Date: 01-02 December 2001
Route: Huonville, Russell River, Snowy Range Trout Farm, Tahune Air Walk, and return
Organiser: Rowan Burns
This article was written shortly after the ride for the Salamanca Cycle Touring Club and has been edited; references to the telephone commercial on television and the celebrities involved are Australian

You may have seen the commercial on TV for a certain phone service provider. The one with singer John Farnham and his entourage lost in the bowels of a huge hotel as they try to find their way to the concert venue. Farnham eventually gets on his mobile to his manager Glenn Wheatley for directions. They wander around the kitchens until they come to a pair of large doors. The anticipation of success wells inside as they thrust the doors openŠ on to a very vacant, very lonely and very stark patio.

Well, we should make a TV commercial for the phone company using intrepid bike expeditioners on their way to the Air Walk at Tahune. Wandering along in the pouring rain, climbing hills that, frankly, weren¹t there when the reconnaissance a car was done. But, ahhhh, the anticipation of success as we drew close to the junction of this gravel road with a sealed road. Just around the corner would be the A... a sign that says 22km to the Air Walk!!!

Hmmm. If it hadn¹t been for the fact that the TV commercial has come back to haunt me night after night, I would have called this story one of Ups and Downs.

Yes, despite all the planning, the trip was not what one could call a raging success. And it all started with the weather on the Saturday morning. Winds. And rain. And you couldn¹t even say it went downhill from there because much of what we rode that day was very definitely UPhill!

The only solace was that you could tell who were the real touring cyclists, as they rolled up one by one until there were four. That was it. Only four of us — Daniel Murphy, Dave Tucker, Andreas Hack and yours truly. All the other fair-weather cyclists were still tucked away surviving the challenges of counting ZZZZs or other bedly activities at 9.30 on a Saturday morning.

Now, this all comes after I left Hobart the night before in a lather of anticipation and balmy conditions to ride up through Fern Tree, down through Longley, up through Lower Longley (I still can¹t get my head around the nomenclature there), down through Grove then — finally — up to Tim Stredwick¹s place at Mountain River.

Still, the red wine went down really well as we stayed up and chatted, as cycling enthusiasts do, about bikes, and riding, and bikes and riding, and bikes...

Anyway, a glance out the Stredwick window next morning revealed the onslaught of rain coming down. And the strength of the wind was on the up, too.

We rode the 10km down to Huonville, where we noted those all-weather cycling tourists and veterans of the June long weekend to Lake Sorell, Daniel and Dave, were had already turned up and were waiting. Andreas was not far behind. We waited around in vain for additions to our crew before bading farewell to Tim who had horse duties to undertake with his daughters. We then debated our course of action.

Executive Decision No 1

The decision didn't take long: "Let¹s drive to a friend of Andreas' just outside Glen Huon to cut out a fair bit of riding into the wind, and to be absolutely certain of secure vehicle parking overnight" (the fact we were parking in/at the Huonville Police Station didn¹t wash well with the car owners!).

By the time we had parked cars, and after Andreas had left a note for his friends, who undoubtedly were going to be bemused by having their front yard turned into a parking lot in their absence, we got down to the serious business of riding. Right up into a vicious headwind.

We finally made the crossing at the Russell River, which seemed a good spot to sit out the first of many rain squalls that made their way across our path for the remainder of the day. The trouble was, no-one really knew whether the stop should be for morning tea or lunch... so we had both.

Next stop was the Snowy Range Trout Farm, a two-kilometre-in/two-kilometre-out diversion from the main route. This came after a steady climb up a big hill and a quick run down the other side.

Executive Decision No 2

It doesn¹t matter when when we last ate, a touring cyclist never passes up and opportunity to store up more energy with a second lunch (or morning tea).

We made the farm just as another heavy squall came through. We sat inside, and sneered at the Mother Nature¹s efforts to drench us. BIG mistake! We paid for that piece of ill-guided merriment for the rest of the day.

