Cloudride Prologue 2022

 

Cloudride Prologue 2022

 

(PS:  Yes, posted more than a year after the fact, but here it is...)

 

I really enjoyed the 2021 Cloudride Proloque, so was keen for another edition on a different course, taking in more of the amazing country that one can explore only a day’s ride from Canberra.  This year the proposed route was reputedly a fairly serious anticlockwise loop taking in Cobargo, kissing the coast at Bermagui and Narooma, before some rough and tumble climbing back inland to Braidwood then home to Canberra. However, the weather during the few months leading in, which has oscillated between monsoonal and biblical for the coastal strip, coupled with a potentially conflicting work date, had me resigned to giving this year a miss (pondered over many days observing gloomy conditions through the train window, rather than riding to work).  These are tough events with a big mental component, and I just didn’t fancy trying to convince myself I was having fun if drenched most of whole time on terrible roads – not to mention the thrashing the bike would receive.

 

A week out Steve Watson (the organiser) posted that the combination of washed-out roads and potentially high river crossings necessitated a re-route. Steve quickly devised an alternative “lightning-fast” inland course with only 8000 mV – testament to his encyclopaedic-knowledge of the Monaro region.  Despite being unsure of my fitness I signed up – anything to get me out of my garage where the tires on various bikes were literally growing mould.

 

Arriving at the start we parked directly behind the intimidating athletic silhouette of Matt Warner-Smith (the mystery gun whose emergent SPOT startled dot-watchers partway through the race) as he was putting his extremely minimalist kit together including skinny 40 mm slicks.  Anita commented that he looked like he was only out for a few hours – compared to my more kitchen-sink approach.  I thought he must be a local with inside knowledge.  He took off like a champagne cork, gapping the field immediately.  I started mid-pack but gradually inched forward in the company of another rider – Wes Hart (another former climber who instantly recognised Anita at the start, so introduced himself - we were both riding OPENs shod with 50 mm tyres).  Having not seen any of the course I was very nervous about resupply options – particularly what time we’d make Nimmitabel (180 km), then Berridale (230km), which I’d figured were the only realistic resupply points given my predicted schedule. But time and distance seemed to pass quickly whilst shooting the breeze with Wes as we discussed climbing and cycling connections, other gravel adventures, the difficulty sourcing bike parts, and assorted minutiae. For a while there we were joined by Heath Wade (fellow Tour Divide alumni) and Mike Brennan and a few others. All were enjoying the vibe of great roads through lovely country on a spectacular day. After the beautiful but steep Tinderry climb it was just Wes and I again, tapping out a rhythm we were both reasonably comfortable with, cruising on roads not nearly as gunked-up as feared.

 

We were relieved to hit Nimmitabel (180 km, and > 3000 m vert) and its famous bakery at approx. 3:30 pm.  I considered not stopping, but was glad we did (pie and coke).  The segment between Nimmitabel and Berridale was simply stunning – hardpack rollers gradually descending velvet folds of an expansive valley on a perfect day – it honestly doesn’t get much better! At 5:30 pm we hit Berridale (230 km) and the realisation that the pie cabinet at the Mobil servo was completely bare. We ducked off-route to the pizza van at the Jindy-end of town only to receive news that despite having just opened for the eve, the wait time was already over an hour!  Onwards.  

 

As luck would have it, Wes and I hit the Snow Goose Hotel in Adaminaby (295 km) at 9 pm, and whilst the kitchen was long-closed they put some frozen pizzas in the oven for us - once the oven heated up that is, which took about half an hour.  Heath joined us just as the pizzas were served - great timing!  All 3 of us rolled out at 10, and were glad to be out of there before any of the extremely pissed locals hit the roads.  Before long we were back on the dirt for what was a very difficult last 150 km, including some diabolically loose, rutted and bone rattling descents. With 130 km to go, and having had to walk some steep sections towards the 1500 m high point, I bid Wes farewell and watched him gradually vanish into the darkness of the Long Plain road.  Too strong!  Definitely well past the transition from racing to survival. A particularly rutted descent led to the technical Goodradigbee river crossing at 400 km, access to which was complicated by waist-high strappy grass tangling all through my drive train.  My bare feet and sore body struggled with the stony bottom whilst keeping the bike aloft, so I ended up just pushing the rig with submerged axles through the bulk of the flow to the other side (sorry bearings!). A brutal climb up the Brindabellas commenced (600 m over 10 km – also requiring some walking), which was followed by the long bone-rattling Two Sticks descent.  Meredith Quinlan later suggested the trail should be re-named “Hell Rocks”.  How I didn’t puncture about 10 times I’ll never understand.  Definitely 20 km designed for the MTB.  Heath (astride a 29er hard tail) had already proved much faster than me on earlier descents, so I expected him to pick me up again at some point. I finally hit the sealed road and after the Uriarra Crossing over a very swollen Murrumbidgee began the slow grind out.  Near the top I stopped to oil the chain and was crest fallen to see not one but two bike headlights, side by side, coming from the bottom of the hill in the morning light.  I had contented myself with likely coming home 3rd, but the rate I was crawling I quickly accepted these guys (Heath, and presumably one of the Mikes – Brennan or Israel) were too good and that it would be 5^th (which I was totally fine with – one makes peace very quickly when spent).  A few min later I had to laugh out loud as a pair of road cyclists cruised passed me!  When I finally got to the end, I had no idea that Wes was actually first home, and that Matt had succumbed to multiple punctures, and a navigational hiccup, which is why I never saw him.

 

Big thanks to Steve for organising such a great event.  I know he devotes a tremendous amount of time, effort, not to mention petrol dollars researching these courses and being on top of various contingencies.  Congrats to Matt, Wes, Heath, and all the other riders who toed the start and together make this such an iconic and friendly event.  And to Anita for being so supportive of me wanting to dabble in the odd “not-normal” adventure.

 

Thanks to Wes for some terrific pics