tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18500968240065015922024-03-13T14:23:12.224+11:00There Will Be DirtUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-62397120778715522902017-08-16T06:15:00.004+10:002017-08-16T06:15:59.504+10:00www.therewillbedirt.comI've moved all this stuff over to <a href="http://www.therewillbedirt.com/">www.therewillbedirt.com</a> so you should probably go there instead of here. I've "remastered" all the stories/pictures from here and made it look way better. I won't add any new stuff here but I'll leave it for posterity, until the bitrot takes it.<div>
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So long Blogger. It's been real.</div>
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<br />Andrew.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-35365177115943889582016-04-08T16:10:00.001+10:002016-04-08T16:10:42.998+10:00Black Range Traverse<b>Visiting :</b> Healesville, Mt St Leonard, Black Range Rd, Molesworth, Murrindindi Rd<br />
<b>Distance :</b> 160km<br />
<b>When :</b> Sunday 24th April 2016, 7:00am @ Healesville (Beechworth Bakery)<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/1025973497">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/1025973497</a><br />
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This is a full traverse of the Black Range from south to north, Healesville to Molesworth and back via a different route. Most of the route is in the Toolangi State Forest so, if you haven't been riding in Toolangi before, this is the ride for you!<br />
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Fair bit of climbing, a bit of paved, mostly gravel and logging roads. CX would be fine, MTB wouldn't be out of place. There's only one resupply about halfway at Molesworth. Bring plenty of water as we'll be riding along the ridge line so won't see a lot of creeks etc.<br />
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This is a self-supported ride so bring enough tools/spares/food/water to save yourself. Oh, and bring fresh brake pads if it's wet - the Toolangi grit is a brake killer!<br />
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I don't ride fast but I try to keep stops to a minimum. I'm guessing about 9-10 hours all up for this one? Maybe? Depends on what happens on the day. Definitely bring lights (to see by) just in case. You don't want to be bombing Myers Creek Rd back into Healesville in the dark!<br />
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I'll probably ride out from Hurstbridge (early!) if anyone wants to join me. Meet at Beechworth Bakery area. Plenty of parking.<br />
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See ya there!<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-81109221304086128612016-04-07T13:11:00.000+10:002016-04-07T13:11:47.167+10:00Kinglake Noodling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Visiting :</b> Kinglake, Extons, Hazeldene, Jerusalem, Old Kinglake, Everard<br />
<b>Distance :</b> 112km<br />
<b>When :</b> Sunday 3rd April 2016, 8:00am @ Hurstbridge<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/1032003989">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/1032003989</a><br />
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I wasn't going to write about this ride but I ended up seeing a couple of things that are worth mentioning. Sometimes you're just out for a local roll and you get struck by the majesty and absurdity of life... This had a bit of both.</div>
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<a name='more'></a>This ride was originally going to be a 200km+ journey into the hills out east but some family stuff happened and some laziness happened and I decided to turn it into a local roll around the Kinglake area.</div>
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I started off with the main road climb up to Kinglake - I haven't taken the main road in a few years so the novelty factor was high. I'd recently de-bearded my NFE so it was feeling light and nimble without its usual rack/boxy bag/dyno light on the front. Good fun climb! Passed a couple people, got passed by some people. Kinda felt like I was in some sort of bike event - I usually never see other riders out climbing the same hill as me unless we're in the same group.</div>
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I had a very rough plan for the day which started with riding Extons Road from south to north. Good plan. I love that road. And it was on Extons Road that I saw the first amazing thing :</div>
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The previous picture was taken looking east from Extons Road. Let's look at this picture right to left. <i>(you'll need to click on it to make it bigger!)</i> If you scan across to the second tree from the right, just before that tree you'll see Mt St Leonard on the far horizon. Now follow that horizon all the way across the frame until it dips down below that smaller range in front of it on the far left of the picture. You've just followed the Black Range from south to north in its entirety. Black Range Road does more or less what your eyes just did - it follows the ridgeline of the Black Range all the way from south to north - right there on that horizon, Black Range Road, start to finish, all in one shot.<br />
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"Yes!" I said out loud, "It's a sign!"<br />
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You see, the long 200km+ journey that I mentioned earlier had Black Range Road as its centrepiece. That ride had been on my list for ages and, though I was a little bummed that I wasn't riding it that day, I had been kicking around the idea of doing it as a shorter loop out of Healesville and making it an open-invite ride. Seeing the whole Black Range like that made me think, "Yes, goddammit, I want to share this!"<br />
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I'm aiming for end of April, stay tuned for details.</div>
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Anyway, high on life, I rolled on down Extons Road which turns into Mt Robertson Road and gets rougher and ruttier the further you go. When you get to the very end of Mt Robertson Road you shoot straight down Long Gully Road which spits you out right at Hazeldene which was my next refuel point.<br />
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I've hiked up Long Gully Road before - it's unridably steep. Well now I've hiked down it too - I found it unridably steep going down as well! Too loose and rutted and whatnot, no big surprise there.<br />
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Anyway, as I was stumbling down Long Gully Road on foot I saw something red off the side of the road so I laid down my bike and had a look.<br />
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Ah, shotgun shells. Not an uncommon sight on little-used bush tracks. There seemed to be quite a few of them so I started poking around.<br />
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Heh, wonder what they were shooting at, all these bloody shells lying around, must have done some damage eh?<br />
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I followed the path of the shells on the ground and started looking around for, I dunno, something that had been all shot up or signs that something had been all shot up.<br />
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And then I looked up from the ground where the shells ended and said out loud, "No way! Are you serious?!"<br />
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They shot the fucking tree.<br />
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I had no idea why. My mind was blown. I was laughing in disbelief.<br />
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I tried to piece together the story and work out why someone would end up shooting the hell out of this tree but, for the life of me, I had no idea. My face was stuck in an incredulous grin of disbelief and the same words kept playing over and over in my head, "They shot. The fucking. Tree."<br />
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I gathered up all the shells and counted them. There were sixteen! Someone had stood there and shot this little tree <i>sixteen</i> times with a 12-gauge shotgun. What the actual fuck?! Who even does that?!<br />
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I was confused and amazed at the same time, trying to imagine what sort of scene went down here. The sheer pointlessness and brutality of it made me think of that bit in Robocop where Boddicker and his gang unload on Officer Murphy, laughing and howling with cruelty while blowing him away piece by piece until he falls down dead (or so they thought!)<br />
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But, alas, this tree will probably not be reborn as a cyborg. It'll stay dead.<br />
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The Murphy Tree.<br />
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I gathered up all the spent shells and made a little rock cairn at the base of the trunk. It was the least I could do.<br />
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I mean, getting blown down by the wind, burned in a fire, hell, even getting cut down by a chainsaw, these are the usual ways for a tree to go. But being blown apart by a shotgun? Oh, the indignity.</div>
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So, there it will stand. A memorial to absurdity.<br />
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The Murphy Tree.</div>
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Well, after all that excitement I continued stumbling down Long Gully Road, took some crap photos of my bike and then hit up the Hazeldene store for a pastie. Pro tip: The vege pasties are ace, the meat pasties are a disgrace.<br />
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After Hazeldene I rolled up the main road towards Kinglake, noodled around in the pine plantation for a while and got some of the same photos as last time I was there.<br />
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The pine plantation seems to be a common spot to ride motorbikes, dump cars, make campfires, shoot things and drink premix cans. Looks like the kids who aren't tough enough to shoot guns just use party poppers instead, bless them. Rebellion can take many forms.<br />
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I rolled on to Kinglake, refuelled and took the long way home via Jerusalem Track (down), Old Kinglake Road (up), Mt Everard Track (up and down). I noticed some of these along Jerusalem Track :<br />
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Gonna have to volunteer for that one of these days. Sitting in the bush counting lyrebirds sounds like a pretty rad day to me!<br />
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Anyway, that was that. Rolled home in time for dinner. A good ride, and proof that any adventure can be interesting if only you've got eyes to see.<br />
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Seeya next time!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-3423512193101717772016-03-22T12:57:00.000+11:002016-03-22T12:57:54.670+11:00Beat The Heat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Visiting :</b> Kilmore, Seymour, Strath creek, Hazeldene, Bowden Spur<br />
<b>Distance :</b> 197km<br />
<b>When :</b> Thursday 31st December 2015, 2:30am @ Hurstbridge<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/947015321">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/947015321</a><br />
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<i>(Note: This is another solo ride from my backlog. Bear with me as I'm writing this well after the fact and my memory may be hazy.)</i><br />
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I wanted to squeeze in one more long ride before the end of the year so, in the spirit of leaving things to the last minute, I queued up this little spin for the morning of New Year's Eve 2015. I'd been banging on about doing a flat road ride for a while so I figured this was my chance - a simple loop up to Seymour and back on country roads. There wasn't much dirt on this one but it was a nice solid ride through some nice country.<br />
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I started early for this one. We were hosting a New Year's Eve barbecue at our place that night and it was forecast to be high 30s so I thought I should get the ride done before the heat of the day and be back in time to help with the barbie. I did the maths beforehand and decided that a 2am start would be the way to go.<br />
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Good decision!<br />
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Rolling out of Hurstbridge it was a warm night and the riding was easy but, man, the number of animals I saw in that first section was ridiculous! Between Hurstbridge and Yan Yean Reservoir I counted at least 13 wombats and countless roos. That's, like, 13 wombats in the first 13km of the ride. All over the road, they were. It was awesome! Plenty of times the wombats would take their sweet time moving off the road or the roos would spook and take off down the road in front of me for ages before finally hopping sideways out of my way. Driving a car through there at that time of night would be sketchy at best.<br />
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Once the wildlife situation died down I settled into a good rhythm and began to tap it out. Past Yan Yean Reservoir, through Whittlesea, Wandong, Kilmore East, all pretty nice, if unremarkable, paved road riding.<br />
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Just north of Kilmore I got onto the only major gravel section of the ride, a 25km stretch that shot me nearly all the way to Seymour. It was flat and fast, in the drops, big ring, making good time.<br />
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The sun rose over Mt Hickey.<br />
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Long shadows in the early morning.<br />
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It must have been 8am-ish when I hit Seymour and I was lazy so I stopped in at McDonalds for breakfast. I don't know why I do that. It's never a good idea and I bloody hate the breakfast menu. Oh well, that's what happened. I filled up water, slopped on some sunscreen and rolled on. A fast stop is a good stop.<br />
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Easy rolling out of Seymour and it was most salubrious riding on the main road up above the Goulburn River. I'd never ridden this section before and I was pleasantly surprised. Don't think I was expecting it to be so scenic. Another thing I wasn't expecting was the massive hotel at Trawool. What the hell?! This massive hotel/conference centre place in the middle of nowhere. Who even stays there? Bizarre.<br />
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King Parrot Creek Road was as awesome as I remembered it . Alpacas chilling...<br />
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...and that black dot on that hill in the distance is a cow and and a calf.<br />
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Strath Creek was still cute and small though I don't remember seeing all those hand painted signs last time I was there. Must be a new signwriter in town.<br />
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Filled up water here and rolled on. It was getting hot. I started early to "beat the heat" but the heat was starting to beat me!<br />
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Main roads all the way to Hazeldene but they're beaut riding. Had a relax at Hazeldene shop and fuelled up for the last leg.<br />
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Up to Kinglake West and then, a welcome sight, the view from the top of Bowden Spur.<br />
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This was the second gravel section - Bowden Spur Road. My favourite way to get back down to Hurstbridge. Fun descent with disc brakes and 42mm tires. It's not very long though - soon I was back on the blacktop for the familiar last 18km into Hurstbridge.<br />
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Bam.<br />
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Home about 12:45pm, from memory. Snooze, cleaning, guests arrive, kids playing under the sprinkler and shooting party poppers at each other, barbecue food, talking, beer, yeah it was a good day.<br />
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Happy New Year.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-43614321170933230662016-03-16T13:42:00.000+11:002016-03-16T13:42:03.576+11:00Midnight Bullfight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Visiting :</b> Mt St Leonard, BNT, Marysville, Keppels Hut, Mt Bullfight, Eildon, Yea, Kinglake<br />
<b>Distance :</b> 294km<br />
<b>When :</b> Sunday 29th November 2015, 4:00am @ Hurstbridge<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/984081101">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/984081101</a><br />
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<i>(Note: This is another solo ride from my backlog. Bear with me as I'm writing this well after the fact and my memory may be hazy.)</i><br />
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It’d been a while since I’d done a good sized overnight ride. I’d been in an interesting headspace for the last few months and I was ready for a long slow solo mission. Wasn’t interested in going fast or covering the most kilometres, I just wanted a long ride with lots of climbing and minimal gear. Old terrain, new terrain, hills, flats, day, night - I tried to pack it all in. Here’s what I came up with...<br />
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I rolled out of Hurstbridge about 4am Sunday morning. Beautiful warm morning, shorts, t-shirt, scaring roos and rabbits off the road, stopped for a big owl on Hildebrand Road until it took off silently into the dark. Wasn’t long before I was hiking up Bald Spur Road. I don’t mind hike-a-bike at all. I’ve ridden up Bald Spur Road before on a geared MTB but I think I enjoyed myself more this time as I pushed my bike up it on foot. Flat pedals, comfy shoes, way to be.<br />
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Kinglake hadn’t woken up yet so I rolled on to Toolangi on the main roads. Got some good speed going down some of those rollers. I was on my 26er Inbred which I’ve been running fixed for a while now so a fast descent means feet up on the top tube and just let it roll. It’s pretty hard to hate life when you’re doing this.<br />
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<i>(Note: I didn't have dyno power on this ride so I planned to do it without recharging my phone which means hardly any photos at all. Truth be told I was happy to not have a screen in front of my face obscuring my view. This post will be correspondingly word-heavy and image-light!)</i><br />
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After filling up water at Toolangi tennis courts it was on up Monda Road. I rode a bit of the start but wasn’t interested in burning all my matches. Grinding slowly up the hill, gently, with a light but insistent touch, get off and walk before you hit the redline. That’s what this ride was all about - go slow and keep going.<br />
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Cloudy up Mt St Leonard. This was the start of the Bicentennial National Trail section. I’d be sticking on the BNT for about 90km, bar a detour into Marysville for supplies.<br />
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I don’t have a lot of memories of this part of the ride. That’s ok. If my mind was empty that’s not such a bad thing. I think I was just absorbed in the task of moving across the land. Climbing, walking, going downhill, faster, concentrate, line choice, climbing, walking, going downhill, faster, concentrate…<br />
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It was top riding along the BNT, across the main road at Narbethong and on to Marysville. I hit up the supermarket at Marysville for lunch (and dinner for ‘ron) and rolled over to a park bench nearby to eat and pack away my food. As I was getting outside a meat pie, a bunch of sporty types wandered over and sat on the grass right in front of me. Judging from the t-shirts and clothing and banter they were runners. A couple of them made a half-hearted attempt to setup a slackline between some trees before turning to address the group and start a lecture about ultra trailrunning. Cool beans. Probably could have learned a few things if I’d stuck around but my pie was eaten, my bag was packed and the day wasn’t getting any younger.<br />
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I rolled on.<br />
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Up Lady Talbot Drive. Such a nice climb. It was Sunday afternoon so, predictably, there was a bit of tourist traffic. All well-behaved, no dramas. A luxury SUV thing crawled past me at one point, slowly creeping over some tiny rocks in the road. Bloody hell, my Camry could handle itself better than that. A few k's further on up the hill I caught up to the same vehicle (on my one-speed push-bike mind!) and slowed down to a stop behind it as the woman was on the road out front giving exasperated directions to the man inside as he tried to squeeze through the gap of a fallen tree that had been hastily chainsawed earlier in the day. They were motioning and gesticulating to each other as I trackstanded in their exhaust fumes. The motorised wing mirrors folded back smoothly (<i>facepalm</i>) and the man finally inched it past the cut log (with a foot or so to spare on each side!). The lady shot me an annoyed look as she got back in the vehicle. They didn’t look like they were enjoying themselves. I cranked past them up the hill as they sat in the car bickering over god knows what and I never saw them again.<br />
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People are funny.<br />
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Filled up water at the Beeches and on on up the hill. Third time up to Keppels Hut and this was the best track conditions yet. Instead of being muddy and totally rutted out, Keppels Hut Track was dry and totally rutted out. Another first, the hut was empty. My Sunday/Monday strategy was paying off.<br />
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I poked around the hut and checked out all the stuff inside - packets of food, cans of food, dregs of whisky, knifes, forks, pots, pans, matches, lighters, so much stuff in there! I flicked through the visitor book and had a laugh at some entries, saw some familiar names. I started thinking about staying the night. Yeah... I could build a nice fire, combine the bread and cheese I bought in Marysville with some of the stuff in the hut and have a little feast. A nice cosy night's sleep and get rolling before dawn. Hey, maybe even cut the ride short a bit if time became tight.<br />
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I was clearly still under the spell of Audrey Sutherland, having just finished her book <a href="http://amzn.com/0980122759">Paddling North</a> in which she told of her multi-month solo canoe trips around the coast of Alaska, making a home of every hut she found, fixing stoves, laying up fires ready for the next visitors to light on arrival and generally leaving places in better condition than she found them. An amazing woman.</div>
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Anyway, I set about splitting wood and stocking up the hut and organising the little wood shed. I laid up a fire but didn't light it yet. Figured I'd have a chow on my cheese and bread and maybe cook up something later. I was weary from the day's riding so I thought I'd have a kip and wake up... I dunno... later? In time for dinner? It was already kinda dinner time. I don't really know what was going on in my head. For whatever reason, I jumped into my bivvy bag for a snooze in the hut on the hard wooden slats of the bunk bed. Not surprisingly, I didn't really sleep. I was too hot in my bag and just kinda tossed and turned for an hour or two before calling out "FUCK IT!" and launching out of the bag and onto my bike, stuffing everything back into my backpack as I went trudging up the hill away from the hut.</div>
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Audrey Sutherland I am not.</div>
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I guess I was just too impatient, too uncomfortable, too disturbed by the lack of movement and action to be a happy camper. Just didn't feel comfortable sitting there by myself doing nothing. Figured I'd just ride through the night. It was about 7:30pm when I left the hut. I had food in my bag, there was water along the way, so why not?</div>
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So, back to the original plan, I guess. Off I went up McFadyen Track.</div>
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And I'm glad I did. McFadyen Track is way up there on my list of favourites and this was the perfect time to ride it, just as the sun was setting and all the animals were out. The southern part of McFadyen Track, just after you leave Keppels Hut is pretty rocky, rutted, overgrown. I love the sub-alpine grassiness of it - it starts off about 1300m and gently falls down to about 1000m. Rutted, soft black dirt doubletrack, beautiful sub-alpine trees and lush grass, top views of the surrounding hills, rough track in parts, doesn't see much wheeled traffic I think. Awesome.<br />
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And then BAM! Completely unexpectedly you're on a perfectly groomed, perfectly flat crushed gravel trail between perfectly uniform-sized trees on either side. Must be logging regrowth - it's like some sort of high country botanical gardens in the middle of nowhere. And it was still gently downhill so I had my feet up on the top tube just rolling through this manicured green tunnel on top of a mountain range trying not to hit any wildlife - so many wallabies, rabbits, deer and other little mammals that I didn't recognise darting off the path as I came rolling through.<br />
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The highlight was a big Sambar deer with only one antler. Initially I thought the deer was injured or the missing antler was shot off by a hunter (!) but google tells me that the deer had probably shed the antler as they do every year. I had no idea that this was a thing but, apparently, a deer's antlers grow, harden, die, then fall off every year (or every couple of years for Sambar). People actually go "bone hunting" for the shed antlers and make a sport of trying to find the biggest matching pair.<br />
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There you go.<br />
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The road kept going down until it hit Quartz Creek Road. This is a pretty major dirt road (thank you logging trucks) and I was loving the extended downhill after the climb up Lady Talbot Drive. Darkness fell. I turned onto Royston River Road and, before long, I was at the western end of Bullfight Road.<br />
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Bullfight Road goes more or less directly up and over Mt Bullfight. I've never ridden it but I knew that it would be about 4km of hike-a-bike up to the top and then a steep descent down the other side to Snobs Creek Road which is then all downhill to Eildon, and then it's "flat" from Eildon all the way home. So, Mt Bullfight was the crux of the ride - get over it and I'd be home free. I rolled across the bridge at the start of Bullfight Road, the road shot up into the darkness in front of me, I hopped off my bike and started walking up into the night.<br />
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I was exactly where I wanted to be.<br />
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This was the centrepiece of the whole ride. I'd planned the route and the timing of it so I'd be hiking up Mt Bullfight about midnight, hence the name. Now that I was actually doing it, more or less on time (it was about 10:30pm when I started), I was feeling very... satisfied. And glad that my Keppel's Hut debacle hadn't derailed my original plan.<br />
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Man, it was great.<br />
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The hiking was steady and steep, sometimes rocky. I was wearing comfy shoes so I wasn't skittering around like you do when hiking steeps in cleats. There wasn't much to see because of the darkness of course. My only light was mounted on my handlebars so I got that tunnel vision effect, just following my own light up into the unknown, my world closed in, far from the big views of McFadyens Track a few hours ago.<br />
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But the sounds! So much was going on in the bush around me. Up high in the trees, down low on the ground, animals running, crashing through the leaves. Didn't see a single one. Just hiking up and up. Sweating, stopping for a breather, then hiking again. It was a very small, private, predictable and simple world without questions. There was just hiking up the hill. I called it the crux of the ride but it wasn't really hard. Just walk, walk, be there. Be. It's not a particularly big hill, it's not particularly rough to walk on, it's no big achievement in the grand scheme of things and it doesn't really matter to anyone but me.<br />
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But, to me, it does matter. It matters a lot.<br />
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And I was loving it.<br />
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Unfortunately, all hike-a-bikes come to an end and, when the ground levelled off, I started rolling again. Slow and steady on the steep downhill in the dark. Lots of back pedalling to keep speed in check, lots of concentration to find a line in the darkness. Finally, I popped out onto Snobs Creek Road.<br />
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Yes.<br />
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The hard part was done. Now it was just easy rolling and a commute home. Good times.<br />
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Snobs Creek Road is nearly all downhill all the way to Eildon. It's nice and wide, never too steep and sees a lot of traffic so it's well maintained. Which is all just as well because I was flying down it in the darkness with my feet up on the toptube, pedals spinning madly beneath me, following the smooth line, occasionally bouncing over potholes and spooking so many deer and roos and hearing the screeches of possums and god knows what else echoing through the trees. So good. What an awesome payoff for all the climbing of the previous day. Just sailing down this wide, dirt superhighway, cruising with my feet up, grinning and whooping and laughing out loud as yet another group of roos shat themselves as I rounded a corner and bounced off down the road in front of me for far too long before finally diving sideways into the bush with a crash, crash, crash. Best descent ever...<br />
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I stopped at Snobs Falls for a water refill, kept rolling and pretty soon the road turned to paved and I was bombing the final section down to Goulburn Valley Highway. Civilisation. It was after midnight now, on a Sunday night, so Eildon would be closed. Sleepy civilisation. Nothing to do but keep riding.<br />
