The peloton enjoys lunch at the historic Reefton Pub
One of the factors which makes cycling just so addictive is that, on the bike, the rider becomes so much more acutely aware of their physical surroundings. Subtle changes in temperature, differences in gradient, a few drops of rain, wind, sights, sounds and smells are seldom noticed from the sanctuary of a moving car, but are immediately obvious when you are pedalling. For cyclists, at least, it is true that the journey itself is more important than the destination.
There is no doubt that our 2005 Annual Reefton Rush ride involved all of the above items, including variable weather, quite a few hills, lots of fantastic views - and even a few "interesting" smells along the way. By the time you add in the social fun of riding with a group of friends and the inevitable laughter and light hearted high jinks, we had all the ingredients that make for a fantastic day on the bike.
Our plan had been to start at the beginning of the rail trail at Lilydale at 10.00 am. As we started to gather a quick glance to the darkening sky showed that the fine day we had been promised had not eventuated. Our starting group consisted of Duncan, Ross, John ("Eggs"), Little John and myself. Not exactly a big peloton, but I was confident that more would join us along the way.
With cold, creaking legs the initial climb up to Mt Evelyn is always a little bit of a wake up call, but we managed it in good time and were soon enjoying the welcome downhill section to Wandin. A persistently dripping nose provided ample evidence that the temperature was still below the critical point required for dry nasal passages. At least we were glad that dark clouds had not yet opened up on us.
A call on my mobile phone informed me that another group of (weaker) riders would be joining us at Woori Yallock. When we arrived at the station platform I discovered that the junior peloton included Mal, Lex, Cheryl and JCL. There was also a somewhat unfamiliar rider unloading his bike from his car. On closer inspection this turned out to be Brendan, making his first pelotonic appearance for some months. Gary had also ridden the entire distance from his home to Woori Yallock (almost 3 km).
With eleven riders now in the group we now began to look like a force to be reckoned with. Just as impressive was the fact that everyone was proudly sporting their coveted yellow Ghost Riders jersey. It was no wonder that passing cyclists stopped their bikes and gazed on in awe as we passed by. Not so encouraging were the early signs that Mal and JCL were already falling victim to Doswell's Disorder.
I vainly struggled to keep order in the peloton. "Slow down a little at the front", I yelled. "Can't hear you, I am pedalling too fast" was Mal's reply as he disappeared into the distance, spreading the group over about a kilometre along the track. As I could see our riders fragmenting I tried to maintain a position somewhere near the centre of the distended rabble that was once a peloton.
At Launching Place we stopped to pick up yet another rider. Crasher Lewis was lovingly caressing his new Specialised road bike with his new left hand. Obviously the excitement of riding his new bike for the first time must have distracted him while dressing, because for some unknown reason he was wearing his pyjama top instead of his official yellow jersey. As we looked at the cute little teddy bears adorning his back, we tried to remember what he must have been like when he was still only in his 80s.
Gary looked at the "S-WORKS" sign on Bob's bike. "I know what the "S" stands for", he commented. Bob said that he was already feeling tired and that someone else would have to pump his tyres up for him. "I want at least 150 psi", he instructed Mal, who was valiantly pumping away with a 3 inch bike pump. Apparently he had just bought the pump from Peter's shop for no less than $80 ! Gary suggested that he could have bought a NEW one for less than that. And so the conversation continued.
Finally Bob finished rubbing snake oil into his legs and Mal threw the remains of his broken pump into the bushes, and we were ready to head off again. Somewhere in the confusion we realised that "Eggs Benedict" was missing, apparently he had not noticed that we had stopped and had continued on his way to Warburton without us.
As Bob finally wobbled his way out of the car park I could not help but wonder how long it would be before he found some brand new way to full off a bike. We can only hope that the long awaited invention of air bags for bikes does not come too late to prevent more broken body parts.
After the prolonged stop we finally got under way again, only to find a couple of less disciplined riders starting to bolt. Crasher Lewis (who had been resting all morning while we had been riding from Lilydale) made some untimely comment about needing to go faster. Other riders seemed content to rest in the sunshine that was now struggling to break through the clouds. Cheryl used the confusion to quietly sneak away on her Cannondale road bike and take a convincing win in the Settlement Sprint. Congratulations on being our first female sprint winner.
