Early this year Mick booked us in to do the Great Vic Bike Ride. And to say I was not enthusiastic is an understatement. But he convinced me to have a go and that it would be a great way to begin our travels.
I prepared a little with some cycling training rides in the months leading up to it. If I had still been working full-time, I would not have been able to step up for this commitment.
To begin we drove to Torquay and parked alongside hundreds of other cars on a brisk early morning on late November. We put our bikes onto the truck, and our luggage and ourselves onto one of the convoy of buses. The trip to Robe in South Australia took five and a half hours.
At Robe we claimed our tags, tent, sleeping mats, luggage and bikes, then walked around the town. The locals had closed the main shopping strip and had market stalls, music, and a festive vibe that welcomed us warmly. We sat in a bistro, drank a nice white wine and ate local lobster dip on dry biscuits, and celebrated the settlement of our house sale.
The next day presented us with the start of the morning and cycling routine. The camp came alive at 5am as everyone packed their gear onto trucks, queued for breakfast and toilets, before departing for a cycle to Millicent. We found the town Swimming Lake and soaked our weary feet. The steady tail wind assisted us nicely for the first two days.
Many school groups take part in this event each year, and I was very impressed with some of the teens who were courteous, capable, and skillful. The Mackinnon group shone.
The logistics of this event are huge. Moving a small town of over 4000 people to a new location every day is incredible. Huge trucks move toilets, showers, tents, food, luggage, tables, chairs, a huge cinema screen, bars, coffee, phone charging, medics, and more. Meals three times a day are provided to the hungry hordes. And this is all done with a great spirit and cooperation. Live music happens every afternoon and evening. Remedial massage and yoga sessions are offered daily to help alleviate the aches and pains.
Riding to Mount Gambier was like the first day except for the final ride up to the Blue Lake crater. It was a nice camp site surrounded by trees and the weather was warm and sunny. But this was to be the last of that comfortable weather unfortunately.
109 kilometres through pine plantations and over the Glenelg River at Nelson took the group into Victoria and on to Portland. I used to drive this route for a few years and if anyone had ever told me I would be cycling from Mt Gambier to Portland in rain, I would have laughed at the idea.
Once we were settled on the Portland foreshore, I dropped in to say hello to some of my old workmates at Portland Library.
The nights were freezing so I bought a beanie and a rug at an op shop in Portland. We passed on the meatballs for dinner and had a nourishing meal at the Gordon Hotel instead.
The cycle from Portland to Port Fairy was the worst of the trip despite it being the least amount of kilometres. My bike got a puncture before the lighthouse on the cliff, not even one kilometer. Mick fixed it in pouring rain. It rained for the whole day, usually hitting us sideways, and sometimes freezing hail. The wind was strong with the side gusts knocking us offline. The last ten kilometres or so was into a cold headwind across the open fields and undulating hills that surround Port Fairy.
I looked forward to the break of a rest day in Port Fairy, but the cold wind persisted, and it was not a pleasant stay. I was well over this trip. We walked to the house there that we had built and lived in several years ago. We knocked on the door and were greeted warmly by the new owners who love the house and location.
The next ride was from Port Fairy through the farmland to Peterborough on the coast. It was a better ride although still cold. The back roads made it an enjoyable experience as we did not have to contend with too many cars and trucks. After the lunch stop at Hopkins Falls the road was closed because a rider had a heart attack and a helicopter was called in to airlift him to hospital. We had passed this point and were not held up, but others could not continue for two hours.
At Peterborough the tents were set up in the local airport. The surrounding fields had been mown for the event, but it was a rough base.
From Peterborough we cycled along the Great Ocean Road seeing the awesome scenery of The Twelve Apostles and other iconic landmarks. However, Lavers Hill loomed large in my mind and I was doubtful that I could conquer it. I had heard that the climb up was ten or twelve kilometres with some steep sections. This was all right. A steep ride down for about two kilometres quickly turned upwards into a deceptively comfortable and pretty ride through rainforest. But the big rises appeared and at some point, I hopped off my bike and walked. I did this about four times over the course of the section, but I was not alone. In fact, the sag wagon coming into camp that afternoon was a full size coach with a truck for the bikes. Mick loved the hill climbs!
The camp at Beech Forest was in the fields of a working farm and once again the grass had been mown for the event. This time we needed to avoid cow pats as we walked to showers, and the meal tent, etc. The furrows in the ground added an extra level of discomfort for sleeping. And it was still cold.
The next day was the best ride of the trip: from Beech Forest to Deans Marsh. Turton’s Track was closed to vehicles and so the ride down through the tall trees and rainforest in the dappled morning sunlight was beautiful. I did not freewheel like many others but chose to stick my brakes on to slow through the sharp bends. Oh, to have such confidence!
Towards Deans Marsh the road meandered across lush farmlands in warm sunshine, ending a great day of cycling.
I have cycled the route from Deans Marsh to Torquay twice before, so I knew what lay ahead was not an easy finish. After breakfast the road took us up twelve kiometres to the top of the Otway range and then over and down another twelve kilometres with fast sharp corners. Again, I held my brakes while other freewheeled past on the wet roads.
At Lorne the rain came in on a low grey cloud as we waited for the all-clear from the police who were monitoring and closing the road in one direction. Eventually, cold and wet we took off in waves of about 100 cyclists at about five-minute intervals. The cycle traffic was bad enough without the cars to deal with too. I remembered there were many hills between Lorne and Torquay and with each one surmounted, I hoped it was the last.
With just ten kilometres to go the road was ripping up the tyres and many cyclists were having to repair their punctures in persistent rain. Mick had a puncture here and so I caught up with him for the final ride to the finish. The last two kilometres were awful as the rain continued to fall and a strong headwind pushed us and tested my tired knees.
It felt great to ride through the blue arches at the finish line where hundreds of people cheered on the cyclists. We found our car, and Mick loaded the bikes while I hunted for our luggage. We changed into dry clothes, had a hot lunch of fish and chips in a brewery, then drove to Horsham to where our caravan awaited.
I did feel proud to have met the challenge that I knew would test me physically, mentally, emotionally, and socially. I am glad it is behind me and I don’t plan to do another one.
Mick & Sue's Aussie Adventure 