The event organizers could not have possibly imagined that one of the wettest weekends in Victoria's history would coincide with the first attempt at this alpine cyclosportif covering 230 km, with >4000m of climbing. The same weather system which smashed Melbourne (~200 km south-west) with grapefruit-sized hail and torrential flooding, and which resulted in the cancellation of all racing at the Bendigo Madison (~200 km west), also gave the Victorian alpine region a hammering, although fortunately this was unaccompanied by hail.
On the Saturday morning Anita and I left Sydney early and made the ~9 hr drive down to Falls Creek village (at ~1600 m) - the start and end point of the ~230 km loop, now possible with the newly "sealed" ~30 km section of road. Having dispensed with the formalities of registration we headed further up the village to find the hotel, and the other guys who had already checked in. BT and Greg had done part of the driving the day before, whilst GK had come from Narooma, having just completed an epic week-long mtb stage race. The forecast wasn't super, so all of us nervously fiddled with bikes that evening trying best to rationalize what to take and where to stow it all. Having gotten to bed reasonably early, some of us were awoken at 11:30 by a phenomenal storm which made the apartment shudder. Back to nervous sleep.
Morning arrived, along with a brief heavy shower which miraculously eased just in time for the first of ~2000 riders to depart the village at 6:45am. The mens field kicked off at 7, and at 7:10 I was on my way. The road was slick but at least it was no longer raining. I was pretty impressed with the restraint everyone showed on what is a long and twisting opening 30 km of descent, from 1600m to 400m altitude - slick from top to bottom. I witnessed no accidents - in fact didn't see a single crash all day. I bet that on a dry track there will be a fair share of carnage in the opening salvo. At Mt Beauty (30 km) the Towonga gap climb starts immediately (6 km at 6.5%). This felt pretty cruisy, tapping out a rhythm of ~15-16 km/hr for most of the climb. On the near-identical descent I got into a small group of ~8 riders, and once at the bottom (Germantown) we turned left and worked a good paceline aiming to reel in a much bigger bunch just visible ahead on the 20 km flat run up the valley to Harrietville (km 74), the base of the Hotham climb. We picked this bunch up a few km before the town, giving me a chance to rest up before the start of the Mt Hotham climb. What had started as a drizzle on this run up the valley was now fairly constant rain. On paper Hotham doesn't look too intimidating (30 km, from ~450 m to ~1800m), but as with most things the devil is in the detail. The first ~10 km are at approx 6-6.5 %. It eases off for the middle 10, even losing you altitude in places, before it kicks up again with the last 10 km having many short sharp pitches near 10 % interspersed with more annoying sharp losses of altitude.
2'27'' in I was on the climb. I felt comfortable during the first steep 10 km, but as the middle sector progressed, so too did the intensity of the rain, which was starting to chill me down and screwed with my ability to spin. It really was game on now. Putting the gillet back on wasn't of much assistance as I was already soaked to the skin, but I suppose it did keep some of the wind at bay, which was getting more blustery with every km. Once the climb started to pitch nastily again my legs were really staring to seize, and on went the full length rain cape. It is hard to explain just how bleak and uncomfortable the summit sectors were. Even steering a straight line was an effort - trying to see through heavy fog and horizontal rain which stung bare legs, finger tips, face and eyes as it whipped over the saddles and across the ridgeline. Somehow Mt Hotham village was gained and I set course for the 1/2 way stop at the appropriately named Dinner Plain (a collection of Chalets) 10 km down the other side, which I rolled into at 11:52 am. Hence, ride time of 4:42 for the first 115 km.
With food bag in hand I shuffled into the hotel and tried to get close to one of two fires already obscured by cyclists, some in fits of shivering, stripping off wet layers and trying to regain some warmth. I pretty much decided immediately that it was foolhardy to continue, and that the smartest option would be to bail at this point and get a bus back to the village. As I consumed the cold lunch provided the sight of people eating hot chips and sipping hot coffee was comforting until I realized that the one thing I'd forgotten to bring was money [stupid I know, but with the food I was carrying and with the feed provided It just never occurred to me I'd be buying anything]. Several other factors eventually persuaded me that I might as well just continue. First, catching the bus would mean waiting around for hours in a room which was rapidly filling up with more and more shivering people. Second, I had a change of clothes deposited with the valet service, into which I could change and continue. So change I did, and after ~70 minutes of procrastination I was off again in what one would ordinarily class as just rain. The change hardly seemed worth it as only an hour later that I was just as soaked and cold as before, but it did get me out the door. Miraculously, on the long undulating descent down to Omeo the rain even stopped, but only for about 30min before it returned to situation normal. The section after Omeo was even flat for a while, a section I really enjoyed, and where I got some heat back into my legs, as the road intricately wound its way around some amazingly rugged ridges and valleys whilst holding an unbelievably flat contour. A great 20 km sector. I stopped at the feed zone at Anglers Rest, my only pit outside of the lunch stop, crossed the pick-a-plank bridge and 10 km later found myself on the last major climb of the day, which starts at 40 km to go.
