It was nice to be recognised by the local residents naming a motel in our honour!
One of the sure signs that you are becoming addicted to cycling is when you spend all your time on a long drive assessing all the roads according to how good they would be to ride along. Keen eyes scan for such things as the type of surface, the width of the shoulders, length and slope of climbs, good coffee shops and the like. This is how I managed to pass a good deal of the time it took us to drive to Wangarrata on Friday morning.
After all the weeks of meticulous planning I had been looking to this weekend for a long time. As the size of our group continues to grow I am discovering that organising a weekend away is becoming more and more like teaching a flock of chickens to dance the sailor's hornpipe. Just when I think everything is finally under control I find that someone or something crops up to throw a spanner in the works.
A week or so ago when I rang the Wangaratta motel to confirm our final numbers, the confident voice at the other end assured me that everything was under control. "I have thirteen rooms booked for Wednesday 15th March", he promised me. The problem was that I had booked the rooms for Friday, NOT Wednesday. My heart skipped a beat as I frantically explained that we needed the rooms for the 17th March. Fortunately there were still sufficient rooms free on the correct day and a potential catastrophe of epic proportions was narrowly averted.
Somewhat amazingly I was able to get away to an early start on Friday and soon the kilometres were happily flying past. As a devout believer in the philosophy that the journey is just as important as the destination, I was able to admire the amazing countryside that we were passing through, especially along the highway from Yea to Merton. As we passed a series of towering bald hills I reminded Maggie that I would love to climb one of those hills one day. In the meantime I mentally toyed with the idea of setting off on an extended ride along some of these roads.
We had previously arranged to meet up with some old friends living on a farm outside of Violet Town so took a short detour from the route that we would normally follow. As I gazed upon mile after mile of quiet flat roads I could not help commenting that "anyone living out here would be crazy not to have a bike". Fearing that I might be harbouring some fantasy of retiring to such an area, the boss quickly reminded me that if I had any intention of moving to rural Victoria, I would be doing it on my own. She certainly knows how to bring a guy back to earth with a thud.
No trip to Wangaratta of course is complete without a visit to Dean Woods Bike Shop. After checking in to the Warby Lodge Motel (nice of them to name their motel after us). I made the annual pilgrimage up the Main St to drool over the interesting array of cycling goods that were on display. Although I would like to have filled my car with essential cycling gadgets I was on a budget and the only things that found their way into my shopping bag were a few cheap spare tubes. At the checkout it was encouraging to see that the proprietor recognised me and said that he always reads our web site. I was able to tell him to expect more of the Ghost Riders to drop in later in the afternoon.
Back at the motel I took the opportunity to have a nap while the rest of the riders and partners arrived. Awaking at about 6 pm I was able to do a quick head count. It was soon evident that one rider was missing - young Ben Cuthbertson. I quickly returned to my room and rang directory enquiries to get his phone number. When I rang I was alarmed to find that he was still at home. Apparently he had decided not to come away for the weekend, but he had overlooked one small detail - he had not told anyone else of his change of heart! This was just the sort of debacle I had been fearing and certainly not the way to impress any motel proprietor. I think I showed admirable restraint by not swearing at him but did insist that he ring the Warby Motel and apologise to them. As it was I had the difficult task of explaining the situation to the High Country Inn at Bright. As expected they were NOT impressed.
The only other person who was still to arrive was John Dawson, however he had already indicated that he would not be arriving till later in the evening. I tried to call him on his mobile to see how far off he was - no answer. By this time the cool country air and the long drive from Melbourne had combined to give everyone a healthy appetite. At least we did not have far to go as the restaurant was only next door to the motel.
The young waiter at Marvilla's was keen to give good service, but somehow the communication between the waiter and the chef left room for improvement. Although Stacy had distinctly ordered a pizza with chicken and avocado, when it was placed in front of her she found to her dismay that the anticipated avocados had meta morphed into anchovies. While a chicken and anchovy pizza might have some sort of weird appeal to some diners, Stacey was not amused. Fortunately Mal decided to harvest the anchovies and stuff them down his own throat. The rest of the dinners were quite reasonable, although I was starting to get a little nervous when John still had not arrived by 8.30 pm. I tried his mobile again - still no answer.