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Empty highway riding now and I was getting tired. I hit Alexandra about 2 or 3am. I found the start of the Goulburn River High Country Rail Trail and pulled up a piece of dirt under a tree and had a little catnap. Can't say I slept deeply, just enough to recharge the batteries a little and rest the eyes. Pretty soon I was back to rolling, this time in rail trail style which, if I'm honest, was a welcome change from all the hills of the previous day.<br />
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Rail trails are usually pretty mellow - wide slow corners and gentle gradients, pretty easy going - and this one was no different, except for the spiders.<br />
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It was a warm night, about three in the morning, there was a nice breeze blowing and the trail was criss-crossed by a seemingly endless number of spider webs. They went from one side of the track to the other from tree to tree but the worst part was the bridges. There were so many identical bridges along this section of trail - each one constructed the same, with high metal rails on either side - perfect distance apart for spiders to sling a web over - and perfect height for me to catch them full in the face.<br />
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Bloody hell.<br />
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I'm not scared of spiders but this began to wear me down. Every bridge I crossed I'd be guaranteed to get three or four big webs in the face - and you could feel that they were pretty heavy gauge webs - none of this wispy gossamer thread business, these were the big ropey fuckers that stretch tight across your face before finally snapping with an almost audible twang. I'd barrel through them, mouth closed, and as soon as I'd reached the other side of the bridge I'd swipe at my face and pat down my arms, chest, head, neck, everywhere as I kept riding. Fortunately it was dark so I generally couldn't see what was in the webs, except for that one time that I did see a big orb weaver spider appear right in front of my face, no time to stop, just smash through it and get to the other side of the bridge.<br />
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Ok, straight after that one I dropped the bike, threw my helmet off and did a little dance in the darkness, patting myself down all over my body, up, down, left, right, arms, legs, everywhere. There may have been some soft whimpering at this point, possibly a muffled man-squeal.<br />
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Eventually I came to my senses and just abandoned the rail trail and got on the road. It was still early so there was no traffic anyway. And no spider webs!<br />
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I made good time on the road. A car appeared. Then another. The sky was slowly lightening. I rolled into Yea about 5am. Nothing was open so I sat down for a bit and then decided to roll on. Glenburn - I'd stop at Glenburn for food.<br />
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So, more rail trail, then Murrindindi Road. It was morning now, a few cars about. The sun came up and I was feeling tired. So tired. Riding along Murrindindi Road my eyes really wanted to close but I kept plugging away. Glenburn. I began day-dreaming of the bacon and egg toastie I'd get from Glenburn. Oh man, such anticipation. Something greasy and fatty and salty and savoury and, well, not another bloody Clif Bar! This kinda helped keep me awake a little but I got a <i>real</i> boost when I saw something down in the water as I rode across the bridge over Murrindindi River.<br />
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I always look down into the water these days. Always. Usually with low expectations but, hey, if you don't look, you won't see. And so I looked, and TADA! there was a platypus foraging in the water just near the bridge. NO! WAY! I dropped my bike, got my phone out, took a video and watched as the platypus foraged - paddle, paddle, dive, bloop, bloop, bloop, there it is again! paddle, paddle, dive, bloop, bloop, bloop etc... Couldn't believe my luck. Oh man. That perked me up big time.<br />
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I was grinning from ear to ear all the way out to Melba Highway. Not far to Glenburn now. I was still pretty dozy so I thought it would be a good idea to rest the old eyes before getting onto the shoulder next to 100km/h traffic. Fortunately there was a gravel dump at the corner of Murrindindi Road and Melba Highway so I picked a cosy looking pile of gravel and lay down Wreck-It Ralph style for a few minutes of shut eye.<br />
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It felt so nice.<br />
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The warm sun on my face. The warm gravel under my body. A nice breeze. The rush of the traffic on the highway. It felt so good to be stationary and with my eyes closed. At rest. Ahhhhhhh. This is a moment that will stay with me for a long time. I'll probably dodge sleep and lie on the ground on future rides to try and recreate the moment but I doubt I'll ever recreate it just the same. Or, I dunno, maybe I will. Well I should at least <i>try</i> shouldn't I?!<br />
<br />
My gravel nap only lasted a few minutes but it was enough to refresh my mind and get me ready for the highway and the speeding commuter traffic. I rolled out and covered the last few miles to Glenburn easily.<br />
<br />
Glenburn servo. The toastie was good. Hash browns and coffee too. Ready for action now. The last leg home.<br />
<br />
I rolled on up the Melba before climbing up Glenburn Road to Kinglake then on up to the top of Bowden Spur Road. I love the view from up there. Not the best descent when you're riding fixed though - I was dragging the brake all the way down and even stopped a couple times to let it cool down. I've never experienced brake fade and I didn't want to.<br />
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The final miles back to Hurstbridge went quickly and were a chance for reflection. So, what did we learn? I'm a terrible camper. Riding fixed/flats in the mountains is doable with the right mindset. You gotta catch a lot of spiders with your face if you wanna see a platypus? Hard to say... I guess I learned not to do it again?<br />
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All jokes aside, it was a top ride and has made me even more keen for long single-push solo missions.<br />
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The only question is, where to next...?<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-39888452899397602552016-02-09T13:37:00.000+11:002016-03-07T13:47:57.840+11:00Upper Yarra Loop<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Visiting : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Warburton, Starling Gap, Noojee, Toorongo, Forty Mile Break</span><br />
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Distance : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">~128km</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><b>When :</b> Sunday 28th February 2016, 8:00am @ Warburton Information Centre</span><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Where :</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/982612837">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/982612837</a></span><br />
<br />
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I'm not too familiar with the country east of Warburton so this ride is all about new (to me) roads and finally putting faces to the names I've read on maps. Starting out of Warburton we'll climb up to Starling Gap then bomb down to Noojee for a refuel. From there it's up Ridge Road through some logging areas before joining Forty Mile Break for some awesome ridgeline riding along the border of the Upper Yarra Reservoir catchment area. This whole area is full of lyrebirds, eagles, roos, black stinkers, black cockies, Wonga Pigeons, Sambar Deer etc. etc. etc. Such a beautiful part of the world.<br />
<br />
There'll be something like 3000m of climbing and the roads will vary from buff gravel to rooty 4wd track. I haven't ridden a lot of these roads but I reckon CX will be fine and MTB will be cushy. I'll be on fat tires and gears for this one and I'm guessing it'll take about 8 hours depending on how many photos I take and how many lyrebirds I stop and listen to. Pace will be slow and steady - don't expect a smashfest but do bring your climbing legs.<br />
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There's only one refuel stop in Noojee (~48km) but plenty of water in creeks along the way. Bring enough food/water/spares to save yourself because no-one else will.<br />
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We'll roll out at 8am from out the front of the Warburton Information Centre. Bonus points if you catch the train to Lilydale and do the Warby Trail commute. Double bonus points if you ride all the way to Warby from home. I'll be driving to the start because I'm lazy and want to get home in time for dinner.<br />
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See ya there!<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Top ride.<br />
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I didn't take a single photo so I'll keep the words to a minimum.<br />
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About nine of us rolled out of Warby - the usual #summerofgravel types plus a few new faces. The climb up to Starlings Gap is nice and steady, great surface, minimal traffic. The descent down McCarthy Spur was a ripper - fast, smooth dirt road with so many sweeping corners - great road to practice your gravelly descending on, and I clearly needed the practice - I overcooked it and hit the deck twice. No skills. We didn't see any cars on the way down McCarthy Spur but apparently it's a popular road to get loose on if you're a young petrol-head - watch out for blind corners!<br />
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Noojee was full of tourists, as you'd expect. I got a ham and cheese toastie from the cafe and was mightily disappointed! I expected bread, slice of ham, slice of cheese, something I could have half hanging out of my mouth while riding. What I got was a half kilo slopper that was full of dripping tomato and had a truly American amount of ham stuffed into it. I mean, this thing was packed! I ended up chucking half of it in the bin much to the chagrin of some of the other riders. Thumbs down Noojee!<br />
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The climb out of Noojee on Ridge Road was awesome. Nice and steady grade, zero traffic, beaut scenery. The road gets pretty cobbled out as you pass through some exposed logging areas but there's some great views from up there.<br />
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Up at Toorongo Road we filled up water at Toorongo River. Two riders apparently came down sick a day or two after the ride and blamed this water. I dunno. Others drank the same stuff and were fine. I used Aquatabs and was fine. Go figure.<br />
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Toorongo Road is a gravel superhighway but we didn't stay on it very long before turning onto Forty Mile Break which is, er, definitely not a highway of any kind. It's less-travelled, less-maintained, full of roots, bark, ruts and gnarly rocks about the size and shape of railway ballast. Probably great for motor vehicles, not so good for bicycles. Also, there are some steep pinches on this track that had everyone with less than MTB gearing in hike-a-bike mode. It was pretty rough going trying to stumble up the hill, cleats slipping and sliding on loose chunky gravel in the heat of the day. Def make sure you've got plenty of water for this section as there's no water up there and it might take longer than you think.<br />
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We reached the high point of the ride, the clearing/trig point at the summit of Mt Horsfall. I got there a little after the bulk of the group so I missed the naming ceremony but apparently this place is now called "the bush doof". A couple of riders were struggling a little and I was in a hurry to get back home to the BBQ my wife had organised at our place so I foolishly raised the possibility of a shortcut. Except there wasn't really a shortcut back to Warburton and everyone was still keen to follow the route as planned, despite their struggles. I totally shouldn't have brought it up. Lesson learned.<br />
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The group split at this point, with some faster riders shooting off the front and a couple of people getting flats. We were unsure if Forty Mile Break would continue to be really pinchy and hike-a-bikey after the bush doof and I'd been saying throughout the day, "It trends downwards after our high point", emphasising the word "trends" because I didn't know myself how pinchy it was going to be. We needn't have worried - it was mostly fast downhill and our biggest problem was probably going TOO fast on the rocky, rubbly, loose terrain. The sharp railway ballast rocks claimed a couple pinch flats and I have no idea how those on CX bikes didn't flat too. Skills. This section is do-able on a CX bike but, for me, I'd definitely put it firmly in the "type 2 fun" category. Take plenty of spares!<br />
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The ride was blown apart now and the serious-looking Melbourne Water gate over the track probably didn't help the situation. On-the-fly re-routes were performed and some riders ended up bagging an extra 50km and 1000m of climbing for the day. Nice work! I ended up with a group of four, rolling turns on the main road back into Warburton. One of the others had an unfixable flat (tubeless, spare tube was flat, patches were old and crusty) and ended up doing the final descent by himself on a flat rear tire. Ouch. Another lesson learned - even when someone waves you on and says, "Nah, I'll be fine, you guys keep going!" it's probably a good idea to wait.<br />
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The group I was in got back to Warburton about 5:20pm. About 9 hours all up. Not bad.<br />
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Thanks everyone for coming out, hope you all had fun.<br />
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Would definitely recommend this loop but with a re-route to avoid the gated Melbourne Water land after the bush doof. Top area, top riding, go check it out!<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-8816221768627610482016-01-21T12:58:00.000+11:002016-01-21T12:58:38.732+11:00Hazeldene Pastie Run<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Visiting : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Ridge Rd, Pine plantation, Hazeldene, Extons Rd, Pine Ridge Rd</span><br />
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Distance : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">~110km</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 24th October 2015, 4:00am @ Hurstbridge</span><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;">Where :</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 20.79px;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/900802943">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/900802943</a></span><br />
<br />
<i>(Note: I've got a backlog of solo rides that I haven't written up for various reasons. I'm trying to get through them all so I'm up to date. Bear with me as I'm writing these well after the fact and my memory may be hazy.)</i><br />
<br />
This was a nice local roll to check out a few knowns and a few unknowns. I wanted to see some old favourite roads, check out some new roads and also try out a different bike setup on some decent k's. My main "road" objective was to check out Long Gully Road out of Hazeldene as a legal option to access Extons Road. My main "bike" objective was to see how my Inbred would go in fixed/flats mode on some moderately interesting terrain. All objectives were achieved...<br />
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<a name='more'></a>I started just before dawn and visited a few old favourites - Ridge Road and Humevale Road. Not the quickest way to get up to the Kinglake Ranges but certainly very cruisy and scenic. Predictably, there were many roos on Ridge Road and zero cars on Humevale Road. Good times.<br />
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I rolled along the main road to Pheasant Creek and turned down Watsons Road to the pine plantation. I think it's kinda cool in its own way. Been through there before and thought I'd check it out again - plus it's a more interesting way to get to Hazeldene than just sticking to the main road.<br />
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It was nice and sunny already and I was in cruisy solo mode so I had a good wander around to see what I could see. I found a hangout spot in a high clearing. Lots of bullet shells, ciggy butts and premix drink cans and the remains of a couple of fires.<br />
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I love scrounging around in places like this, trying to piece together the stories that must have played out. Who were these people who came out here to drink and shoot guns? Local kids? Will my Max drive up here with his mates in ten or so years and shoot old bottles and flick ciggy butts and throw empty Jim Beam cans in the fire? So many stories, past and future...<br />
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I tore myself away from the riveting banality of the scene and rolled on back up to the road. It was beautiful "Summer of Gravel" terrain and a bluebird day.<br />
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But my eye was drawn to little bits and pieces on the side of the road, a business card, some receipts from an osteo, old catalogs for Mitre 10, pages torn from a Melways?<br />
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<i>Hm, tell me more...</i><br />
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The seemingly random junk strewn across the place came more frequently. At first I thought that someone had cleaned out their glove box or something but I started to have my doubts. Soon I came across broken plastic pieces, bits of headlight, bits of bumper. The pieces got bigger and bigger and I was following them with my eyes down to the road like a bloodhound when I got to the big burned out patch in the middle of the road. I looked up and said "Oh!" out loud.<br />
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It all made sense. Car stolen from somewhere, driven up here far from any houses, ransacked, glove box turned out and all papers and junk thrown out in search of anything valuable. They'd obviously been driving it like a dodgem car, all over the road, slamming into the dirt embankments and joyriding the hell out of it. They got to their fave spot at the water tank up on the hill and - BOOM! - torched that sucker.<br />
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All that was left was a burnt patch on the road where the melted, stinking remains of the car had been scraped off a day or two before and taken away for scrap.<br />
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The water tank where the car was burned was obviously a hangout too. I climbed on top, had a look around, took some photos. The graffiti on the side told the story :<br />
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Just another tale from the pine plantation...<br />
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I rolled on down the hill to the main road and cruised it all the way into Hazeldene where I bought the titular Hazeldene pastie. Man, what a solid meal that was. Big and fat and chunky. A+++ would eat again.<br />
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I sat outside at the shop and ate my food and minded my own business while eavesdropping on the small group of middle-aged locals that always seem to be hanging around there. Local gossip, current affairs, news of what their kids are doing, off-colour jokes. Other locals would come and go, pick up bread, milk, smokes etc. stop and chat for a while, lots of loud greetings and goodbyes and laughs. This is the only shop for miles around so I reckon it must be a bit of a locus, a meeting place. Probably even more so after the fires. I don't really mind feeling like an outsider at the Hazeldene shop.<br />
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Food done, I headed off for Long Gully Road, a couple hundred metres from the shop. It shoots up a spur to Mt Robertson towards the northern end of Extons Road. Depending on which map you look at, it actually joins Extons Road or it doesn't. I was pretty sure it DID join up but this part of the ride was going to confirm it for sure. So I rode up through some houses, past one or two half-hearted private property signs and then I was hiking up the unridably steep spur to Mt Robertson.<br />
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It was a steep track - chunky and little bit ledgy - definitely 4wd terrain and way too steep for me to ride a onespeed and probably even a manyspeed. Doesn't matter, I like hike-a-bike. I pushed and pushed, had a few breaks, sweated a lot (it was getting hot...) and finally made it to the top where, indeed, it did join up with the northern end of Extons Road (aka Mt Robertson Road).<br />
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Recon complete.<br />
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Extons Road is rad, nice and undulating, scrappy 4wd track at the northern end and then the surface gets progressively more civilised the closer you get to Kinglake Central going from clay, to chunky gravel, to buff gravel, to gravel superhighway, to paved road. Nice.<br />
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Just for shits and gigs, I decided to get down off the Kinglake Range via Pine Ridge Road. Years ago it used to be a proper fire road but in recent times it's been left to rot and grown progressively more gnarly as the seasons pass. Now it's eroded to hell and impassable by any wheeled vehicle. The ruts and ledges were impressively deep. Good times.<br />
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Hike-a-bike downhill is fun, specially when you're not wearing cleats, which brings me to my "bike" objective for the day.<br />
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A while back I'd changed my Inbred from singlespeed to fixed. I'd been commuting on it, hitting up Yarra Trails, Hurstbridge area dirt roads, a couple of missions to Smiths Gully etc. and my objective for this ride was to see how it would go with a bit more distance and bit more elevation. Turns out it went alright! Flat pedals, no foot retention, never had an issue.<br />
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Flat terrain and uphills were no different to riding with a freewheel (except for lack of coasting of course); gnarly descents I'd keep my feet on the pedals for control and to modulate speed; fast safe descents I'd put my feet up on the top tube and let the pedals spin away underneath me.<br />
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Skid stops, no, but speed modulation, yes. Five-Tens with Stealth rubber and wide flat pedals with gnarly pins kept my feet in place always. Skills gained from a year of riding the same pedals (albeit with freewheel) on all sorts of terrain certainly helped. Flying out of control downhill with the pedals spinning madly like a 200rpm calf-shredding meat grinder? No, sorry, the reality is not nearly as dramatic. XT hydro brake on the front coupled with 2 inch rubber meant that I could keep speed in check well before things got out of control. Also, judgement - never take your feet off the pedals unless there's a safe runout - and, most of all, just ride slow and safe. All in all, everything went pretty much as expected.<br />
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Research complete.<br />
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It was a cruisy roll on familiar roads back to Hurstbridge...<br />
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And then I found this little guy waiting for me in my backyard :<br />
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Indeed it was a nice day to be outside in the bush riding a bicycle.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-54054626464205658652015-07-21T15:58:00.000+10:002015-07-21T16:06:59.562+10:00Keppel Hut Snow Ride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Visiting : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Marysville, Lady Talbot Drive, Keppel Hut</span><br />
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Distance : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">~48km</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"><b>When :</b> Monday 13th July 2015, ~8:00am @ Marysville</span><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Where :</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/774619357">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/774619357</a></span><br />
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Ok, so I had a long one out of Hurstbridge planned for this month's ride but when I saw the weather forecast and read the words "fiercest cold snap in five years", I decided to change my plans. The forecast said there'd be snow down to 700m on both Saturday and Sunday so I took the Monday off work and headed to Marysville for some snow ride action. Hilarity ensued.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>The plan was to drive to Marysville in the recently-resurrected Camry (new radiator and it's good as gold), ride up Lady Talbot Drive until the snow became too deep, ditch the bike and keep hiking up to Keppel Hut, snowboard back down to bike then roll back down to Marysville.<br />
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I was expecting heaps of snow so I was thinking that I needed some sort of snow-going device that I could get rad on and really make the most of the conditions while I was up there. I explored various scenarios in my head but in the end I thought, "Fuck it, I'll just take my snowboard!" Once I'd made that decision I just joined the dots: I'd need my proper boarding jacket, pants, helmet and mitts if I was going to be rolling around in snow and sitting on my arse a lot. The only bag I've got which can carry all that gear was my BOgear Chunky Toad. So, I dug out my board, lashed it to the bag and rode a few wobbly laps around the front yard to prove the concept. Nothing fell off or got in the way of pedalling so that was it. We're on!</div>
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Lady Talbot Drive was awesome, as usual. I could have sworn it was closed over winter but apparently it's not. No vehicles around though, it being a cold and wet Monday morning.</div>
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I cranked up the hill and enjoyed the serenity. It drizzled on and off. Sometimes it rained. I kept looking up to the hills to see if I could see the snow. Hm... nothing yet.</div>
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Water refill at The Beeches. I could have hung around there for a lot longer, perving on the wildlife. There was a thin tree branch that these tiny birds were scratching their beaks on - the bark was all scratched away where they'd been working it. And then there was a conspicuously dug-over area on the ground - it looked like something had scratched all the leaf litter away, as if they were looking for something. Lyrebird, I reckon. They're common around those parts and they luuuurve to dig over the ground.<br />
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On and on I rode, always up. Love Lady Talbot Drive. Still no snow up on the hills but I started seeing bits of icy slush on the side of the road. 700 metres my arse...</div>
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When I reached the intersection at Upper Taggerty Road I was a mite disappointed. I knew that was about 1100m and still, no snow! Just cloud, drizzle, rain and mud. Oh well... on on.</div>
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I kept climbing and the icy slush on the side of the road became more frequent but so to did the mud. Starting onto Keppel Hut Track the road conditions turned to crap and pretty soon I was hiking, pushing my bike through peanut butter slop and trying not to slip over in the slick pasty mess.</div>
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It went on like this for what seemed like ages until, finally, snow!</div>
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Well, just more icy slush really. There'd been plenty of foot traffic up here in the last day or two. Slush slush slush. The snow started only a few hundred metres from Keppel Hut. I rolled into the clearing with a weak "Yew!" and sat down at the picnic table.<br />
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No <a href="http://therewillbedirt.blogspot.com.au/2015/02/lady-talbot-ride.html">beer bottles and drunken campers</a> this time, but there was a group of about six kids who'd recently arrived at the hut and were chasing each other around shooting snowballs at each other and collecting firewood. They looked not long out of high school (to my eyes) and there was no older person around that I could see. Bloody good on 'em, getting out and enjoying the bush by themselves. Wish I was into outdoorsy stuff when I was their age!</div>
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I said g'day and one of them replied, "It's a little cold to be riding bikes isn't it?" Ahhhhh, kids.</div>
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I asked about the snow and apparently a couple of them had stayed at the hut the previous night. They said there was great cover yesterday but the rain just ruined it. "You should've seen it yesterday!" Ugh... if only I'd come up the day before it'd be a completely different picture. Fickle weather! And "fiercest cold snap in five years" my arse! Serves me right for believing that bullshit. Australia's good at a lot of things but winter is not one of them, I don't care what anyone says.</div>
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Oh well, the snow cover was almost non-existent and it was still raining on and off so I figured I'd better get to work. There was no way I was going to carry my snowboard all the way up that hill and not go snowboarding!</div>
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I got my boots on but didn't bother changing into pants and jacket. There was shit-all that looked ridable around the hut so, for my first run, I went up to the dunny and scraped my way back down to the road. Ewwww, so much rock, so little snow.<br />
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For my second run, I hiked back up the road a little and tried to pick a ridable line between the rocks and puddles and mud.<br />
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Ugh.<br />
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There was not enough snow, not enough gradient, not enough of anything...<br />
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So I snapped some photos, walked back to the picnic table, packed away my boots and board, hoisted that heavy-ass bag onto my back and started hiking back up the muddy, slushy road, pushing my bike ahead of me through the slop.<br />
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I was extra cautious riding down Keppel Hut Track. It was rutted out and super slick and I didn't fancy taking a tumble when I had a snowboard on my back so I definitely erred on the side of caution and walked the bits that looked too sketchy.<br />