With 190 km already in the legs this next 10 km at nearly 8% was brutal. Almost had to get off a few times (39*25), but was very happy to clean it, knowing that I had only ~30 km of mostly downhill to go, and would be hitting the showers in just over an hour. However, with the climb dispatched I now found myself on the new crushed granite surface, and in no time I had my first puncture. This is where the wheels fell off for me. The valuable heat I generated on the last effort quickly evaporated, and my dripping fingers fumbled with and got repeatedly frozen to the CO2 cartridge during the change - something I'm not very experienced with yet (my frame pump had to go to make way for two bottle cages). My fingers were so cold and numb that they were nearly useless in getting the old tube out and the new one in. I found rock shards in two places in the tire, which I had to remove with my teeth, as the pincer power normally present between thumbs and fingers was lacking. Imagine lots of swearing during this period. Probably 15 min later I was rolling again, but creeping. Of course the rain didn't let up, being harder again at altitude (~1500 m), and visibility again shrinking to 50-100m. The chill had really set in. I wasn't alone, however. Every 500 m or so I'd discover another poor bastard by the roadside going through the same scenario. As well as getting poor value for any down hill sections that followed (the story of the day), I resorted to slowing to a pace where I could track the car wheel ruts, hoping not to puncture again. Finally the lake which sits above the village was in sight, and I rejoiced at every beautiful km that ticked by; 5, 4, 3, 2, puncture - front wheel again with about 1.5 km to go having just crossed the dam weir. I pulled up next to a guy who punctured just a minute earlier - and we were joined by another one a minute later. Fortunately a van then magically pulled up. Out jumped a mechanic (just like in the races! - this fellow used to work in a bike shop), who systematically changed the inner tubes on our three wheels (all without levers) and was off again. Who was this guy? - who in the pouring rain was cruising up and down that last 30 km, giving out tubes and helping people finish. Without his assistance I honestly think I would have had to walk it in. I had inexplicably lost my other gass cylinder so borrowed a minipump to give me just enough air to roll home - which I duly did.
At about 6:55 pm, almost 12 hrs after departing, and just before dark, I was the ~320th person to cross the line, finishing one of the hardest days I've ever had on the bike. That second 115 km took me 5:53 to complete. I was a shattered man and couldn't muster the smile requested by the photographer - I was saving that for later, and in any case still had to ride up the hill to reach the hotel. The shower that followed was magic. Anita (who had a great ride herself on the first half of the course) and I shuffled off to the pub where news of streams of people still coming across the line was filtering through - well after dark. GK, the other member of our party who chose the full loop arrived at the Hotel at 9:15 pm - in remarkably good spirits and condition (far better than me) and just in time to have an order placed at the pub by phone before the kitchen closed.
What a day. It was a good mood at the table and at the pub in general. Swapping stories of the ride, and collectively not quite believing what we'd just put ourselves through. One bloke reckoned it was the coldest he'd ever been - including the 6 Sydney-Hobart Yacht races he'd competed in. According to GK there were still heaps of people he passed on the run in. I hope everyone got home safe. Although one can only describe the weather as atrocious, had it been even 5 C colder (max temp at Falls was 11 C for the day) it could have been a whole lot worse, so I suppose in some respects we were lucky to get away with it. It continued raining through the night, to the extent that by morning the entire village had lost water pressure (the irony). Collectively I don't think any of us will forget this one in a hurry!
Postscript:
1250 elected to do the long course, of which 718 finished, the first coming in at 4 pm (elapsed time of 8:45) and last coming in at 10 pm (15 hours in the saddle!). All accounted for, and no serious injuries!
The morning after - view from the apartment of the start/finish area
...and looking back up the valley from whence we came.
Tarcutta creek in flood - not a common sight
The evening of the ride the water was over the bridge!
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