Contemplating Col.

 Post #596

24/4 The Great Ocean Road / Otway classic.

They were all there.  The aerodynamically challenged, the wannabe Matthew van der Poel types, the hopelessly under-prepared ones, the event junkie (with last year's "Round the Bay" number still stuck on the bike),  the 'expensive bling makes me faster' types and the wide-eyed first timers.  The Greta Ocean Road / Otway Classic had drawn all 3900+ of them!  Entering this type of ride at least gives you variety (a measure of your own worth if you like), but away from the familiarity of your own bunch.  I find a little discomfort sharing close quarters with the unknown.  Despite being flagged off in waves, the first 6 k's felt like a sardine in a crushed tin as hundreds crammed the streets endeavoring to escape Torquay for the 145 k's of the open roads ahead, but a couple of 4% climbs sorted the wheat from the chaff.  

Pity the poor few with punctures before leaving the town limits (tyres beyond the use-by date maybe?)    The north western path toward Moriac thinned the mobs with pace and a few more inclines, a west northwester separating the swift and sluggish into packs of tens and twenties as tactics began to fill the seasoned heads.  That wind was going to make misery across to Modewarre and Wurdiboluc so staying in the draft was going to preserve what was in my tank for a later task.  Climbs were to come and I'd need all the wattage I could bank.  Groups were still being trimmed by the 17-28 km/h wind headed to Winchelsea South so some reserves were spent in a bid keep reasonable pace and not be caught among the snails. Some wearing backpacks with enough for a week away, one on a mountain bike with 40mm gravel tyres, a guy riding in tennis shoes....the mind boggles!  The turn away from the breeze Bambra bound found a better speed, though numbers were whittled down to two's and three's now as many had halted en-mass at the drink stations. (I'd had a couple of swigs from the bidon and munched an energy bar so far)  

Turning up the tempo was tempting but the climb beyond Deans Marsh would drain this old tank.  6% is a test for a flat-lander!  It did the head some good to see I wasn't the slowest, passing several on an oxygen overdose into the tall timbers of Boonah Forrest toward Benwerrin.  That enlarged the ego enough to push on as mist spotted specs and glossed the tarmac.  

More like riding through a low cloud than rain.  The last thing I expected was a guy to ride alongside and holler "It's Foss!"  (Stewy from P&W days long gone) Great to catch up with the young fella, reminiscing at least took the mind off the climb.  A polka dotted sign at the top was a sight for sore legs though the damp descent wasn't so delightful.  I kept thinking of those two thumbnails worth of traction canting into the corners at 50+ .  Going horizontal wasn't part of the plan.  Eyes and ears were well open to pass and be passed for the 5 k's of rest on the legs. A banana and a few swigs more of H2O went in the tank in the easier parts of the downhill.  

Into Lorne, wheels were pointed toward Anglesea.  There's something special about the Great Ocean Road and the sea air that stirs the soul, speed stirred too with that westerly at the backside.....till Big Hill.  5% up then tapering to 3% still made the legs go like licorice, my murdered vastus medialis blessed by the downhill beyond.   Working with a fast foursome got me through Fairhaven without further ado though I was keen to face the ascent out of Anglesea at my own pace (profanities are better spoken to self)   The tarmac leveled 4 k's further and a few subtle declines had me back to a hometown hurry, the sign saying Torquay 12 k's spelled spending the few reserves preserved. High 30's were stuck on the speedo (inheriting a few on my wheel for the tow home) back to Torquay, the finish line almost as welcome as the beer to follow.  Tking in the haute cusine of a sausage, tomato sauce and onion in a slice of bread and bike chat with a few strangers was a decent trophy for 144k and 1150 metres of climbing.

26/4  Cadel country.

Nobody likes a headwind home so my course to Barwon Heads soaked up the pleasure of a prevailing WNW'er at 17 km/h from Torquay.  There'd be some hard labor homeward to base camp later.  Foreign roads certainly fine tune your focus ; it was a wide enough bike lane but it felt like the Koppenberg with a thin layer of tar on top in places.  An added early morning mist fuzzed the focus too.  Blackgate Rd stretched northeast into the 6am darkness , finally finding Breamlea to bear north to Connewarre (3 buildings at the intersection of Bluestone School Rd)   The breeze behind was still a bonus, being light on the labor was welcomed after Saturday's long lap.  I'd hoped the legs would be ready for some work on the return.  Blue skies struggled to overpower the cloud cover but a little ray of light guided me across the Barwon Heads bridge.  I wondered if the oh-so-smooth hot-mix was laid in Cadel's honor?  Most pleasant on the posterior after the last fifty minutes of punishment.  

