Jurgen's Day Out: December 2018

Lanterne Rouge: According to Wikipedia, "the "lanterne rouge" is the competitor in last place in a cycling race such as the Tour de France. The phrase comes from the French word for "Red Lantern" and refers to the red lantern hung on the rear vehicle of a passenger railway train or the brake van of a freight train, which signalmen would look for in order to make sure none of the couplings had become disconnected. In the Tour de France the rider who finishes last, rather than dropping out along the way, is accorded the distinction of lanterne rouge". This is me, and this is my story.....

Day One

Being invited to the "Krunker's" weekend trip to the mountains was a great experience. After seeing all the "bike porn" on show, and the seemingly athletic ability of the guys I was a little intimidated. However that was quickly dealt with by the inclusive and friendly nature of the "boys" and despite being consistently the "laterne rouge" of the group (more on that later), I had an excellent weekend of adventure, bucket list "checks" and an awful lot to drink...

A cobbles bike in the mountains.

Stop "fettling" guys and get moving...

More "faffing" around.

Some of the "Bike Porn" on show

Mt Buller

The weekend started with the ascent of Mt Buller. We'd journeyed through an endless sea of outback bushland, open fields and small, forgettable towns that made me wonder aloud "what the hell do people do out here?"

We stopped initially at Merrijig, a "town" consisting of a pub, a few rental townhouses and a "resort" of sorts. This was to be our kick off point for the assault on Mt Buller.

Heading outbound through rolling terrain, the going was easy paced. One of the crew however wasn't feeling too well, so I chose to ride with him and take things easy. The motto (that of the Band of Climbers in Europe) of our little crew back in Melbourne "together we climb" ensured I wasn't about to leave him on his own.

The others went ahead and we rode at the back, slowly and ever upward. After 20 minutes, Liong was feeling more unwell and decided to turn back to the cars. I decided to go on and summit, after all I didn't come all this way to Victoria not to ride the big hills.

Slow down, I can't focus that quickly for God's sake!

Maybe he's "specialized" after all???

Ugly bastard :-) - definitely not specialized...

LOOK , it's Liong

No snow - so there's nothing to see here (as the pollies would say)

Few people about, but who needs them.

On Top of Mount Buller on a perfect day.

The ride to the summit involved a gradual ascent over pretty good roads, winding and heavily vegetated. It was exhausting in the sense the effort that was required needed to be metered out over time, rather than my normal "steep pinch, go hard, get over it, then relax for a bit" style of riding.

After coming back down, the group then headed towards our destination of Mt Hotham where we'd be staying the the next two nights.

The roads were narrow and (in places) pretty ordinary, and we stopped at a place called Tolmie for lunch. A "quaint" pub in the (yes, really) middle of nowhere. The meals were big and greasy, a fat-attack (heart attack?) in the making. But the talk flowed and everyone got to know each other better (those new to the group, including myself). Turns out there were a couple other Queenslander's in the group.

The view from Powers Lookout on the way to Mt Hotham.

Bit of a history lesson about the bushranger Ned Kelly.

The Krunker's....

Smile for the camera.

Leaning towers in the town of Bright at the base of the big mountains.

Day Two - Mount Hotham.

What a giant bastard of a climb Mt Hotham is. I started early (ahead of the mountain goats) so I wouldn't be the last one up the mountain. Starting in Harrietsville it's an easy, undulating roll to the first mother of a pinch, affectionately called "The Meg". This comes as you round a bend, after several k's of up and down sweeping bends. You see the sign, then you see the steep climb, and your heart rate goes up in direct proportion to your mood going down. F#$% this is a steep b#$%. But then you've over it and it's now an exhausting (but not too bad) scenic grind to the final 10k where all the real fun starts. The views along the way are well worth stopping for just to take in the beauty around you. Take them in friends, and get your heart rate down....

The real action happens at a climb called "CRB". This thing (for want of a better word) seemingly goes (up) forever. You see a bend in the road, your heart swells with pride knowing you've finally made it after all the toil and tears, sweat and profanities. You stand and surge on the pedals to get around it thinking the top is finally here and you're "home". But then (after several more lovely descriptive adjectives) realise that this is a falsehood, designed to break you for the climb is not done inflicting more pain on you just yet. Your confidence further erodes once you see cyclists walking towards the (hopeful) summit.

Time to grind on friends. At this time you'll be thankful for those extra low gears on your bike because they'll be getting a workout worthy of a spartan contest.

Finally it's over and you have time to actually take in the scenery, rather than the view you've had through stinging, sweat filled eyes. You've made it. Victory is yours. You've lost 2 kilo's in weight, but that will quickly be replaced by food and beer...