Our Annual Phillip Island ride is one of my favourite rides for the year. With its broad smooth shoulders and long straight sections the South Gippsland Highway offers the cyclist a welcome taste of what all highways could be. Most of the ride is almost dead flat, and the few hills that you encounter near the turnoff to San Remo are not terribly fearsome. The biggest potential hazard for this ride is poor weather, but so far all of our previous pilgrimages to the island have been blessed with fine days.
I had to admit that I had been experiencing a degree of apprehension during the week as each successive weather forecast seemed to worsen our chances of fine weather. By Friday we were being prepared for a day that would "begin with continuous rain and then tend to showers during the afternoon". Not exactly perfect cycling conditions in anyone's language. Still, I well knew that the weather bureau is certainly not infallible, and went to bed trying to foster positive thoughts of waking up to a perfectly fine, sunny morning and an apology from Ward Rooney on the radio saying that the Bureau had been looking at the wrong data.
When the alarm did go off at 6.00 am a quick look out the window unfortunately reinforced all my darkest fears. The sky was black, the clouds low and unbroken, and the rain on the roof was drumming a melancholy staccato. My spirits sank. I could envision no one else turning up at Cranbourne and me having to undertake a solo 90 km ride down to Cowes in pouring rain.
Fortunately during breakfast a miracle occurred - the clouds parted and the sun started shining brightly. I could hardly believe the dramatic change in conditions and bolted down to the office to update the web site with the fantastic news. "Weather now perfect - ride confirmed" I posted. The only problem was that by the time I came outside again the clouds had returned and the rain was even heavier than before. I began to wonder why I had chosen to take up cycling - surely (indoor) Ten Pin Bowling could have been a much wiser choice of pastime for someone in the midst of a mid life crisis.
The rain continued to fall as we headed off in the car, but as we got closer to Cranbourne I was encouraged to see the skyline brightening. It appeared as if the worst of the rain was indeed behind us. At Cranbourne I met Daryl who had been polishing his new plastic Giant TCR bike for the past 30 minutes. Soon we were met by Marg, Cheryl and Lothar. Although I had expected Duncan to resume his duties as team captain, he once again, failed to turn up. Mal had ridden all the way from Cockatoo and had promised to meet us at Koo Wee Rup.
After saying our farewells to the support crews we headed off and soon discovered that the wind was being kind to us. With a gentle push from behind it was easy to maintain a speed of 30 kph. Although the rain had stopped the road was still wet and within minutes Daryl's new bike was covered in a liberal layer of mud.
As we neared Tooradin we were joined by Ben on his mountain bike. Everyone was in fine spirits and the ride was really starting to take shape. Unfortunately we had forgotten about Cheryl. When we looked behind she was nowhere in sight. My mobile phone rang. It was Cheryl telling me that she had a flat tyre, but she had left "some of her tools at home".
Telling the others to wait, Lex and I headed back (into the wind) about 3 km and found Cheryl waiting in a bus shelter. Although she had forgotten her tyre levers and pump she assured us that she had come prepared with a "new tube". Lex struggled for 10 minutes to remove the tyre and punctured tube. Because Cheryl had ridden on the flat tyre for several km, the tube was destroyed. She produced her "new tube". We tried to pump it up - it turned out that it had more holes than a block of Swiss Cheese. (Perhaps it was one of Peter's prepunctured specials). Our only alternative was to load Cheryl's bike into the support vehicle and send them off in search of a bike shop.
After a 20 minute break Lex and I headed back to meet up with the rest of the peloton, waiting for us at Tooradin. When we got there we found, to our dismay, that they had bolted in our absence. We increased the pace to about 40-42 kph and set off in pursuit, hoping that they would be not far ahead. It was not until about 20 km later that we finally caught up with them at Lang Lang. By that time my energy was spent and I was starting to wonder if I could make it the rest of the way to Cowes.
It was at Lang Lang that we also met up with Mal. He was so glad to see the rest of the team that he immediately bolted out of sight leaving the rest of us floundering about 1 km behind. This pattern continued for the next 20 or 25 km, until we finally caught up with him in the rolling hills near Grantville. I was hoping that sanity might now prevail and we could get the entire peloton together for the remaining distance. It wasn't to be. I found myself riding with Daryl and Mal and the rest of the group some distance behind.
As we approached the turnoff to San Remo I instructed Mal and Daryl to wait at the top of the hill to allow the group to reform. We went around the roundabout, I pulled over but Mal and Daryl refused to stop (probably something about Daryl's mysterious "leg cramps"). I waited for several minutes until Ben approached (he rode straight past). A couple of minutes later Lex and Marg summited and I joined in again. By this time Mal and Daryl were several km ahead.
In fact I did not see the bolters again until we were on the island and nearing the Rhyll turnoff. I felt like I had spent the entire ride trying to catch breakaways. All I really wanted was to be riding as part of a group. Fortunately we were all soon seated outside the coffee shop in Rhyll, enjoying the biggest coffees served this side of the moon. I had an "open chicken sandwich", which was one of the most delicious things I had eaten in some time.
It was at this time that we again met up with Cheryl and Lynda. They had apparently spent the morning going from bike shop to bike shop trying to find a replacement tube for Cheryl's bike, only to be met with a succession of blank stares and expressions of puzzlement. Phil had driven down from Melbourne to have lunch with us, but his back troubles have put a temporary halt to his riding. We are all hoping that this setback will not keep him out of the peloton for long. It has been great to have a husband and wife team in the group.
After lunch Mal, Daryl, Lex, Ben and I headed off to complete the ride to the Nobbies. I am not sure if it was because of the morning's strenuous exertions in chasing bolters or because of the sour dough bread I had just eaten, but I felt like my stomach was blowing up like a cow in a pasture of green grass. I watched Mal, Daryl and Lex disappear into the distance while I put my head down and battled into the strong head wind on my own. Would they slow down to let Ben and me catch up ? You gotta be kidding.
It was as I was riding up the last km to the Nobbies with the wind blowing in my face that the devil started whispering in my ear. After all, I had spent the whole day trying to chase down undisciplined bolters, maybe it was time to strike a counter blow. I rode up to the car park and, seeing no sign of the others, turned around and headed straight back to Cowes. For the first time all day I was not chasing someone, they could chase my dust for a while. It was a brilliant, inspired decision.
As I hurtled back down towards Cowes with the wind at my back it felt so good. I could only imagine the chagrin of the others when they realised that they had been "Doswelled". In fact I was back in Cowes with time to pack my bike and get changed before the stragglers finally got in. A true victory of brains over brawn.
After everyone had changed their clothes it was off to the local RSL Club for dinner. It was here we met up with Trish and her husband Andre who had decided to DRIVE down to the island. ( A pox on Trish for not riding down with us). Around the table there was time for lots of laughter although for some reason the waitress had great difficulty providing each person their correct meal. Daryl had eaten half of Mal's steak before it was whisked away from him and taken back to the kitchen for recycling onto Mal's plate.
In the car on the drive back to Melbourne it is always nice to watch the scenery flying past, secure in the knowledge that we had pedalled all that distance. In spite of the few mishaps it really had turned out to be another successful ride. In spite of my early fears the weather had turned out incredibly well. Now we start to plan for the Donna Buang on September 24th.