The Cycling Adventurer

   Randonneuring

Great Southern Randonnee 1200   

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Dates: 5 December 2004
Route: Anglesea to Geelong to Anglesea, then Lavers Hill, Port Fairy, Cobden, Port Campbell, Halls Saddle, Moyston and back to Anglesea
Distance: 1200km
Organiser: Peter Moore under the auspices of Audax Australia
This article was written a week after the finish and posted on the Bicycling.com long distance forum

PBP was not a brilliant experience for me, mainly because I got sick on the first day with a bad head and chest cold, and the enormity of the occasion was daunting, but it certainly taught me a lot.

As a result, I set out on my second 1200, the Great Southern Randonnee, with the deliberate strategy of riding at my own pace; I was going to regard this as a tour of a region I had not visited recently, and to enjoy the scenery. That meant I was dropped by the fast groups within the first five kilometres. I did pick up a passenger along the way (but that's a whole other story).

Anyway, with my sleeping, nutritional and hydration plans, and keeping a pace so my breathing was controlled and easy, I felt amazingly good and positive throughout the whole ride. I napped well on the day of the start, and then had about 5½ hours of sleep during the ride itself. At no stage did I feel like falling asleep on the bike — the high level of concentration through the wind and rain and relatively poor road surfaces in some places, plus the fast downhills, ensured that wasn't going to happen. An adequate intake of the Bob's Jungle Juice mix also helped a lot.

I did have a short period of hallucination — ghost dogs running towards me in a playful way; when I didn't take any notice of them, they started again from further up the road... but gave up on a third try.

I thought at one stage I was hallucinating when all sorts of odd things started appearing on the road, but then I realised I was passing a school, and the kids had sprayed grafitti on the roadway with black and silver paint. Mind you, this went on for about a kilometre. It was disconcerting on the first pass through, so thank goodness I saw them again on the way back. And they were confirmed later by other riders. Phew!!

Four of us were the poor blighters who copped the full force of the southerly change coming into Port Fairy the first time. Three of us were just coming out of Warrnambool when the change started. There was an increase in wind, then suddenly a full-blown gale blew in with what I estimate to be up to 60mph gusts and horizontal rain that stung the skin and eyes.

Canadian couple Scott Gater and Melissa
Friesen, with me at the back, then Rob
Gray from England and Charlene Barach
from Canada before the start. Michelle was
an entrant in the 600 version of the event.

I finally make it back to the finish at Angelsea,
with a big smile on my face and with
time to spare.

I do have to say that Charlene and Scott were the inspiration for me to keep going as I felt battered and worn and ready to abandon, too. I didn't sleep here, but took my time in the turnaround before departing, about 90 minutes after the others, I think.

We then spent a lot of time riding in the rain, which meant I went through absolutely every single piece of clothing I had both on the bike and in the drop bags I had sent to Port Fairy. There also was some creative use of plastic bags to protect my feet and upper legs. I knew, however, that if I kept up a reasonable cadence, I would keep warm enough while riding. At one town, Paolo and I hogged the electric blow-dry hand-driers in the public toilets to dry gloves.

I had originally planned on not carrying much, but in a long story short, I broke the light mount on my original rear rack in Perth, and decided to replace the whole rack, and acquire another Topeak trunk bag of the same design as the one I left at home. The space in the trunk bag enabled me to be quite self-sufficient between bag drops and to take the clothes that helped me through.

E6 light makes all the difference

The one real improvement I had made immediately before the ride was to buy an E6 secondary light and connect it in series to my normal Lumotech Ovalplus. It was like riding with a motorcycle light when it was on, and it certainly came in handy for the 60km/h downhills, and looking well ahead in the rainy darkness at other times.

My one downtime emotionally was after waiting for Paolo on the return from Halls Gap at Dunkeld. He had been about five minutes behind me just before a couple of big downhills — I waited at the top of several crests in the preceding rollers waiting for his headlight to appear, which it did. When I got to Dunkeld, I restocked water and Bob's JJ, dried out my gloves with the drier. Then waited, and waited and waited in the expectation he wasn't far behind.

Eventually, I just gave up, but not without a great deal of internal ethical debate about leaving behind a ride partner who had been with me for three nights, and one who didn't speak much English at that. The rain had started bucketing down just before the steep downhills, and I was nervous that I would be leaving Paolo on the side of the road hurt or worse.

I got going again after waiting another 10 minutes (for a total of 40 minutes downtime), but it was enough to put me right on the limit for getting into Hamilton. In the end, the checkpoint guy put down 6.02 as my "in" time, which was the exact closing time of the checkpoint. I waited again for another 90 minutes to see if Paolo would show. I dried out all my clothes at the next-door laundromat. Then went, and it became a desperate battle against what was now a headwind all the way to Port Fairy. I was fairly cursing myself for waiting when really Paolo wasn't my responsibility, but that's the way I am — duty of care and responsibility and all that.

Paolo told me later that even after a three-hour sleep at Halls Gap, he had started falling asleep on his bike and stopped to nap again on the side of the road just before the first major descent. It was a shame he that couldn't have made it the extra three or four kilometres to the big downhills and then to Dunkeld, because I think he then would have been able to finish the event.

