Firstly in 2013 we rolled out of Adelaide on our trek to Melbourne, followed by a 1200 kilometre lap of Tassie. That year we deserved what we got as September was our chosen month for that two week epic adventure.
Then in 2016 we ran the Adelaide to Uluru 8 day Challenge. That first roll out day was in the month of June, so again, maybe we chose a bad month to start and once again we paid the price with one of the coldest, wettest and windiest days I had ever experienced on a pushbike in over 35 years of riding.
Now fast forward three years, and surely our chosen month of March, for the start of this Adelaide Smiddy Challenge event, was a smart move right?
Well actually NO, as once again the Weather Gods that are in charge of Smiddy events, delivered a third and compelling message that said; “just how thick are you guys? One warning would scare off most but the hard core riders, two warnings would scare off all riders, even those of British, Irish and Scottish heritage. Yet here you all are, back for a third time, so you deserved what you bloody well got today!”
Now Smiddy blogs are infamous for their diabolical untruthfulness, with the occasionally slight telling of the true events that do actually happen, but mostly our blogs are for slagging off of our fellow Smiddy rider or road crew members.
So why should today be any different when we have such esteemed company.
Most of us started the ride with our rain jackets already nicely secured to our shivering bodies. Garath ‘The Mouth’ Thomas included, who in his wisdom, took it off halfway up the one million kilometre long first up climb, that meandered out through the Adelaide Hills, as he became a touch warm. Typically, Garath spits the dummy, and rather than roll it up nice and neat and place it in his back pocket, dumps the rain jacket in with Captain Kevvy driving the rear vehicle. Of course, then the rain began in earnest not five minutes later, and he arrives at the top and is spitting the dummy about being wet and cold. Ahhh it’s good to have you back in the peloton old mate.
Another strange and bewildering thing happened up that same climb. Before getting onto the bike path at the start of the climb, a small group of us didn’t get through the lights. The rest of the peloton continued on its merry way. Anyway about three kilometres up the climb and Garath and I had just caught up to Peter Barnett, who was presented with two choices at that precise moment.1. To continue straight ahead and keep following the same safe and reliable bike path, or 2. Take a very sharp left turn and head towards a 30% gradient wet dirt climb. Garath yelled out to Peter; “Where the bloody hell are you going?” Peter turned first his head, then his body followed, then his bike, he then fell down in the dirt before our very eyes and became the first member of the famous Smiddy Dusty Club. I asked Pete if he could not get up straight away, so that I could get a photo, but he ignored my pleas, mounted his stead, and this time continued onto the bike path.
At the top we had a regroup under a big bushy tree, which was providing some shelter from the pelting wind and rain. I think it was here that most of us started to get very cold. Especially us skinny greyhounds. The descent was interesting due to riders grabbing huge handfuls of brakes with little or no effect on the actual slowing down part. It was here that the modern era of disc brakes on road bikes came to the fore. If you had a disc brake bike today then a small measure of smugness was a well earned right of that rider. While I was riding old school conventional brakes trying to slow down with hands as cold as icicles, I was still feeling just a tad smug thanks to a dry bottom because of my bike sporting the only mudguard in the peloton.
For the next twenty kilometres the weather continued to deteriorate. The course was a mixture of rolling hills with none of the climbs long enough to bring warmth back into our arctic limbs. With the short descents just making us colder still. The thing is, besides our rain jackets, we all dressed for summer conditions. No arm or leg warmers in sight, no thermals or gloves. The starting temperature was 17 degrees, so a wind-jacket surely was the only requirement, along with the rain-jacket. Wrong! From sea level, to a touch below 500 metres above sea level, made all the difference today with the wind and rain that hit us as I mentioned above.
It was at around the 30 kilometres point that we were descending and road crew Janet Curran had jumped out of the lead vehicle and was standing by the side of the road imploring us to slow down and proceed with caution as the tarmac turned to gravel. The gravel was wet and slippery but didn’t last more than a couple of kilometres. The course then turned up towards the heavens with some steep gradient pitches of 10% for the next few kilometres. Eventually the lead vehicle, driven by the best looking man in the road crew in John Curran, stopped at the top for a re-group of the peloton. It was only here, while a few of us hard core athletes, were hiding in the car, with the heater on full bore, that we learned that Domonic Thompson had taken a tumble on the dirt. It was a full 30 minutes later, before the decision was made, to leave our cold, wet and windy position on top of the climb, and make a beeline for the safe haven of the Blackwood Golf Club, which was just 500 metres away. Thank you to our esteemed member of the road crew in Janet Curran for running in and asking for permission to use the club as our sanctuary from the conditions until a decision could be made of where this day was heading.
With news that the big hearted “Big Dom” had to be taken to hospital to get patched up, it was a no brainer to call off the ride. While it was disappointing to get just 35 kilometres done of our 124 kilometre day, the decision to make sure no further incidents would happen, and the riders deemed safe, overrides any other reasons for continuing on. The club then offered all the riders hot showers, and the rest of the road crew went into overdrive, as they brought in our day and overnight bags and provided laundry bags for our sodden cycling attire. A huge thank you to the crew for the amazing job you guys did today.
Garath was besides himself with excitement when he found out the day was done. He told anyone that would listen, which wasn’t many, that at the top of that last climb he needed to pee, and pee badly. Yet no matter how hard he felt around in his cycling pants, he just couldn’t locate anything of significance to pee out of. Now that’s cold!
So 90 minutes after arriving at the golf club, all the bikes and riders were loaded into the cars and transported to our overnight stay in Hahndorf. With the heaters on high in each of the vans, a few of us promptly fell asleep, while others spent time texting love ones of their first day adventures. Ironically the weather improved dramatically and the sun even came out from behind the clouds. Too little too late.
Once again, the Smiddy peloton are responsible for bringing rain to drought prone areas. It has happened so many times over the years that it comes as no surprise to me anymore. No rain here for five months and on day one of our ride the heavens open.
So as I write this Kevvy finally returns, we are sleeping together tonight, hopefully in separate beds! It’s only now at two-pm that I find out that Dom is indeed okay, but with a banged up knee that looks like stopping him from riding tomorrow.
Anyway back to Hahndorf and the road crew hurriedly made an early lunch while bikes and luggage were unloaded. We were so early, that getting into our accommodation was not possible for a couple of hours. Once safely in our warm surroundings of The Manna of Hahndorf, the rest of the day was spent investigating all the cute little Knick knack shops, drinking warm coffees at the many different cafe’s, drinking beers at the local 150 year old Hahndorf Inn or kicking back relaxing in our rooms.
The huddle, which we normally have straight after the ride finishes, was postponed until tonight at six-pm, just prior to dinner. Killer and Pagey and the birthday boy Stephen Russell said some lovely words and everyone was in good spirits.
It was good to see Dom there and smiling as per usual. Proudly showing off the photos of his bloodied knee and clearly in good spirits as well. We will hopefully see Dom rejoin the peloton later on in the week.
Tonight at the Inn we celebrated our first short day on the road, surprised Stephen Russell with a cake for his birthday today, heard our guest speaker Christopher Johnstone. Kevvy read out my blog to the group and the category Jersey wasn't handed out today due to inclement weather.
Here’s hoping for a better day tomorrow.
Cheers,
Sharky.
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