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Soon enough I got back to the gate at the start of Keppel Hut Track and had a breather there at the top of Upper Taggerty Road. There seemed to be a bit of rubbish around on the ground. Being the inquisitive type, I had a closer look.<br />
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It looked like the whole area gets used as an informal carpark for people accessing the hut over winter. Keppel Hut Track is seasonally closed so that makes sense. Ok, so bullet boxes, rags, random catalogues and other bits of paper, ciggy butts. My guess is deer hunters staying at the hut. They walk back out from the hut carrying their crap, they start loading it into their vehicles and just chuck their rubbish on the ground before driving away. Those fuckers. Seriously, don't even get me started.<br />
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I poked around the empty ammo boxes and, hang on... Oh nice! Fucken idiots! One of the boxes still had two bullets in it. Jesus, I mean general rubbish is bad enough but live ammo?! You kidding me?! C'mon!<br />
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I took the bullets and rolled on down the hill. Fuckers.<br />
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<i>(Ed. Bullets have since been handed into the police.)</i><br />
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Anyway, the going was easy from here on. Road was ridable and nearly all downhill. Nice. Still really wet but at least I could just let it roll.<br />
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I came across a vehicle on a nice straight downhill stretch and saw that it was stuck. There was a small but long tree down over the road and they couldn't move it. Guy was in the middle of the road with a little car jack trying to jack up the tree (!) while his girlfriend was sitting in the ute watching.<br />
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Hm.<br />
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I said g'day, offered to help. They'd been stuck there for about an hour trying to move this tree. It was too big for the two of them to shift by themselves and I guess they didn't have any ropes or straps so they couldn't drag it off the road with their ute. They didn't have a chainsaw but the guy had tried to cut through the trunk of the tree with a cordless angle grinder. It didn't cut deep enough of course so he'd only succeeded in ringbarking the thing. Oy vey.<br />
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We tested the weight of the tree again and decided to try lifting it all together. Ha! Easy. So we lifted it all together and shuffled and ran one end of it back across the road and pretty soon we'd shoved it right off the road into the ditch.<br />
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The girl was pretty stoked to be unstuck so she gave me the rest of their bag of lollies as a reward. They'd mentioned a couple of times that they weren't real 4wd'ers so I warned them about the slippery conditions further up the hill and, with that, we parted ways. Hope they didn't run into any more trouble!<br />
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As I rolled down the hill feeling a bit like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnCyMpl4dhk">the littlest hobo</a>, I reflected on the whole episode and how the bicycle is a great way of travelling through this sort of country. Downed trees and treacherous roads are common but, when I'm on my bike, neither of them are a problem. In fact, the little tree that had stopped this couple in their tracks for over an hour was so insignificant that I barely remembered lifting my bike over it on the way up.<br />
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Granted, this particular couple was clearly unprepared for the situation they'd put themselves into. If they'd carried more gear, a rope, a chainsaw, they would have been fine. But it seems like the more gear, the more stuff, you take into the bush with you, the more gear and the more stuff you need to save yourself when your gear and stuff breaks down or gets stuck. With a bike, a simple bike, it seems to work the other way - the less bike you've got, the less can go wrong and the less gear, the less stuff you need.<br />
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I dunno. Philosiphising again. All's I know is I enjoyed my free lollies for helping those two out and I loved the long downhill roll back into Marysville.<br />
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It had been a wet, gritty, muddy day and even though the snow situation was a bit disappointing, I've gotta say it was still the best snowboarding I've ever done on a bike ride!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-8388881991292432562015-07-04T11:58:00.000+10:002015-07-09T12:41:37.600+10:00Mt Hickey<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Visiting : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"><strike>Disappointment SF, Murchison Gap, Mt Hickey, Flowerdale, Bowden Spur</strike></span><br />
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Distance : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"><strike>~174km</strike></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"><b>When :</b> <strike>Saturday 11th July 2015, 2:00am @ Hurstbridge Train Station</strike></span><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Where :</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"> <strike><a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/758446615">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/758446615</a> (subject to change!)</strike></span><br />
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CHANGE OF PLANS!<br />
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It's going to puke snow on Sun/Mon so I'm going to cancel this ride for now and come back to it later. When the weather window opens, you gotta jump through it!<br />
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<strike>Heading north this time, through Whittlesea, Disappointment State Forest, Murchison Gap and up to the top of Mt Hickey. Not much of a view up there apparently but I want to go see it for myself anyway. Great riding in Dissa on the way there and should be great views out northeast over Yea and beyond from Murchison Gap. If the timing's right there might be lunch and beer at Flowerdale Pub on the way home.</strike><br />
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<strike>Nice early start time of 2am because I'm still in singlespeed MTB mode i.e. slow and steady. Also, riding at night is awesome and we should be in/around Disappointment State Forest when the sun rises which means lots of animals to say hello to.</strike><br />
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<strike>No real planned food stops beyond lunch at Flowerdale Pub at 128km but there's also Strath Creek Pub at ~100km which might be a good resupply depending on the timing. Bring plenty of food with you! Haven't scoped the water sitz in great detail but I'd bring enough for a few hours and your purification system of choice and we'll find some creeks along the way.</strike><br />
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<strike>It'll be a long steady day so switch it into diesel and settle in for an all-day cruise.</strike><br />
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<strike>Oh, and email/comment/pm/txt/whatever if you wanna join me. If you don't confirm with me first, I won't wait for you at 2am at Hursty Station!</strike><br />
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<strike>See ya there!</strike><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-88264085258891423862015-05-26T13:58:00.000+10:002015-05-26T13:58:06.458+10:00Pinnacles Loop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Visiting : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Briagolong, Marathon Road, The Pinnacles, Billy Goat Bluff</span><br />
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Distance : </b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">~165km</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 13th July 2014, ~4:00am @ Briagolong</span><br />
<b style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Where :</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/460515396">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/460515396</a></span><br />
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This was a ride I did last winter and, in fact, it was the prototypical slacker ride. I wanted to do a "day" ride and I wanted to see some snow and I didn't care if I had to drive a little and dodge some sleep to make that happen. I don't know why I haven't written it up until now but here it is, better late than never, my Pinnacles snow ride.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>I'll try to keep the words brief on this one as it did happen nearly a year ago now. Having said that, my memory of this ride is as clear as if it happened yesterday.<br />
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My plan was to drive to Briagolong, ride up to The Pinnacles fire tower, drive home and be back for dinner. I loaded up the Camry and started driving just after midnight, stopped for McDonalds in Traralgon just as the nightclubs were closing (they had security guards working in the maccas, lots of loud kids buying drunk food) and reached Briagolong about 4am. Soon I was spinning up Marathon Road with a massive full moon lighting the way.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">I remember a couple of times thinking that a car was coming up behind me because the light from the moon was so bright. The lower section of Marathon Road had very recently been resurfaced and was super clayey and sketchy especially in the dark.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">As day broke I saw some nice views of faraway hills. I could make out snow on the tops of these ones and dearly hoped that that was where I was going.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Yep, those faraway snowy hills got closer and closer and soon I was up amongst them. The ride route was a simple one - from Briagolong I'd follow Marathon Road for about 50km, all of it dirt, nearly all of it uphill.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">I was stoked to see so many animal tracks in the snow. The top part of Marathon Road is closed to vehicles over winter so I had the place to myself. Just me and the animals. It must have snowed a day or two before and then been cool and dry. No rain to wash away the snow and all the tracks were perfectly preserved. I was pumped! Didn't even know what sort of animals they were - wombat? deer? possums? I dunno - I was just giggling like a kid and dropping my bike every hundred metres to look at more tracks, take more photos.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Best part about all this? It was all rideable. The snow was deep enough to blanket the track but not deep enough to grind me to a halt. It was hardpacked and dry too, for the most part, so the only difficulty I had was the steep grade and the amount of debris - sticks and rocks - hidden under the snow that occasionally caused me to unbalance. Mostly it was smooth riding, the snow making that squeaky, crunchy sound as my tires compressed it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">It kept going like this for 4-5km until finally I gained the ridge and dropped down the other side toward Castle Hill Track. Oh man, if riding up that snowy road was fun, riding down it was on a whole other level. It was a steep downhill section, steep enough for regular waterbars, fully blanketed in hardpacked, rideable snow. I went cautiously fast, tire grip was fine, I was pumping the waterbars and getting air off them, it was so rad.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">I felt this wonderful dreamlike confusion where my brain was registering the scene - <i>"I'm speeding down a snowy track"</i> - and telling my body to move like it was on a snowboard because that's the only frame of reference it had with which to comprehend the situation. So I was pumping every feature on the track, trying to flick my back wheel out and carve turns, all the while laughing like a fool and, somewhere back in my consciousness, aware that the snow was only a few centimetres deep at best and was barely covering rocks and fallen branches and was nowhere near as soft and forgiving as it might look.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">I turned off Marathon Road at last and headed up Castle Hill Track to the Pinnacles. The trees were hanging heavy with snow and sometimes it was impossible to take the correct line with my tires without taking a face shot full of icy snow from an overhanging branch. Just made me grin even bigger.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">On and on, riding on snow, road closed to traffic so no other tracks except my own and the animals. So perfect. I remember thinking that I "get" fatbikes now.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Apparently I had a seatbag explosion around here as I tried to get some food out of my bag.I picked it all up, don't worry. Burger was still good to eat too. Well, as good as they can be...</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Mile after mile of perfect tracks in the snow. Big, small, joining the main track for a while before heading off into the bush to go who-knows-where.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">The final climb up to the Pinnacles was steep and full of debris, as you'd expect from a seasonally closed road. I probably would have been off the bike walking due to the steepness even if it had been dry. As it was, the snow was soft and increasingly wet on this section, be that due to the aspect of the pitch or the heat of the day. Either way, I was hiking.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Now we're getting somewhere... looking out east, up near the Pinnacles.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">This section looked like a perfect groomer from afar but, as you can see, it was only a thin covering over muddy clay.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">The fire tower in the distance. Almost there. I was so stoked.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">The track up to the fire tower proper was super steep with big steps and rocks to clamber around. Add in snow and ice on the steps and it wasn't a good place to be shouldering a bike while wearing tap-dancing shoes. Didn't care. I wanted to get to the very top. The bike had carried me this far, the least I could do was carry it the final few hundred metres to the top.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Up at the fire tower. All closed up over winter.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">The views down over the Wonnangatta Valley were amazing. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Looking back down to the comms/equipment buildings from the fire tower.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">Yeah, bit sketchy getting negotiating those steps in cleats with a 29er on your shoulder.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">There's even a dunny up there! I'm guessing it's mainly for the benefit of the fire lookout dude staff.</span></div>
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I used the drop toilet and had a think about my next move. I remember that I was out of water and was running behind schedule. Predictably, this skewed my thinking and instead of sticking to my original plan which meant back-tracking along Castle Hill Track and then down McDonald Gap Track, which I’d never ridden before, I decided to go straight down Billy Goat Bluff Track to the river. I knew I could find water there and I guess I figured that it’d be faster to take the road down in the valley for a while rather than slogging back along the ridge track that I’d just come in on. In hindsight, I think I just wanted to ride on a nice smooth surface for a while and have a break from HAB and muddy debris-covered tracks covered with treefall.</div>
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Anyway, the decision was made.</div>
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So, Billy Goat Bluff. Truth be told, I liked the idea of revisiting that track with a more capable bike - <a href="http://therewillbedirt.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/traralgon-to-bright-day-1.html">last time I’d started riding down it</a> on a Steamroller with 35mm CX tires and bottled out almost immediately, ended up stumbling down it on foot. Safer option. This time I was on fat tires and disk brakes, no excuses!</div>
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But first, fresh brake pads on the front. My brakes had been feeling progressively spongier as the day went on and there was no way I was going down BGB without solid brakes.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I passed the spot where I bivvied on my 40th birthday. Heh, didn’t look too comfortable in the day.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">The descent was much easier this time. Rode the whole thing but did have plenty of breaks to scope out the safe line and let the brakes/arms cool down. Love that track.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 14.8500003814697px; line-height: 20.7900009155273px;">I took a nice photo from the helicopter flat looking back up Billy Goat Bluff Track (on the far right) to the Pinnacles (the knob on the far left). Nice. Love the symmetry of looking back up where you've just been.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was the last photo I took because, predictably, my phone was about to run out of juice. Too many photos of animal tracks throughout the day! So, pretty soon I was down at the river in Wonnangatta Valley, well behind time, off track, with a phone that was almost out of juice. Whatever happened from here, I knew I’d be late home and out of touch with my wife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">To make matters worse, when I reached the valley and had to actually start pedalling again, my bike was making a horrendous noise with each pedal revolution. It sounded to me like the bottom bracket and I started to worry that it might not get me back to the car.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">The situation was starting to look familiarly fubared.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">When a 4wd slowed down as they passed me I started chatting and half-jokingly asked if they could give me a lift. They said they’d been in the valley for the last two weeks and didn’t have room, vehicle was packed full of camping gear and deer. Successful hunting trip I take it. I rode on, didn’t bother asking any of the other vehicles that passed me for a ride. Figured I’d just keep rolling and worry about it when/if it went bad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fortunately it didn’t go bad and I made it out to the main road. Bairnsdale-Dargo Road, paved. Luxury. It was smooth rolling now, but I’d gone pretty far out of my way and I was still way behind time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was dark by the time I turned off the main road onto Freestone Creek Road. This was now back on my originally intended route. Good good. Freestone Creek Road was a real treat after a long day of rough terrain. All downhill at a beautifully steady grade, lots of nice turns, smooth dirt road rolling all the way back down to Briagolong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Must have been 7-8pm when I finally rolled back into Briagolong and loaded up the car. Of course, I didn’t have a car charger so my phone was still running on fumes. I think I had enough juice to send a txt to my wife but I was feeling very bad that I was running so late. I’d planned to be back for dinner and then have a nice night in but, at this rate…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">I drove off into the night, still not having seen Briagolong in daylight, and started the journey home. I got food and various caffeinated beverages at a servo in Sale, I think, and tried to stay awake. Think I stopped for a powernap around Traralgon. It started bucketing down rain as I gunned it along the long and boring Princes Freeway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">What a shit drive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Worst part is I hadn’t sorted my car music situation yet so I had no music! I had to sing and yell and tell jokes and talk to other cars and trucks on the road to keep myself awake and amused.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally made it home, unpacked, stumbled in the front door. I’d missed dinner, missed putting the kids to bed, missed my nice night with my wife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was 11:55pm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was only a “day” ride but I felt like I’d pushed the boundaries of that definition and wrung all the juice out of that one day, used up every minute of it and lived it to the full. It came at a cost, to be sure, and not one that would be wise to pay regularly when considering family at home, driving tired at night etc. But that day... </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt like I’d really grappled with it and shaken it by the shoulders until all its treasures fell out on the ground.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 18.8181819915772px; white-space: pre-wrap;">A memorable day.</span></span></div>
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Oh, and did a lot of googling about those animal tracks when I got home, to see if I could work out what animals I was sharing the trails with. I discovered that almost all of them, I hesitate to say 100% of them but, y'know, nearly every one that I could get a good look at and relate my newly googled knowledge to, pretty much every one was made by a dog.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">I saw no wild dogs, dingoes or foxes up there that day, but I'm sure that a wild dog, dingo or fox saw me.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-50160051363197955502015-05-18T13:37:00.000+10:002015-05-18T13:37:38.703+10:00Rubicon Loop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cambarville, Royston River Road, Rubicon River Road</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~75km<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 4th April, 5:45am @ Cambarville Picnic Area</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/668105230">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/668105230</a></span><br />
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Another slacker ride. The Rubicon/Royston area has been on my list for a while now and, after a bit of last minute route planning, I came up with a sort of "back'o'Lake Mountain out'n'back" that would visit Rubicon Power Station and fill in some gaps in my knowledge of the area.<br />
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I decided to keep the (car-enabled) commute stage small on this one. Much as I love getting further and further into the hills for these "day" rides, I know it's probably only a matter of time before one of my 3am cannonball runs through the bush will end in disaster for the very animals I go out there to visit. There were a lot of roos around as I cruised out to Marysville and then up the hill to Cambarville Picnic Ground, the start of my ride.<br />
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It was cold and I couldn't keep the windscreen from fogging up so I had the window down most of the way to Cambarville. Cars are stupid sometimes. Anyway, I was chilly and eager to start riding so I could get warm. I rolled out of the picnic ground on two wheels about 5:45am.<br />
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It was pitch black of course, so I just settled into the rhythm of riding and let the road take me. I sensed open areas off to the right as I rode but couldn't see into them of course. Figured I'd see them later in the day on my way back.<br />
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It smelled like smoke.<br />
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The main thing that struck me on this section was the amount of water around. So many little trickles and streams coming down the hill and crossing (underneath) the road. And I knew my route followed either the Royston River or Rubicon River nearly all day. One bidon was more than enough round these parts.<br />
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After a while, day broke.<br />
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Tall trees, steep gullies, thick lush vegetation, wide, well-maintained gravel roads. It was nice country I was riding through.<br />
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It was also logging country. I guess I can thank the logging industry for the wide roads, the regular kilometre markers and, something I wasn't expecting, a large freshly logged and burned section of bush right next to the road. No wonder everything smelled like smoke.<br />
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I had a good wander around the smouldering ruins. Some parts were still burning, there was a lot of smoke. What looked like solid ground often turned out to be ankle deep ash. The ground was smashed and burned. Not a sign of life anywhere on the burnt block. Yet the air was full of bird song from the surrounding bush. I spent far too long wandering around trying to take interesting photos of the destruction before finally leaving it behind and getting back onto the good road.<br />
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It was mostly downhill on fast wide gravel. I was loving the winding road, no hands, no brakes, fanging it, beautiful trees, beautiful birds, best place to be.<br />
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Soon the road shot down sharply and suddenly I was in amongst a brazillion campers all spread around the Rubicon Power Station, just getting up for the day, starting their fires, chopping wood, collecting water. I felt a bit like an intruder amongst all the car-campers who'd staked out their temporary Easter domains. Looked like a great place for family camping though.<br />
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I took Rubicon River Road on the way back. Correct choice. Royston on the way down, fast and smooth; Rubicon on the way back up, gnarly, rocky, sometimes loose, a good road for climbing. It was steep in places so I hiked a bunch of it. The views down the river were awesome.<br />
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There was another little power station up here. Great engineering. Left me thinking, man, what a cool way<i> </i>to make electricity. Rubicon River comes winding down the valley, you divert a little bit of it and make the diversion go straight while the river does a big windy loop, you send the diverted part straight down the side of the valley and shoot it through a little hydro power station, it flows out the other side and rejoins the river. You've only borrowed that water for a couple of minutes and then put it right back where you found it. Perfect.<br />
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I climbed up and up, stopping periodically to look at the hydro power infrastructure that was snuggled all through the valley. Miles and miles of water race, little power stations, power lines draped over steep gullies at impossible gradients, little shacks with monitoring equipment and water rushing through concrete and steel tunnels, old tram tracks seemingly going nowhere.<br />
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I'd smashed myself somewhat on the climb back up from Rubicon Power Station so my pace was slow and laboured. It was around here that I started thinking about the mechanism of my smashed-ness and had a few epiphanies regarding human energy systems in the context of the hill-climbing singlespeeder. Nothing I shouldn't already have known but it did cause me to do a bunch of fevered googling when I got home and relate my findings to not only this ride but to many other rides I've tried and died on in the past.<br />
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Despite my slow pace I made reasonable time back up the hill, went past the logged'n'burned section again, realised I still had plenty of time up my sleeve.<br />
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There was a long section of road, flanked by the Royston River, that was impossibly lush and green. Well, by aussie bush standards. Looking down off the side of the road to the rushing water it was just so green and mossy and wet in there. I climbed down for a good look. Thick leaf litter underfoot, everything mossy green, lichens, toadstools, ferns. I got the impression it would be riddled with leeches but I figured it'd be worth it even if I did pick up a few travellers.<br />
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I stared into the clear water for ages, trying to see whatever was in there. Fish? Yabbies? Platypus? Man, if I was a platypus, I'd totally live in a place like that. Didn't really see anything in there though. Oh well.<br />
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A bit further down the road I was struck by how many different birds there were in this area. Cockies, Kookaburras, Currawongs, Bellbirds and a bunch of others I couldn't identify. Then I saw a medium-sized something scamper goofily off the road as I rounded a corner. Ha! So many birds, my arse! It was a lyrebird. I stopped dead. The lyrebird that had run off the low side of the road had disappeared and was silent but its mate was still on the high side of the road, hidden from view of course, but mimicking like a madman. I took a video so I could capture its blatantly plagiarised mash-up of a song.<br />
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Love lyrebirds.<br />
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Rolling on, I finally spied a view through the trees. Soon enough, I came across another recently logged and burnt section which, through the removal of the trees, facilitated a nice big panorama view of the mountains to the east. The first big view of the whole ride. I took a bunch of photos before accidentally finding the "panorama" function on my phone. Duh.<br />
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Yep. Winning.<br />
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A few k's later and I was back at the car, loading in bike, getting out of bib straps, drinking fresh water, while day-walkers and tourists wandered around the carpark and looked at information boards.<br />
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Job done.<br />
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Crank music, kick Camry in guts, outta there.<br />
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<b>Epilogue :</b><br />
These slacker rides have been fun but they're starting to feel a little hollow. Driving has enabled me to get to some amazing places in the context of a "day ride" and getting home in time for dinner is a big big thing when you've got a wife and kids but it's starting to sour a little. Driving to a ride? I mean, why not just ride, right? Cars are stupid and expensive and I miss doing long day rides that start and finish from my front door.<br />
