Distance: 154 kilometres
You may well ask why Hayley and I are doing the day’s technical wrap-up, being complete newbies. I asked this too.
But Krista assured us that our keen observations would be of
interest. So, let’s go back a bit and tell you how we ended up here.
As you all know, Stephen and Russell have been a huge supporters
of the Smiddy charity for a number of years.
Stephen has always wanted to share his enthusiasm with his greater
family, and rode with his older brother Andrew, who is an elite cyclist, in
Tasmania a few years ago.
I had always watched Mater Smiling for Smiddy with interest from
London. I had been on the mailing list for years and read Sharky’s wonderfully
engaging and heartfelt reports with great admiration for his style and his
commitment to his friend, Adam Smiddy.
I asked Stephen if he honestly thought I could manage to train
over four months of London winter, by myself, and reach the cycling standard
required.
Stephen told me it was totally achievable for novice riders.
Stephen told me it was totally achievable for novice riders.
So, with that in mind, I made Hayley and Andrew (his
brother-in-law) sign up to keep me company. All of us were novice riders.
Fast forward to roll-out this morning and we managed to creep out
of the resort, without disturbing the other guests.
With David Smiddy’s ringing of the cowbell, we were off. Seconds
later there was a loud explosion. Uncle Andrew’s tyre had exploded in the pitch
black morning, in a newly formed peloton.
The first 35 kilometres to Tarris, despite being in the dark, was
a gentle introduction to peloton riding.
The road continued alongside a dam and before we knew it, we’d
taken a welcome right turn into Cromwell for the first of the infamous
Smiddy morning teas.
I could see the much-missed hand of Maria Smiddy in the line-up of
childhood heroes; famous saos and cheese and delicious melting
moments.
A huge thanks to the road crew for your organisation,
friendliness and non-sweaty faces at each meeting. It’s a huge boost to see you
at every stop.
“Only a cheeky hundy to go” quipped Hayley to John. However, we
had done no hills, and hadn’t practiced precision cycling between rumble strips
and deep storm drains on a loose gravel surface.
The hill climbs started after lunch and I mean, immediately after
lunch. I think they were enjoyed by everyone.
My eye was caught by the soft light playing on the
gently-contoured hills to my left for about two seconds, then back to the slog.
False summit gave onto false summit, but eventually, we were
released into terrifying, gusty cross winds on the descent into the plateau.
We were finally given a tail wind on the flat where Stephen and
Hayley let rip at the front of the peloton and quickly got pulled back
into line by John.
I, on the other hand, was beginning to bonk further
back in the peloton, and it’s not as fun as it sounds.
Thank you to all the heroic 'hands of God' who got me through it
and force-fed me my first gel. Bleach.
A few more eye-wateringly scenic hillocks and valleys, and we
rolled into Wedderburn up a gravelled hill. I had finally perfected the gravel warning
signal, unfortunately nobody paid the slightest bit of attention.
So that’s the longest day in the bag. Totally achieved by
the novices. Could someone remember to wake us in the morning? We're not
entirely sure we’ll regain consciousness.
Hayley and Gabs
No comments:
Post a Comment