Waiting for our dinner at Marvilla's - but it was worth waiting for !
(COMPLETE AND UNEDITED)
There is little doubt that the Ghost Riders' Annual Alpine Classic is the true highlight of our riding year. With classic Australian scenery and over 100 km of sealed cycle path the only potential threat to a perfect weekend is poor weather. With this in mind you can imagine my delight when the advance weather forecast promised us three days of sunny skies with temperatures in the mid twenties. With my heart pounding with anticipation I carefully threw my luggage together and prepared the faithful Cannondale for its long trip to the North East Frontier of Wangaratta.
Although we had originally planned to be on the road by 9.30 am, a succession of last minute delays and phone calls meant that it was actually closer to 11 am by the time we finally managed to head off. It was so good to be underway at last. After so many weeks of planning it was now finally coming to pass. I could only hope that the rest of my team was as equally well prepared for the challenges that we would undoubtedly face. I knew that John (Hooters) was still anxious about some blue spot that he had seen on the weather radar. Although this spot was way down near Cape Otway, he seemed concerned that it could have some disturbing effect on the meteorological conditions farther North.
By the time we reached Yea both Maggie and I felt the need for some sustenance and called in at the impressive Yea Bakery. Obviously this was a popular spot as we had to take a number and wait in turn to be served. After a short wait we collected our coffee and lunch and headed out into the Main St for a place to eat. Fortunately there was a convenient picnic table in the Central Reservation where we settled down for a leisurely rest in the Autumn sunshine while we enjoyed our lunch.
"Hope you don't mind if we join you", soon interrupted our quiet lunch. I looked up to see an elderly couple already busily unpacking their lunches right onto the same table we had just reserved. That certainly put an end to our conversation as we tried to eat the remainder of our lunch without commenting on the unexpected intruders.
A few minutes later we were back underway again and headed up the Melba Highway towards the turnoff. With the impressive rolling bald hills on both sides of the road, this quiet highway is certainly much more pleasant than the somewhat boring Hume Highway that takes us from Euroa to Wangaratta.
Arriving at Wangaratta in mid afternoon gave me the opportunity to call in at Dean Woods' Bike Shop. I had with me the floor pump that I purchased from him about 2 years ago. It had recently developed a leak and I was hoping that the staff could repair it for me. After a couple of minutes they offered to replace the pump with a brand new one for $25. Of course I said "yes" and then proceeded to spend another $100 or so on socks, lubricant and a new cold weather jacket.
When we checked in an the motel we discovered that Lex and Celia had arrived earlier but were nowhere to be seen. This gave us a few hours to wander around the town in the late afternoon sun and really start to enjoy the weekend. When we got back to the motel we were pleased to find that the rest of the touring party were starting to arrive.
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Waiting for our dinner at Marvilla's - but it was worth waiting for ! |
We had booked into Marvilla's Restaurant for 8pm and were pleased that they were able to "squeeze us in". They particularly asked that we give them exact numbers so that we could be guaranteed a seat. At the appointed hour about 17 hungry cyclists and support crew walked across the road to the restaurant, only to find that there was only one other table in use. If the Warbies had not come, they would indeed have had a quiet night.
Unlike our previous experience with Wangaratta Dining establishments I would have to say that the staff at Marvilla's were excellent in all respects. Dinners were generous, well prepared and efficiently served. As we filled our stomachs the laughter began to flow and it was evident that we were all looking forward to the weekend together.
At this point Hooters announced that he would NOT be riding up the hill to Beechworth because he claimed that he had already done it. "I rode it this afternoon", he explained "and it only took me 72 minutes to get to the top". He then went on to say that he will "never, ever do it again". Sixteen people looked at him in amazement.
After a most enjoyable dinner we slowly made our way back to the motel to get a good night's sleep. We knew that it would be an early start and that we all (except Hooters) had 130 km to ride. The motel had a very pleasant outlook into the gardens at the rear and it was nice to be able to open the windows to catch some fresh country air while we slept.
By 2 am in the morning we learnt that fresh country air was not the only thing coming in the windows. Apparently the street outside must have been the favoured drag strip for every young petrolhead within a 200 km radius and so we were treated to a nocturnal succession of revving engines, squealing tyres and grating gears. This interesting automotive aural assault was further boosted by a drunken loon wandering the park looking for someone to fight.
Fortunately I slept through it all and awoke at 6 am ready to get going. A quick glance out the window revealed the beginnings of a perfect day. Clear skies from horizon to horizon foreshadowed a truly memorable day ahead.
