Cycling Adventurer: Bicycle Touring

The Cycling Adventurer
Bicycle Touring	The M Road 2002

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Mmmmm... just what does 'M' mean?

Date: 19-20 January 2002 Route: Swansea, Cranbrook, Waters Meeting, Meetus Falls, Swansea Organisers: Daniel Murphy, Andreas Hack, Rowan Burns This article originally appeared in the Salamanca Cycle Touring Club newsletter; it has been edited and additions made. Daniel Murphy took the picture.

If you think I am a bit short of air in my tyres after reading some of my cycle-touring escapades, then Dave Tucker is right there with me. I ran into Dave in Hobart about a week after the M-Road Ride. DC, a laconic guy in semi-retirement, looked me in the eye and in all seriousness said in his deep Welsh accent: "I enjoyed that ride".

I almost fell over backwards in astonishment. Was this a ringing endorsement for a ride that took in the hottest day of the year so far; a tough 12km climb; some gravel roads that were, even on mountain bikes, challenging; and some descents that were, for want of more subtle words, scary?

The genesis for the M-Road ride was a comment some five months ago from Daniel Murphy (yes, we'll lay the blame firmly at his feet) about it being the longest continuous gravel road in Tasmania, and how it might be worth riding.

Quite a bit of research went into this ride, including a recce by motor vehicle the weekend before the ride that took us all the way to Elephant Pass. That resulted in a no-go decision on doing the whole road in a weekend by bike. Apart from the length and nature of the terrain, plus the gravel surface, a bridge was washed out neaer the Elephant Pass start point. There also were logistical problems in returning to vehicles left at Elephant Pass after the ride was finished.

We investigated a "Lite" option put forward by and Salamanca Cycle Touring Club member, Andreas Hack. We couldn't find on the map a specific road Andreas had mentioned we could take from from Cranbrook, on the Tasman Highway to the M Road. But Daniel pulled out some old photographs from his motorcycling days which showed it to be steeper than the steepest road in Hobart (Melifont St) and strewn with big rocks. A local forestry worker told Andreas a not dissimilar story.

So we decided to traverse Old Coach Road from Cranbrook instead, turn left at the M-Road junction and continue on to Meetus Falls. This represented a distance of around 55km, which should be achievable in a half-day or so of riding. Or so we thought.

Andreas must have known something we didn't (he makes a habit of this, as you will note here on the Air Walk ride). He opted to ride straight up the bitumen on the Lake Leake Highway and meet us at Meetus Falls (read it again, and you'll see why it is named as such).

Andreas said he preferred to ride well within his capabilities, and using those now-famous map-reading skills, he concluded that rather than "stick with you heroes", the climbing might be somewhat less strenuous on his route than ours. Fair enough.

Daniel and I set off in his car from Hobart on Friday night and lobbed at the caravan park on the northern outskirts of Swansea. We set up our tents on the last available site, just back from the beach. We trotted off down to the Swan Motor Inn for a counter meal and a few beers. Andreas, meanwhile, arrived at the caravan park having set out later from Hobart.

We were pretty relaxed, and not even the fact that the two couples in the site next to ours roused themselves to smoke cigarettes at 5.30am got to us too much. At least we saw a truly amazing sunrise across the Hazards on Freycinet Peninsula, from the front openings of our tents. We were packed up early enough for Daniel and I to have another breakfast at the Pier Cafe in Swansea.

We then joined up with DC and Tony Cook at the Left Bank Cafe (again, there was nothing to be disappointed about with this place), and waited for Rosemary Thomson, who had dropped her daughter off at Hobart Airport on the way northward to Swansea.

Around 11am, we bade farewell to Andreas and set off to find Rosemary at the van park, then got into the one-hour ride to Cranbrook. We spotted a couple of young women riding south, one on a Giant with very narrow tyres. One asked, almost pleadingly, whether there were any more hills. We told them not between Cranbrook and Swansea. We asked where that had started their tour. They said Hobart, then had gone up through the middle and across the North-East. I think they were just about hilled out, but they still had a few more to go on the return to Hobart. I don't think anyone really had the heart to tell them about Bust Me Gall and Break Me Neck hills.

