The Cycling Adventurer

   Randonneuring

Ash Dash 200 — 2004   

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Annual-Seven-Hills Dash... or Doddle

I'm sitting here, sorting out whether anything hurts enough to worry about, and sipping a beer to act as a natural painkiller. What a way to finish a great day. Great weather, great scenery, great company and great climbing (did I really say that last bit?).

The Annual Seven Hills Dash ended up with eight fairly significant climbs (although one was only pretending), with most exceeding 350 metres, and of those, several were over 400 metres. We didn't get to ride to the summit of Mt Wellington as I thought we would. Apparently it was scrubbed after last year's event. Oh well (oh good!).

About 10 suspects gathered outside the front entrance of our State House of Parliament for the start at 7.00am. The weather was coolish, but no uncomfortable. I wore just a short-sleeve top and it wasn't until late in the day before I put on a windproof jacket.

I decided leaving the fixte at home and it was a wise choice, with memories last year of a ride over most the today's hill giving me grief on my Merida roadie complete with 44T small chainring and 27 big cog. No, the Fuji came out again, but with a few slight modifications. The handlebar bag fittings came off along with the rear rack. On went the donated Brooks saddlebag I mentioned previously here (a long time ago). It worked perfectly for me on a summer randonee. I used the pockets in the back of my jersey for carrying the route instructions and brevet card. The bike was about 1kg lighter, but that's really nothing and I didn't give it a second thought after putting the kitchen scales away (sad, isn't it?)

The hares set off from Parliament House to run at the front. One of the young guys asked me if I did events like this often. I just replied with an "Oh, yeah, I've done a few", and left it to that. Too much to explain...

The hounds (me, my regular ride partner Tim plus a few others) brought up the rear. We didn't see most of the younger guys up front for the rest of the ride once they crested the first climb past Neika (sorry, these names are going to be as foreign as any you might use, but one day they may come into perspective if you either see a Tasmanian map or come visit).

Neika was followed by a pretty good 5 or 6km downhill. The foothills of Mt Wellington were shrouded in a thin mist, and because of the good spring rains here, everything was green. Wonderful.

The road here had been recently resealed in sections with a sheet of coarse chipseal (yuk!) and with some dampness from the mist, combined with the rising base tar making some corners glisten like they were wet, I found myself very apprehensive about mmy speed and taking those corners. This is a hangover from my shoulder-breaking accident on a damp chipseal corner back in late September. I also found later I was leary of loose gravel surfaces. I mentioned something to Tim about this "phobia" later in the ride, and he replied he was being quite a bit cautious as well after a little incident he had on the Fleche Opperman when he also came off (without substantial injury, fortunately).

Then followed a climb up to Vinces Saddle before the fast run down to Grove, along the flats to Huonville, then on to Port Huon. I suppose you could gauge the low frequency of motor vehicle traffic on the climb to Vinces Saddle by the large amount of tree flotsam (mainly gum blossom) across the road and yet to be swept to the verges by tyres. We were passed by ONE car from Neika to Vinces Saddle.

The road to Port Huon was a great section to build the average speed. There's nothing more disconcerting doing the first two climbs of a randonnee to see that average speed on the computer dropping below 15km/h! An early seabreeze sprung up as we wound our way on a reasonably flat road alongside the Huon River. We checked into the trading at Port Huon, downed an egg-and-bacon roll and carton of flvaoured milk each before tackling the Palmers Rd hill... not a problem because it was fairly short (that was the pretender to Ash Dash immortality).

Tim wasn't on his best tune today, and had decided the hares were far too quick for him (something to do with a bottle of wine or two with guests last night). At last, I have found the secret to keeping him in sight... a few wines the night before.

The next hill took some time to get to, but was a good workout. Silver Hill starts about 1.5 metres above the Huon River and climbs up over to Cygnet. I did this on the Merida last year, and it seems it might be a section of road that has a bit of "action" on it for me. Last year, I had a puncture at the top. This year, my "patented" galvanised steel bracket for the E6 light gave up after about 100 million high-frequency vibrations in the past three months, and broke. There was no real drama other than the fact I had to think what I was going to do with it. Eventually, I took five to 10 minutes to de-thread the cable down the fork to the hub and put it in the saddlebag. Simple? Not really, because the E6 is a secondary light, and I had to leave the primary OvalPlus in place just in case. And when you don't have a knife handy, you will *always* find out how tough good-quality zipties can be a break.

This operation occured at the bottom of the Woodbridge Saddle. The two words, Woodbridge Saddle, are enough to glaze over the eyes of touring and randonnee cyclists who have experienced it. It's regarded by many as being the toughest climb in Tasmania. It goes up, then go up then goes up right towards the end. Many is the cyclist who has had to get off and push at some stage.

I rode it on a social ride just after the Fuji was delivered three years ago (oh yes, the bike also ticked over 30,000km today). I got off then to walk about 300 metres from the summit. Today I succeeded getting over the top, largely because of the extra-low granny I now have on the Fuji. Near the top you can see "CURVE RIGHT" and "CREST" signS. It's like a mirage seducing a thirsty person in the desert. Get around the penultimate corner, and there's still another 75 metres of steep climb to go. Oh boy!

Over the top and down, down, down to the Channel Highway and another neat run to Cygnet for an ice chocolate or coffee at the Red Velvet Lounge Cafe. At the checkpoint on Woodbridge Saddle, we were joined by the third member of our recent Fleche team, Frank, who'd decided a more sedate pace than the ones offered by the hares was called for.

The Red Velvet Lounge is a very seductive place, especially when you're faced with quite a few kilometres of gravel road to get to another vicious climb. Tim opted for a second chocolate milkshake to delay the inevitable. In the end, the ride up to Kaoota wasn't too bad. I made it again without stopping. On the 100km ride last year with the Merida, this hill diddefeated me and I had to get off an walk it. It seemed like a wall, especially when the granny was a 42T front and 25 rear.

We got to the checkpoint manned by Paul, the event organiser, and there was some discussion about how some fancy racers came over from the mainland to ride the Ash Dash, just to "top off their training" for the new season. Paul had delight telling us how they absolutely struggled and zig-zagged with their big little chainrings and 20T max corncob cogetss, then spewed their guts up at the top. Apparently, there is a video of it. Heh, heh. Suckers!! We're now thinking of painting a few messages on Woodbridge Saddle and Kaoota, along the lines of: For sale double chainring or swap for triple.

The rest of the ride had no real dramas. We retraced our wheel tracks back up to Neika, then had a fast downhill through Fern Tree back to Parliament House where Paul (he's the chef there) had organised with the security guard to take our brevet cards and fill in the relevant details. The three of us finished in under 12 hours, and came to the conclusion that "fast touring" like today definitely is the way to go.

The Ash Dash was supposed to be a standard 200km randonnee. Actualy, Paul did the survey on motorbike and miscalculated or recorded an interval distance incorrectly at some early stage. In the end we did around 223 kilometres, when his route instructions showed 209. One of those little jokes event organisers like to play from time to time

But don't ask about total altitude gain and other technical stuff, because I wouldn't have the faintest idea. Let's just say "lots"!!