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I dunno.<br />
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Might be time to start earning my turns again...<br />
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<b>Epilogue 2:</b><br />
The Camry got towed home yesterday after it almost caught on fire. It's a sign.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-14012590639888735272015-04-21T12:55:00.001+10:002015-06-22T12:53:51.753+10:00Klondyke Loop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bowden Spur, Spur Road, Toolangi SF, Mount Klondyke, Bald Spur</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~115km ride<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> <strike>Saturday 23rd May</strike> </span>Saturday 6th June<span style="font-family: inherit;">, 7:30am @ Hurstbridge Train Station</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/685436642">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/685436642</a></span><br />
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<b>Note: Date change to Saturday 6th June due to clash with DDCX Round 1!</b><br />
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So I'm heading out to Toolangi State Forest to do a lap of Mount Klondyke and check out some sights along the way. Anyone want to join me?</div>
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My goals for this ride are to see the power lines track on the other side of Bowden Spur, spend some quality time in Toolangi seeing new (to me) roads, see if I can get down Rocky Track without walking the whole thing or breaking anything and, finally, not burn all my matches before the day is done!</div>
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I'll be on a rigid singlespeed 26er so there'll be plenty of walking. Should all be fine on a CX bike except Rocky Track which might not be fine on any bike. There's no planned food stops until 94km in at Kinglake so bring enough food for the whole day. Water will be from creeks so bring your purification system of choice (tabs, filter, iron guts etc.), two bidons should be enough, depending on the weather.</div>
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Feels like I haven't done an "open to all" ride like this in ages so let me just point out that I haven't ridden this route before so shit may happen, there's no cue sheets, it's a group ride - we'll stick together, there's plenty of scope for bailing out early so have a look at the planned route and bring your sense of adventure.</div>
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See ya there!</div>
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The full story</b></span><br />
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Well that was a good solid ride with good folk.<br />
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About ten of us rolled out about 7:30am, it was cloudy and cool but not raining.<br />
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My mate Dave joined us for his first ever group ride experience. He's new to cycling and found it hard to settle into a sustainable pace on the rollers out on Hildebrand Road. He pulled the pin early but promised to check out the next MGG ride. Nice one, Dave!<br />
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I had a good chat with Alan as we both hiked up the steeper pitches of Bowden Spur Road. We were up in the clouds by the time we topped out on the main road. Everyone else was patiently waiting at the top, freezing their arses off.<br />
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A quick bit of route-finding and we were flying down the other side to follow the powerlines down to Glenburn Road. This section was new to me and I loved it. Fast downs, pinchy ups, beautiful tall trees. The private property situation was a bit of a grey area but soon enough we popped out onto the bottom section of Glenburn Road.<br />
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We followed Melba Highway for a couple hundred metres to reach the entrance to Toolangi State Forest. It was a rude shock after the solitude and beauty of the powerlines track.<br />
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We rode straight up Marginal Road into Toolangi SF. Second time I've ridden that road and I've enjoyed it both times. A nice steady climb that goes on for a few km, never too steep, a good road for riding.<br />
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I hassled Ed quite a bit about the bike he was riding, a National Forest Explorer by small scale builder Elephant, out of Spokane Washington. My questions were probing and abundant because, as it happens, I've bought a National Forest Explorer too! As I write, mine's getting painted and should be shipped, built up and rolling by, I dunno, mid-July? I can't wait. It looked great in person and Ed was loving it. For me, this bike will facilitate a return to longer rides, like I used to do. No more of that slacker stuff.<br />
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We regrouped at the big intersection of Marginal and Spraggs Roads. Al had a thermos of coffee! Legend!<br />
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While we were eating and chatting we heard some motorbikes come flying up the trail. First one turned the corner and went down Marginal, second one was carrying way too much speed for the slick clay conditions and his rear tire did a big slide as we watched on in growing anticipation, "Whoa!" and then another slide, I know we were all hoping for the same thing, "Whooooaaaa!" and then he finally lost it completely and laid down on the slick clay and skidded away out of sight round the corner as a massive cheer and laughter echoed through the bush, "Whaheeeeeyyyyyyyyy!!!" Che felt bad that we'd heckled the poor dude so hard and rode down to see if he was ok. He was fine and his mate was helping him pick up his bike. It was a slow speed fall and he had all the gear on, the only damage was to his ego, hehe.<br />
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We took stock of the time and realised we were running a bit behind. I thought we should probably cut the loop short at this point and, when MikeD said he had to get to work by 4pm, the deal was sealed. Instead of continuing on down Marginal to complete a circumnavigation of the titular Mt Klondyke, we headed back out of the forest on Victoria Range Road.<br />
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We regrouped at the top of Rocky Track and I tried to warn everyone of what was to come. I'd seen the bottom section of this track a few years ago and it looked pretty unrideable. It was super steep and rocky, as the name would suggest, but the rock was super chunky and ledgy and really washed out in places. The track was braided badly where the 4wd crew had chewed the A line to hell, then made a B line and trashed that, then started a new C line etc. etc. The place was churned up to hell. When it wasn't bare wet rock it was deep fist-sized gravel or slick wet clay.<br />
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LP was on slick tires so he was up front about taking his time and being super cautious. Good move LP. Tom, on the other hand, was equally as vocal about riding the whole thing, no dabs. Predictably, everyone walked. Some started hiking earlier than others but, yeah, it was too steep and loose and chunky and wet and I guess everyone found their own bailout point on the risk/return spectrum.<br />
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Fortunately, the gnar only lasted a km or two and then we were back down at Melba Highway for a spell before heading up Glenburn Road to climb all the way back up to Kinglake on the paved road.<br />
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We stopped at Kinglake for a while, ate PCs, drank coffee etc. before climbing up to the top of Bald Spur Road for the ripper descent back down to Hurstbridge. Tom was psyched for the descent and had been saying how much he loved it but unfortunately he didn't get to complete it!<br />
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Halfway down the hill, Tom's rear tire lost a bunch of pressure. He figured he'd burped it on the vicious corrugations (Bald Spur Road's not in great shape atm) so we pumped it up (a couple of times due to removable valve cores and screw-on pump heads!) and tried to keep going. Still wasn't holding pressure. By now it was just me and Tom, everyone else had rolled on.<br />
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We stretched my spare 26er tube onto his 29er rim and pumped it up. Pssssssss. Took the tube out and tried to patch it with glueless patches. Grubby hands and not enough patience meant it took a couple of goes and lots of wasted patches but we finally got it holding air. Put the tube back in but this time the tire bead didn't want to get onto the rim so we hamfisted it for a while before resorting to tire levers. Finally got the tire on and started pumping it up. Wasn't going up at all. We'd butchered the tube in the process of getting the stubborn tire bead on.<br />
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We were both jack of it by now, Tom was like, "Fuck it, I'm walking!" Luckily, we were only about 15km from Hurstbridge, where I live, so I raced back home, jumped in the car and came back for him. Everyone else had already got back to Hurstbridge station and were halfway home by now.<br />
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Not the best way to finish a ride but, hey, it is what it is.<br />
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Thanks everyone for coming out and sorry I couldn't see you all at the end!<br />
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See ya next time!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-60271050243757000572015-04-08T12:44:00.000+10:002015-04-08T12:44:46.418+10:00Almost Tali Karng, Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Old Moroka Road, Wellington Plains, Marathon Road</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~145km ride, ~16km hike<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 7th March, 10:00am @ Briagolong</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/648561418">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/648561418</a></span><br />
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<i>(Continued from <a href="http://therewillbedirt.blogspot.com.au/2015/03/almost-tali-karng.html">part one</a>)</i><br />
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The night was cool and clear and I slept lightly. Around 3am I started to feel a bit cold so I lay awake for a while and thought about my plans for the day. The more I did the maths, the more I realised my plans were going to need some adjustment.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>The crux of the problem was that I'd have to wait for daylight to make the trip down to the lake worthwhile. The lake is surrounded by steep mountains on every side so I'd have to wait until well after sunrise if I wanted to see sunlight on the water. So, 6am start, 4.5km hike down to the lake, rush around, get photos etc., hike back up 4.5km, then hike 9km back to the carpark at McFarlane Saddle, then ride 80km back to Briagolong, then drive 3 hours to get home. Gah... Rae was working that night so I couldn't be late.<br />
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Fuck it.</div>
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I was cold and felt like I probably wouldn't sleep any more. I've always told myself that if I was in that situation I'd just get up and start riding, problem solved. But no, I had to wait around, wide awake and freezing my arse off, waiting for the sun to rise just so I could take a photo of the lake, and then I'd be a good chance of getting home late and stuffing up Rae's work etc.</div>
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<i>Fuck it.</i></div>
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I started doing the maths on what would happen if I started hiking back to the carpark right now. Yep. Better result. Good margin for error.</div>
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Ok.</div>
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So I packed up and got the fuck out of Nyimba, trying not to wake anyone as I tiptoed out by torchlight, telling myself stories to make me feel good about my decision to bail. The lake will still be there next time. It wouldn't really be doing it justice to run down there for ten minutes, snap some photos and then run back up again. I really needed to be there in the afternoon. The damage was done earlier in the day and pulling the pin was the only smart option. Too late a start, too slow up the climb. All this was playing out in my head as I stomped back across the Wellington Plains.</div>
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And then I realised how fucking cool it was to be stomping across the Wellington Plains at 3am on a cool, dewy morning, massive clear sky full of stars overhead and a huge moon lighting the way, almost enough that I didn't need a torch.</div>
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The story that I'd wanted to tell myself was all about the lake. The story that actually happened was all about the Wellington Plains.</div>
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<i>(NB: No photos because still dark. Guess you had to be there...)</i><br />
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It was chilly but not uncomfortable. My shoes and legs were soaked from picking up dew off the long grass. I was using my helmet light as a handheld torch to make sure I didn't lose the singletrack. Sometimes I had to hold it up high to get a different angle on the ground as the trail faded away for a bit or, equally confounding, when it braided into multiple tracks, sometimes joining up again soon after, sometimes not.</div>
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I heard a deer bark in the distance and smiled as I trudged on. It was a familiar sound now. You're never alone out in the bush.</div>
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I saw three owls as I hiked along in the darkness. Or maybe it was the same one? One silently flew ahead of me and landed in a tree, bobbing its head and checking me out. I stopped and shone my torch at it to have a look. After a while the thought occurred to me that shining a bright torch right into the eyes of a nocturnal creature like an owl probably wasn't the most courteous thing to do. I loved how it just stood there on the branch, letting me study it but, then again, maybe it was stunned by the blinding light in its huge eyes and was too dazzled to fly off?</div>
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Hm... I shone the torch off to the side of the owls after that, close enough for me to see them but not blaring full in their face, and I didn't keep them from their business too long.</div>
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The time went quickly and, even though I took multiple breaks to stop walking, hold my breath and appreciate the serenity with wide eyes and a dumb grin, I arrived back at the carpark all too soon.</div>
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Best. Walk. Ever.</div>
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The feeling of that walk, the memory of it, is strong and lasting. It was profound and absurd at the same time. I loved being out there. I loved it all.</div>
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It was still dark as I stomped into the bushes to retrieve my stashed bike. The area still looked familiar by torchlight, right up until the point that it didn't look familiar at all. I crashed around through the thick scrubby trees for ages trying to find where I'd left my bike. Bloody thing. I walked back out to the trail and started again, trying to remember which tree I ducked under, which branches I pushed back, whether I went left or right at that fallen trunk.</div>
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Nope. Nothing.</div>
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Ok, ok. GPS. I fired up my GPS and started seeking towards the waypoint that I'd so thoughtfully (as an afterthought) dropped the day before. Bloody hell. It still took me ages to zero in on the stashed bike. I must have blundered past it a couple of times before finally finding it. A black and white bike is pretty hard to find in a thick mess of scrubby trees with white trunks by torchlight. Who woulda guessed?</div>
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I hauled it out of its hiding place, got myself back into bike mode and rolled out of McFarlane Saddle, thirty-odd cars still in the carpark, thirty-odd carloads of people still in there, some at the lake, some at Nyimba Camp, maybe the early risers just starting to wake up and poke their heads out of their tents and think about getting the fire going for some coffee, maybe looking over to where I'd laid down the night before and thinking, "Huh, that guy's gone already. Man, what a kook."</div>
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It was nice riding down Moroka Road in the early morning. Another beautiful clear day dawning. I stopped at Moroka River again for water and kept it rolling pretty well. It's mostly downhill and I was loving the ride.</div>
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I spied something in the middle of the road a hundred or so metres ahead and stopped dead. A medium-sized deer, dead centre middle of the road with a full-on aggressive stance, front feet apart, ready for action, like (assume full-on bogan accent) <i>"Oy! What da fuq are you?! Whaddya doin?! Ay? Ay? Ya gutless, ya dog!"</i> I took some photos and started slowly rolling forward. <i>"Fuck! He's coming! Run! Run!"</i> And the deer was gone, along with the other smaller one that I hadn't seen earlier. Parent and child maybe?</div>
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And yes, sometimes when I see animals they have funny accents and swear at me.</div>
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Originally I'd planned to get back down to Briagolong the same way I'd come up - Old Moroka Road. Having seen the state of that road I realised that it wouldn't be a simple case of "bombing down to Briagolong". Too rocky, too gnarly for a large part of it and I was feeling lazy. Instead, I rolled on to the top of Marathon Road which, though it's equally gnarly near the top, soon turns into a dirt super-highway. Nearly all downhill (except for a few uphills) and wicked fast. 50km/hr+ with abandon. Sure beats riding the brakes for miles on end, worrying about pinch flats.<br />
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It was good times flying down Marathon Road. There was a little bit of traffic but no dramas. I filled up water at New Place Creek, rolled on. The views off to the side of Mt Wellington, Sentinels, Gable End etc. took on new significance as I was now looking at where I'd just been earlier that morning. Awesome.<br />
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Steady rolling now, finally a view down over Gippsland, the trees started giving way to cleared farmland, the occasional farm gate, a letterbox, local traffic and then... paved road. I can never wait to get away from it but it always feels good to return to it.</div>
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I was happy. I'd made good time on the way down. The job was more or less done. Flat straight Gippsland roads and then Briagolong, the car, mobile phone reception, hunger, thirst, loud music and suddenly moving at 100km/hr didn't feel fast enough.</div>
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Food at Sale. A power-nap at Traralgon. Home about 3:30pm. Rae made her night shift on time and the kids slept through the night for me. It all turned out good in the end.</div>
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And as for Lake Tali Karng? Well, that apple is still on the tree. I'll be back for it later.<br />
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Like Ol' Mate Nugget from Dunsmuir Hut, I don't think I'll be able to keep myself away...<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-13055248122499614712015-03-23T13:28:00.000+11:002015-03-23T13:28:26.950+11:00Almost Tali Karng<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Old Moroka Road, Wellington Plains, Marathon Road</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~145km ride, ~16km hike<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 7th March, 10:00am @ Briagolong</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/648561418">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/648561418</a></span><br />
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Lake Tali Karng has been on my list for years now. A hidden lake high up in the mountains on the edge of the Avon Wilderness with no vehicle access, just a walking track. What's not to like? I had an overnighter pencilled in for March and decided to make Tali Karng the destination. If not now, when, right? So, off I went to see the hidden lake.<br />
<a name='more'></a>The drive to Briagolong was uneventful, unless you count missing the turnoff onto the Princes Highway and almost ending up in Frankston due to sausage and egg McMuffin related distractions as eventful. Serves me right for eating that bloody thing - they're terrible.<br />
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The plan was to ride up Old Moroka Road, across to Tali Karng, hang out for a bit and, hopefully around sunset, wander back along Moroka Road to find a campground for the night. The next day I'd get up early, snap some photos and bomb it back down Old Moroka Road to Briagolong. Seemed simple enough.<br />
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I rolled out of Briagolong on two wheels about 10am. Later than I'd hoped but hey, it is what it is.<br />
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I could see the mountains in the distance and suspected that I was looking at Gable End which was very near Tali Karng. Nice.<br />
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The first couple of km were good flat Gippsland farmland and then I joined the Valencia Creek and we both wound our way up into the hills. It'd be pretty much all uphill to get to the lake - Briagolong is at about 50m ASL and I'd hit 1500m before the day was through.<br />
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This first part of the climb was pretty cruisy. Nice wide dirt road, campsites visible along the creek, even a passel of cleared land for sale in there. Would be a great place to live. After Paddy Lees Crossing, a little concrete ford over the creek, the road turned to proper 4wd terrain and I was off the bike hiking up steep switchbacks. This set the tone for the rest of the climb. The road got gnarlier, the pitch remained steep and the views just got better and better.<br />
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Took a while to fix a flat - small piece of wire. Patched it. The creek was far down below, the hills on either side were steep, the road bench cut into the side of the range.<br />
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The was plenty of ridable road but I'll remember it most for the hiking. Frequent sections of steep and loose rock, lots of hiking. Some of the downhill parts were equally steep and loose and required full concentration to pick the right line and not bin it. The track was quite rocky and I touched the rims at high speed once or twice (WTB Nano 2.1" tires btw). I'd say doable on a CX bike but only if you're into Type 2 fun. I was happy to escape some sections without pinch-flatting.<br />
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The higher I climbed the more apparent it became that the big mountain over the way that I'd been looking up at all day was indeed the Gable End/Sentinels/Mt Wellington massif. Kinda cool to have the destination in view all throughout the day.<br />
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Later in the day, I came across the only traffic I'd meet on this climb. A couple of small bunches of trail bikers coming down the track towards me. Thumbs ups, nods, waves, grins were exchanged. We were each in our element, I figured, and the place was big enough for all of us to have our fun.<br />
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I had a bit of a sit down at the "top" where the road meets Moroka Range Track. That was the main part of the climb done and I was at about 1200m. That long slog up the Old Moroka Road had taken a lot longer than I thought it would. I didn't sit for long - it was still a ways to go to get to the lake and I was keen for a drink by now, which meant reaching the Moroka River.<br />
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Moroka Range Track was relatively easy going, more well trafficked, less sustained climbing but still plenty of short sharp pinches to hike up. I heard some vehicles coming towards me over one such pinch and got off the road so they could pass. First guy stopped and we chatted a bit.<br />
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He and his wife grinned out of their 4wd at me, called me crazy etc., the usual stuff, and I must admit I had no good comebacks for them. I was feeling knackered, there were just no smartarse remarks forthcoming. Very disappointing, sorry guys. Anyway, they had a good laugh when I told them I was heading up and over Mt Wellington to the lake. The said they'd just come from Mt Wellington and it had taken them about an hour to drive down off it, it was so rocky and steep.<br />
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Hmmm, ok. I did the maths, quickly realised I wouldn't reach the lake before dark. Hiking up and over Mt Wellington sounded like it was going to take ages. Guy mentioned the walking track from McFarlane Saddle and I had to agree that sounded like a good idea. Off they went, off I went, each in their element, plenty of room for fun etc.<br />
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I took a quick break at the start of Mt Wellington Track to check my GPS. I'd originally planned to ride up and over Mt Wellington but if I rode from here out to the main road (Moroka Road. Everything's called Moroka up there) then I could get to McFarlane Saddle on easy terrain, stash my bike and hike out the 13km to the lake unencumbered. Yep. That'd be the go. Seemed better than pushing my bike up unridable tracks for ages.<br />
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As I was nutting this out, another little convoy of 4wds pulled up, first guy hanging out his window, glaring :<br />
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Him: "You right mate?"<br />
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Me: "Yeah, no worries, thanks mate." Back to looking at my GPS...<br />
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Him, still staring, concerned and a little nonplussed : "You right?"<br />
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Me: "Yeah, no worries mate, all good" thumbs up, wave, smile etc.<br />
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Him, brow furrowed, confused : "Well at least you're not wearing lycra!"<br />
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And then he gunned it and they all took off up Mt Wellington Track in a cloud of exhaust smoke, dust and indignation.<br />
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I chuckled, mentally locked in my revised plan (kinda thankful that I wasn't going up the same track as those dudes were) and rolled down the hill to Moroka River where I got that welcome drink.<br />
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Out on the main road the riding was easy, albeit mostly uphill to McFarlane Saddle. When I got there... fark me, I knew it was a popular place, it being one of the trailheads for accessing Lake Tali Karng, and it being a long weekend weekend but still, there must have been about thirty cars parked there. No people around at all so that meant thirty car loads of people were already in there at the lake or nearby, exactly where I was going.<br />
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Oh well. Plenty of room for all of us to have our fun.<br />
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I stashed my bike in the bushes and, almost as an afterthought, took a GPS waypoint of where it was hidden before starting the hike out onto the Wellington Plains.<br />
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The Wellington Plains were amazing. They're at about 1500m, scrubby grass and short gnarly trees - it feels alpine, well, in the Australian sense. It was great to get a big wide view right before me after riding all day in the trees and sneaking peeks of faraway ranges. Now I was on those faraway ranges, hiking along the top of them, more or less. There was such a sense of space - a big wide open field after crawling along through the trees all day. I felt up high, on top, above. It was great.<br />
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The sun was getting low in the sky as I eagerly hiked and jogged my way along the singletrack. I came across a dilapidated old hut - Dunsmuir Hut - and went in for a look. Nothing inside but graffiti dating back to the 70's. Clearly "Nugget" had loved the place so much on his first visit in our Bicentennial year, that he decided to return again and again. Onya Nugget!<br />
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I scampered on, eager to get there. The more I walked, the more I realised that "there" would be Nyimba Camp, the campground high above Lake Tali Karng, just near the trail that shoots down steeply to that hidden lake. I figured the lake would be packed with people and I'd probably get there in the dark. Hm, why not stop at Nyimba Camp, sleep and then duck down to the lake in the morning? This plan solidified in my mind as I hiked.<br />
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Honestly, I'd never really resigned myself to camping at the lake anyway. Everywhere you read about Lake Tali Karng it's said that it's a sacred place to the Gunai Kurnai people. They don't go there themselves, they tolerate other people going there for a look but they see it as disrespectful when people camp there and ask that visitors camp up at Nyimba Camp or below the lake on the Wellington River. In the end, I was happy to respect their wishes.<br />
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I settled into the rhythm of walking, watching my footing, swapping my sadddle bag and water bottle from arm to arm as they became uncomfortable (could have used a backpack), watching out for animals, scanning the horizon to see new views opening up befo...BARK!!! HOLY CRAP! Startled, I looked up from watching my feet on the track and saw a deer crashing through the bushes away from me. It must have been thirty metres away when it saw me and let out a warning bark and took off. Awesome!<br />
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I stopped dead and watched, a dumb grin on my face. It got to a safe distance in the trees and stood there, just looking at me, and barking periodically. Its barks echoed all around the plain - it was loud! Any other deer or animal within kilometres would have heard that warning. I was well and truly busted. I took some photos but the deer was too well hidden by the trees so I shot a quick video to capture he sound of its barking. Even though I thanked it, said goodbye and took off down the trail again, the deer kept barking periodically for ages. "Alright already! I'm going, man, you can shut up now!"</div>
