Saturday 2nd September 2006
Annual Phillip Island Ride

The Annual Phillip Island Ride is undoubtedly one of my favourite rides for the year. With their long straight stretches and broad shoulders the South Gippsland and Bass Highways are really a cyclists dream. The distinct lack of hills even makes it attractive for those of us with more realistic body sizes. The only factors that can destroy the enjoyment of this ride is a wet day and a howling southerly wind. Fortunately on all the previous occasions we have done this ride the weather has been kind to us and this year was no exception.

As I pulled in the nominated starting point at Cranbourne at 9 am I was a little disappointed to see that I was the only one there. I spent the next few minutes preparing the new Avanti for its first real ride and hoped that a few more riders would turn up. By 9.10am it looked like I was going to be in for a lonely ride and headed off down the South Gippsland Highway in a peloton of one. Fortunately I soon met up with Alan and Ben who had both been waiting around the corner. This gave a small token of respectibility to the group.

Once we were together Alan told me that Daryl had already ridden past. Although he was wearing the coveted yellow jersey he obviously did not want to stop and sailed straight past them. At about 9.15 am we stopped waiting for any others and headed off down the highway. The wind was almost non existent and allowed us to settle into a steady pace of between 30 to 35 kph with regular changes of the lead. Ben would probably have been able to ride significantly faster if he had not been held back by the enormous frictional forces created by his baggy green panteloons billowing around his knees. If only we could convince this guy that we actually wear lycra for a very good reason.

With Alan and me pedaling (and Ben flapping) we made quite good time down to Tooradin where I stopped to try reaching Daryl on his mobile phone. He didn't answer. After a quick drink we were back on the bikes for the next leg down to Lang Lang, arriving at about 10.20 am. It was here that we met up with Mal Doswell and Peter Warren who had both ridden down from Cockatoo to meet us. Andrew was also waiting to join in the fun. When I asked if they had seen Daryl, they said that he had ridden past about 15 minutes earlier without stopping. I guess that he was just wanting to do the hard work at the front of the peloton so that we would benefit from following in his draft.

We now had 6 riders in the peloton - 5 in uniform and 1 in disgrace. The next long sections are ideal for team riding and allowed us to maintain a good speed with regular changes of rider at the front. With a tight group like this it really is a fantastic feeling to be flying down the road and working together as a real team. The sunshine even broke through to smile on us and soon I was able to dispense with the arm warmers and enjoy the welcome warmth.

Our rapid progress was only halted when Peter experienced a flat tyre, but this gave us all a chance to have a rest while we watched him repair it. He even unveiled his new secret collapsable combination back scratcher and tyre lever. I had to admit that it certainly looked impressive and only added about 6 minutes to the time normally taken to remove a tyre from the rim. Maybe Peter is onto a winner with this product, after all you never know when you are likely to get an itch right in the middle of your back when you are riding. Less disciplined riders could also probably use it as an instrument of evil for jamming an opponent's wheel in the final stages of a race.

Once back on the bikes we were soon into the rolling hills that are a precursor to the turnoff at Anderson. Although the final section to San Remo is only 6 km in length, there are a few moderate hills that make it seem a little further. Once over the bridge to Phillip Island Andrew and Alan turned back to San Remo for lunch. They would be riding back to Melbourne rather than continuing on to Rhyll. We bade them farewell and then headed off in search of our own bodily nourishment.

After 90 km in the saddle it is always a nice feeling to be able to dismount and enjoy a nice lunch. This is especially true when your backside is still getting accustomed to a new saddle. I had discovered that the saddle on my new Avanti did not have as much gel as the seat on my previous bike and that my nether regions were giving me a gentle reminder of this fact. As I pulled into the coffee shop at Rhyll I saw Daryl relaxing with Stacey. I thanked him heartily for his assistance at the head of the peloton and then sat down to sulk for a short while. I looked around and saw the others all enjoying their magnificent lunches but I had to wait for Maggie to finish her beach walk before I could order any food for myself. I sulked a little more while I waited for her belated arrival. At least the sun was still shining strongly and I had to admit that it really had been a fun morning after all.

My bum finally stopped hurting and the world seemed a great place after all, especially when my beautiful lunch was served. This place really does make the best "chicken sandwiches" I have ever seen. It felt so good to be able to sit in the sun and savour the good food and friendship. But what was that strange noise in the background? After a moment I realised that it was my mobile phone ringing.