Road direction is limited by an expanse of wetlands in these parts so an about face to face the music of the wind was due at Ocean Grove.  (Even during holidays, time can still be the enemy)  A reasonable amount of Geelong bound traffic donated a draft at times on the Lower Duneed Rd but the inevitable gradual inclines had me shifting cogs to make some headway.  (Uphills with headwind 'aint fair Mum!)  Horseshoe Bend Rd had me out of the breeze back to Torquay to round off sixty k's, but this is a weekend tourist town with not a cafe to be found open early on a weekday, so the substitute was an instant at base camp as cheap compensation.

27/4  Moist manoeuvres.

Surely that light mist of rain wouldn't last.  All dressed and rolling out of Torquay, it wasn't worth the turn-around.  A couple of steep pinches through Jan Juc generated plenty of warmth to dry off quickly and by Bells Beach the road was as dry as a chip.  Forge on Foss!  The precipitation's passed.  

More sharp pinches appeared through the darkness and got me homesick for the flat-lands, but the gradients calmed reaching the Anglesea Rd.  Forrest Rd bound the mist returned, this time a little heavier.  Soldier on I said to self but the further from Torquay I went the heavier that mist became.  A fraction of light in the sky painted a very dull picture in all directions, the few passing cars now carrying a wall of damp behind them.  Rooster tails of water went where it wasn't welcome and socks were now starting to soak.  About face Foss and make plans to reach Paraparap another day.  Brakes became less than average but there was a hurry home on the agenda.  There's a strange theory that the faster you go the less wet you'll become.  As if!  The downhill into Torquay helped the hurry (but probably dampened the derriere more), traction issues on a slick and saturated tarmac calling caution to the fore.  Dried and changed, even the instant coffee tasted good. 

28/4  The Castlemaine cool. 

Part two of a week away took me to Castlemaine and it could barely raise the gauge above 3. A touch of southwester dropped the "feels like" to 0.2.  (It felt so good in bed!)  There'd be feel-good pheromones to be had at the end of the ride but getting the old engine started at stupid o'clock was the hard bit.  The heart rate strap felt like ice!  All the layers I could muster were on and if opening the door to the real temperature was hard enough, those first few hundred metres getting up to speed was akin to cruelty!  But I had a mental bait as a secret weapon.  There was Das Kaffeehaus at the conclusion and that guaranteed to warm the soul and the taste buds.  Why I'd included the sharp climb on Fogarty's Gap Rd on the circuit of Harcourt-Walmer-Maldon-Gowar-Castlemaine I don't know.  Maybe it was the inner sadist speaking?  The urge to get muscles burning for a bit of warmth helped for the gradual uphill from Castlemaine to Harcourt, though lungs were none too keen to take in the iced air in response.  

To Fogarty's Gap Rd and the rise looked steeper than I'd recalled two years back.  It's barely a k in distance but at 8% with a 12% final 200 metres it's ghastly on the gastrochnemius! A 38 ring and a 25 sprocket was the lowest of low so that growling bear was needed to keep the wheels turning (just!) for the last half.  Gradually up and over, wasn't that 5k of gradual downhill to Walmer just Christmas on a stick! Chilly but!   

A fox a rabbit and a 'roo was the only company for the 9k stretch to Porcupine Flat, two passing cars for the 3k to Maldon must rate as peak hour.  The sun got out of bed at 7 to light the historic streets of Maldon and add a little psychological warmth but it was as useless as an ashtray on a bike against the wind-chill on the few downhills to Gowar. Survival instincts resisted any speed over 50 for fear of being frozen to the Fizik!  There's nothing like an uphill to warm the muscles and deflate the ego ; I guess dipping below 34 is sluggish to a fellow from the flats.  

15 k of incline and decline later, the rise to McKenzie Hill like most ups has it's downs, so that was taken at warp speed to get me to Das Kaffeehause for that long craved long black.  To hell with the calories, home made plum jam on thick toast was considered my trophy for tolerating the temperature.  And there's only 3+ months of it left!

29/4  The Mt. Alexander algorithm. 

