Day 5 - Captain Stupid

Jack Daniels Remaining: 690mls

Kilometers Ridden Today: 101km

I had a lot of ideas for the title of today’s entry, because it would be the most successful day of riding for me; 100km’s including the hills in reverse from Franz Josef to Fox on our way to Haast.

Alas, the award for Captain Stupid for this trip went to yours truly. In my haste to depart this morning and get a gap on the boys (as they would inevitably catch me), I made one “small” oversight. About 15kms up the road my phone was beeping and ringing. As it was a local NZ SIM, that only a handful of people had I figured it was important. It was Shawn; “Do you have the van key”. I was quite positive I gave it to Paul, but to be sure, I emptied the contents of my jersey pockets on the side of the road, somewhere between Franz Josef and Fox. No key. Phone rang again. “We found it”. And the moment Shawn asked if I remember where I hung the key it immediately came back to me – the rubber stopper on the tail gate of the van. Shit bloody shit shit I thought – how did I forget that. Probably rightfully so, the boys carried and air of distrust with them for the next few days, double checking who had the key (looking in my direction).

Anyhow, back to the ride. Shawn and Richard passed me not far past Fox Glacier. From there, the Km’s ticked over 40, 50, 60, 70… No van. No Alex. I was growing a bit worried. This was a VERY isolated part of the trip with no phone reception, towns or stops. I pulled up at a turnoff to a café, but was torn. If I went into the café, it was likely the van (and Alex) would pass me and not know it. The problem is, our destination (I thought) was Haast – 140km’s from Franz Josef and a solid 30kms longer than I’d ever really ridden in one stint before. So I was unsure whether to stop and wait or push on. This was coupled also with a repeating voice in my head about whether we had actually agreed to re-group in a tiny village called Mahitahi (midway – which I had already overshot). There had been discussion on this the previous evening.

I decided to push on the Haast. About 100 metres down the road, a Magpie?! Attacked me (I didn’t think there were any in this country!). Persistent little bugger too. He (or she) played let’s piss off Justin for about 300 metres before realising this genuine threat to its chicks was gone (yes I am known to climb up trees and steal magpie chicks; I’m seeking therapy for it, I swear). Ironically, not much later Alex caught me, then then Van. Alex’s slowness was explained by a broken rear spoke (after a Km walk a nice touring couple picked him up and got him to Fox, where he borrowed Paul’s wheel for the rest of the journey). The van caught me at 92kms – and I asked them to hold back so I could do 100kms (I didn’t trust myself doing 140km’s with the van in front of me and no way of communicating with them.

…A mere 1km downs the road, an unscheduled stop. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed something on the side of the road. I turned round and as I suspected, it was a tiny Robin (native one I assume). It didn’t look right and it obviously wasn’t when I lent down and picked it up. It sat quietly on my finger. I suspected it got hit by a car (but showed no signs of injury). I shook my finger and it flew off... but landed in the middle of the road. This isn’t good, I thought. I quickly assessed the situation. I was miles from anyway. I did have the van not far behind me, but I was familiar with Haast – they are lucky to have a pub, let alone a vet of some kind. I admit, I considered “quick end” options for the little fella (no need to elaborate). However, I picked it up once more and gave my finger another shake to encourage it to take off – success. It flew (fairly well it seemed) to a nearby branch. This time out of my reach, but I was content it would be ok. I departed and a little further down the road realised my decision was probably a good one. I was in new Zealand and with ground dwelling predators near non-existent, it would have far longer to recover in NZ than in Australia – the land of snakes, spiders, feral cats, foxes and just about everything else that would choose a helpless winded creature that weighs less than a fart a suitable meal.

Not long after the van caught me (almost exactly at the 100km mark) and the rest of the trip was  spent supporting Alex on his way to Haast.

What better way to finish a ride.. NZ West Coast and a Tui....