Somehow we all managed to safely reach Warburton and many riders took the welcome opportunity to top up their depleted caffeine reserves. I was somewhat surprised to find that we had arrived about 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Either the trail is getting shorter or we are getting stronger. At this rate we will have to ride to Reefton every Thursday on our weekday rides.
Peter ("Legs") Warren, flushed with the prosperity produced with selling, not one but TWO valve caps in his shop that morning set off on his Toyworld Avanti BMX roadbike in an attempt to catch up with us at Warburton. We waited until he entered the far end of the Warburton shopping centre before heading off without him. After all, we figured that he should be able to make up the 60 second gap at some time over the next 20 km. (Peter eventually arrived at Reefton about 30 minutes after our next slowest rider).
After leaving Warburton our route took us across to the far side of the Yarra to enjoy the quiet back roads to Warburton east. For a few moments the peloton formed into something approaching a thing of beauty, before Mal suffered yet another relapse and bolted. JCL sat up bolt upright (he can't ride any other way because of the steel rod up his backbone) on his bike and took off in pursuit. A couple of others also were bitten by the bug and disappeared. My hopes for a disciplined ride to the letter box were in tatters.
|
The peloton enjoys lunch at the historic Reefton Pub |
Although the peloton was broken, the afternoon weather had improved to the extend that there were now large patches of blue sky. At the crest of the hill we took a few moments to regroup and enjoy the magnificent scenery all around us. Peter still had not caught up and was obviously finding the climbs a bit of a struggle. He not only carries a spare tube or two, but also has his own large "spare tyre" with him at all times.
At this point of the ride I finally gave in and allowed the boy racers to charge off and see who arrived at Reefton first. Although I could have joined this group, I decided to do the right thing and assist the slower riders to complete the journey. The first time I rode to Reefton, I thought that the hills were huge. I was pleased to be able to now reclassify the hills as merely "large".
With only a couple of climbs left I was busy pushing up a slope, breathing heavily to fill my lungs with fresh air. To my horror, the air was not as fresh as I could have hoped for. At first I thought it might have been an unwelcome after effect of the previous night's Chicken Vinderloo and curry, but soon concluded that the unwelcome emanations must be coming from something (or someone) that had died in the bush nearby. I tried to ride the next 100metres with my mouth closed and without breathing, until the stench had passed.
All too soon we were all gathered on the outside veranda of the historic Reefton Pub (Peter was still struggling up the hills), sharing our experiences of the ride thus far. The ride had helped grow our appetites and (thankfully) the counter lunches were of ample proportions. Little John sat down to enjoy a few malt sandwiches. I cannot imagine a better way to pass a Saturday afternoon, than sitting with a group of (mostly) good friends and talking about bikes.
By the time we had finished our lunches, Peter finally arrived on his "Toys'R'Ust" BMX road scooter, red faced and huffing. We told him that he would not have time to eat, but he insisted on ordering a huge plate of fish and chips, augmented with a liberal layer of salt and cooking oil. When riding a bike, we all know the virtues of eating healthy food, but our bodies demand something else entirely different.
On the return journey a few riders (ie Mal, Lex, JCL and Peter) tried to set the pace, but the good riders (ie the rest of us) maintained more decorum and somehow all managed to reach Warburton within a few minutes of each other anyway. It was obviously time for another coffee or two before the final leg of the journey. At this stage the bolters had expended their energy and had to take the easier path along the road, while the real riders completed the trip on the gravel.
With the shadows rapidly lengthening we made it back to Wandin, just in time for Duncan to execute a spectacular crash, in full view of the passing traffic along Warburton Highway. As he lay in ruins on the road he just kept mumbling something about a sticky cleat. I had heard Crasher Lewis try to use the same excuse on hundreds of previous occasions, and so we assisted Duncan in his hour of need by laughing heartily at his misfortune. Fortunately nothing was really damaged, apart from Duncan's pride and we were soon back underway again.
After pedalling for 110 km it is always a relief to know that the final few km are downhill. This gives the rider a welcome chance to have a rest and maybe a short nap on the downhill section to Lilydale. The final peloton arrived back at our cars at about 5.30 pm with the darkness rapidly approaching. All agreed that it had been a superb ride.
P.S. Peter finally managed to arrive back at Emerald about noon the following day.