to get the climb completed. About 35 minutes later the riders started arriving at the Bakery.
By this time the sun was shining brightly and the early chill had well and truly left the air. With sweat dripping from our brows we were glad to be able to find shade under the awnings while we enjoyed our coffees. The fact that the coffees were provided FREE made them even more welcome. Of course, Hooters was the first to successfully make the climb, having been chaufered all the way up the hill in the comfort of his climate controlled limousine.
While the rest of us were enjoying the fun outside the bakery, Glenda had chosen to disappear from the crowd to visit a friend somewhere in Beechworth. I assume that she would also be taking this as an opportunity to adjust her lipstick before the rest of the ride.
After a 45 mins break at Beechworth I knew that we had to get moving as we still had over 75 km still to ride before reaching Bright. The ride down the hill is basically a 15 km coast, the biggest possible hazard is not keeping a good lookout for riders still languishing their way up the hill. Soon we were back down at Everton and heading off towards the next obstacle in our way - Taylor's Gap.
Although not as high as Beechworth the climb to Taylor's Gap can be deceptively trying. The first time I did this ride I was not aware that I was riding uphill at all but couldn't understand why I was travelling so slowly. When you are riding the bike on this section it does not appear to be steep at all but a study of the elevation profile for this ride shows that the gradient is almost as high as the Beechworth section. Fortunately once you pass over the summit it is basically dead flat all the rest of the way to Bright.
Our plan had been to lunch at Myrtleford, so we stopped at the well stocked bakery to replenish our calorie stores for the rest of the ride and headed across the road to lie on the grass. Somewhat surprisingly the grass in the park had remained relatively green, in stark contrats to the bare paddocks we had seen all along the trail. Waiting here were Ken and Steve Lister, who had skipped the Beechworth section in order to get to the lunchstop ahead of the crowd.
While the rest of the riders progressively arrived it gave us a good opportunity to rest and discuss our experiences so far. Fortunately the weather had remained perfect and although the sun was shining brightly the air temperature was still cool enough for enjoyable cycling. The riders who were completing this trail for the first time all commented on what a fun time they were having, although a few confessed that the Beechworth climb was a good heart starter.
After consuming a large salad sandwich, a mince slice, a big M and a bottle of Coke I felt like I was just about refuelled enough to complete the ride. Ken and Steve, who had both been waiting in Myrtleford for almost two hours were also keen to start riding before they both dozed off in the autumn sunshine. About half a dozen others were also keen to get going so we saddled up and pointed our bikes towards Bright for the final stage.
Big Michael Litchfield had joined the ride at Beechworth and was keen to set a cracking pace on his giant (size not brand) mountain bike. With its knobby tyres buzzing on the bitumen it was a bit like a jumbo jet warming up on the tarmac as he sped along, dragging the rest of us along in his wake. When this guy gets his big engine roaring, it is truly an impressive spectacle. It was nice not having to pedal for a while and just allow the suction pull us along at about 30 kph.
This procession continued for about 15 km until Michael finally started to show signs of tiring, with drops of sweat regularly dripping from his unshaven chin. The rest of us belatedly started to pedal and relieve him of some of the hard work at the front of the peloton. The final few kilometres into Bright pass through beautiful surroundings and are worth taking notice of, unfortunately by the time most riders reach this point, their sole thoughts are to get to the finish and get their bums on something bigger than a bike seat.
With a hoop of triumph we finally passed the old Bright railway station and could announce that the outward leg of the ride was (almost) completed. A few minutes earlier I had received a phone call from Hooters saying that Warren had burst a tyre and needed us to buy him a new one before the shop closed for the day. We rode around the corner to the local bike shop and asked about new mountain bike tyres. The owner proceeded to see a profitable sale coming his way and started to show me a variety of tyres, all at deluxe prices. When I told him that I only had $25 on me he quickly lost interest and told me that he had "nothing under $45". Obviously an up market bike shop !
We had no alternative other than to forget the tyre and ride on to the Motel. A few minutes later I was stretched out on the bed trying to get some feeling back in my nether regions. I suspect that within a few moments I had taken another short journey - this time to the wonderful land of Nod.
I awoke to the sounds of people talking outside my room and discovered that many of the other riders had also successfully made it into Bright. I also discovered that punctures had beset many riders during the afternoon. For some reason these punctures had inflicted only those riding mountain bikes, the road bike riders had apparently emerged unscathed from the Valley of Flat Tyres.
As each rider collapsed into the motel it was obvious that their mental states were inversely proportional to their time of arrival. In other words the later they arrived the more weary and frazzled they looked. This was espcially true for Peter who had left Monbulk at 4.00 am in the morning to ride all the way to Bright non stop. When he arrived he was incoherent and staring blankly into space. At first I thought this was due to the 330 km he had ridden, but I later heard that he was like that before he started.
One thing was certain is that we were all hungry (aka STARVED). No one wanted to wait until 9 pm to get served with their dinner, so I was hoping that the Cosy Kangaroo (our chosen restaurant for the evening) would be able to serve their dinners a little faster than Marvillas in Wangaratta. I need not have worried because, to everyone's relief, the dinners were not only copious in quantity, they were also delicious and served promptly with a big smile from the Irish waitress. We could not have asked for more.