In the meantime Bob Lewis was getting rather cranky because he was missing the cycling coverage on TV and kept ducking back to the motel on some pretense or another. I kept ducking outside in further attempts to get hold of John Dawson. When he eventually turned up at about 9.30 pm I asked him why he had not answered his phone. "Because I am deaf" was his reply. Fair enough I suppose, I was just relieved that I did not have to face the motel owner again.
John went to the counter to order his meal, while the rest of the team started to make their way back to the motel. While waiting for his dinner to be served he filled in the time by downing a succession of Crown Lagers. Unfortunately John turned out to be the second victim of poor kitchen communication. When his dinner still had not been served an hour later he decided it was time to ask what had happened to it. "We thought it was meant to be Take Away and it has been sitting languishing in a plastic tub for the last 30 minutes", was the reply. John used the confusion to coerce yet another (free) beer from the owner.
Maggie and I spent some time watching the Commonwealth Games on TV but soon were too tired to concentrate. With the Cannondale sitting at the foot of the bed I turned out the light and quickly slipped away to the Land of Nod.
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It was nice to be recognised by the local residents naming a motel in our honour! |
After a good night's rest I was awakened by the alarm at 6.30 am. Outside, the moon was still shining brightly and the early morning air was clear as crystal. All the indications were that we would have an absolutely perfect day for riding the trail. With weekend trips like this one, the weather can play such an important role in the overall success of the ride, it is such a relief when it turns out right.
Someone else who no doubt would also be appreciative of the fine weather was Peter "Legs" Warren. Sometime over the past couple of weeks he had taken complete leave of his senses and made the decision to ride all the way from Monbulk to Bright - something over 300km away. While I love cycling, I have never really been into self flagellation, and the rest of us could only shake our heads and ask "Why?"
Since Peter's plan was to start at 4 am in the morning, I realised that he would already have been on the bike for two and half hours - more than enough time for the first signs of saddle soreness to make themselves felt. Our plans for the weekend were much more realistic. Those who completed the full ride over the two day period would be riding a little over 235 km. In my opinion that was more than adequate and also gave plenty of time to enjoy a few other activities while we were away.
Our appointed start time was 8 am and I was delighted to see all riders, not only up and ready to ride, but for the first time in our history, every rider was sporting their official yellow jersey. There was not a T shirt or a pair of baggy shorts in sight. I could actually be forgiven for thinking that maybe we have made some progress over the past three years after all. It would be a great sight to see all our team riding proudly through the Main St of Wangaratta on our outward ride.
Before we could leave, however, some of the riders had to relocate their cars to the street outside the motel. Although this should have only taken a minute or so to accomplish, for some of our (female) riders the task seemed to be a very complex one, especially when they then proceeded to take more time arranging their hair and checking their makeup. Finally Cheryl announced that she was ready and we were able to set off on our Alpine Adventure.
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The peloton starts its journey in the carpark of the Warby Lodge Motel Saturday 18th March |
The only blot on our riding landscape was constituted by Hooters who had decked himself out with more electronic wizardry than Pine Gap. Standing there with a movie camera bolted to his helmet, a pair of walkie talkies strapped to his utility belt, a mobile phone attached to his left ear and a large water bag belted to his back, he looked like he was about to set off to the moon. He even had a large bag of spare batteries in case of emergency. I guess the ride was a small step for most of our riders but a "giant leap" for John.
The first time we did this ride it took us about an hour to find the trail and navigate to Bowser, but I am pleased to say that we now have no trouble finding the correct route. With the early morning sun low on the Eastern horizon and the full moon just about to set, I could not have imagined a more beautiful setting for the start of our ride. The still air was still alive with the freshness of the evening and each breath seemed to make me feel more alive. Surrounded by my friends I could not have been happier.
Our standing orders were not to exceed 23 kph for the first section to Everton Station, and no one seemed inclined to bolt. I suspect that this was because everyone was just enjoying the experience so much. During the conversation, various people tried to estimate where Peter would be at that time. Since he now had been riding for almost 5 hours I felt confident that he should have reached Lilydale and would now be heading towards Yarra Glen.