Haast was every bit as quiet as I remembered (I don’t think the boys were terribly impressed). We mulled over the idea of pushing on, but decided against as it would mean we would not get to ride up the pass tomorrow, and arrival in Wanaka would have been rather late. It turned out to be one of the better evenings together. We had the motel virtually to ourselves (despite being advised it was “fishing season and expect Haast to be busy”. Two or three of the boys chose to make this their big night and stayed up till 3am – presumably just to given the ample supply of spirits with us a nudge…

The bang bus, waiting patiently outside the motel room while its passengers rested...

Haast, in all its "going off" glory..

Repair works of Alex’s wheel on the motel room floor…. Note the foreman telling Alex what to do (Alex’s patience was tested, but succeeded).

Every trip has a theme song. Ours I think was this little number from Rammstein – Du Hast (for obvious reasons). Take a moment, to get yourself a herbal tea, get on your comfy pillow and listen to its peaceful harmony…

Du Hast!

Day 4 - Glacier Country

Jack Daniels Remaining: 750mls

Kilometers Ridden Today: 36kms

This is a fantastic part of New Zealand and I am glad we chose to spend 2 nights in Franz Josef. For this "kind of" rest day, we all found out various activities to do – even the ever-indecisive Saunders eventually sorted his day. Base camp for the two days was the Franz Josef YHA.

Shawn, Richard and Paul decided to ride to Fox Glacier and back (about 55kms round trip). I spent the morning with Alex and Sam having coffee/breakfast, and then attempted to fix my bike (I had also lost the use of my front gears the previous day). While I do know a bit about bike maintenance, sometimes it would pay if I took a moment to step back and assess the problem. I hastily removed and attempted to tighten the derailleur cable, but then discovered two things – one was the cable had become detached from the shifter (and I had no idea how to re-attach it), the second more embarrassing issue, was realising there was nothing wrong with my gears – it was in fact that my cranks were not aligned; my on the fly fix it job yesterday was not quite right. I corrected the issue (spare part thanks to Santo), but was unable to fix the cable.

I decided to head to Fox with Alex and Sam who booked a heli-hike on Fox Glacier – the bike was good enough to ride, so I loaded it up with the expectation of riding back from Fox to Franz Josef. Upon arriving at Lake Matheson (for viewing Mt Cook), I realised I had “been here, done this” before, so jumped on the bike right away, while the weather was good.

The ride from Fox to Franz Josef was awesome, with lots of challenging hills but rewarding descents. Check out the profile and the ride:

And some happy snaps...

Approaching Fox Glacier from Lake Matheson (cloud on the mountains in NZ, how different):

Decisions, decisions:

The spectacular views looking back towards Lake Matheson, while climbing:

With a couple of little deviations, I turned it into a 36km ride, including a 3km “cyclo-cross” up to Franz Josef Glacier, which gave me an appreciation of the micro-climates of the area. I got properly drenched at the Glacier, but upon returning back to the main road, I noted it was bone dry.

The crew split for dinner tonight with Richard, Shawn and Paul eating in, and the rest of us giving another restaurant – Alice May – a try. Got to say, one of the best roast pork meals I have ever had in my life! Though, on inquiring about the name, we were directed to the somewhat sombre story in the menu that it was named in honour of a local lady, who was the centre of women’s rights for a while, when she shot her boyfriend for refusing to marry her when their baby was born still-born. She became the centre of women’s rights and charges against her were dropped (remember that New Zealand was the first country in the world to afford women the right to vote). Her actions were obviously out of grief and despair as she did attempt to kill herself at the same time.

Like of the little hobbits we were, the six us re-convened for second dinner later that evening and a night cap. Apparently Richard, after riding every day (and to and from Fox Glacier), had excess energy (and no-dose) to burn. So here he is he head banging and violently flailing one hand.

(Slow shutter speed and no flash?… I don’t know what you are talking about…)

Day 3 - Well Tickle me Hocker!