We noticed that there was one glaring omission from the group that gorged ourselves on the marvelous food at the Cosy Kangaroo. We later learnt that Big Michael was so exhausted from his exertions earlier in the day that he did not wake from his slumber till after 9.00 pm. The rest of us enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. I think Lisa best summed it up when she was later heard to say "I ride to eat" - as do we all.
With bulging bellies we sat around and chatted for quite some time until tiredness finally overcame us with the urge to go back to the motel and sleep. It had been an (almost) perfect day, although the puncture sufferers might not agree with this verdict. I retired to bed with expectation for an equally enjoyable day to follow.
At 7 am the next morning the Ghost Riders and support crew hurried to the breakfast buffet to fill themselves with cereal, coffee and toast sufficient to propel them all the way back to Wang. Of course Hooters and Warren did not have to eat much since they had, once again, decided that they would NOT be joining us for the return ride. The rest of their ride would be from behind the wheels of their respective cars.
I had decided to start the Sunday ride from Harrietville and headed off with Ben, Daryl, Mal, Al, Kevin, Crasher, Ken and Steve to our agreed start point. The rest of the peloton headed off directly to Wangaratta so that they would have a substantial lead on the chase peloton by the time we arrived at Harrietville. Once agin we had been blessed with a perfect morning. The fresh cool air of the mountains makes this time of day magical for cycling.
Ken and Steve departed about 10 minutes before the rest of us. I was thoroughly looking forward to the enjoyment of the ride down from Harrietville to Bright, but was somewhat alarmed when the lead rider jumped straight into overdrive from the first kilometre. We were already hurtling along at 35 to 40 kph with the prospect of another 100 or so km still to ride. So much for the enjoyment factor. I put my head down and caught the front rider and managed to stay in touch until we reached the first substantial hill. Someone yelled "You take the lead now, Dennis" and left in the front at the start of the climb.
A couple of hundred metres later my heart rate was over 150 and I could feel gravity taking it's revenge on last night's dinner. I pulled to one side so that I could take up a position at the rear of the line, however by the time I managed to get to the left hand side and looked up the rest were already about 100 metres ahead. Unless they slowed down to let me get back on I had no intention of trying to catch up. It soon became obvious that all pretense of teamwork was thrown out the window and I watched them disappear into the distance. Was this deja vu or had I a clear recollection of the RTB ride of a couple of year's ago ?
Whatever the reason it was plainly evident that I would riding the rest of the way alone. Fortunately a few minutes later I caught up with Ken and Steve, who had also been blown off the road by Crasher and his mad peloton. I took the chance to have a pleasant chat for the next couple of km and then gently rolled into Bright. By that stage I had decided that I would rather set my own pace than participate in some sort of mad demolition derby. I continued through Bright to Porepunkah and picked up the rail trail there.
With a kind tail wind it was possible to maintain a good pace and I was pleased to see quite a number of fellow cyclists out on the trail to wave and greet as we passed. I made it to Myrtleford where Crasher's mob had just arrived at the Bakery. I bought some lunch and headed back to the park to wait for Ken and Steve. For these two relatively inexperienced cyclists it would be the longest weekend's ride they had attempted and I was hoping to farewell them before they headed back to NSW. Unfortunately they hadn't arrived by the time I needed to get going, so once again, I set off alone.
At this stage I had no idea how far ahead the first group was, in fact I knew that they could easily be so far ahead that I would not see anyone before Wangaratta. I tried to put my mind in gear and looked for a steady rhythm to help the kilometres pass by. Although I started out at about 30 kph, the ever warming sun and the after effects of my lunch seemed to work together to progressively make my progress slower and slower. I amused myself by tinkering with the GPS unit and watching the distance and elevation change as I rode on.
It was not until I arrived at Everton station that I was pleased to see that the lead group had stopped to wait for me. Mal, Kevin, Al and Ben had also decided to show some teamwork and ride with the main group. Not surprisingly Daryl and Crasher had obviously continued their crazy dash to Wangaratta. In fact we never saw either of them again for the rest of the day. Apparently some cyclists have this weird idea that you can't stop moving lest your legs "freeze up" or some silly notion. It seems to me that such people are so much the poorer for missing out on so much of the social pleasure that group cycling can provide.
The remaining 25 km back to Wang was undertaken in the finest spirit of the Ghost Riders with everyone doing their best to look after those who were starting to tire in the heat. With a few drinks stops and much encouragement we all eventually proudly emerged in the main street of Wang to complete a triumphant conclusion to the ride. Looking around at the exhausted faces I was proud of each and every one of those who had persevered till the finish. It was an achievement that I am sure they will remember for a long time.
We were soon settled into the coffee shop enjoying a well earned iced coffee (or two). Al spied a monster piece of lemon meringue pie that was pleading to be eaten, but soon realised that his eyes literally were bigger than his stomach. Lisa once again announced in a loud voice "I ride to eat". What a fitting end to a most memorable ride.