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Gathered at Everton for the obligatory group photo |
Although our speed had been very slow we still somehow managed to leave Cheryl and Donald behind. We stopped and waited for some time but there was no sign of them. Hooters fiddled with his mobile satellite dish and GPS receiver to try to establish communication, but all he managed to raise was an earful of static. In the meantime Bob Lewis started getting hot under the jersey about our lack of forward progress. "When you are in the National Titles we don't wait for anyone", he explained. "If they can't hold a wheel, leave them behind". I tried to explain that this was NOT a National Title, in fact it was something much more important. The major purpose of the weekend was to have fun, build friendships and gain memories to cherish for long into the future.
Eventually the two prodigal riders reappeared and explained that Cheryl had suffered the first puncture of the weekend. Remembering how ill prepared she had been when she had her last puncture (on our Philip Is Ride), I was just glad that this time she had brought along a spare tube. Finally we were underway again and made it safely to Everton Station for a rest and group photo. Hooters took the opportunity to iron out the wrinkles in his communication network and tried to initiate a two way conversation with Mal (standing about 2 metres away). After much dial turning, button pushing (and even a set of new batteries) all he managed to get was a burst of hostile feedback in his eardrum. I could have suggested that it would be easier to just throw away his Luke Skywalker Walky Talky and just try talking to him instead.
Then it was time to face the first challenge - the climb up to Beechworth. Hooters faced this challenge by stepping straight into his car, explaining that he had once ridden up to Beechworth and therefore would never need to ride it again.
The rest of us set off with legs winding and hearts pumping. Bob soon flashed away into the distance, leaving Lothar and me to plug along together. Other riders were stretched out behind us. For most of the climb I could see another cyclist about 300 metres ahead of us and climbing strongly. I set myself a mental goal of trying to catch him, but every time I took some ground from him he sped up again. With my heart rate set at 165 bpm I just tried to concentrate on steady breathing and finding the best cadence.
It was not until we reached the first false crest that we made a significant gain on our mysterious rider ahead. Cranking up a couple of gears we both swept past him with a cheerful "Lovely day for a ride", before bolting for the end of the trail at Beechworth Station. It felt good to uphold the honour of the Ghost Riders, especially when I noticed how skinny the other guy was. I could have yelled something uncharitable, such as "I would like to see how well you could ride if you were my weight", but decided to just pretend that I was not hurting.
Lothar and I both pulled into the Bakery 47 mins after leaving Everton. I was quite happy with that time but knew that Lothar could have done it faster if he had wanted. By comparison Bob did it in about 35 minutes and John Seamons did it in 42 mins. Admittedly John was driving his car but it was still a PB for him anyway. The rest of our riders arrived over the next 15 minutes. It was here that we also met up with Michael, one of the newer recruits to the Ghost Riders. Michael had chosen to stay overnight at Bright with his wife and daughter and get a lift back to Beechworth to meet up with us.
The Beechworth Bakery is one of the most famous in Victoria, not necessarily because the cakes are so good, but because of the fact that so many people go there. A stop at the Bakery is therefore a traditional part of all of our Alpine Rides and this ride was not to be any different. With the warm sun now streaming down from a cloudless sky it was a great feeling to be able to rest and soak up the sheer indulgence of the occasion. With a coffee in one hand, a cake in the other and my Cannondale patiently waiting nearby for the exhilarating descent down the mountain, it is hard to imagine it getting any better than that.
As we prepared to head back down to Everton we were met by the last of our team. Daryl had driven up from Melbourne on Saturday morning and headed off on his bike a couple of hours after us. No sooner than he had stopped to say "Hello", Daryl then turned around and bolted off out of sight. We never saw him again.
Soon we were all flying down the hill with huge smiles and shouts of glee. Not much need to peddle on this section so just let gravity do all the work. As I was rolling along at about 44 kph I was passed by a smiling John Dawson. "I love the downhills", he shouted as he passed. About halfway down we met a guy pushing his bike to the summit. At first I thought he was just not strong enough to ride his bike but it turned out that his rear derailleur had disintegrated. John, Cheryl and Donald stopped to offer advice. When the problem was still not resolved 15 minutes later, John handed his chain breaker to the guy and told him to keep it. We don't know whether he finally managed to get to Beechworth or not.
Between Everton and Myrtleford there is the steady climb to The Gap. While the gradient is not very steep it can be deceptively challenging and it is always a relief to reach the summit at the road crossing. From there it is a gentle downhill frolic all the way to Myrtleford. Since this was our appointed lunch stop we stocked up with sandwiches from the bakery and made our way to relax on the cool shady grass in the park.