Jack Daniels Remaining: 860mls

Km's covered: 50km

The journey today would take us from Arthur's Pass on an undulating ride to the West Coast and down to Hokitika. Upon rising on the 3^rd day, the weather again proved to be an unknown quantity. It was raining, it even hailed and I think sleeted a little. However, there was no wind (yet) so in my book that was good enough. I kitted up, as did Alex and the eternal freaks of nature Richard and Shawn. Paul would be Sam’s “Bang bus buddy” today and they would depart after us and play what became the daily ritual of the bang bus leaving after the riders and eventually catching them to pick up those who were done for the day. Off we set. The first 10kms or so was fairly standard mountain climbing. Enjoyable – even with the rain and hail (thanks Paul for the loaner of your spray jacket). We then came across the gradient 16% decent which was a little dicey, including an viaduct very high over the river which had head-wind, side-wind, tail-wind and up-wind. It was freakish and a little scary being blown around. We passed under tunnels reminiscent of those on the Tour de France. This was possible the one of the very few moments where my mere $1,000 cyclo-cross bike being superior to the boys $4000+ road bikes – disc brakes on a wet, windy, 16% decent are a real winner. The road eventually flattened out, and became following the meandering <xx> river. Km’s passed by pretty well, until I felt something loose under my left foot. My foot came loose from the bike – I assumed an issue with my cleat until I looked down and found the whole pedal and crank still attached to my foot but not the bike! Shit!

So I pulled over for repairs, and not a half bad spot for a mechanical issue either…

After about 20 minutes repair work (never leave home without your allen keys), I was on my way again, having taken the opportunity to refuel again I was feeling pretty good. The weather was all over the shop – sunshine one moment, rain the next, hail then next, back to sunshine…. And then… the wind. The wind REALLY picked up in the valley heading due west to the coast – and it was relentless. The van had already passed me a short while ago, and after 50km’s when I realised that I was using most of my energy just to stay upright on the bike, I decided to call the van back for a pick up. I was demoralised and my poor relationship with headwinds continued. As I pushed off again waiting for the bus to come back I kind of felt at ease with my decision when I saw the water from a pond, being blown off the pond and raining down on the surrounding ground.

Eventually I was collected and we high tailed it for Hokitika – we passed Alex (who looked spent but to his credit pushed on). We met up with the other two in Hokitika. This was to be our overnight stop, but upon noticing not much going on in town (coupled with the “who the hell are you?” looks we got at the local pub) we grabbed a quick feed and made the two hour drive to Franz Josef – I drove and spent most of the time keeping the very un-aerodynamic bang bus straight on the road. Thanks also to Sam for asking me to check out the amazing views, even though a small truck was coming in the opposite direction… ;-)

Hokitika... has the "H" factor, but not the "X" factor...

Day 2 – Like a F@rt in the wind

Jack Daniels Remaining: 950mls

Kilometers Covered: 20km

If you failed to read my previous blog on my ride from Brisbane to Sydney; you suck and it is your loss from now until the end of eternity. But seriously (well, kind of seriously, you still should have read it), I made my readers well aware of how much I DESPISE a headwind when riding. After a glorious day of arrival (still, calm and maybe 22 degrees), the first day of our ride was grey, cold and the winds of hell were blowing FROM the direction we were headed. I half heatedly kitted up and rode round to the bike shop with the boys to get Richard’s new seat clamp.

…and that was enough for me to declare I wasn’t riding. Headwinds are not enjoyable. And I am in particular a sensitive little fairy about them and refuse to ride in it. Let me <try> to give you my point of view…

I don’t mind hills. A hill is the same hill today as it was yesterday, as it will be tomorrow, as it will be in 10, or 100 years. Therefore you have a known challenge that does not change itself on any given day. A headwind just “appears” like a fart in an elevator. Something you don’t necessarily have to contend with, but just happens to be there one day to piss you off. A headwind could have been a tailwind (like the scent of a lady’s perfume in said lift that makes you weak at the knees) or it could have been no wind (like a lift as it should be – no noticeable smell).  A headwind is the bane of my already VERY fragile relationship with road cycling and something I am simply not willing to deal with.