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I was stoked to see the deer and wondered if I'd be able to spot another animal that had left a lot of evidence of its presence. I'd spotted plenty of dog poo along the length of the trail so far and on a previous ride in the area I'd seen a lot of dog tracks in the snow. I know there are lots of dogs out there but I've yet to see a single one. I didn't see a dog this time either, but I'll bet that a dog saw me.<br />
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On I hiked, the sun getting lower and lower. The signboard at the trailhead showed that the trail crossed Moroka River - I was keen to fill my bottle again and kept an eye out for it. Well, I crossed a couple of seeping, swampy bits in the track but I couldn't see anything that looked like a river. I figured it'd be small up here but I guess I was so close to its source that I couldn't find it at all. To think, what starts off as just wet patches on the ground, a puddle, a smear of mossy water across a rock, would become, just a few kilometres away, a good sized river. Amazing place.<br />
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The sun was fast disappearing in the west as I approached Nyimba Camp. At one point, I turned around to have a look at where I'd been, to scan the scene, as I'd been doing the whole way, and...<br />
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wow...<br />
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Mt Wellington turned golden by the setting sun. Everywhere else was now grey and getting dark, out of reach of the sun for now, starting to turn to night. My eyes were accustomed to the greyness, the gathering dark, the shadow that was taking the colour from everything as I walked. So when I turned and looked up at the bulk of Mt Wellington radiating golden sunlight from its position just a few kilometres away and a couple hundred metres higher... the effect was stunning. Jaw dropping. Amazing. I was literally stopped dead in my tracks, amazed, with my mouth hung open in a slack jawed smile.<br />
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It silenced my mind.<br />
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I savoured the experience a while and then hiked on.<br />
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Smoke rising from the trees not far away. Nyimba Camp. I smelled food. Saw unnatural colours in the trees, tents, people, campfires, voices, laughter. I wandered around the campground a bit before choosing a likely spot to lay down. Not too close to anyone else, though I could hear adjacent campfire conversations quite clearly.<br />
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I discovered that I had phone reception if I stood halfway between my camp site and the drop toilet so I called Rae and checked in. All good. Max didn't want to talk to me, probably playing on his iPad.<br />
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I lay down and sorted out my gear for the night. Not much else to do so I zipped myself into my bivvy and tried to get comfortable. Bright stars overhead. No wind. Just a cool calm night. Laughter and talking floating around in the trees. The occasional flash of torchlight and footsteps as someone walked to the toilet or to get some water. A massive moon rising. The silhouette of tree branches. Shuffling to get comfortable. The campground noises became less frequent and eventually stopped altogether.<br />
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I dozed and then finally slept, zipped up in my little bag, high on the mountain plains.<br />
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END PART ONE<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-53498340391608171172015-03-04T13:34:00.000+11:002015-03-04T13:34:20.295+11:00Skenic Sunrise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mt Skene, Lazarini Spur</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~105km ride<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 21st February, early @ Jamieson</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/620651502">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/620651502</a></span><br />
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Continuing the theme of slacker rides with seemingly more driving than riding, I decided to check out a climb that I've been hearing about for years now but have somehow managed to dodge despite multiple invitations to ride it - Mt Skene. It was beginning to seem like everyone had climbed this mountain except me so I put together a loop out of Jamieson that would put me near the top of the mountain, amongst the most scenic views, right around sunrise. Even a muppet with an iPhone would be hard pressed to take a bad shot up there at that time of day, surely?<br />
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<a name='more'></a>A slacker ride is a "day ride" that gets me home in plenty of time for dinner. Making this ride fit those criteria necessitated an early start so I rolled out in the Camry about midnight. It was a quick and uneventful run to Jamieson - only a few roos and rabbits on the side of the road, none of them inclined to teach me about compassion on such a warm and pleasant night. A quick transition at Jamieson and I was rolling on two wheels about 2:40am. Making good time already, nice.<br />
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The first section of Jamieson-Licola Road was unreal, mostly because of the sky. It was... incredible. Such a huge black sky full of so many clear stars and a broad streak of Milky Way. I stopped and turned off my helmet light multiple times to appreciate the stellar view. I even took a bunch of photos to try to capture the awesomeness but, of course, none of them turned out. Guess you had to be there.<br />
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I've been following a couple of ISS astronauts on twitter recently and it was blowing my mind thinking that I was looking up towards them and they might be looking down towards me. Amazing views in both directions, to be sure. The ISS is visible to the naked eye if you know when and where to look - I really need to work a mountain-top ISS spotting into one of these rides.<br />
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Anyway, the road started going up and I got down to business. It was a warm, humid night with no wind so pretty soon I was sweating buckets. I took off my shirt and went bare-chested. I was mildly spewing that I couldn't take off my helmet too but my only light was attached to it.<br />
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Up, up I rode, slowly grinding through the night.<br />
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There were plenty of noises from the darkness on either side of the road but the first section of the climb was dominated by silent creatures - moths and bats. So many little moths flying around, I'm surprised I didn't inhale any. And, silently swooping around eating the moths, tiny little microbats. Again and again the little bats would buzz in and out of the cone of my helmet light, swooping close past my head. So cool. Apparently some microbats can eat three quarters of their bodyweight in insects per night.<br />
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Moths, bats, sweat and dust.<br />
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It was dark so there were no views to distract the eye away from the task at hand. Just climb and climb. Crashing noises of mammals in the bushes, the constant chirping, whistling drone of a million unseen insects, maybe the hard black silhouette of a ridge cutting across the starry sky and tires slowly crunching over gravel.<br />
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I slowed a little as the pitch of the road levelled off a bit. Hm, sounds like running water. Where's it coming from? Oh, it's the spring! Ha!<br />
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I knew there was a spring three quarters of the way up the mountain and I was relying on it to fill my bottles. This spring took the form of a concrete tank being filled by a noisy little trickle from a plastic pipe. In the darkness, lit from my helmet light, I found it a very Ringu springu. The inside of the tank was full of algae and wrigglers - it took a couple of goes to get a clean bottle of water from it. I took some photos, ate, put my shirt on, looked around and noticed that the darkness of the night was ever so slightly being chased away by morning.<br />
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Almost directly across from the spring was the start of Snake Edwards Divide Track. I wasn't going down that track but it gets a mention because I love the name. Snake Edwards. Part of me really wants to know the story behind the name but another part of me doesn't want to ruin the image I have in my head of this total (and totally imaginary) badass, alpine bushy from the 1800's. Snake Edwards. Legend of the Upper Jamieson and Historical Mad Dog.<br />
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So, on I rode, still climbing, as the day started dawning. I was reasonably high up by now and the views that started appearing were amazing. Pinks, blues, oranges, the horizon was lighting up with colour. I began stopping regularly to take photos, most of which didn't turn out. Every corner revealed a new view that I tried and failed to capture. The higher I went, the further I could see and the lighter the sky became. I was in a frenzy, racing up the hill to the next view, dropping my bike in the middle of the road and taking a million underexposed photos before racing further up the hill to the next view again.<br />
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At one such stop, a large owl flew down and landed on a tree branch up above me. It checked me out while I clumsily pawed at my iPhone trying to capture it on film. It was still too dark for photos like this so I just stopped and looked back at the owl as it looked down at me, occasionally bobbing its head and cocking its big shiny eyes at me. When it finally took off down the road and into the trees there was barely a whisper. Impressive for such a big bird.<br />
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Further up the hill I raced, giggling and gibbering to myself as each corner revealed new and exciting vistas.<br />
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I got plenty of shots of the mountains I recognised, especially the ones to the east and north. Mt Terrible in the middle distance and Mt Torbreck looming behind it. Scanning east and south from Mt Terrible there was the hump of Corn Hill (not the Buller one) followed shortly by Mt Matlock and Baw Baw way in the distance.<br />
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I got the iconic Mt Skene shot of the dirt road winding away into the distance - Andy's version of that shot from years ago had me drooling and dreaming and thinking "Wow, I'd love to ride up there one day. THAT'S the fkn place to be!" I was giggling like a schoolgirl, loving that I'd finally made it up there, that place I'd seen photos of all those years ago, that I'd heard so much about from friends in recent times, that I'd dreamed of riding to for so long.<br />
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On I rode, a giggling mess, it was so beautiful. March flies swarmed whenever I stopped, but they only went for my shoes for some reason (black colour? leather?). Rolling along the flatter plains near the summit I startled a herd of grazing cows. Ha! Did not expect that.<br />
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When I reached the sign at the highest point on the road the sun was up but still very low in the sky.<br />
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The timing worked out great and I was exactly where and when I wanted to be.<br />
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I love it when a plan comes together.<br />
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Well, it was all downhill from there. But that's not a bad thing. A couple of km down Jam-Lic Road and I reached the turnoff to Lazarini Spur Track. I was keen to see this track as I'd heard of it in various places over the years. It started off nice and rainforesty, a gentle downhill grade that reminded me of the back of Donna. Then it went steeply up for a few km. Then steeply down. Then steeply up and down in quick succession. Then it shot down like a fkn madman. Must have been 30% downhill in some parts, 4wd'd to bits, huge ruts, loose shale, stopping at every water bar to pick a line and let the brakes cool down. It was mostly rideable though - I only walked down one short section that I couldn't see a safe line through. Good fun.<br />
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Slowly I picked my way down the spur and finally bottomed out at the first river crossing. Nice. The sun was hot by now and I did not mind at all that I had to take my shoes off and wade through the cool water.<br />
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I hung out for a bit, dangling my bare feet in the water. Could have stayed there for hours but the road beckoned. Shoes and socks back on, back on the bike, two hundred metres later, the second river crossing.<br />
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Still not complaining.<br />
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One last section of contouring around a spur and finally I reached the main road. Well, as "main" a road as Mansfield-Woods Point Road can be. It's a dirt road but very wide and very well used, with little towns and about a million little campgrounds all along it as it follows the Goulburn River down the valley. All downhill with a very gentle grade but, for the first time since leaving Jamieson the night before, there was traffic. Fast, bogan, tourist traffic. And the road, though ridiculously wide, was corrugated to hell, so I ended up using the full width of the road sometimes just to try to escape the killer washboard that would stop you dead in two bike lengths if you hit it wrong. And the dust from the passing cars! Bejesus!<br />
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Ok, so it wasn't that bad. I'd been spoiled on this ride and that's for sure. Yes, this last section was dusty and hot and there were cars but I was still in a beautiful part of the world and thankful for it.<br />
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Those last miles went quickly and, soon enough, I rolled into Jamieson to complete the loop. But not before ducking down to the river to dunk my head and soak my feet a spell.<br />
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Ride done. I loaded up the Camry and hit up the Jamieson store where I bought a bunch of vittles for the drive home including the worst coffee I've ever tasted and one truly terrible PC. Thanks anyway, Jamieson!<br />
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And on that note, I wound down the windows, cranked up my stay-awake-for-the-drive-home mix and tore arse out of town in a cloud of dust and sweat, punishing that old Camry in the heat and screaming along to Minor Threat and thinking how fukn cool it is to go places and ride bikes.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-35947675682723173482015-02-17T13:16:00.000+11:002015-02-17T13:16:30.314+11:00Lady Talbot Ride<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lady Talbot Drive, Keppel Hut</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~56km ride<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 24th January, 8:00am @ Marysville</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/625307246">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/625307246</a></span><br />
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Lady Talbot Drive is another road that's been on my list for a long time. It climbs from Marysville up towards Lake Mountain and is feature-rich - it runs right next to a decent river, there's waterfalls, huts, heaps of wildlife and it takes you up to Lake Mountain Ski Resort. What's not to like? I decided to do another slacker ride the other weekend to check it out.</div>
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The plan was to drive to Marysville and do a short ride from there. I'd figured that a 5am start would give me plenty of time to ride, soak up the serenity and still be back for dinner but somehow I found myself still in bed at 6am and, worse, I was considering not only small route changes but completely different rides. My commitment to sparkle motion was definitely in question.<br />
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I finally dragged my arse out of bed and got driving, parked up at Marysville and was rolling on two wheels by 8am. To further the disorganised theme of the ride, I was riding without my SPOT tracker (I'd forgot that I loaned it to a mate for the Kiwi Brevet), without my GPS (it was sitting on my desk at work) and without paper maps. So, there'd be no heroics today - didn't want to end up on the news. Anyway, the route was a simple one so I figured I'd do it from memory. No problem.<br />
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Rolling onto Lady Talbot Drive I was happy to see a "road closed" sign. It said something about "tree hazard" which I figured meant that some trees were down - a hazard for cars but not for bikes. It meant that I'd have the road to myself which is good. I was expecting a bit of tourist traffic up there, it being Australia Day Weekend and all, but turns out I didn't see a (moving) car for the whole ride (bar local Marysville traffic). Nice.<br />
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The road was as awesome as I'd hoped it would be. Well-used dirt superhighway for the most part, getting a little rougher the higher it went. Steep, thickly treed hills on both sides and the fast-flowing Taggerty River a constant companion. I spotted movement up ahead on the road and stopped dead - two deer. No, make that three. They were over a hundred metres away at least. I jumped off the bike, watched them for a while, took some photos and, sure that they'd take off any second, I slowly approached. They made me almost immediately, all three faces locked onto my movement. They let me advance about ten metres before the boss gave a loud bark and they all turned tail and scampered away before jumping up into the bush on the high side of the road.<br />
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The Taggerty Cascades were a pleasant and unassuming feature. Better than Snobs Creek Falls anyway.<br />
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The road went up and up, nicely graded for riding. I startled plenty of Black Stinkers nibbling on the side of the road. They'd invariably spot me, do a funny double-take and then drop down the low side of the road and crash away into the impenetrable scrub. Little scamps.<br />
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I spotted some deer tracks in the dirt. Tried to work out what they said but couldn't. I was happy enough to see the tracks and know that there were probably a lot more eyes on me as I rolled up that hill than I'd ever know.<br />
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Soon enough I popped out onto Upper Taggerty Road. Still no cars. Shortly after, another signposted intersection. I knew that I could stay on Upper Taggerty Road and it would take me to the main road up to Lake Mountain Ski Resort. But, I remembered the name of the other road on the sign, Boundary Track, and seemed to recall that it would take me up Lake Mountain too, coming in via the ski/MTB trails instead of the main (paved) road. Easy choice - I took Boundary Track.<br />
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Up I went, and pretty soon I saw a sign for Keppel Hut. Another easy choice. I've heard so much about Keppel Hut through friends and reading online that I had to see it. I also remembered from my route research that there was a walking track directly from the hut across to the Lake Mountain trails. From memory, it was only a couple of k's so I didn't mind if it was all hike-a-bike, at least it'd get me to the top somewhat directly.<br />
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So, along Keppel Hut Road I went, soon spying the roof of the hut between the trees, and, oh a 4wd, must be people camping there. I rolled up to the hut to find three little bivvy tents set up on the clearing out front and three young blokes sitting at the picnic table, just as surprised to see me as I was to see them. We quickly assessed each other, all parties quickly adjusting to the fact that our worlds had just collided and none of us were the only people out there any more.<br />
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Me: "G'day fellas!"<br />
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Them: "G'day!", "G'day", "Yeah, G'day mate"<br />
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Me: "..."<br />
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Them: "Wanna beer?"<br />
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I said yes, of course, and next minute I was sitting down at a picnic table in the bush with three strangers drinking a beer at 10:30 in the morning. They were mid-late twenties, suburban kids, their esky (which still had ice in it, well done fellas) still had a handful of beers in it. Crucial in my assessment of the threat level here was the fact that they were drinking Corona and Peroni - threat level minimal. I chugged one of the Coronas, chatted with the three dudes and scanned the scene.<br />
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Turns out they'd arrived the day before, stayed the night at Keppel Hut but hadn't actually slept yet - they were still up drinking from the night before. Lots of empty bottles around, beer, Wild Turkey. There was a box of .22 bullets on the table and they seemed interested when I mentioned the deer I'd seen earlier so I figured they'd had high hopes of shooting something the previous night, though I'm guessing the only casualties were beer bottles and maybe road signs.<br />
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There was a bit of chatter about where I'd ridden from, which way they were driving today, where we were all from, what sort of bike I was riding etc. and then their drunken conversation drifted away from me and I started to feel it was time to go before I outstayed my welcome. I drained the beer, said my goodbyes and took off up the road with a hearty "Thanks again!" and left them to their empty bottles, impending hangovers and their long drive back home to the 'burbs.<br />
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'Straya mate.<br />
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I pushed on up the "main road" from Keppel Hut and found it turned into pretty gnarly 4wd track almost immediately. I hiked some bits, rode some bits, always keeping an eye out for that little track across to Lake Mountain. After a while I reached a plateau and, worryingly, started to ride down the hill on the other side of it. I was pretty sure I'd missed my track by now and decided to stand around for ages peering at google maps on my phone and trying to work out where I went wrong. The map view was useless so I set it to satellite view and zoomed in and squinted at it for ages trying to scry the blurry image for tracks headed in my direction.<br />
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Nothing.<br />
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I decided to push on a bit more and see if the missing track was just up ahead, or maybe there'd be a sign or something I could use to... I dunno. So down I went, on McFadyen Track, which was a very rarely used doubletrack with lots of branches down and trees and various vegetation leaning over the track making it a reasonably technical descent at speed. Soon enough I reached the bottom of that track and met a T-intersection. Decisions, decisions. I saw clearly now that I was way off-route and google maps showed a loooong detour to get back on route. I did the maths and grudgingly accepted that I'd have to backtrack. It was the only safe and reasonable option.<br />
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I'm all for adventure and route plans that are uncertain but I wanted to be home for dinner, as promised. Also, I had no lights, no cold weather gear, no GPS, no SPOT, not much food and not much trust in google maps given my somewhat remote location.<br />
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Yep. Suck it up.<br />
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So I turned around and started hiking back up McFadyen Track the way I'd just come. Which really wasn't as bad as it first seemed - I mean, jeez, I was still out in the bush by myself in a beautiful part of the world, seeing some amazing stuff. Glass half full.<br />
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All the way back to Keppel Hut I kept my eyes peeled for the mystery track but still never saw it. Whatever. I didn't bother stopping in at the hut - I assumed the three dudes would be asleep by now, and didn't want to talk to them anyway. I retraced my tracks all the way back to Lady Talbot Drive and enjoyed the long descent all the way back down the valley towards Marysville.<br />
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Still no cars. I did see another cyclist though. I was going pretty fast down the hill on the lower section of Lady Talbot Drive when I passed an oncoming cyclist who was climbing up. Called out g'day as I flew past, didn't stop for a chat. Looked like he was on a roadie or CX bike - nice one man!<br />
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I stopped to take photos, rolled on down the hill, stopped again, enjoying the fact that I had plenty of time up my sleeve. This was a slacker ride after all!<br />
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Finally getting back to Marysville I packed bike etc. into the car and wandered over to the lolly shop to pick up some treats for the fam. I guess I haven't been to Marysville for a couple years now because it seemed to be booming since the last time I saw it. The lolly shop has finally been rebuilt, there's a massive new hotel on the main street that looks almost ready to open and there were heaps of tourists everywhere. I got a couple bags of lollies and a box of fresh blackberries before wandering over to the info centre. There, I picked up a Rooftops map of the area I'd just covered and tried to work out the sitch with that missing track.<br />
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Rooftops says there IS a walking track from directly behind Keppel Hut straight over to Lake Mountain. It even has a little bicycle icon on it! I kicked myself - I didn't snoop around too much directly at the hut because of the drunk dudes. Oh well. I was mildly spewing at this point. But, since retelling this story to some mates after I got home, I heard that a couple of them had ridden out the same way recently trying to find that same track and had got lost and come up donuts as well.<br />
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Rooftops wrong. Google maps wrong. Can't blame them too much though, the track clearly did exist at some point but was probably burnt by bushfires and not reopened. That's the way it goes.<br />
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Anyway, that's the end of this story. I drove home, high-fived the wife and kids and we all ate lollies and laughed and laughed...<br />
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Job done.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-89922886784895962015-01-15T13:38:00.000+11:002015-01-15T13:38:43.118+11:00Torbreckfast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mt Torbreck</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~40km ride, ~4.5km hike<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 20th December, 6:30am @ Eildon</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/590838056">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/590838056</a></div>
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Mt Torbreck has been on my radar for a long time now. It's the westernmost mountain in Victoria over 1500 metres and it sits somewhat removed from its neighbours so it stands to reason that the views from up top would be worth seeing. Only problem is that it doesn't have a rideable road or track to the top - the last 2km to the summit is a steep and thoroughly unrideable walking track. I figured it was ripe for a mixed-mode solo mission so I headed out there for a day trip.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Bike in the back seat of the old Camry, I drove out to Eildon before sunrise. Windy roads in the hills, wombats in the middle of the road, rabbits zig-zagging all over the shop. I parked near the supie in Eildon and rolled back over the bridge on two wheels. The water was smooth and glassy as I span along the main road back out to the Snobs Creek turnoff.<br />
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Snobs Creek Road follows Snobs Creek as it climbs up to its source between two steep ranges. A steady climb of about 17km, most of it well-maintained dirt road, avg. 5%. Nice. Only vehicle I saw on the way up was a lone logging truck.<br />
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Stopped at Snobs Creek Falls for a look. Not the most stunning falls I've seen, to be honest. From the condition of the road beyond the falls it looked like most of the traffic went as far as the falls and then turned back. An underwhelming drive I'd say.<br />
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Beautiful old growth forest abounded. Cicadas were screeching and I even found one of the noisy buggers on the road.<br />
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My turnoff onto Conn Gap Road came quickly. A rougher track than the "main" road but it soon gave way to an even rougher track - Barnewall Plains Road - a gnarly, rough 4wd track covered in rocks, sticks, branches, leaves and general crap. Doesn't see much use I'd say.<br />
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I hiked the steeper parts of this road and, on one section, head down looking where I was putting my feet, I noticed... a couple of turds. But... serious?! I couldn't believe it at first but, on closer inspection (yes, i got right down and had a good poke around, with a stick, not my fingers!) it became apparent that I was looking at two dog turds that had weathered enough that all the poo had washed away and all that was left was thick hair and echidna spines.<br />
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I shit you not.<br />
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Apparently, dogs are one of the predators of echidnas. Wikipedia tells me that dogs and foxes will prey mostly on young echidnas. Judging from the size of the spines in the poo, this was not a particularly young echidna. Must be some bad-ass dogs out there in the bush. Literally. I love coming across stories like this.</div>
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Pushing on up the hill, the track turned to grassy doubletrack and levelled out onto Barnewall Plains. There's a a picnic area with a table and some signage but not much else. Apparently, back in the 80's Mt Torbreck was approved as a possible location for a ski resort but nothing was ever developed there. So there ya go.<br />