My bike was OK during the ride. A bolt on the rack came off in the first 24 hours, but I had a spare to replace it and eliminate the annoying rattle. I also broke a front spoke at the thread end, a legacy of switching over the spokes from the original wheel and relacing them on to the new Velocity rim just before leaving Hobart, instead of buying slightly longer new ones. I just moved the broken spoke out of harm's way, did a quick true job with the two neighbouring spokes, and kept going.

Heavy hand makes a sore foot

The only other annoyance was a stiff release on my right-hand Time Atac pedal. Now this might seem strange, but there is a story attached to this (as always). On arriving at Perth Airport as part of my countrywide Audax events program, I promptly fell off the bike at the front entrance when my right foot wouldn't release from the pedal. Of course, I landed on my right shoulder, which resulted in excruciating pain (I had dislocated and broken a bone in it about three weeks beforehand).

A screw had dropped out from the cleat and it just rotated in the pedal instead of clicking out. I carried a spare screw and replaced in on the spot. Later I got some Loctite and did a good job of tightening everything down... so much so that the cleat created an indentation into the plastic of the sole, thereby limiting clearance for the stainless steel springs on the pedal, and eliminating virtually all normal float.

I didn't work all this out until Day 3 of the GSR, by which time I had strained my IT band a bit more, and worn out my ankle trying to unclip. Ironically, my right shoulder caused me least problems on the ride. I'm also nursing a pretty tender and in some places numb groin region; the roads ranged from good asphalt to really crappy broken chipseal, and I had two hefty hits on ledges on high-speed downhills that didn't help.

I went into this 1200 with less preparation than for PBP. Admittedly, I had done 200, 300 and 400km rides from mid-September, but not much riding in between. This was added to my normal commutes with a few metric centuries thrown in. The hill-climbing worried me because of the Great Ocean Road's reputation, but in the end, I handled the hills with some ease and enjoyment, and actually improved my technique a bit.

All said and done, I was ecstatic at finishing. The reception I received at the finish was wonderful, although I did remind everyone that my achievements were only the same as the others who had finished. The 17-minute margin to 90 hours was OK considering that I was playing catch-up for much of the last 27 hours. The tailwind on the last stretch up the coast to the finish also helped.

It was great to see Charlene Barach, Rob Gray and Scott Gater as bicycling.com long-distance forum members/associates who had successfully made it all the way. I really felt for Scott's wife, Melissa, however, as the conditions were so atrocious when she intended to depart on the 600 randonnee run in conjuction with the main event, and she abandonned not long after the start. The other participant in the 600 withdrew at Port Fairy. Coming up in 10 days or so is the Fleche Opperman, which is the Audax Australia team ride over 360+ kilometres. It will be a flat course and my usual ride partner, Tim, and I are planning on riding it reverse direction to the start (maybe another four centuries in a weekend). The next big ride for me is the Giro Tasmania 1000 on 2-3-4 January 2005. I think I have its measure this time, and there will be no stopping me on it, especially as daylight riding will be extended and temperatures much more comfortable than on our first attempt last Easter. Bring it on!

Footnotes:

• The GSR is held every two years in non-PBP years. I thought it was excellent that the starting field for the 1200 comprised almost half-and-half Australian and international entries, which ranged from Brazil and Belgium to Canada and the US.

  What a few probably don't know is that John Evans, who did this event two years ago, too, is originally English and was a member of the legendary rock group Jethro Tull. He has just moved to live in Melbourne. His favourite pastime is rando-riding, especially the long events.

  I hope the GSR continues to pique the interest of riders around the globe. It might not be as prestigious as PBP, or have the awe of BMB, but in my mind it is worthy of it place on the international calendar, and gives many riders the chance to add another continent to their CV.

• I have to give full credit to the volunteers who were at each of the major checkpoints. Honestly, they were attentive to my every need (and I understand, of the riders), and the food was pretty good throughout. Their encouragement and friendliness is what counted most... and as the event gets bigger, this might be the one area to suffer as demands on them become greater.

• The rain is something that was unpredictable. Australia seems to have reverted to a "normal" weather pattern with spring rains whereas in the past decade or so, much of mainland Australia has been drought-stricken. But then, I always advise anyone coming from overseas to bring clothing for all weather types.

• The storm into Port Fairy was probably a watershed for me and randonneuring. I reckon that if I survived that blast and continued on, then nothing on a randonnee will ever faze me again. Everything just seemed to fall into place after that, except for the concerns about Paolo.

• Two of the international entries were Scott Gater and Melissa Friesen. Scott has a Rivendell Atlantis, a fine bike by Grant Peterson in the United States. It was not the first time I had seen an Atlantis in the flesh, but it looked pretty cool... until I saw Melissa's bike. Wow, Wow and Wow again. A very pretty Mariposa in British racing green livery, 26" wheels, chromed metal fenders/mudguards, a nifty rear rack, beautiful lugs, leather rear mudflap... the list goes on. I'd say that it's the loveliest bike I have seen.