The boys told me I chose the right day to not ride. I thanked them for their “support” (I think that's what it was). Anyway, a day spent with Sam the man in a van is not the worst thing I can think of, and it was an enjoyable drive up towards the designated meeting point (Castle Hill). A childish “doughy” in a van, 2 or 3 coffees and about 34 songs from our playlists later we caught up, one by one with the boys as they rode from bad weather, through storm, through Armageddon on their way up to castle hill. May I say good effort boys! Here is the grade of the ride for you readers to help you appreciate the feat. Yeah, it sucked...

100km’s under their belt at Castle Hill, they were not keen on the ride to Arthurs Pass, 50kms further up the road. Oddly (as we were in the mountains), the skies cleared and the wind died down and we were greeted with some spectacular scenery on the way to Arthurs Pass…. I was getting itchy feet but could not get consent from a fellow rider. With 20kms to go to Arthurs Pass we stopped for some photos. I kitted up. I rode. 20kms. Yeah not much but it was a good way to start. And then Alex captures this shot. While I don’t proclaim to like photos of myself and am probably the antithesis of vain, this is a winner. Thanks Alex.

I rolled into Arthur's Pass. The backpackers we were staying at there was a winner. Pub and food across the road, I couldn’t be happier.

I wanted to think of something witty to write about this shot in the pub at Arthur's pass, but Alex had just ridden that profile I showed earlier, the dude was shagged...

I've taken about 21 panorama photos on my iPhone. 19 of them were on this trip. Hard not to with these views...

And here was my ride for the day...

Finally, I must say. New Zealand. Tourism. You’re doing it right. Last time I visited the country I noticed the high quality of signage and general attention to helping tourists experience the country. So we are in Arthur's Pass. Population 17 people, 8 Kia’s and 4 dead possums and we found this.... 

The photo doesn’t do it justice (it more looks like a powerful camera flash). Infact it is a waterfall lite up with a massive flood light and was REALLY effective.

And shhh, if you look carefully you will see a Samwise in its natural habitat doing… Something...

On Christchurch…

If I may be serious for a moment, the evening before and this morning with Sam, we had a look around Christchurch and it was a very sobering experience. In February of 2011 (that’s nearly 5 years ago as of penning this blog) a 6.3 magnitude earthquake struck Christchurch. The city centre was out of bounds for a long time, and while cleaned up, the effects are still clearly evident – most notable of which is the Christchurch Cathedral, which seemingly still stands as a reminder of the event. The CBD is rather barren, with many gravel parking lots, which are simply the vacant spaces of demolished buildings. Further still were all the empty/derelict buildings. On our drive, Sam and I also took a drive up to the hills surrounding Christchurch. We stopped at a good viewing point, with a huge mansion behind us – on closer inspection I noticed it clearly showed the scars of the quake with cracks in the masonry patched up. 

But as usual, a Kiwi never gives up, and for the most part Christchurch is well recovering.

Yours truly in a snap from up on the hills area of Christchurch....

Day 1 – Yeah but it doesn’t have the fucking tow bar we asked for!

Jack Daniels Remaining: 1 litre.
Kilometers Covered: 0.5km (test ride)

Standard rendezvous at the airport – 5 bike boxes + a 6^th containing the bike rack, the fellowship was formed at an appropriate pre-lunchtime watering hole at Sydney airport (yeah, a coffee shop). Duty free Jack Daniels sorted. 1 litre remains….

…A note on packing ones bike in a box.

One of the most shitty annoying, frustrating, painstaking asshole of a jobs known to man – just above removing the lint from the lint collector in a dryer but just below cleaning up cockroach guts after a successful slaying. I hated it. Nuff said. Shut up.

The unfortunate highlight of the day would have to have been the discovery (or lack thereof) of a tow bar on the 12 seater van we hired (AT HALF PRICE – thank you Sam) for the trip. This is despite the fact that we asked repeated if it had one. What was more annoying was not the fact that we couldn’t use a bike rack for the trip, but we would have to somehow lug the thing round with us for the trip. And I am not talking about you standard bike rack. It was one of these MOFO’s (yes, big and annoying).

Coupled with aggravating a back injury in unloading his bike, Shawn took the news particularly badly and is the unfortunate winner of the “first to lose his shit” award.