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I scoped out the area, went back down the doubletrack a little, stashed my bike and got into hiking mode. All food/water/etc. was in or on my backpack and I was riding flat pedals in non-bike shoes so the transition was simple - swap helmet for peaked cap, wriggle shoulders out of bib straps and flip up collar on shirt. Done.<br />
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The hike was steep with lots of vegetation overhanging the track. I soon found a walking stick to help fend off the groping blackberries and make noise to alert Joe Blake to my presence. Didn't see a single reptile all day though the weather was perfect for them.<br />
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After a fun and interesting hike I reached the summit cairn, climbed on top and had my (late) breakfast. Amazing views from up there. Can't see much to the west (no city views) but the east and south were awesome. I munched on my muesli and studied the land spread out before me, trying to identify as many features as I could, scanning along ranges and peaks, relating it all to the map in my head that's been built up over years of goofing off at work looking at google maps instead of code.<br />
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Mt Terrible, Mt Skene, Dargo High Plains, Mt Matlock, Mt Baw Baw, Lake Mountain, even a little bit of the Strzeleckis - it was like looking out over the vast playground that I've been visiting and lusting over for the last few years. Each distant landmark brought back memories of previous rides that I'd done, that friends had done, that we'd planned but not yet done.</div>
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<i>"That must be Mt Matlock with the fire tower so that must be Corn Hill just in front of it (not the Buller one!). And, yes!, that must be that gnarly section of unridably steep track near the summit of Corn Hill. I've pushed a 29er up that in daylight and a 650B rando up it in darkness."</i><br />
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<i>"Woods Point is out of sight between the two. And between Mt Matlock and Baw Baw, also out of sight, would be Lake Thomson which we did a lap of on Scooter's Woods Point Century."</i><br />
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<i>"Mt Terrible with the fire tower just over there and that must be Mt Skene just behind it. Everyone's ridden it but me! Behind Skene on the horizon must be the long flat line of the Dargo High Plains - man, that time I crawled my way up it in the rain, have to go back there and see it in a better mood."</i></div>
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<i>"Lake Mountain, that time Scott and I rode up there from Warburton, I almost lost control on the way down due to arms flapping uncontrollably due to shivering. The Strzeleckis far in the distance, Gareth's backyard, and site of some of the grumpiest hours on a bike I've ever subjected my riding partner to, also some of the happiest."</i></div>
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<i>"Swinging right around, Jamieson must be down there somewhere and there's a beautiful clear view of Eildon with dam and lower pondage. You could probably trace the path of that LEiSL ride all the way around Eildon, down through Jamieson, Woods Point, back past Lake Mountain. BNT zig zags away out that way too."</i><br />
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Big broad strokes criss-crossing the landscape, literally as far as the eye could see, blue lines, purple lines, laid flat on the terrain like planned routes on a computer screen, gpx's downloaded from garmins and shared with mates eager to get route beta, to live an adventure vicariously.<br />
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So many stories. Looking out over the landscape I didn't only see the beautiful green and blue of the Australian bush, I saw so many years of stories, my own and others' and ones that are just a part of the bush, so many stories and adventures, successes, failures, joys and sorrows. A landscape full of stories.</div>
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The descent back down to Barnewall Plains went quickly and pretty soon I was riding my brakes back down the rough roads to Snobs Creek Road again. Then it was a ripper no brakes descent all the way back to the main road and a short spin back into town. Awesome.<br />
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Knowing the lay of the land now, I found a clear view from the streets of Eildon and snapped a shot of Mt Torbreck in the distance. Love me some symmetry.<br />
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Driving back home I thought about all the stories out there in the hills and about the ones that excite me the most, the stories that I really want to know and live and read and tell, the ones that really get me pumped up and keen to get moving...<br />
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...the ones we haven't written yet.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-81927194227453226722014-11-06T13:34:00.000+11:002014-12-09T13:57:27.057+11:00Wombat Botherer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Visiting : </b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sunbury, Gisborne trails, Wombat trails</span><br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~120km (depending on mood...)<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When :</b> Saturday 29th November, 8:20am @ Sunbury Train Station</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: inherit;">Where :</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/594320766">http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/594320766</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Long time, no ride.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've always wanted to check out the trails around Wombat/Gisborne area so this is the ride where I do that. And I'd love some company!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Start/finish at Sunbury station to meet the train (it's now part of the suburban metro network i.e. NOT v-line, woohoo!). There'll be some paved country roads to get out to Gisborne area where we'll check out the trails around Hobbs Road and then it's into Wombat State Forest to see the famous Wombat Track. Note: There'll be <b>LOTS </b>of singletrack on this ride - feel free to ride a 'crosser or whatever but make sure you know what you're getting into. I'll be on a rigid singlespeed 26er MTB so no speed records will be set though I'm planning to give <b>FUN </b>records a nudge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Bring heaps of water, we'll probably stop in at Gisborne or Woodend or something for food at some point. Also, if the stars align, we may meet up with a Wombat local mate who'll play tour guide for us and laugh at our bikes. If you're catching the train, get the 7:19am from Flinders Street or, even better, ride out to Sunbury!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">See ya there!</span><br />
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Just a few quick notes on this one...<br />
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Four of us rolled out of Sunbury on boring roads 'til Mt Macedon. Coffee, baked goods, met up with our guides for the day, rolled out, BAM! Gnarly raw singletrack that set the tone for the rest of the day. Our guides were on full squish and knew the trails so we just tried to keep up.<br />
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Two of us were riding SSCX which was very inappropriate for the terrain but, all credit to Che and Ed, they took it in their stride and tackled rocky DH trails and recently fuel-reduction-burned "trails" like champs.<br />
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For my part, I alternated wildly between "Oh shit waytoofast, waytoofast, waytoofast!" and "Faster! Faster! Faster!" which I took as the sign of a good challenging ride. We were all worked by the end of it - it was hot!<br />
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We said goodbye to our guides (thanks M and M!) and cruised back to Gisborne for PCs and coke, then straight on to Sunbury. Didn't ride all that we planned to but that just gives us an excuse to visit the area again.<br />
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Our actual route is linked above ^^^^ Couple of things to note: Getting out and back from Sunbury was boring, skip it if you can. We missed out on a big bunch of ST in the pineys due to "thinning" of the plantation which leaves crap all over the trail - note the sawtooth part of the route along plantation roads which were horrendously slow chunky gravel. Avoid if possible!<br />
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I didn't take a single photo of the ride but I did take a few snaps earlier in the day. For fun, I drove out there early and had a look at Camel's Hump, the highest point on Mt Macedon. Had some breakfast up there, enjoyed the serenity etc. etc. Beautiful low-lying cloud over Woodend and environs.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty little flowers up there</td></tr>
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I'd just packed up to leave and head back to the car when I heard some movement in the trees down below. Must be a roo, I thought and took a look down the hill. Imagine my surprise when I saw it was a bunch of goats! Three black goats and one brown one, big style. I snapped some photos, they spotted me and let out funny sneezing warning sounds. Watched them for ages until they eventually snaked away down the hill and out of sight into the scrub. Did not see that coming! Awesome.<br />
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And then, on a nearby tree, like some sort of Lovecraftian epilogue <i>all in italics</i> :<br />
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(Cue "For Whom The Bell Tolls"...)<br />
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Nature is so metal.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-36096893203645955282013-08-14T16:07:00.002+10:002013-10-10T14:02:24.824+11:00Local List Ticker<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-655060db-7b6b-238d-2fc3-e64f9145fad6" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Update!</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Due to unexpected stuff happening, I won't be able to make it on this ride. If anyone was planning on coming, please still turn up and do the ride without me! The route map is accurate (enough) but shoot me an email if you want some notes on the less obvious parts of the course and I'll tell you all I know. Oh, and take a few photos and I'll post your writeup here.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Cheers,</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Angry.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>Visiting :</b> Bald Spur, Andrew Hill, Toolangi, Pauls Range, Mt Jerusalem, Mt Everhard<br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~115km<br />
<b>When :</b> Saturday 31st August, 8:00am @ Hurstbridge Train Station<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/267300865">Click here for route map (subject to change!)</a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I’ve got a long list of roads and trails I want to ride - this TWBD will seek to shorten that list a little. Centred around the Kinglake/Toolangi area, the highlights for me will be :<b> </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>UP</b> Bald Spur Road</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>DOWN</b> power lines track on the other side</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>UP</b> Andrew Hill</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Connect from Myers Creek Road to Pauls Range (<b>HAB</b>!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>UP</b> Hunts Lane</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>UP</b> Mt Jerusalem Track</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>DOWN</b> Mt Everard Track</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There’ll be a lot of climbing. This is the first decent ride that I’ll do on a geared mountain bike (<i>ever!</i>) and I want to get my money’s worth! I can say there’ll be some very steep climbs, some singletrack and possibly some untracked hike-a-bike, in addition to the usual fireroads, gravel, paved roads etc. They’re the knowns. As for the unknowns, you’ll have to come out and see for yourself because I’ve got NFI.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Bring 2 bidons minimum; we’ll do lunch/beer at Toolangi Tavern; if you’ve got a choice of bike go for the one with the lowest gears (<i>plural</i>) and the fattest tires.<b> </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>NOTE</b>: This one's on the Saturday!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>UPDATE:</b> Tobe and Al went and did this ride even though I couldn't. Here's their writeup and photos...</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">The full story</span></b></div>
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(as told by Tobe and Al)</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The day shaped up perfectly, with Tobe, Al, Neil and Chris (from Pedal Cyclery in Coburg) starting from Brunswick East out to Hursty, where a couple of us (Tobe and Al) headed out for some dirt with the intention to ride a loop out to Toolangi and back, following roughly Angry’s plan.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">As we were pedaling along smiles all round, we noticed a group catching us up. As we were making a steady pace, we kept single file and chugged along. Then came the instruction, “Move over, slow down and let us pass”. As Tony Carboni passes us, he lays down the “rules” of being overtaken, where “the idea is…” basically to under no circumstances entertain the idea of cycling with another group, and always bow down to those doing a ‘serious’ ride. Anyhow, after working out this goose was for real, we told him to Vincent Van Gogh, and shortly after made it onto some gravel. We were after bushland peace, they were but an ugly remnant of the city. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">On our way out and up to the hills, we come across a band of free roaming goats, which our ignorant inner-city impulse demanded we interact with. We soon worked out that goats are the least civil animals around (save for those whom we encountered earlier, with carbon horns), and before we were seriously molested and mugged of our trailmix, we continued up. <br /> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">This commenced the first climbing section of our day, the gravel road of ‘Big Bad’ Bald Spur aka Mont Brute. The thing is very brutal, very steep and very long. But as we inevitably stopped a few times for a breather, there were some shit hot views back to Melbourne, and surrounds.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We both hopped off, Tobe dishonourably, Al mostly due to his slicks spinning out (still quite phenominal to see what he got over, considering I was struggling on reasonable tread). <br /><span id="goog_339547379"></span><span id="goog_339547380"></span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">After we crested this section, we made our war down Power Line Track. There are some ‘Private Property’ signs around, but we felt like it was all good, so we persisted and got to where we needed to be. The signs are probably just there for 4b’s. This section was mad fun, as we had the roads totally to ourselves with yet more amazing scenery and a crazy good descent cut into the hills.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We ended up over-shooting our turn off, which is a little tricky to pin point. But again, we had an inkling it may not have been right, and due to the awesome nature of the ride, were not pissed about an extra k or so. So we made the turn off at Easement Track which was a super muddy (awesome) downhill fang onto Captain Creek Road. Capt Creek was a rocky and potholed (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=JwYdc89z25U">see puddle video / with Twin Peaks styled soundtrack</a>) yet fast hardpacked road through Kinglake Nat Park, which lead us onto Kinglake Glenburn Rd. Delightful riding. <br /> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a k or two on this, we split off onto Andrew Hill. The first four to five minutes of this section were awesome. Stoked from what we had just done, we were hungry. Unfortunately we got served with a wholly unpalatable concoction of the steepest fuckin’ hills around mixed with the slipperiest fuckin’ ground around. This was some heinous hike-a-bike. Contours seldom lie after all. We were walking this section for about 30-45mins, in full sun, the ground however too moist to get traction.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Still, we were out in the bush, who can complain really? Especially considering the slamming descent on the other side, it was well worth it. Thick moist bush track well covered with debris including a heap of fallen trees which pleasingly test ones hops (a couple forced dismount). The tranquillity of the bush was only momentarily interrupted by the squealing of cantis in times of uncertainty, but for the most part we hit this one pretty fast, and it was eye-wateringly, finger crampingly sweet. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">We then made it down to the flat where we took a left, cross the bridge and on to Gordon’s Bridge Rd which takes you onto the Melba. Passing through Castella, on the way to Toolangi is an easy backroad ride for the most part. When we reached the Toolangi Tavern we were in need of a rather large meal, a beer and good use of the facilities. Despite the pub’s jingle “We’re open seven days, for lunch or dinner always”, they do follow scripture which dictates that on the eighth day, no food shall be served at lunchtime. We copped a beer, 3 packs of crisps and some hard stares from a dude with a bleached blonde mullet and dangling earing. As there was no food, we weighed up some options, and decided to head back to Kinglake where we ate a fairly decent conveyer belt style pizza.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">With perfect timing, we caught the sunset on the classic Heidelberg-Kinglake descent which was something special. Grabbed the 730ish train back to the city, and made it to The Union in time for a mates birthday drinks. All in all an absolutely solid day of riding through some beautiful Victorian bush. Angry said it would be hilly, and hot damn it was. <br /><br />Cheers Angry. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Tobe n Al</span><br /><br /><br /> <i>* The land we rode on for this ride has always and still does belong to the Woiwurrung people. If anyone is interested, the histories of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Barak">William Barak</a> and the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coranderrk">Coranderrk Aboriginal Station</a> are a great place to start learning about Victorian land rights.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Check out <a href="http://www.strava.com/activities/78872324">Tobe and Al's ride on Strava</a>. </span></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-53348036345966157932013-07-17T14:49:00.000+10:002013-08-12T13:39:25.167+10:00Post-Murch Vol. 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b> Visiting :</b> Mt Sugarloaf, Disappointment State Forest, Murchison Gap, Strath Creek<br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~145km<br />
<b>When :</b> Sunday 28th July, 9:30am @ Hurstbridge Train Station<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/247798705">Click here for route map (subject to change!)</a><br />
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Good times up north! This will be a solid ride through some beautiful country. Straight north from Hurstbridge we'll visit Mt Sugarloaf (because I've never actually been up there before) then down the other side towards Hazeldene before ducking into the Disappointment State Forest. We'll keep heading north and pop out at Murchison Gap before flying down to Strath Creek Hotel for a beer. From there we'll take an old fave, Upper King Parrot Creek Road, before climbing back up to Kinglake Central and then bombing down Bowden Spur Road and back to Hurstbridge.<br />
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Beautiful country, some paved roads, some dirt roads, some solid climbs and some screaming descents. And beer. What's not to like?<br />
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9:30am start to cater for train commuters, I'll be on a singlespeed with CX knobbies, bring 2 bidons or a bladder.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">The full story</span></b> <br />
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About 12 riders started out from Hurstbridge. It was a little cloudy, a little sunny, a bit windy. No sign of the advertised rain as we rolled out on paved roads towards Strathewen. Two SSCXers, two MTBers, a handful of CXers and a trio of tourers. Nice mix.<br />
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Unfortunately, the three tourers lost a man early on - Toby and Al were keen as mustard as we hit the first dirt of the day on Eagle's Nest Road but Neil found he was settling into a slower pace than the rest of the group and told us to ride on so he could take his time and enjoy the day at his own speed. Apparently he was familiar with the roads as he'd ridden a similar route about 30 years ago. On the same frame, no less. Chapeau Neil! I like your style.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking Pine Ridge Road</td></tr>
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We reached Pine Ridge Road in good time and found that it was unridably steep and rutted. Even the MTBers hiked large chunks of this one. What a grind. Calling it a "road" is being very optimistic - it's a fire trail at best. Actually no, not even that - there's too much deadfall and a huge erosion channel down a lot of it that would see even a 4wd high and dry with nowhere to go. We strung out along the length of the road - some resolved to pushing the whole way, some trying to get back on and ride, with varying levels of success.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sore calves right about now...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the city from Mt Sugarloaf</td></tr>
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At the top of we found a bunch of brand new houses - the area was one of the worst hit in the 2009 fires - and turned left to go check out the lookout at Mt Sugarloaf. Nice and clear. Could see the city and even the dark line of Mt Martha/Arthurs Seat way off on the horizon. It was chilly in the wind so we rolled on back to the main Kinglake Road.<br />
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Tom peeled off here, as planned, to go ride some roads out near Toolangi and Healesville. His brand new Rawland Stag was looking sweet. Love that colour! (Forgot to take a pic of it, hurr!)<br />
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The rest of us took a shortcut down through some pine plantation to reach Whittlesea-Yea Road. Well made road, lots of trees and then lots of breaks in the trees so the view was always changing. I liked that section. We regrouped at Whittlesea-Yea Road and waited for Che to roll in - he'd hit a rock and pinch-flatted apparently - very easy to do on a rocky descent with skinny tires.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Regrouping at Whittlesea-Yea Road</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun descent we'd just bombed down</td></tr>
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Paved road to Hazeldene was uninteresting - lots of traffic, me and Che spinning out our single 2:1 gears trying to stay on Mark's wheel then finally accepting our fate and letting everyone ride away. Mark said later "you could have asked me to slow down a bit." Which was very true. <br />
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The shop at Hazeldene delivered the goods. Sausage rolls, pies, burgers, chocolate bars, chocolate milk. We sat around at the tables outside and chewed the fat. It became pretty apparent that, if we continued with the planned route, we wouldn't get back to Hurstbridge until after dark. Well, I knew _I_ wouldn't anyway - I was probably the weakest link on this ride, being on a singlespeed and feeling pretty unfit amongst a solid bunch of geezers. I floated a couple of alternatives before we decided on a shorter loop back up to Kinglake via Extons Road. I'd ridden this way before and loved it so I figured it would be a worthy reroute. It didn't disappoint. Oh, and we parted ways with Liam and John at this point too - they had prior commitments and had planned to turn back early in order to meet them.<br />
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So, we rolled on into the wind for a while before getting onto Extons Road and following it all the way back to civilisation. It rolls nicely - mellow climbs followed by nice fast descents. There's enough features on the road to keep you on your toes, holes to pop over, puddles to skirt, ruts to carve aroud and, my favourite, 20-30 metre sections of railroad ballast that's been dumped on the road to fix up rutted-out muddy sections. They were usually at the bottom of a descent and had two slightly flattened-out lines through them, corresponding to 4wd tire tracks. First you pick your side - left or right - then hit it fast and try to float over the sharp-edged rocks without dinging your rims or losing too much speed. Fun.<br />
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Soon enough, the gravel gave way to paved road again and we hit the main Kinglake Road for a couple hundred metres before heading down everyone's favourite scary-fast descent, Bowden Spur Road. Steep, rocky, loose and as fast as you want it to be. I snapped a few photos down the hill of riders negotiating the switchbacks. The view across Melbourne was as spectacular as ever - it's hard to take a boring photo from up there. And still no rain!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Start of Bowden Spur Road</td></tr>
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A couple of us regrouped half way down and waited for Che who'd flatted again. Mark had just ridden down the DH course on his CX bike (!) and declared it to be too mellow and dumbed-down (though I don’t think he did any pancakes over the jumps). Nice work!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two riders dead centre, flying down the spur</td></tr>
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We all got back together at Strathewen and rolled it back to Hurstbridge on the paved roads as a group. We were sitting around at the train station chatting when the first rain drops started falling. Good timing.<br />
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So, it was a good if somewhat abbreviated day out, even though we didn't make it to the pub. Saw some nice out-of-the-way places, avoided the bad weather, ticked off a couple of roads from my list, met some rad dudes. What's not to love?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/21493482@N04/sets/72157634967279096/">More photos on Angry's flickr</a></span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-8626629340029801032013-06-25T13:24:00.000+10:002013-06-25T13:24:58.587+10:00Traralgon to Bright - DAY 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Maybe it was the lack of deep sleep or maybe it was just general laziness but I didn’t get up at 4am like I’d planned.<br /><br />It was after 6am when I finally dragged myself out of the sack and started faffing around trying to get ready to ride. It was still windy. Dark. Cloudy. I could see silhouettes of gnarled trees, rocky outcrops, vague shapes down in the valley below. The sky was just starting to turn pink on the horizon. The first signs of dawn.<br />
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<br />I did the reverse of my clumsy snake dance from last night and finally managed to get everything packed up and back on the bike in more or less the same state it was the day before. I ate more muesli bars, lollies, whatever ride food was in my bags, snapped some photos and started hiking down Billy Goat Bluff Track.<br /><br />
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I didn't find it easy.<br /><br />In the faint morning light it was still too steep and gnarly for me to ride down. Loaded bike, 35mm knobbies, rim brakes etc. Steep, chunky, loose, rutted to hell. I probably would have hiked down it even if I was on a MTB - I’m a hesitant descender (read: wuss) when it gets too techy and I didn’t want to risk dropping the bike and breaking either it or me. As a solo rider I’m happy to err on the side of caution. Also, solo riders don’t have anyone to laugh at them when they try to tiptoe down a rocky track without sliding on their arse, while trying to hold back their bike from rolling and bouncing down the track, feathering the brakes and skidding, skipping, jumping, sliding, rolling ankles, working up a sweat trying to resist gravity when all you want to do is get on and roll with it.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Billy Goat Bluff Track</td></tr>
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Hiking nearly the whole 7km gave me an interesting perspective on Billy Goat Bluff Track. I was going slow enough and was focussed on the ground enough that I could see that, top to bottom, it was littered with the artifacts and busted remains of a thousand previous passings. Cans were most numerous. Jim Beam, VB. There were busted U bolts. Frayed bits of strap. Fragments of moulded plastic, some as big as your hand, some as big as your finger, most black in colour. Fat motorbike inner tubes. A brake lever. A number plate. Top to bottom, the stories of a thousand successful and unsuccessful 4wd and moto trips were strewn across the rock and half-buried in the dirt. How far down could you dig and still find bits of busted plastic, smashed glass, old bolts? Each piece a link to someone’s story, told to their mates at work, to their kids, to themselves. What memories? What heartbreaks? What victories?<br />
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So many people out on that spur, looking for something wild, something challenging, all coming to that same steep ribbon of rock and dirt to drive their vehicles on it and get stuck and then get unstuck and then drink beer and relive the experience and tell it to their mates back home in great detail, reliving each rocky ledge, each precarious rescue, each loose scramble up that steep spur, taking with them so much story, so much drama, so much place, taking a part of the track with them forever, and, in turn, leaving a part of themselves on it - those cryptic little offerings; bits of broken plastic; frayed strap; faded old cans.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obligatory shot of Billy Goat Bluff Track from the helicopter flat</td></tr>