When I answered I found it was Andrew on the other end. "Alan has not had a good day" he said rather cryptically. He went on to say that Alan had taken a bad fall from his bike near the Anderson turnoff and was lying on the side of the road unconscious. Fortunately the police were setting up a booze bus on the other side of the road and were already in attendance. They had also organised an ambulance to pick up the fragments..

This was not the type of news that any of us want to receive. I was only thankful that Andrew was there and that Alan was in good hands. Over the next hour a series of phone calls kept us informed as to what was happening. The ambulance arrived within a few minutes and Alan was checked out before loading him onto the stretcher. Apparently they would have had him to the hospital sooner if they had not spent 20 minutes searching in the grass for his missing front tooth. They must have tried unsuccessfully inserting a few stray old wombat and kangaroo teeth before they realised that the tooth in question had been missing for years.

Alan was then whisked away to Wonthagi Hospital for examination and observation. While the police took custody of the bikes Andrew went with Alan in the ambulance. Not to be outdone by Alan's heroics, Peter also took this opportunity to attract some more attention to himself. Mal glanced at Peter's bike and commented that his front tyre looked about to explode. Closer inspection revealed a huge prolapsing bulge. We have tried to warn Peter that it is not always wise to inflate his tyres to 240 psi, but the guy never seems to listen. He was soon up to his elbows in grease and road muck as he set about once again using his new wonder tyre remover. After several minutes wasted with the new gadget he was soon back to his old tried and proven practices of simply pulling the tyre off with his hands. About half an hour later the new front tyre was finally installed.

After lunch the rest of us continued on our ride down to the Nobbies, although Alan's accident had cast somewhat of a pall over the afternoon. No sooner had we arrived at the kiosk at the Nobbies than a lanky guy walked straight up to us and said he had witnessed the accident and then proceeded to tell us all about it in graphic detail.

Although he did not see what actually caused Alan to lose control he did see him launch himself over the front handlebars in a most dramatic fashion. "That guy went at least eight feet in the air", he animatedly explained. It sounded to me like Alan had tried to become the first astronaut launched without the aid of a rocket. With only a little more altitude he could have been destined to become the new ninth planet. Instead of Pluto we could have had "Big Al" in orbit around the Sun . Unfortunately his space flight was only of a short duration and his re-entry phase less than perfect. By landing on his head he had apparently protected the rest of his body from serious damage but he would not be getting any offers from Hollywood for some time. Without his (brand new) helmet he would have been in serious trouble.

Once the rest of us learned that it was only his head that had been bashed and skinned we were able to relax a little. At least his legs were OK. At this point we started to hypothesize what might have caused the crash. Since Bob Lewis was not in the peloton, the we were able to eliminate the most obvious cause for the disaster. This left us with other possible causes such as (a) a passing kangaroo (b) a lapse of concentration (c) a pretty girl or (d) all of the above. In other words when Big Al spied a pretty girl a momentary lapse of concentration caused him to ride straight into a large hopping kangaroo, thus throwing him over the handlebars.

While we were riding to the Nobbies, Peter climbed back on his bike and headed off back towards Monbulk, intent on riding at least 400 km or more before sundown. I heard later that he got tired of the torrent of abuse eminating from passing cars and decided to pull up stumps when he got back to Pakenham at 8 pm. At about the same time he faced his third flat tyre.

While Peter was making his way slowly back towards Melbourne, Marg had made a late start from Cranbourne and was steadily making her way down to San Remo, albeit in increasing cold and failing light. She did reach the San Remo bridge before being rescued and joining us at Cowes for dinner.

In past rides we have found the local RSL to offer quite good meals and service, but I suspect that we won't be going back there again. The crowded, noisy and (initially at least) smoky atmosphere left much to be desired and the waitress was obviously suffering from a bad attitude problem. She seemed completely unconcerned when I told her that I did not get what I ordered and gave me another two choices instead, they were "eat it or wear it". I decided to eat it. At least I tried to eat it, but the steak was about 75% gristle, which made the going a bit difficult.

The ride back to Melbourne was achieved without further problem. In spite of all the drama it had still been a good ride and one that I will be eagerly looking forward to again next year.