As we would learn though, this setback would lead the 6 of us to being the masters of “Bangbus Tetris”. Packing 6 fully built bikes, 6 fully built boys with luggage, 6 bike boxes and yes one annoying… fucking… bike rack into the van was no easy feat. But we pulled it off in spectacular style and while not admitting to it, each of us carried a quiet air of contentment on the achievement.

Attempting to load 6 large boxes and boys into the van....

First night’s accommodation in Christchurch was really nice, a quaint establishment just across the part from Chirstchurch CBD… Then this happened on its lawn:

Bikes reassembled (well 99.998% assembled – Richard’s seat post clamp went AWOL), we did what 6 Aussie boys on a trip do best. We went to the bar. I reacquainted myself with what I believe is NZ’s finest beer and I am willing to say in my top 5 beers ever – Speights.

This is a photo of poppies taken at the hotel...

Poppies are nice and these help to convey to you what a fine establishment this was. It was the sort of place you would take a lady after a classy night out. Giggitty Giggitty!

After a quick beer we headed for the CBD for a meal “across the park”. Our accommodation was on the opposite side of the CBD – to get to the CBD we had to traverse Hagley Park. It was one of those instances where it looks much smaller on the map than it is in real life. To put in in perspective, we crossed a few football fields and a gold course. Once in the CBD, it took even longer to find somewhere to eat. In fact, once we found somewhere, Richard had had enough and walked back – the meal we found was ok, but certainly not worth the 45mins odd of walking to get there.

Another Adventure Dawns...

So back in 2014 I completed an epic ride from Brisbane to Sydney – and was very serious about it, covering over 100km’s nearly every day for 9 days straight. Much discipline was required for this ride, AND much training (many long boring hours on the gym trainer during the winter months prior to the ride). Alas, through lack of time (party because of work and party because of interests in other pursuits) I did not put in the training for this trip. I didn’t want to either. This was a trip where I would ride within my current fitness ability and damn it, have a good time as well. I’ve been battle weary from work this year and wanted to enjoy the trip as well. My reference to the gradual consumption of a 1 litre bottle of Jack Daniels (with a little help from my fellowship of friends) makes my approach to this trip painfully clear.

Schemed up mainly by Shawn and Richard, and 1 part each of Paul, Alex, Sam(wise) and yours truly and we had a “boys” trip to New Zealand. A focus on cycling, the trip was a tour from Christchurch to Queenstown. You had two options for travel, the self-propelled two wheeled version, or the 4 wheeled option, aboard the “bang bus” (if you are not familiar with this term I HIGHLY advise AGAINST googling it without safe search turned on). 5 of us brought bikes; Sam came for the trip and experience, simply because Sam is Sam.

...And I told you not to Google it, so don't blame me.

The old bag...

Probably a meaningless post to you but one of those sentimental ones for me.

This is just a standard buy at the supermarket glad zip lock bag. This baby was the protector of my phone, while stowed safely in my jersey pocket for the duration of the ride. The phone was removed and re-inserted into this thing countless times, it protected the phone from sweat & rain. I still think it had a few more rounds it is as well. I wonder if any of its brethren have seen this much workload... Unlikely.

Another random photo as well. The helmet, complete with Scala two way radio device attached as well as some specialised MAPM kit (Magpie Attack Protection Mechanism), otherwise know as a $3 set of zip ties from Bunnings.

A razor was also wasted weight and space. For a decidedly un-hairy specimen from the human genome, I didn't think this was a bad effort for 9 days of growth... 

Justin.

Day 10 - A day for the record books

Finishing weights:

The Bike: 19Kgs
The Boy: 78Kgs

So, despite eating like a Mongolian yak for the trip, it appears calorie intake didn't match calorie outgoings. I have shed around 4.5Kgs. My suspicion of this weight loss occurred on the second to last day. I felt my jeans were lose. I attempted to tighten my belt. I found it was already on the smallest hole. While yes I lost a weight around the belly region (not that I had a muffin top issue or anything in the first place), unfortunately I think I also lost some upper body muscle definition so I'll need to work to beefcake myself up again.