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Of course, there was no-one else on the track on this morning, just me, writing my own dumb story into the dirt with skinny tire tracks next to sketchy footprints.<br /><br />It had started raining on and off by the time I finally reached the bottom and started rolling along the valley floor on Wonnangatta Road. It felt good to ride again. Nice wide smooth dirt road in a beautiful green river valley, big mountains on all sides. Great way to start the morning. I filled up water from the river just near Kingwill Bridge. Herded some cows off the road so I could get past. Unfortunately this cruisy valley section was only a 5km intermission before the next challenge - I had to get up the other side of the valley.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Filling up water. Kingwill Bridge visible through the trees</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dirty Steamroller</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posing on Kingwill Bridge</td></tr>
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As I was descending Billy Goats, I’d noticed a similar track on the mountain range far away on the other side of the valley. It looked like it shot vertically straight up the side of the range, like an exclamation mark, like a middle finger. From looking at my GPS and remembering my route planning, I knew that this must be the track I was going to take. Yeah, that’s gotta be it. Conway Track. It covers nearly the same elevation as Billy Goat Bluff Track but in about half the distance. Which means it ‘s almost twice as steep. And I’d be going up it. Yeah, this one was always going to be a hike-a-bike, there was never any question about that.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows move!</td></tr>
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And so I left the cows and the river behind and started pushing the bike up ahead of me, straight up out of the valley on Conway Track. The next 3.5km took about 2 hours, all of it on foot.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conway Track. Steep.</td></tr>
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On the good sections I pushed the bike far out ahead of me up the hill and took tiny little steps, head down, scanning the ground for a good line, occasionally looking up at my GPS and seeing how little I’d moved, the topo lines all pinched up together. The bad sections were even slower. Quite often it was too steep and loose to be able to push the bike and take a step at the same time - my feet would slip and I’d go nowhere. On these sections, I’d have to push the bike up ahead of me, squeeze both brakes, then take a few small steps until I was level with the bike again, then push the bike up ahead of me, squeeze both brakes, etc. etc. etc. It felt like I was ratcheting my way up the mountain. So slow, but my SPDs just didn’t have enough grip - and, if I’m honest, my legs didn’t have the strength - to keep pushing both body and bike at the same time for what seemed like such a long distance. And so I hoisted myself up, ever so slowly, but always moving forward, stopping for breaks every 30 metres or less on some sections.<br />
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<i>“Ok, keep going just until that tree.”</i><br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>“Just until the top of this pitch, then stop.”</i><br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>“Just until the next water bar.”</i><br />
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I was sweating from the exertion, just trying to keep the legs moving, knowing that it was only 3.5 kilometres. But it felt more like climbing than walking.<br /><br />The track was actually in much better shape than Billy Goats Bluff, a lot less rocky. Maybe 4WDs only go down it or something? Or maybe it’s just that it’s a lot less trafficked than the more popular Billy Goats on the other side of the valley? Or so steep that people only attempt it when it’s nice and dry? Whatever the case, there was less junk strewn around on the ground, less signs of passing to distract me from my death march.<br /><br />At one point I turned around and had a great view of where I’d just travelled. I was at the top of a long straight steep section of track. I could see all the way down to the valley floor and could just make out the hay shed that I’d taken a photo from an hour or two ago. In that photo you can clearly see the long straight section of track I’d just climbed and was now standing at the top of. Can’t go past a nice symmetrical shot like that so I took another photo back down to the hay shed. On later inspection, the second photo also has Billy Goat Bluff Track visible to the left of the shot, snaking down the spur.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo A : From Wonnangatta Valley looking up at Conway Track</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo B : From Conway Track, looking down to Wonnangatta Valley</td></tr>
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Pretty photos but when I look at them now I remember the three and a half hours I spent hiking on the those tracks, the sweat, the scrambling feet, the feeling of painfully slow progress, exerting so much effort to go seemingly nowhere, every metre gained so hard. Special memories, and somehow not unpleasant.<br /><br />
I was very glad to finally top out and reach Hibernia Road. Mentally, I thought I was doing ok, albeit a bit beaten up. Physically, I was pretty knackered. From Hibernia Road onwards it was all rideable terrain - no more stupid hike-a-bike. It was mostly uphill, to be sure, but it was all rideable. Well, it would have been if I wasn’t so trashed. I started up Hibernia Road, riding the easy bits, walking the steeper bits, ate food, drank water and finally, finally popped out onto Dargo High Plains Road.<br /><br />
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I was pretty happy to see paved road, I must admit. There was no jubilant yelling though, no fists in the air, maybe just a beaten down “Thank Christ...” I stopped for a rest, ate, drank, started riding and finally looked at the time and started doing maths to see where I was at. I purposely didn’t look at the time on the hike-a-bike sections - I figured they’d take as long as they needed to - and worrying about the time when I couldn’t go any faster seemed like a good way of torturing myself. Now, on the other hand, I was at the start of a 50km section of rideable road - just stay on the same road for 50km until it pops out onto the Great Alpine Road. And from there it’s a 20km descent down to Harrietville.<br />
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If I could just get past this 50km section of Dargo High Plains Road, it’d be all downhill from there. The ride would be all but done. I tried to get excited about it but, truth be told, each kilometre along that Dargo High Plains Road put me further and further into the hurt box.<br /><br />This was not the hurt box of racing, chewing bar tape, redlining it up a climb, going cross-eyed with your tongue hanging out, gasping for breath. This was hurt box in slow motion. Food was running low so I wasn’t eating as much as I should have, especially after such a hard three and a half hour hiking effort. In hindsight, I was well on my way to bonking at the start of that 50km section. I just felt weak - small gradients became unrideable, I walked a lot of hills. I slowly started ticking off landmarks that I’d waypointed on my GPS. It felt like such slow progress. Each time I passed another waypoint, I’d recalculate my ETA in Bright, and it didn’t look good.<br />
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Originally I was planning to be there well before lunch. Now it was looking like I’d be there for dinner, maybe. And I didn’t have phone reception. And my wife didn’t have a phone so maybe she was trying to call me on a landline somewhere. She’d probably be worried, needing an update, with no way of getting one, no way of knowing that yes, I was still out there, running way behind schedule as usual but I was ok. Every time my mind wandered down that path I’d hit the “OK” button on my SPOT tracker - I’d set it up to send her a text message and an email - I knew she probably couldn’t receive either without a phone or computer but I hit the button anyway.<br />
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What else could I do?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Ewen Spring</td></tr>
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I rode on. Did more maths. Started obsessing about the maths. No matter how I calculated it I always ended up late in Bright. It was killing me. My wife, my kids, sitting around in Bright waiting for me, not able to contact me, not knowing where I was, if I was ok or not, missing out on the first day of their holiday, wife having to deal with two kids by herself, one of them probably crying for her bottle, the other probably asking “Where’s Dad-dad?” Do the maths again, how far ‘til the next waypoint? “Christ, I’ve only gone 5km!”<br /><br />I was starting to crack wide open.<br />
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<i>“If a car comes behind me I’ll hitch a ride. I fucking will.”</i><br /><br /><br />
The road was amazing. I wish I was in a better state to enjoy it. I was climbing steadily up through 1400, 1500 metres. The trees were getting more gnarly, the views more spectacular. Dargo High Plains Road was living up to my expectations but I was too caught up in the dark places of my own mind to really appreciate it.<br /><br />Then it started raining. A lot.<br /><br />I changed into full waterproof gear, top and bottom. My Sealskinz gloves were soaked through. My Sealskinz socks were soaked through. Waterproof? Breathable? Not any more. My core was warm and dry at least. The rain came down hard and the road, which was now dirt - the paved section didn’t last very long - became very waterlogged and sucky, my tires sinking into the mud and sucking me down. <br /><br />And then there was the wind.<br /><br />There were regular sections of wide open plains that, while they were mostly pretty flat, were just killer due to the wind - there was no protection from the wind, which was coming head-on, so I’d be mashing the pedals hard on flat ground, the wind pushing me back, the sucky road dragging me down, the rain soaking everything, pouring down my face. I cracked open even more and let out a couple of involuntary shouts.<br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>“Fuuuuuuuuuck!!!”</i><br /><br /><br />
Those involuntary cries didn’t even do me the dignity of echoing around the hills - they just fell out of my mouth and dropped straight down into the mud before disappearing under my wheels, squashed into the dirty wet ground.<br /><br />I felt weak. Broken. No cars coming from behind. No-one to bail me out. No help on the way. Just me. I felt weak and alone and stupid.<br /><br />And I kept riding up, up into the rain.<br /><br /><br /><br />Despite the very large cracks that I’d opened up, I managed to hold it together. It wasn’t the end of the world after all - I was just some idiot going for a pretty straightforward bike ride for god’s sake. I found a little nubbin of stoicism to keep me going, something to hang onto that didn’t get lost amidst the rain and wind and hunger-flat negativity and self-doubt. Every metre of forward motion was a metre closer to the goal. If the road goes down, enjoy the rest. If the road goes up, pedal harder; stand up on the pedals; get off and walk. The road is the road. Every flat or downhill section I’d grin and say it out loud.<br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>“The road is the road.”</i><br /><br /><br />
And that little mantra kept me going when I wanted to stop.<br /><br /><br />A hungry little wombat shuffling back to his burrow. Nothing more. Nothing less. This was the story I’d gone out there to tell myself.<br /><br /><br />I was checking my phone periodically to make sure I hadn’t missed a call from my wife. The reception was still very patchy and I almost fell off my bike when I heard it spring into life, signalling a received message. I stopped in the middle of the road, gloves off, fumbled the phone out of my pocket - a voicemail message! I called messagebank, ringing, ringing, trying to keep the phone dry. My wife’s mum! She said my wife was wondering where I was and to call her back. I called my mother-in-law back - ringing, ringing, yes!<br />
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<i>“Tell her I’m ok, I’m way behind schedule but tell her I’m ok and I’ll see her at Bright at the brewery for dinner.”</i><br />
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She said she’d pass on the message. Whew. What a relief - it felt good to know that my wife would know that I was ok and everything was under control. Well, more or less.<br /><br />Lucky I managed to make those calls when I did. My phone died shortly after - dunno if it was the water all over it or the cold sucking the life out of the near-empty battery but it was very dead. Bummer.<br /><br />I relaxed a little and just focussed on the riding. Less worrying, less maths, just riding.<br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>"The road is the road."</i><br /><br /><br />It was still bucketing down rain and the thick cloud obscured any nice views there might have been. There were steep drop-offs on the side of the road and I’d catch glimpses of steep spurs and gullies but mostly it was just cloud. No wildlife to speak of. Too wet? Everything was hunkered down maybe. Not such a bad idea.<br /><br />Side note : Everything in my bags got wet. I used Revelate bikepacking bags and an Aarn backpack and they were all soaked inside and out. Anything not in a dry bag or ziploc got wet. I'll double bag everything next time.<br /><br />I climbed up past 1600 metres and saw the waypoint for Mt Freezeout on my GPS. This was one of the potential bivy spots I’d hoped to reach the night before. Well, it looked doable on paper. In reality, there’s no way I could have reached that point in one push. Live and learn.<br />
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Despite the inhospitable name, Mt Freezeout proved to be a welcome respite - not for the climb up it, but for the fact that the road went down the other side of it. Downhill!<br />
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<i>"Yesssssssss!</i>"<br /><br /><br />
Slippery, slick, water washing across the muddy road, lots of jutting rocks to avoid, precipitous drop-off on one side or the other, brakes not working so good in the gritty wet, muddy spray getting in my eyes and mouth, but the road was going down and I was loving it. Cautious, to be sure - I didn’t want to drop it at this point - but I was grinning wide and enjoying the speed.<br /><br />The downhill went all the way down to within about a kilometre of the Great Alpine Road where it suddenly turned to paved road and shot straight up in a steep ramp to the T intersection at the top. I had to walk it, of course, but I was so glad to have finally made it back to civilisation. Paved road. I could hear cars up ahead, I could see road signs. Woooo.<br /><br /><br />I topped out at the intersection of Dargo High Plains Road and Great Alpine Road and prepared for the descent. No point waiting around getting cold. I dug out my puffy jacket and quickly got it on under my shell. Both pairs of gloves I had were soaked through so I left my Sealskinz ones on - completely waterlogged but at least they’d still be somewhat windproof. Socks? Soaked through - had waterproof booties in my bag but couldn’t be bothered getting them on - my feet could freeze, I’d be in Bright soon.<br />
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So, I got all rugged up for the descent, switched on lights, front and rear - they both worked fortunately. I’d heard some reports of Fibre Flare lights failing in the wet but mine turned on bright as ever, and I’d just ridden them through as wettest conditions as I’ve ever ridden in. It was dusk, quickly becoming dark, the cloud cover was thick and the rain was heavy. Visibility was poor and there appeared to be a fair number of vehicles coming down the road from the resort at Mt Hotham. Fortunately, roads that lead to ski resorts are always wide and in good condition.<br /><br />I let it roll. 20 kilometres of downhill. Booyah!<br /><br /><br />Fingers and toes went numb but my core was toasty so I was quite comfortable. I took it easy on the corners - water was washing across the road in sheets - and made sure to get way over to the left when groups of cars came down behind me. Despite the rain and wind in my ears I could hear vehicles coming from behind a fair way off - the whoosh of the water was quite audible. Got a few wide-eyed looks from passengers and drivers but no encouraging beeps unfortunately. Come on!<br /><br />I kept expecting to pop out below the clouds at any minute but the cloud just kept going down and down and down - how low could it go!? It felt like I did nearly all of the descent in cloud and it was nearly full dark by the time I finally rolled down the last ramp into Harrietville.<br /><br />
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Civilisation.<br /><br />
Happy.<br /><br /><br />I propped my bike up at the shop and starting clumsily getting gloves off etc. trying to find some coins so I could use the public phone and try to contact my wife. My phone was dead, her phone was lost and dead and I didn’t actually know where we were staying in Bright and I didn’t have the number for the Bright Brewery either. Yep. I was just about to go talk to the guy in the shop when a young tradie came out and headed for his ute. No passengers, no load in the back. The temptation proved too much.<br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>"Scuse me mate, you wouldn’t be going past Bright would ya?"</i><br /><br /><br />
He was. I chucked my bike in the back, climbed in the passenger seat and he cranked the heater and floored it on the fast, flat, relatively boring 30km road, all the way to Bright. Thanks Jason! I appreciated the speed with which we got to Bright and, honestly, I was glad I wasn’t riding on that road in the dark and rain with utes flying past as fast as we were going. Clearly, I’d made the right choice.<br /><br />I squelched into the Bright Brewery, dripping water everywhere, no wife to be seen. The bar staff were expecting me though and had the details of where we were staying written down somewhere. The guy poured me a beer while he rummaged around trying to find the missing piece of paper with the details on it. I fumbled around trying to get some money to pay him.<br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>“Nah, on the house mate, you look like you need it.”</i><br /><br /><br />
The day was improving fast.<br /><br />The beer didn’t touch the sides. I dug my phone out - surprise, it was working again! I quickly called my mother-in-law.<br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>“Tell her I’m at the brewery! Yeah, yeah, I’m there right now!”</i><br /><br /><br />
Five minutes later my wife turned up.<br /><br /><i> </i><br />
<i>“Quick, let’s go, I’ve left the kids back at the place!”</i><br /><br /><br />
Squelch back out of the brewery, throw wet bags in the boot of the car, hoist gritty wet bike up onto roof, wife floored it down the main street, a left, a right and we were there, at our accommodation. Rush inside to see the kids... WTF!? Chris and DC are here too!? But Chris lives in Sydney and DC lives in Perth! What the hell are they doing here!?<br />
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It took a while for the penny to drop but slowly I began to piece it all together.<br /><br />I’d been pranked.<br /><br /><br />Two of my oldest friends had travelled from interstate to join us for the weekend to celebrate my 40th birthday. All organised behind my back - I was completely unsuspecting. Well played, wife and friends, well played indeed.<br /><br />There I was up in the mountains by myself thinking my wife was worrying herself sick, not able to contact me and yet, she’d been checking her emails on DC’s phone and they’d been following my regular SPOT check-ins and knew exactly where I was. That whole communicating via the mother-in-law thing? Punk’d. She could have called me on DC’s phone at any time. Left the kids back at the place by themselves? As if! Chris and DC were minding them. Chris even hid his car down the street from our accommodation so I wouldn’t twig until I actually walked in and saw them. Gaaaaah!!!<br /><br />Unfortunately, wifey’s phone getting lost was not part of the joke but, such was their dedication to the ruse, they maintained it anyway, working in the whole mother-in-law angle to cover their tracks.<br /><br />Bloody scammers! But I didn’t care. Best surprise ever. Everyone was happy, I’d made it to Bright in one piece, the kids were both happy, the shower was warm, the beer was cold, the dinner was hearty, it was all good.<br /><br /><br />And so that’s how we started my long-weekend 40th birthday holiday in (not very) sunny Bright.<br /><br /><br /><b>Summary</b><br />
<br />So, what did we learn from all this? Well, as far as the ride goes, I should have eaten a big breakfast on the second day and carried more better food to see me through to Bright. I think that would have changed the complexion of the second day dramatically. Bonking can make even simple rides seem epic and take you to deep dark places but, honestly, there’s nothing heroic in fucking up your nutrition. Why didn’t I have a big breakfast and more better food? Well, I’d originally planned to reach Mt Freezeout on the first day, bivy up, then roll down to Bright for breakfast so why take two days of food? I guess it was all down to biting off more than I could chew yet again. Underestimating. Overreaching.<br /><br />It’s a mistake I make over and over again.<br /><br />And, y’know... the more I think about it, the more I realise that's probably not going to change any time soon.<br /><br /><br /><br /><b>Postscript</b><br /><br />As I write this overly dramatic account of what was really just a simple 300km ride, I find it hard to take it all too seriously. There's nothing like a bit of perspective to bring you back down to earth and, right now, that perspective comes to me in the form of a couple of riding buddies who are currently racing the Tour Divide over in America. They're punching out 300km days back to back for over two weeks, over much bigger mountains, in much (much!) more severe weather and with grizzly bears instead of wombats. Thanks Jesse and Liam for inspiring me to keep underestimating, overreaching and always biting off more than I can chew.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-3491232208138194002013-06-21T14:18:00.000+10:002013-06-21T14:33:19.644+10:00Traralgon to Bright - DAY 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Visiting :</b> Licola, Wonnangatta Valley, Dargo High Plains Road<br />
<b>Distance :</b> 294km<br />
<b>When :</b> Wednesday 29th May, 9:00am<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/190587174">Click here for route map</a><br />
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I had a milestone birthday coming up so we decided to take the family to Bright for a long weekend of food, booze and chasing the kids around. I figured I’d do a single day ride while we were up there but someone floated the idea of me riding up the day before, camping somewhere and then meeting up the next day in Bright. Works for me! So, I plotted a course from Traralgon to Bright that would take me up a road I’d had my eye on for a couple of years now - Dargo High Plains Road.<br />
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Finally, I’d get to ride it.<br />
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I’d been bitten by the bikepacking bug pretty hard just when we were expecting our second child so I’d been researching gear, buying gear, reading so many stories of multi-day adventures, doing pretty much everything except actually riding! This was to be my first bikepacking trip and first decent ride since little Lillian was born. To say I was looking forward to it is an understatement. The anticipation was killing me!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flat road out of Traralgon</td></tr>
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I caught the first v-line train of the morning to Traralgon. Nice and empty to begin with but it filled up with high school kids later on and then a trio of likely lads in suits on their way to a court case, loudly talking about who was “going in”, who’d just “got out” and who they were going to “smash”. Eventually we got to Traralgon, I picked up a coffee and couple of croissants and hit the road out of there.<br />
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It was easy rolling on paved roads for the first 100km or so. Not much to report from that section - it was flat, dry, not much traffic, good country roads for the most part. I just tapped away and looked over my shoulder every now and then to see the smokestacks of Traralgon receding further and further into the distance.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Falcon ready to swoop</td></tr>
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The road got more interesting the further out it went and soon I was
having a breather on top of Blanket Hill, looking back at the
smokestacks far in the distance, Lake Glenmaggie back to the left, and
the wide flat plains of Gippsland spreading out to the horizon. After
Blanket Hill I said goodbye to all that and continued north, straight
into the hills towards my first, and only, refuel point at Licola.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Glenmaggie on left, Traralgon in distance</td></tr>
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Big hills as far as the eye could see, big rivers winding through green valleys, huge rocky outcrops and winding roads snaking around bushfire-scarred hillsides. Nice.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamieson-Licola Road</td></tr>
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I stocked up on food at the shop in Licola and kicked off my shoes for a good sit-down.<br />
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Just as I got ready to roll out I heard some yelling across the river and saw a guy in a ute starting to herd a big mob of sheep over the bridge, barking orders at his two dogs who were darting around and keeping the herd in tight formation. Only one road out of town and it looked like I’d have to wait my turn to use that bridge so I sat back and enjoyed the show. All in a day’s work for the dogs and man, I’m sure, but I was impressed nonetheless. The man directed the dogs from the driver’s seat of his ute and the dogs moved the sheep as one right down the main street of Licola. A straggler broke away and headed for the public toilets but, in a flash, the dogs were on it and in no time he was back in the herd, shuffling and pushing down the road past the store with the rest of his mates, dogs nipping at their heels, man hanging out the window of his ute barking orders and rolling slowly down the street after them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheep on the bridge</td></tr>
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When they’d passed, I rolled back over the bridge and cut immediately left onto Tamboritha Road, into the bush. No more shops until the next day in Harrietville, just rivers, springs, huts, dirt roads and tracks up into the high country.<br />
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I rolled up Tamboritha Road past a whole bunch of numbered camping areas which looked well used but were currently all vacant. Must see a lot of traffic in the warmer months.<br />
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Just after the last camping area, I filled up water at Wellington River and started the first proper climb of the day - a solid 1000 metre climb up to Tamboritha Saddle.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wombat lives here</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Tali Karng. One day...</td></tr>
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Nice wide dirt road, beautiful surface, steady gradient, just keep turning the legs over and watch the views get more and more spectacular.<br />
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My phone sprang into life at Bennison Lookout so I called my wife to check in and say hi. I’d been planning to call from Licola but I had no reception there. “Hi, it’s me! What’s that? Serious?! Oh man, not again!” Her mobile phone was missing, presumed dead. Staying in touch was going to prove tricky - I’d have patchy coverage for the rest of the ride and we’d have no easy way of communicating after she left the house to drive to Bright the next day. Oh well, we’d just have to deal.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bennison Lookout</td></tr>
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The sun was setting as I topped Tamboritha Saddle and rolled on into the darkness, helmet light blazing, feeling pretty damn good about everything.<br />
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Just after dark was the best time for animals. I only saw one or two vehicles after the sun went down but I was certainly not alone out there. In the first part of the day I’d seen plenty of roadkill on the paved roads - now the scales were tipped the other way and the bush came alive with all sorts of creatures.<br />
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Tiny bats swooped around the periphery of my light. Fuzzy black wallabys lolloped off the road as I freewheeled past. Wombats snuffled around on the side of the road, some trundling off into the undergrowth when they saw me, others deciding to run down the road ahead of me so that I’d slow down and follow them for what felt like 20-30 metres before they finally veered off and started crashing through the bush.<br />
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I’m used to the sound of roos and wombats fleeing into the bush as I pass. It can be a bit surprising at first because, if you’re going the right speed, they notice you when you’re right on them and start bolting through the trees right next to you as you fly by. Can make quite a sudden and loud racket. Deer are a lot louder.<br />
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I’ve seen deer before on other rides but I’ve never seen so many, so close and so large as I did on this ride. And when you startle them and they bolt into the bushes it sounds like a monster truck is smashing down the trees as you pass. A couple of times I instinctively whipped my head around, half expecting that a runaway 4WD was about to burst onto the road and run me down from behind.<br />
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I saw plenty of deer and I’m sure I passed many more that I didn’t see. My visibility was limited to the cone of light from my helmet light which was, understandably, glued to the road for the most part, picking out a path on the dirt road, finding the smooth line and trying to avoid the pinch-flat inducing rocks that jutted out randomly. A couple of times I came flying down a hill, found a nice smooth section that allowed me to take my eyes off the road for a second and turned my head to the left only to see the massive shape of a deer right next to me, lifting its head up from the scrubby grass on the side of the road, eyes glowing as the thought “WTF?!” slowly formed in its head, by which time I was already gone, freewheel buzzing down the hill, a huge grin on my face, possibly calling out “Yeeeeeew!” and hopping rocks, floating over corrugations, looking for the next smooth line.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rest break</td></tr>