And the doona felt heavy Thursday morning too!  The optimist within said it was warmer (feels like 0.6 is better than 0.2 isn't it?) but the pings on What's App of those baling out on the hometown feels like 3 was a motivation to get moving.  The sadist within had put elevation on my morning menu, aimed at Mt.Alexander as a test well beyond my comfort zone.  744 metres was as much in a morning as I'd normally do in a month!  Northeast to Harcourt was just above an idle, conservation of what little watts I had was saved for the climb to come.  

Fog laid in the lower apple fields and Mt Alexander loomed large as first light back-lit it's shape.  Searching for the little ring to tackle Sutton Grange Rd crushed the confidence, I was still a k from Joseph Young Drive where the real climb started!  There's an art to keeping a cap on the heart rate so expiry doesn't come too soon ; I was lucky enough to know the course from a couple of previous attempts, so knowing what was to come was safer than a surprise.  8% for 4 k's 'aint so bad on paper but it looks nasty in the cold light of day.  Kangaroos were my only competition on the narrow strip of tarmac up to the telecommunications tower on top, I wasn't even competing for a PB today, just getting to the top upright would be enough.  Barely a k covered and I was off the Fizik to keep two digits on the speedo,  so it was time to apply that algorithm.  W (=watts) divided by D (=distance) minus Hx (=heart explosion) equaled S (=slow up!) to leave some W for the few short tests of 10% near the top)    I wondered for a moment if it's possible to bend the handlebars on the push and pull to stay above walking pace? (all I want for Christmas is a 28 tooth sprocket! The 25 on this close ratio cassette 'aint for climbing!)  

There's nothing that appealing about a satellite dish but the ones atop Mt Alexander  looked quite attractive becoming closer and closer, the last drops in a rather empty tank drained for the final 200 metres to get to the flat 500 metres on top. Screams from the legs soon grew silent, dodging the dozens of 'roos and wallaby's made for a very cautious descent.  (I love then smell of brake pads in the morning!)  

The rather scenic sun-up had to be ignored, each corner found yet more wildlife waiting at the roadside, the few random pot-holes (large enough to swallow a shoe) posing to be a split-second chicane. Arriving at Faraday Rd, the way south to the old Calder had an up and down or two to jelly the legs, so the more level course south east toward Elphingstone was a welcomed respite. I could take in a little scenery now.  One more short incline on the Pyrenees Highway toward Castlemaine wasn't so tough, the 7 k downhill on the other side provided the motivation.  Chilled by mid forties on the descent through Chewton, thoughts were warmed by what waited at the end.  Another dose of Das Kaffeehaus caffeine with a serve of palatschinken as the perfect end. 

30/4  Cold comfort and contemplating Col.

I guess I should be grateful.  Friday was twice as warm as the day before, though six degrees is hardly tropical.  I had less elevation on today's route ; a forty k lap of Yapeen, Guildford, Strangways, Newstead, Muckleford South and back to Castlemaine made it Be Kind To Legs Day.  It was certainly a quite course, thirty minutes passed before the first vehicle arrived.  Legs responded well to the short climb out of Guildford (surely they're not getting a taste for hills!), first light highlighting the fog in the lowlands toward Strangways (a house at an intersection).  The solitary farmers ute gave a wide berth and a little eau du carbon monoxide as a souvenir (don't we take the clean country air for granted?)  Almost level ground on the wide open spaces to Newstead had me in a comfort zone as contemplation on the loss of our great friend Col overwhelmed the head.  

Always effervescent, the life of any party and the quintessential story teller, his mateship (even beyond the world of bikes) already leaves a huge void.  I can't even guess the emptiness Alan (and Col's countless friends) would be feeling.   RUOK? takes on an even deeper meaning when it strikes so close to home.  Make that conversation folks, we just don't know what some are struggling with.  Don't wait for the signs, Col left none.  Thoughtful words soothe souls (and can save them)  

The few rises toward Muckleford South recalled Col's love of a climb ;  instead of grizzling about an uphill, maybe I should just focus on doing it for Col instead?  That may have been an omen, the sun rose above the hill as that thought came.  It had been a big week of k's and contemplation, the urge to drive hard and fast had faded.  With challenges made and met, just rolling relaxed back to base was bliss.   A week's getaway was all but done.  The grind of the weekday's work was now waiting to crash-land me back to reality. Being back in the bunch would be a blessing. 

This week 358km       YTD 4,897km

Adieu Col.  Hope your troubles are o.t.a. 
You'll always be a part of our peloton