As the appointed starting hour of 8.15am drew closer, riders slowly started to emerge from their rooms. There was a flurry of activity as tyres were pumped, chains were oiled and sunscreen was applied. Some of the weaker riders (ie Mal) complained about the early morning chill, but I did my best to exhort them to face the challenge with brave hearts. With Donald now proudly wearing his yellow Warby jersey, it would be essential that we make the trip through Wangaratta with the team colours clearly displayed.
Before we set off there was just time for the obligatory group photograph. This is an essential part of every team ride in order to document our achievement for posterity.
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The assembled peloton for the start of Day One - Wangaratta 8.30 am , Sat 19th March 2005 |
As we lined up in the motel car park the morning sun had not yet taken the chill off the air, but it did give us a chance to show off our bodies and bikes to the other admiring motel residents. The final peloton consisted of Daryl, Duncan, John (Hooters), Lothar, Mal, Ross, myself, Little John and Richard. In addition we had Cheryl and Donald, each proudly displaying their new cycles.
Cheryl had presented with a new Cannondale road bike - just the thing to tackle a long ride like the one we were facing. Donald, on the other hand, opened a small brown paper bag and produced the saddest looking piece of machinery any of us had ever seen. Answering to the rather ominous name of "Birdy", his diminutive bike was apparently some sort of strange amalgam of a BMX bike, a roller skate and my mother's folding umbrella. It certainly looked more like one of Heath Robinson's fantastical creations, than a serious riding platform. In spite of our amusement, Donald seemed determined to forsake reason and head off into the unknown with nothing more than a Birdy to get him safely to Bright.
After lining up for the photo (above) it was time to bid farewell to the support crew and pedal off into history. In hindsight I should have been concerned when the peloton somehow managed to spread out over a 300m distance, before we had even pedaled the first 200m, but I put it down to everyone just needing time to settle down into their cadence. After all, I had issued strict riding instructions governing the ride ahead. Anyone who staged a premature break from the peloton would have to buy everyone else morning tea at Beechworth. I figured that the hip pocket nerve is the most developed nerve in the human body.
Within 10 minutes we had wobbled the 2 km to the start of the trail. Although Mal and a couple of others were itching to bolt, I was impressed that they had exercised discipline and resisted their baser natural instincts. Rather than the speed increasing, it seemed to be decreasing. We were down to less than 10 kph! At this rate it would take all weekend to reach Beechworth. I shouted some encouragement to the stragglers.
Gradually the peloton started to tighten up, although the speed was still painfully slow. I could not be sure who was causing the problem. Was it Hooters or was it Donald on his Birdy? Surely it wasn't Cheryl on her Cannondale? Well, whatever the cause, the morning was still delightful. I took the time to relax and enjoy the moment. After so much planning and anticipation it was so good to be finally underway. Just sit back on the saddle and enjoy the experience..... or so I thought.
It was at about that time that the quietness of the morning was disturbed by an outrush of air. Surely it couldn't be Daryl disgracing himself this early in the day? I looked around for the source of the noise but only too soon realised that it was coming from my back tyre. I had suffered the first puncture of the ride. While everyone else settled down to a (not) earned rest, I set myself to repairing the problem. After removing the tyre I discovered that it was split clean through. I managed to improvise a repair by gluing a patch to the inside of the tyre and replacing the tube. When it was reinflated it showed a rather worrisome bulge, but seemed to stay inflated.
Ten minutes or so later we were back under way, although the speed seldom exceeded 12 kph. We finally reached Everton station and, to my amazement, we had stayed in close formation for the entire distance from Wangaratta. There was time for a drink and a photo shoot before the challenging climb up to Beechworh. As previously announced, Hooters jumped intro his waiting car and said that he would see us at the top.
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The peloton (finally) reaches Everton station - just 2 hours after leaving Wangaratta |
The rest of the peloton headed up the hill. It was not long before Mal, Lex and Duncan bolted to the lead, leaving the rest of us spread out in their wake. From prior experience I have learnt that the best approach is to find the most appropriate gear and then just grind away. There are no short cuts, although the trail does tease you with several false crests before the top.
Ross and I rode together for most of the climb, finally managing to catch Duncan a couple of km from the summit. By this time the effort had taken its toll and my speed started to slacken, allowing Ross to stage a short breakaway and cross the finish line about 30 metres ahead of me. Apparently Mal had just managed to cross ahead of Lex in a time of about 37 mins. I think Ross and I completed the climb in a little over 40 mins.
As we rode down the Main St of Beechworth it was so good to be able to feel the warm sunshine and savour the moment. Some of the support crew had already arrived at the Bakery and we settled down to wait for the rest of the peloton to arrive. One by one the team members pulled up at the kerb, all tired but obviously proud of their achievement. For several riders this was their first time up the Beechworth Hill and therefore even more memorable.