After lunch it is a relatively easy, almost flat, ride to Bright. I am pleased to say that everyone kept their speed down and allowed the peloton to stay together for the final leg of our ride. As we approached the outskirts of Bright I started to feel a familiar sensation in my rear wheel. Although the tyre was slowly going down I did not want to stop to fix it this close to our destination. With the back end of the bike moving about alarmingly I pushed on and finally made it to the High Country Inn where we would be staying for the night. It was now time for a shower and a change of clothes.
One of the great aspects of this motel is the large central grassed courtyard and pool. This is the perfect place to relax after a long day in the saddle. Speaking of a long day in the saddle, we had completely forgotten about Peter. We wondered how he was faring in his endeavour to become the undisputed silliest man in cycling history. Since he was not answering his mobile we could either assume that he was (a) stopped for a sleep (b) in the back of an ambulance (c) out of mobile range or (d) all of the above.
Since it had been over 12 hours since he left Monbulk I was confident that he would have covered at least 100 km or maybe even more by that time. Others put in their opinions. "I reckon he's at Yea", said Bob. "He's probably almost here" said Phil. "I reckon he's crazy" said Hooters. Someone else said they had heard that he was "out of Myrtleford", in fact "about 120 km out of Myrtleford". We all laughed. None of us wanted to even imagine what state his backside would be in by now.
After some had enjoyed themselves in the pool and everyone was thoroughly rested, it was time to head off to Porepunkah for dinner. Although the pub had changed hands since our last visit we were all hoping that the high standard of the food had not suffered, since we all had raging appetites after covering 125 km in the day. Since Hooters had ridden far less, he had much less reason to be hungry.
With the sun setting low in the sky and the cool of the evening approaching we were settled in the outer courtyard and ready for dinner. I ordered a Porterhouse steak, previously one of the specialties of the house. Unfortunately when it arrived my expectations were not lived up to, the steak was more gristle than meat and I found myself having to spit much of it back onto the edge of the plate. The consensus of opinion was that the quality of the food has suffered and that we will be looking for a new place to have dinner next year.
Although a couple of people were on watch outside the pub for a solitary cyclist riding up from Melbourne, there was still no sign. Surely after 16 hours of agony he must be getting close. We pictured him grinding his way up the Gap, his massive legs barely turning over the cranks and his speed hovering at about 2 kph. At that rate he would arrive at about 3 pm on Tuesday afternoon. The rest of us had better ways to pass our weekend, after doing battle with the Porterhouse Gristle it was time to move on to somewhere else in Bright for Coffee and dessert.
A short drive back to Bright soon found our group happily ensconced in the Cozy Kangaroo cafe. It was here that Peter finally made his appearance - and it was a pretty sight. With his eyes glazed and his tongue hanging out Joan helped him from the car and into the restaurant. It was obvious that he was in pain. Being a compassionate President I offered to apply the soothing balm to his rear end, but only on the condition that he first supplied a 40 foot pole, a blindfold and a nose peg.
Peter staggered to a table and ordered the biggest dinner he could find on the menu. When it was served up I had to admit that it looked pretty good. We decided to conduct a straw poll of the other diners and ask them to rate the quality of their steaks. The response was strongly favourable, giving a strong indication that we might have found next year's dinner venue.
When Peter was questioned about how far he actually did ride in the past 24 hours he started ranting about having "accidentally" reset his trip computer near the end of the ride. Since it is the computer reading that constitutes the official record of any ride, it looks like the record books will now indicate a total distance travelled of almost 27 km for the day. Even Hooters had ridden almost 30 km in the same time. What a shame.
Once the final coffee was consumed and the final biscuit eaten, it was time to retire back to the motel. I still had a tube to replace before my day was done and there was still over 110 km to be tackled tomorrow. I was finally able to lie in the bed and think back over the day's events and I was confident that it had been a success in almost every way. Now I was really looking forward to the ride down from Harrietville in the morning.
Sunday morning dawned just as clear and still as the previous two days, promising us yet another incredible riding experience. But before we could set off for Harrietville there was another important task to accomplish - that of demolishing a buffet breakfast of cereal, toast and juice. The dining room of the High Country Inn offers majestic views up to the towering nearby mountains and this is a great opportunity to meet our fellow riders and discuss our tactics for the day ahead. John Dawson made sure he had plenty of stored energy for the day ahead by consuming a huge concoction of fried eggs and about 2 kg of bacon profusely dripping with lard.