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The road continued like this for 50km or so, rising, falling, always staying above 1000 metres. The temperature dropped but it didn’t feel that cold. Short-sleeved merino jersey, merino arm warmers, shorts. I had a few sit-down breaks on the side of the road and put on my puffy jacket so I didn’t cool down too much, then took it off after I’d started riding again. I don’t remember bad winds on this section - it was pretty sheltered by the terrain and thick tree cover for the most part - and it was still bone dry so it was great night riding conditions. I did sometimes glimpse a break in the trees out of the corner of my eye and try to shine my helmet light out to see what I could see but, of course, my light just threw out into empty space and didn’t hit anything. I knew I was riding through high plains country but I couldn’t tell you if there were great views or not. All I saw was the road.<br />
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I nibbled food regularly and ticked off various landmarks that I’d memorised. Arbuckle Junction. McFarlane Saddle. Moroka Track. Water was getting quite low when I finally arrived at the bridge over Moroka River. I carried a 2L bladder and one bidon and had almost emptied them both since my last refill at Wellington River at the base of the big climb up Tamboritha Road. This was in mild weather at the end of the day - on a hot day you’d really want to carry more water than that, I think. Or look harder than I did for another water stop before Moroka River.<br />
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Anyway, I walked out onto the bridge over Moroka River and shone my light around trying to find the best spot to get down the bank and fill up water. Turns out helmet lights are great for spotlighting night fish! The river was shallow and if I shot my beam straight down it lit up the river all the way to the bottom and, in this case, lit up a fat black fish about 30-40cm long. I described it to my father-in-law a week later and he said “Yeah, a Blackfish.” So there you go.<br />
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I scraped and stumbled down the bank and used my bidon to transfer water into the bladder - less clumsy than trying to hold a floppy bladder under the water while trying not to get hands or feet wet. I didn’t use a cloth filter or anything, just popped a couple of Aquatabs in the bladder and bidon after they were both filled to capacity. Also made a note of the time as the Aquatabs need 30 minutes to do their magic.<br />
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Refill complete, I ate more food and rolled on into the night, though with less enthusiasm than earlier. I was starting to feel tired and, now that I had enough water to bivy up for the night, my thoughts started turning to possible camping spots. I’d originally planned to get a lot further along the road before stopping for the night but what can I say? The fatigue was upon me and I knew I’d be ready to stop soon. I talked myself into going just a bit further, just a bit further.<br />
<br />
“Horseyard Flat is just up the road, I can easily get to that.”<br />
<br />
“Well, if you can get to Horseyard Flat, then it’s just a little bit further to the bridge over Little River.”<br />
<br />
“If we get to Little River then it’s only a few more k’s to The Pinnacles.”<br />
<br />
And so I kept rolling until I reached the turnoff to The Pinnacles which is a big rocky outcrop with a fire tower and an amazing view. Well, in daylight only, of course. I briefly considered bivying at the fire tower but talked myself out of it by saying “Well, if you can get to The Pinnacles then you can get down Billy Goat Bluff Track to the bottom of the valley.” And I planned to be up and rolling before dawn anyway so I figured that I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the awesome views from the tower and decided to keep rolling towards Billy Goat Bluff Track. <br />
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Billy Goat Bluff Track is one of the iconic Victorian high country 4wd tracks. It goes from just near The Pinnacles - about 1400 metres - down to the Wonnangatta Valley at about 250 metres - in just about 7km. It’s steep, narrow, rocky and loose. I’d already prepared myself for the possibility of hiking down it and, upon seeing it up close, it was obvious that that is exactly what I’d have to do.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Billy Goat Bluff Track. Chunky</td></tr>
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It was steep, rutted and carved up, big chunky rocks, ledges, the whole shebang. I was running 35mm knobbies and rim brakes, it was dark, I was tired. I started riding down slowly, trying to carefully pick my way down, but I could see it was going to end in tears. So, I started stumbling down it on foot, cleats scraping and sliding through loose rubble, ankle breaking rocks and whatnot. Bah, too tired for this shenanigans - I decided to save it for the morning and started scouting around for a flat spot of ground. There wasn’t much to choose from but I managed to scrape away the rocks and rubble in a small nook just off a narrow, exposed section of the track and began to set up camp for the night.<br />
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I felt clumsy as hell setting up camp. First time I’d actually used any of this gear and, because I was on an exposed section of ridge, high above the Wonnangatta Valley, the wind was howling. I’d brought a change of clothes for sleeping and so I staggered around in the pitch black, trying to change out of my knicks and into my pj’s, tiptoeing gingerly on the sharp rocky ground, butt naked in the howling wind, trying to quickly get changed while not losing anything over the edge where it’d disappear into the valley below never to be seen again, one foot on my bivy bag, trying to keep it anchored to the ground while I clumsily sorted out all my crap and awkwardly squirmed into the sack like a drunk snake trying to get back into its skin.<br />
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Once inside, I was toasty warm. -5C down sleeping bag, cushy four season inflatable mat, beefy mountain climber’s bivy bag - I could have been lying on ice and snow and I’d still have been toasty. I was prepared for the worst - snow, ice, rain - but it turns out the main problem I had that night was just getting comfortable in the tight confines of the bag while lying flat on my back and clumsily trying to drink water and eat muesli bars without choking on them. I was sure that I’d get a puncture in my sleeping mat - the ground was all sharp rocks despite my clearing efforts, so I tried not to move around too much.<br />
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When I settled down, I had some fitful sleep. Bivy worked great - the wind was very strong but everything stayed put. I stared up at the clouds racing across the moon. I could hear the wind gusting hard and felt it pushing insistently on my bag. It rained a little bit but nothing substantial. When the wind lulled, I may have heard animal sounds. Mostly it was just the moon. Three quarter moon. Just staring up into the blackness and seeing broken clouds racing across the moon. Dozing a little. Waking when the wind gusted up again. Midnight ticked over at some point.<br />
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“Heh... I just turned 40.”<br />
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To be continued...<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-74156353547124509162013-02-11T13:46:00.000+11:002013-02-11T13:46:43.151+11:00Bundy Toolangi<b>Visiting :</b> Bundy Track, Toolangi, Mt St Leonards, Pauls Lane<br />
<b>Distance :</b> ~110km<br />
<b>When :</b> Saturday 16th February, 10::00am @ Hurstbridge Train Station<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/toolangi-bundy">Click here for route map (subject to change!)</a><br />
<br />
Another short hilly mission to some cool places around the Kinglake, Toolangi, Healesville, Yarra Glen area. Will visit the newly reopened Bundy Track and a bunch of dirt roads, fire roads, singletrack and some hike-a-bike.<br />
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It'll be roughly 110km with probably over 3000m climbing. There will be water at Toolangi but no planned food stops (unless emergency) so bring a big bladder and plenty of food. The forecast looks hot!<br />
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Run what you brung. I'll be
on a singlespeed 29er.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-26943795037692064342012-07-03T13:59:00.001+10:002012-07-03T14:07:47.532+10:00Canberra to Bairnsdale - DAY 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Visiting :</b> The Barry Way, Snowy River, Buchan, Bairnsdale<br />
<b>Distance :</b> 240km<br />
<b>When :</b> Monday 1st May, 8:30am<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/78106590">Click here for route map</a><br />
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The third day of my ride from Canberra to Bairnsdale was the “long” day, the final leg that would take me all the way to Bairnsdale. It was going to be long, scenic and remote - three things that make a ride great.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;">The long day</span><br />
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It was about 8:30am before I finally got out the door and started rolling. The apartment I’d stayed in had all the conveniences of home but it was one of those places you have to clean yourself before you leave. After doing the dishes, tidying everything up, putting everything back where it belonged, I gathered up all my rubbish and packed up my remaining food etc. It felt like the day was half gone already.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter Island statues?!</td></tr>
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I was feeling pretty gung-ho the night before and was even entertaining the idea of riding straight through Bairnsdale and keeping on going all the way to Melbourne. So, I woke up with plans of not stopping to take any photos, just go flat stick all the way to Bairnsdale where I’d make a go/no-go decision on riding all the way back to Melbourne. I was slightly annoyed by the slow start to the day as I rolled out of town on the Barry Way and headed straight south through rolling farmland.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Barry Way. First dirt of the day</td></tr>
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I passed a couple of warning signs to the effect of “no shops or civilisation for the next 160km” and then the road turned to dirt and started diving straight down. Oh yeah, it was good. The road was fast, wide and steep.<br />
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A massive eagle swooped out of the trees and flew down the road ahead of me before peeling off and shooting up into the sky. Awesome.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Road very suitable for bikes</td></tr>
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Before long, I rolled to a stop at Wallace Craigie Lookout. Wow. Up on top of a big cliff, big blue mountains stretching away into the distance. Steep, nameless tree-covered hills with the tiny dirt road snaking around their flanks and around the corner of a spur, beckoning...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wallace Craigie Lookout</td></tr>
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I took some photos, ate food, heard the sound of a vehicle. It took me a while to pinpoint where the sound was coming from because it echoed up from the valley. Finally I saw a tiny bit of movement way down on the road a few kilometres down into the valley. A 4wd labouring up the road and inching ever so slowly up towards the lookout. It seemed to take forever to snake its way along the side of the mountain and finally roll to a stop and cut the motor. A guy got out and joined me in staring off the lookout into the distance. Not much needed to be said.<br />
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“Beautiful country isn’t it?”<br />
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“Bloody oath.”<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Wallace Craigie Lookout</td></tr>
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He kept going up the hill, taking the roar of his vehicle slowly with him. I finished eating and taking photos, strapped myself in and pointed the bike down.<br />
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From Wallace Craigie Lookout it’s a steep, windy descent down a narrow ribbon of road that’s cut into the steep mountain-side. Many blind corners, no guard-rail, wall of rock shooting up on the left, sheer cliff shooting down on the right, road only wide enough for one car in places, and to further test the nerve and riding skills, big gnarly corrugations and water channels eroded into the hard rocky clayey surface. Oooh baby... it was awesome!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big ruts hiding in the shadows</td></tr>
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Once again, my face almost broke from grinning. I struck a balance between speed and caution and caned it down the steep winding road. I met one car flying up the hill towards me - something small like a VW Golf flying up the hill, rally-car style. We saw each other in time and managed to give way, a quick nod as we passed. Later, I stopped to take a photo and heard a vehicle coming down the hill behind me - a small motorbike. It was miles away yet so I kept rolling and did a quick headcheck every now and then to catch it when it was approaching. When it was close I pulled over on the next safe corner and waved him through. This was not the place to stubbornly practice “vehicular cycling”. Out here it was the law of the open road - common-sense - small vehicles give way to big vehicles - vehicles coming down have right of way. That way everyone gets down the hill without frying their brakes or flying over the side. Win-win.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best road</td></tr>
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I think I levelled up my descending skill on that run down from Wallace Craigie. Looking ahead round blind corners, looking and listening behind for approaching traffic, judging ever-changing road surface and calculating corner speed to ease off the brakes without over-cooking the corner, and always, always scanning ahead for the right line, through big wheel-swallowing ruts and un-bunnyhoppable sections of rock, and always with a mind that if you come in too hot to a corner you might overcook it and suddenly find yourself airborne, free-falling straight down to the valley below, taking the express elevator, the final shortcut, “Can you fly Bobby!”<br />
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All good things come to an end and finally the road flattened out and I rolled across the bridge over Jacobs River, punching the air and, once again, hooting to the hills.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowy River</td></tr>
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I filled up water from the river and started the next section, which ran along the valley floor and followed Jacobs River until it met the big river - the Snowy River.<br />
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This section was amazing and I quickly found myself breaking the promise I’d made earlier that day about not stopping to take photos. I couldn’t resist. It was just so good.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowy River</td></tr>
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The road rolled along, up and down, following the path of the Snowy River down it’s huge valley with steep mountains on either side. The valley is wide and the Snowy River meanders along it, a mere shadow of its former self. Before the 1950’s, the river was massive and took up the whole valley - starting on the slopes of Mt Kosciuszko, it channeled snowmelt all the way down to the ocean and into Bass Strait. Then the Snowy River Scheme happened and the Snowy River was dammed in multiple places - Jindabyne being one - and the flow down in the valley where I rode alongside it, was reduced to less than 1% of its former volume.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles of this. River down to the left...</td></tr>
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The road snakes its way along the side of the valley but, and it only struck me recently, that road would have been right on the banks of the river <i>before</i> it was dammed. Now, the river is quite far from the road in places, meandering modestly down the centre of the wide flat valley that it used to fully occupy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stories in the sand</td></tr>
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<br />
This section was magical because it felt so different to what I’m used to. It made me think of Grizzly Adams. It was all steep rocky mountains, tall thick Cypress Pines and the big wide valley with the river flowing along it. I guess it was mainly the pine trees - they’re native to the area but were different enough to the usual Aussie bush standard - the eucalypt - that it felt just a little bit foreign. Bears, wolves and friendly Native Americans wouldn’t have seemed out of place here - instead I had to make do with wombats, kangaroos and friendly grey nomads reading books on fold-out chairs in front of their campers.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7102/6991716056_0aa762a16f_b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7102/6991716056_0aa762a16f_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowy River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
On I rolled, soaking it all up, pushing on around the next corner to see what was there. Great riding.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8016/6991716464_67a288d088_b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8016/6991716464_67a288d088_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grizzly Adams?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7180/6991719038_8ca7c2b616_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7180/6991719038_8ca7c2b616_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signboard at Willis</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After a while the road kicked up and slowly made its way up out of
the Snowy River Valley and over to the next valley. This road was
similar to the one down from Wallace Craigie - not as steep and gnarly
but it was spectacularly cut into the side of the mountain with a big
cliff on one side.<br />
<br />
It was a long, slow, hot climb but the views improved with every metre climbed so spirits were still high.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8146/6991719858_a36ace5b5b_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8146/6991719858_a36ace5b5b_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7278/7137801927_3bb30aab1c_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7278/7137801927_3bb30aab1c_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eagles soaring</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8150/6991720692_5823b668db_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8150/6991720692_5823b668db_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting high </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7049/7137803633_bc415ccbb6_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7049/7137803633_bc415ccbb6_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Break in the climbing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7186/6991722330_70b4c0c615_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7186/6991722330_70b4c0c615_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Followed by more climbing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7042/7137804427_4324d623fd_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7042/7137804427_4324d623fd_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful day for riding</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The road kept climbing and climbing. Water was starting to run low. I began to think I’d missed my planned water stop at Suggan Buggan. Fortunately I hadn’t. After cresting the final section of mountain I finally dropped down the other side into the valley of the Suggan Buggan river. And a large stretch of it was paved too! Wow, it was fast, completely empty, great visibility and surface and it snaked its way down into the valley with so many fast sweeping corners. Perfect antidote to all the slow, seated climbing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8015/6991724660_ae123bfd53_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8015/6991724660_ae123bfd53_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suggan Buggan River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I skidded to a stop at the bridge over Suggan Buggan river and sat down for a proper lunch. Cold beans, bread. Yum. Had a nice break, filled up water and then started the climb up out of Suggan Buggan. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/7137806949_65646abaa6_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/7137806949_65646abaa6_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back on Suggan Buggan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At one point I saw a pair of lyrebirds on the road up ahead, one
dancing to the other. I stopped dead and got my phone out to take a
photo but they took off as soon as they heard the click of my freewheel.
Oh well.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7233/7137808625_d91974945d_b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7233/7137808625_d91974945d_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lyrebirds just up around the corner...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I casually looked down off the side of the road and - what a
fluke - there was a car right there, smashed up about 20 metres down
below where it had slid off the road and fallen down, quite recently by
the look of it. A pointed reminder that the dangers on these roads are very real. Hope
no-one was hurt.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/6991726498_d16dd9c41e_b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/6991726498_d16dd9c41e_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...oops</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The road went on and on and up and up before eventually dropping down into the valley on the other side and finally... signs of civilisation. Lush green farmland through a break in the trees.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8165/6991727212_524d30dc6e_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8165/6991727212_524d30dc6e_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Civilisation!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I’d broken through to the other side. A burnt-out and rusty old tractor in a clearing. Smashed bottles in the dirt. From serene bush, through this outskirts interface, and then back into rolling farmland. The big climbs were done - now I was heading into the green rolling hills of Gippsland.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7239/6991727740_e563e06662_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7239/6991727740_e563e06662_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Civilisation...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I approached a guy opening gates and moving a bunch of cattle around while four or five hungry and alert dogs fidgeted in the back of his ute. I didn’t want to spook dogs, cows or man so I planned to call out a friendly hello as I approached but the bloke beat me to it, letting out a hearty “G’day mate!” as I rolled down the hill towards him. I gave him a g’day and a big wave and rolled on, the dogs constantly scanning and reading my every move, fair bursting to jump out of that ute and chase me, the cows, a rabbit, each other, anything!<br />
<br />
This marked the start of the next section. The remote, big mountain, bush section was over. I’d pushed through the great unknown and made it through to the other side. Now I had a feeling of returning home. I was on the way home. The fun bit was done and now it was just a happy commute through nice green country, still buzzing from the awesome sights I‘d seen that day and totally stoked that I’d made it through the remote country. Now it was just easy roads, easy riding all the way to Bairnsdale. The hard part was done, now it was time to return to civilisation...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7108/7137809735_73e651f167_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7108/7137809735_73e651f167_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling hills</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And so I tapped out the miles and enjoyed the easy terrain. The dirt road became paved and it was mostly rollers along this part. I made a game of cranking it on the downhills and trying to get over the top of the next rise using the least amount of downshifts. Get over the next rise in the big ring? Bonus.<br />
<br />
I recognised the roadhouse at Seldom Seen from my internet research. Wow. I was rubbernecking left right and centre as I rolled past and saw two blokes sitting around a fire - beer in one hand, smoke in the other hand. As soon as I stopped pedalling they heard my freewheel and craned their necks to see me down on the road, “G’day! Hey! G’day mate!”<br />
<br />
Damn, I really wanted to stop and have a beer with them but I knew I had to keep rolling. The afternoon was turning to evening and Bairnsdale was still about 120km away. Spewin’. I really wanted to stop.<br />
<br />
But, I didn’t. I shouted out g'day to them, gave them a wave and kept on tapping out the miles. Easy riding now so I was keeping a good pace, still eating and drinking well, still stoked on all that I‘d seen earlier in the day.<br />
<br />
I crossed a bridge over Butchers Creek, spied a town hall and a little rest area with a picnic table and decided to pull in for a proper meal and get ready for the night.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7248/6991728720_e1a733f0b1_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7248/6991728720_e1a733f0b1_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner at Butchers Creek</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The meal was, well, more of the same from my food bag - bread, beans, scroggin, an apple - but sitting down and eating made it feel special. I got my lights out while I ate and started mentally switching into night mode. There was a faint, barely perceptible anxiety as the sun set behind the hill. A remnant of the ingrained law of childhood - be home before dark! But it was overshadowed by the slow-burn excitement that had been with me the whole trip and the realisation that it didn’t matter if it got dark - I got lights, I can ride, I don’t have to be home before dark. Which, in turn, was tempered by the realisation that, shit, I’ve still a long way to go - this is a big ride.<br />
<br />
I took a couple photos of the sunset and rolled out, munching on my apple. The night rider. It was a melancholy time of day. But in a good way.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8155/7137810915_d4cabc13cc_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8155/7137810915_d4cabc13cc_b.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And so it was more rolling hills south, south to the coast. Not much to see now in the darkness - certainly no more photos after this point. Just the road, the occasional car, the odd sign, reflectors - red on the left, white on the right - and just cranking out the miles. Eating. Changing gears. Pedalling. Drinking. Eating. Pedalling.<br />
<br />
Eventually I hit the fast, ripping descent down into Buchan where I filled up water. The pub was doing good business but the rest of the town was asleep. I rolled on - doing the maths to estimate when I’d get to Bairnsdale.<br />
<br />
Nothing much to report until I reached Bruthen-Buchan Road which is quite well-trafficked by semi-trailers. I guess they use it to bypass Lakes Entrance when they're on the way to Melbourne. It was a two-lane road but wide lanes, and with a nice wide ridable shoulder. I gave the passing trucks plenty of room and they gave me plenty of room. Huge lights approaching from miles away. They were all very polite and I was happy to share the road with them. Fast miles on fast road. Shooting through the dark.<br />
<br />
About 40km out of Bairnsdale I finally acted on the decision I’d made subconsciously some time earlier in the day. I knew I wasn’t going to keep riding straight through Bairnsdale and on to Melbourne. Yeah, it was easy riding now and the roads were great and I was making good time and I was still eating well but I was getting sleepy and a few hundred more kilometres of boring highway riding at night... after what I’d just ridden through earlier in the day? I just couldn’t see the point. So the decision was made conscious, and that was that.<br />
<br />
I hadn’t booked any accommodation in Bairnsdale, figuring I’d either ride straight through or sleep on the beach or some such. Seemed like a good idea at the time. When I was actually out there, tired after a long day’s ride and mentally winding down... not so much. So I pulled off to the side of the road, googled up a motel, called them, one room left. Yessss...<br />
<br />
The last 40km rolled by in a happy daze. Flat roads. I could see the lights of Bairnsdale and surrounding suburbs. I had a warm bed waiting for me. I’d done it. More hooting. Possibly some hollering. Sore face from grinning.<br />
<br />
Rolled into the motel carpark, found my room, tried the door handle, yessss... Strip off, unload, decompress, shoot off some text messages, check the fridge, mini bar! Yes! Shower, beer, lie down, sleep.<br />
<br />
Job done.<br />
<br />
<br />
Caught the train home to Melbourne the next day. Happy. Sleepy. Stoked.<br />
<br />
What a ride.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Thanks again wifey and Max, DC and Kirsten, Luke and folks, and everyone else for making this trip possible. Our second bub's due in November so I don't think I'll top this ride for a couple of years. Plenty of time to make plans.<br />
<br />
So many plans...<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1850096824006501592.post-63243825719069984212012-06-01T09:07:00.000+10:002012-06-01T10:03:31.971+10:00Kinglake Explorer<b>Visiting :</b> Smiths Gully, Kinglake, Flowerdale<br />
<b>Distance :</b> 120km<br />
<b>When :</b> Sunday 17th June, 9:30am @ Hurstbridge Train Station<br />
<b>Where :</b> <a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/98023307">Click here for route map</a><br />
<br />
This is a short but hilly mission to check out some roads and trails that I <i>should</i> know but have never got around to visiting. We'll start off with some Smiths Gully trails before climbing up to Kinglake via Mt Everard Track. From there we'll check out the full length of Extons Road/Mt Robertson Road - maybe grab a beer at Flowerdale Hotel - before heading back to Hurstbridge via slightly different trails.<br />
<br />
I'll be riding singlespeed so expect a slow pace on the flats (actually there are no flats) and lots of swearing on the climbs. I'd err on the side of fatter tires for this one.<br />
<br />
<b>NOTE:</b> Start time changed to 9:30am to sync up with first train into Hurstbridge!<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0