The final two riders were Cheryl and Donald in a time just over 60 mins. Not bad for someone riding a real bike for the first time and the other riding a bike with 2 inch wheels. Their time was also about 10 mins faster than that achieved by John in his (unwitnessed) climb of the previous day. Speaking of John, he had taken the time saved by his motorised ascent to order a huge lunch of pies, cream cakes and coffee, which he was busily devouring as the real riders pedaled in.
After an enjoyable lunch it was soon time to prepare for the downhill section and the remainder of the ride to Bright. The riding instructions gave each rider leave to do this section at their own pace and soon we were spread out over a couple of km. I settled into a comfortable pace with Ross and Little John and we stayed together all the way to Myrtleford.
Although I thought I well remembered the rough bridge that had caught me unawares on every previous ride along this trail, it again trapped me in a vigorous shaking embrace. Maybe next time I will be prepared. Crossing the Gap again raised the heart rate, but did not seem as big a hill as it did on our first trip.
Soon we were gathered in Myrtleford, ready for afternoon tea. Cheryl, Donald and Hooters were still somewhere behind, obviously riding together. After coffee we remounted for the final 30 km section to Bright. This was deemed to be another section where pelotonic discipline was required. I wanted to be able to lead the Warbies into Bright in a combined group.
We had not ridden more than a couple of km before Daryl yelled "Mal, I think it's time you bought some new knicks". I looked up and soon wished I hadn't. The seat of Mal's knicks had worn thinner than a gossamer cobweb - not so bad in itself, but appalling when you take into account Mal's preference for wearing nothing underneath. Personally I had not witnessed such a shameful display of posterial anatomy since I last booked a plumber to empty our grease trap.
Although we asked Mal to retreat to the rear of the group to protect us from the hideous spectacle, he insisted on retaining his position at the front. I tried to close my eyes and resist the rising nausea that I was experiencing. Unfortunately my attention was soon diverted by another matter. My back tyre started to go down down again, resulting in my having to stop every 5 km to pump more air into it.
In spite of the above difficulties we did manage to stay together long enough to enter Bright in impressive formation (or as impressive as can be expected when the team leader is riding with a flat tyre and the team chaplain has no seat in his knicks).
At the High Country Inn it was good to be able to take off the riding shoes and rest the backside. Several riders took the opportunity to test out the cool waters of the pool, while others were content to relax in the shade and have a quiet chat.
Eventually Cheryl and Donald pulled in - exhausted but pleased with themselves for completing the 130 km ride. Soon after 6 pm Peter (Legs) Warren finally arrived after having ridden solo all the way from Wangaratta. I wondered if his smile indicated that he was pleased with his ride, or whether it was because he had sold not one, but TWO valve caps in his bike shop that morning.
After the long ride it sure felt nice to have a long hot shower and slip into something more comfortable than a layer of lycra. We had already booked dinner at the Porepunkah Pub, and, although we were in awe of the Iron Maiden of Porepunkah (the daunting proprietress), we knew that we would certainly be served a generous and enjoyable dinner.
At the appointed hour of 7 pm twenty hungry riders and support crew filed into the Dining Room. Twenty anxious eyes scanned the menu board. "Oh No, where's the tofu and alfalfa?", lamented Ross. "OH NO, Where's the Lemon Meringue Pie?", lamented the rest of us.
In spite of of early disappointment we soon found plenty of options to suit everyone's taste (Ross eventually just ate the menu) and we settled down to some serious eating and drinking. The Iron Maiden made us feel especially welcome by providing us with our own dining room (probably so we wouldn't offend the other guests). On a sadder note she also informed us that she had sold the business and would soon be joining the hordes of caravan nomads travelling around Australia.
Mal welcomed the sad news about the Iron Maiden by subjecting all the rest of us to a Bunker Buster. Although not quite in the Daryl O'Grady class it would certainly have scored at least a 10.5 on the scale of posterial infamy. As ladies went scurrying for their scented handkerchiefs, I could only be thankful that he at least had a backside in his trousers. Maybe what he needs next is a charcoal insert.
After dinner it was off to a coffee shop in Bright for coffee and dessert. We were offered a prominent table in the open air (rather than inside). I can only assume that word had been passed on from the Porepunkah Pub about Mal's previous misdemeanor.
It was at about this time that John (Hooters) announced that he would NOT be riding at all on the next day, but rather would observe all the day's activities from the comfort of his climate controlled Calais. At first I thought he was joking but soon discovered that he was deadly serious. Apparently his long term plan is to reduce his stamina by approx 40% each year. (So far he's well ahead of schedule.)
