Freeman ! Yes, wife and children packed off to the UK for 4 weeks means that I could do some proper cycling at the weekend without feeling in some other way accountable.
And so it was a crisp and early start as Dobbo and I headed off to Dungog last Saturday, hotly pursued by Zlatko and Turnip in car No. 2. As it turned out all reached the start point of the ride at the same time and here is the photo to prove it …….
The weather held fine all day but the start was pure mountain UV, just the tonic after too many lunches indoors recently. You could tell that Dobbo and I were newbies to this lark, having never ridden 100kms in a day – our backpacks full to the brim with clothing and God knows what else whilst the pro’s elected to fill their deeper jersey pockets, mostly with bananas I recall.
The route was an orange-shaped circle, chosen on Google in the wee small hours by Zlatko – he faithfully transposed it onto a 1:2.000.000 resolution hand-annotated map. The first 20km’s or so were along a sealed road with only hills and native birdsong for company.
It seemed prudent to take on water and Macedonian resourcefulness first tried a nearby garden hose (=’brownish water with mud’) before stirring an elderly lady from her wing-backed chair. Apparently Zlatko’s knock on the door sounds like a crow hitting a window. Sensing a free lunch, or drink at least, I pitched up next to Zlatko on the scrounge. I could swear she was looking at both of us at the same time but she cheerfully shared her boiled water with us. Balkan charm doing its magic I suspect !
We then steered our steeds left – a theme for the day – onto a dirt road. It was a bit hilly but the surface was dry and smooth and the 20-odd km’s soon a blur. We stopped just the once to say hi to a dingo and for me to pretend to be road-kill (you’ll need to come to the Xmas event to see the photo I am afraid !)
Just short of the pub at three quarters past orange, Zlatko lost a nipple. I thought I knew my way around the apparatus but I was not much use rumaging in the undergrowth. Eureka was the shriek as Zlatko produce a piece of stick and effected a running repair that saw us to the pub.
The Beatty Hotel welcomed us with open arms – but we avoided the boozy hug of the local lass hanging around outside smoking. The chatter stopped as we headed towards the lit hearth all eyes checking to see whether we ordered some poncie city-dwellers drinking. The jukebox and conversation started again as we hedged our bets with Tooheys Old and New. We tucked into Steak pies out on the covered rear deck and congratulated ourselves on a fine decision to take the side trip to the pub.
The last section was uphill mostly, variously classified by Turnip as ‘unclassified’ or 1 or 1.5 or a 2 climb. At the 80km point my legs weren’t up for the debate. The local lass pursued Zlatko in a ute, facial hair bristling in the breeze as she shot past leaning nearly the whole way out of the window. After a quick stop at the Col du Movembre to take a picture, we descended at pace back to Dungog (75kmh). Turnip picked up a slow pucture 2k’s from home and there was a short race for line honours.
The sun was setting now and chili chocolate cake and tea beckoned in a cafe.
A tremendous day out and I think I can safely say a new annual event.
Here are the stats for those that understand numbers,
Safe riding
Lunchie