We got on to the Old Coach Rd and stopped at Waters Meeting for lunch. This is a very pleasant turnaround point to keep in mind for a flat return ride from Swansea. Beautiful water and even a few creatures such as eels to keep people entertained at the ford. The temperature at this point was also moderate, but when the climbing started, which was immediately after the break, it seemed to go up quite a few degrees.

And climb we did, all the way to the M-Road junction. Unlike the Air Walk Ride, we knew exactly where this junction was going to be.

Now, the thing is, much of the detail has disappeared from my mind about the next part of the ride. It was, to put it mildly, strenuous. As an analogy, think of surf breaking on a beach. Behind each wave, the water slopes at a steady angle, rising a bit more at the peak. That equates to the climbs out of the valleys on the M-Road. Steady and long. But the front of each wave is steep and often rough. That's the equivalent to the downhills on the M-Road — rough, rock-strewn, sharply angled and hard on the hands because you are on the brakes so much.

On one downhill, Rosemary came to a halt on the way down when the bottom hook on one of her panniers parted company and disappeared. We jury-rigged some repairs to get her going again. I remember riding down several of the sharp inclines, my hands hurting as they held on grimly to the brake levers and tried to negotiate around the rocks. It was a tough try-out for the new Fuji Touring, and I was nervous about damaging it. But it came through with flying colours.

Water also was another major issue on this road. We had enough to get us to through on the day if needed, but fortunately, the rainy weather had two rivers flowing enough to restock our supplies without it getting marginal. I can imagine that in high summer, river water would be neither so plentiful nor clear, and you would have to lug another two to five kilograms (2-5 litres) of water per person at the start to be safe if the temperatures were really high.

The last climb was a big one, working out to around 12km. It is now acclaimed as the toughest climb (though not the longest) anyone in the group has done on a gravel road in Tasmania. Daniel suffered through, I think, some overheating and dehydration, and the group took some time out several times as he recovered. Tony then showed up his astounding strength and fitness by towing up a stretch with a piece of rope he had brought along.

I take a well-earned nap in my tent
at Meetus Falls.

It was an amazing effort simply for the fact that Tony didn't break into a lathering sweat at any stage during the climb!!

We finally made the Meetus Falls campsite, and wondered where Andreas had got to. Had he remained in the relative security of the Left Bank? Had he got lost (impossible)? Had the heat got to him? None of these things. He got to Meetus Falls quite early, then thought we might have stopped off somewhere along the M-Road to camp the night. Being the cautious type, he thought it prudent to set up camp inconspicuously in case some troublesome characters happened along. We did, and his strategy worked, until he popped his head up over a rock.

Anyway, we broke out the wine in the shelter. Red and white... and a cold white what's more. Rosemary very cunningly had frozen her evening meal and stashed it in her pannier next to the wine cask bladder. Presto! Chilled white wine and almost-defrosted stir-fry rice. She also fired up her new Trangia for the first time, with plenty of advice from seasoned users around the table. Except Tony, who admits leaving most of the cooking to his wife, Linda. Alas, Linda was not on this ride, and Tony suffered through boiled-over noodles or rice and a few other culinary challenges. Even so, we were all well fed, including Tony.

The falls were magnificent thanks to the rainfall over recent weeks, and an inspection that required a walk down and up a windy, rocky and steep track just before nightfall was worth the effort. We all then retired to tents to sleep off a big day.

The next day doesn't hold any special memories. The downhill from the M-Road junction with the Lake Leake Highway was a hoot as usual. On our return to Swansea, we invaded the Left Bank again for coffee, chocolate, savouries and cakes, then loaded gear into cars and set off home. We passed quite a few loaded touring cyclists on the way. At least they weren't going to have to worry about the M-Road.

The conclusion is this: If anyone ever mentions to you riding the M-Road, hold these thoughts on just what the "M" might represent: Malicious, malevolent, masochistic, mean, monstrous, maniacal, mischievous, mind-numbing... Still, there seems to be a challenge ride over four days somewhere in all that!

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