Lex also announced his premature departure from the peloton - but for entirely different reasons. He had decided to swap his lycra for a pair of leather lederhosen and join his slap dancing Bavarian countrymen at the Cuckoo Restaurant for their Sunday show. "Zay are expecting me to lead ze troupe" he explained. I could only shake my head in dismay.
On a more positive note, with Peter in the peloton I knew that if I suffered any more punctures I would not have to repair them myself. The huge pancakes served up before us defeated everyone (except Little John who ordered double) and we eventually headed back to the motel, ready for the next section of the ride.
The High Country Inn offers very comfortable rooms and a great buffet breakfast. After a restful night's sleep the team members gathered for breakfast at the comparitively late hour of 8 am. Knowing that we all had another long day in the saddle ahead of us we carefully fuelled up with cereal, toast, croissants and juice. (Ross had a celery stick and a glass of water).
It was then time to pack the cars for the drive up to Harrietville. Donald and Cheryl decided to head off directly towards Wangaratta, knowing that the Birdy's 2 inch wheels had millions of revolutions to complete before the day was over. Richard also decided to opt for the shorter ride back. John waved to us from behind the smoked glass windows of his car as he cruised out of sight. The remaining seven riders headed up to the mountains.
At least the weather was still being kind to us. We had been presented with another perfect day of blue skies, cool air and little wind. Thirty minutes later we were at Harrietville and ready for the long ride back to civilization. I had been hoping that the impossible might happen and that teamwork might prevail, but soon Peter was off powering down the hill at about 35 kph. Unlike the rest of us, he had obviously benefitted from his rest day yesterday and seemed determined to break the peloton at all costs.
Fortunately common sense (and a few shouts of abuse from the rest of us) prevailed and the pace settled down to a resaonable 30 kph. The riders started to form a single line and work together. I had never before seen order materialise out of chaos, but it actually seemed to be happening before our eyes. The kilometres started to quickly fly by and everyone seemed to be in very high spirits. After all this has to be one of the very best parts of Australia and the ride down the gentle slope of the Ovens Valley is absolute bliss for anyone who enjoys cycling.
To our amazement the peloton held intact all the way to Bright, and after a brief fracture, formed again at Porepunkah. With each rider doing 1 km turns at the front it seemed easy to maintain a steady speed of 30 kph. I guess in our dreams we could pretend that we were something like Australia's all supreme team pursuit squad. This was certainly the best team effort we had ever achieved. Maybe we are finally learning something.
About 20 km along the road we were passed by a tooting car with someone waving excitedly out of the passenger window. At first we thought it must have been one of the petrolhead hoons from Wangaratta, but it turned out that it was none other that the Iron Maiden of Porepunkah who had come along to help send us off. We all waved back and tried to look professional. I guess to anyone passing by, the sight of 7 cyclists in matching uniform and riding in close formation would have been impressive (especially to anyone with any sort of eye defect).
Apart from Daryl's super inflated rear tyre exploding with a sonic boom that was heard all the way to Bright, the rest of the section was completed without mishap. I was especially relieved to see that Mal had also invested in a new pair of riding knicks.
After lunch at the Myrtleford Bakery and some friendly banter with the staff it was back on the bikes again. By this stage we felt invincible, although I still knew that we still had to climb over the Gap. It was only in the last few hundred metres to the crest that the group began to temporarily spread out, but by that stage we had ridden nearly 60 km in formation.
Once over the top we again bunched together for the final push to Wangaratta. With the temperature now starting to increase a couple of the less disciplined members of the peloton decided to torment the rest by surging after each road crossing. In some cultures this can be good way to get yourself murdered, but we settled for spirited abuse instead.
By the time we reached the shade of Everton Station we knew that the weekend was rapidly drawing to a close, although I don't think anyone really wanted it to end too soon. We enjoyed a cool drink from the water tank and a brief water fight before once again mounting for the last time.
The remaining 25 km was undertaken at a more leisurely pace, but all too soon we were swinging out into the Main St of Wangaratta for the final run to the finish line. No one wanted to sprint because I think we all believed it had really been a team effort all the way back from Bright. As we pulled to a final halt outside the motel to meet the support crew I am sure that all the riders felt that we had all learnt something during the day's ride and that our bonds of friendship had grown stronger than ever.
Cheryl, Donald and Richard had already arrived in Wangaratta and were busy cooling off in the motel's swimming pool. I think I noticed the remains of Donald's "Birdy" protruding from the dumpster bin outside the motel.
The only remaining part of this traditional weekend was the stop for an ice cream before the long drive back to Melbourne.
Thanks everyone for making this such a successful and memorable weekend. It never ceases to amaze me that although we are all so different and come from such a diverse range of backgrounds we can have so much much in common when we are on two wheels.
Now roll on Wangaratta 2006!!!!!