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This is the sight that greeted us at the start of our ride from Harrietville to Wangaratta - is this a cyclist's heaven or what ???? |
Some of the riders had decided to form a "B peloton" and head off directly for Wangaratta, without doing the extra ride from Harrietville. The "A peloton" consisted of Bob, Peter, Phil, Marg, John Dawson, Lothar and myself. The B peloton consisted of Mal, Daryl, Marysia, Lisa, Chris, Robyn, Cheryl and Donald. On a much sadder note, the "C peloton" consisted of those who would not ride at all. Hooters was the first to announce that he would be leading this section and "would be taking Warren with him". I could only shake my head in disbelief how anyone could miss the opportunity to ride on a day like this.
After being dropped off just past Harrietville township the A group set off in high spirits with our intended aim of maintaining a tight team all the way to the Gap. It did not take long for us to form a long single line and start building up the pace. The early morning air was crisp enough to start Bob complaining, but I just found it exhilarating. This section of road must surely offer some of the best cycling in Victoria.
On our way down to Bright we passed a couple of groups of cyclists heading up to the mountains on a training ride. I could only assume that they must have been impressed by our style as we flashed past. Our unity was temporarily broken when we were passed by another lone cyclist, also riding towards Bright. For some unknown reason Peter lost all concentration and bolted after the interloper. As could be expected, this was too much for Bob, who also shot from his team and bolted after the two of them. We never saw them again until we reached Bright.
Fortunately the rest of the A group rode according to our ride plan and maintained a steady speed of 30 kph all the way down to Bright. After a brief toilet stop and reduction of clothes it was back on the bikes for the next section to Myrtleford. In the main street of Bright we were joined by Michael, who had been waiting on the side of the road for us to pass by. We quickly resumed our team strategy and even managed to rotate the lead every kilometre or so. I think that everyone was amazed at just how easy it is to sit on 30 kph when you are following another rider. For Phil and Marg it was their first introduction to team riding at its best.
When we reached Myrtleford my computer indicated an average speed of 29.9 kph, I guess that was pretty close to our plan. Since we were running so well we had plenty of time to enjoy an early lunch and a leisurely rest in the shade, before heading off on the next challenging section. We continued to ride on the road, rather than the rail trail, and were soon pushing our way back up to the Gap. Although the gradient does not appear steep, it still offers a decent obstacle and soon gets the heart rate moving into the red zone.
Once all riders had gathered at the summit we headed off down the trail and were able to enjoy the thrill of a long fast descent. Even though the sun was warm, the air was still cool enough to make riding easy and the kilometres quickly ticked away until we were back at Everton Station. This is usually the place where we are happy to deluge ourselves in cold water from the tank, however on this occasion the temperature was mild enough that we did not have to stage a water fight.
After a ten minute break we remounted for the final straight run back into Wangaratta. Although only about 25 km in length, this section always seems to take a long time to complete. We set our speed to about 28 kph, put our heads down and just concentrated on rolling the cranks over, until finally the road was in sight that indicated we were almost at our destination. All that remained was to complete the final few twists and turns that take us from Bowser to Wangaratta and then emerge onto the Main St to complete another Alpine Classic. Although we had maintained a good pace for the entire ride, I was pleased that I was still feeling quite fresh. The only part of me that was starting to suffer was my backside, but that's another story.
Back at the Warby Lodge it was pleasing to see that most of the members of the B peloton had waited for us. Further discussion revealed that they would have been in Wangaratta much sooner if Cheryl and Donald had not stopped at a General Store along the way to order a "Mango Smoothie". Apparently the shopkeeper had not had to deal with any other health nuts before (obviously Ross had never been there)and had no idea as to how to make such a concoction. She disappeared out of sight and about 20 minutes later finally reappeared, covered with orange mango pulp all over the front of her clothes and promising that "she would never make one of those stupid things ever again". Maybe next time they could just settle for a Big M like the rest of us.
Whichever way you look at it, we had completed a fantastic weekend. Apart from Hooter and Spanner, all the other participants had performed brilliantly. It had been a great opportunity to get to know some of our newer recruits better and the weather had certainly been on our side. Now it's time to get ready for our Great China Ride. Bring it on !