Given that we were getting wet on the inside from sweat and on the outside from regular showers, the riding wasn¹t all that bad. The gravel road was smooth to smoothish, and there was a steady uphill before a longish downhill to the first scheduled water crossing, over the Huon River. It was a nice big new concrete bridge. Good; I remembered that feature from the reconnaissance.

Trouble was about 500 metres after climbing up out of the valley, there was a turn-off down to the right, and I missed it entirely. We just kept climbing the hill, didn¹t we?

Now I must make sure you understand two things here.

Apart from Daniel, my other partner in crime, Richard Nichols, was to have come on the ride. But having just taken over as State manager of a business, and moving premises from Glenorchy to Bridgewater, the best he could do on the weekend was lead a "lite" version of the ride on the Sunday. So my course expert was missing.

Point two is that Andreas pulled out his map and very gently asked the question: "Are you sure we are going the right way? The map says we should be heading along the river valley".

 Duh! Daniel and I have already driven this route. Dave¹s has a neutral flow going. Ergo, it's two against one, Andreas my old mate, and you lose.

The irony of this is that only a couple of weeks beforehand I had read: "Maps don't lie". At least the good topographical ones like the version Andreas has in his hand. Neither are liars are those wise wilderness walkers and cyclists who know how to use their maps. Someone like Andreas.

I should have known when shortly afterwards, we started climbing more hills. Longer, steeper than any of the others I could remember. I also should have recognised that our fate was sealed when Dave said: "Oh, I¹ve been on this road before. We¹ve done a ride up Bermuda Road that comes out on this". And I know Bermuda Road had nothing to do with our intended route.

Still Farnham¹s eternal optimism burned within me. And it burned even brighter when we came to the last straight with the sealed road in view, crossed the bridge and went to turn right.

It was the sign that said, "Tahune Air Walk 22", that sticks in my mind now. We weren't entirely lost — we were at the junction of Lidgerwood Road and Arve Road — but I did feel more than a bit sheepish. Especially when Dave not-so-gently pointed out the lateness of the afternoon and the fact that in the 22km to go, we had a rather steep (rather, make that bloody steep) climb up out of the Arve Valley. It was going to be impossible to make the Air Walk that night.

Executive Decision No 3

Quit while you are still unlynched, and opt for a campsite at the Arve River picnic ground.

This turned out to be a wise move. I stayed alive, and the picnic spot had a great little shelter where we could cook in comfort, Flush toilets (which were a huge surprise, but then we were in Forestry country and not Parks and Wildlife), running water, the lot.

Well, to cut an already long story shorter, I woke next morning (intact) to find my bike had a flat tyre, Dave was keen to get on the road to cover the extra distance, Daniel thought it prudent to ride with Dave for safety¹s sake, Andreas left while I fixed my flat in solitude. My punishment. Oh well, from leader to tail-ender in 24 hours must be a record.

I caught up with Andreas at the Air Walk. The real irony of all this is that none of us actually got to go on the Air  Walk! And, the route dramas didn¹t stop there!!!

Unbeknown to us, Daniel and Dave got to that elusive junction, heading of course in the opposite direction. Their question was: "Which way?"

"Let¹s go right, straight up the hill," they decided. It must have been the bicycle tyre tracks they saw that led the adventurous two to follow them up the hill... and away from their intended destination. The tracks were ours from the previous day!.

They eventually got back to Glen Huon via Bermuda Road and an even nastier climb than the one in the Arve Valley. For Andreas and me, we had a quite leisurely ride back on the correct route. It even stopped raining! We met Richard and Rosemary Thomson as they made their way in on the "lite" version of the ride. Where were you, Richard, when I needed you most?!

Anyway, we can put that ride DOWN to experience, and I can hang UP my ride organiser¹s hat. From now on, I'll trust my destiny to others who know how to read maps.

Back to Trip Links

Top of Page