Upon arrival home on day 9, the Garmin read 963.5Km's. I lousy 'effin 36.5km's from the 1000km's. So day 10 was a few laps around The Bay (with pannier weight on) and then a ride up to and back from the gym (see comment below...)

And here it is.. 

- 1,001Km's in 10 days...
- 46hrs 45mins in the saddle
- 31,668 calories burnt (or 133,005 Kilojoules - which sounds so much more awesome)

Day 10 was an interesting day. Exercise is as much mind as body. Honestly, for those 9 days, parts of my body, like my quads were screaming. But mentally I knew I had to keep going. Only by pedaling was I going to reach Sydney.  So I think it was a case of:

 


Body: "Please stop, I'm damaged and can't go on.
Brain: "Shut the fuck up and ride"



This body/brain banter continued for 9 days. On the 9th day I reached my destination, cracked open a beer and crashed on the couch. I think at this time by brain gave into the body:

Body: "Please stop, I'm damaged and can't go on.
Brain: "Fine. Pussy."

Day 10 was an out and back loop ride in Sydney. I didn't have to ride. I was done. This was just the icing on the cake. And by this time, my body had well and truly won the brain over. These 36km's felt terrible. At the gym I couldn't lift shit. This feeling actually carried on for a few days, which I can only assume was a form of fatigue. I hear that on the designated rest days of the Tour de France, the riders still go out and smash 100km's as a rest day can spell disaster for the remainder of the tour. I really do get it.

This feeling of fatigue lingered around for a few days. I was also somewhat discombobulated. I couldn't get enough food into me. I didn't want to go anywhere or do very much.  It was about 5 or 6 days before I felt back up to normal operating mode.


Justin (all 78kg's of me).

Day 9 - Budgewoi to Sydney

Distance: Nearly there, don't care
Pain Factor: Nearly there, don't care
Magpie attacks: Nearly there, don't care
Cow sightings: Nearly there don't care
Accommodation Highlight: My own bed. Huzzah!

http://www.strava.com/activities/191513211 (Part 1)
http://www.strava.com/activities/191513467 (Part 2)

Like...a...boss!

9 days after setting out from Brisbane, at 2pm Sunday 7th September, we had done it. 1 full day ahead of schedule too. Thankfully, despite some darn right crappy weather for the last few days, apart from a few spots of rain at palm beach, Sydney turned on the weather for our arrival.

Having resisted the temptation to seriously "get on it" last night - limiting myself to just 2 glasses of wine, we set off at a slightly earlier time than normal. Today was a little different, because about halfway through the days ride, we needed to catch a ferry from Ettalong Beach to Palm Beach. The ferry of course worked ona  schedule so today really was the first day we had to ride to a schedule. We left at 8am. The ferry departed at 11am. It was 50km's down the road. As usual, my body kicked and screamed and carried on like a pork chop for the first 20 minutes of the day. But ye 'ol faithful diesel engine eventually kicked into gear. Thankfully also the wind had died down a bit so I was able to keep a very decent pace up around the 25 to 30km's/h - much less than this and there was a real chance of missing the ferry. The remnants of my cold were breaking up too. I was a snot factory. Not sure if you needed to know that though..

Anyway, we half followed the GPS and half followed our nose towards Ettalong. One magpie attack and this was the first one who actually made an effort to hit me. Waving one hand around my helmet, I am sure I looked like a right slight to passing motorists. With a time limit, I made good progress and rolled into Ettalong at about 10:15am. As usual, Santo was already there and had staked out a cool little cafe (note: the Cafe at the Ettalong ferry wharf does THE best banana bread I've tasted!). Today was fathers day so a quick call to Dad while I inhaled a coffee and banana bread and we were on out way again.

Santo waiting as the ferry pulls into Ettalong...

..And then we were in Palm Beach, and while it is the far northern woop woop extremity we were, officially, in Sydney! Still a solid 50Km to ride though. On arrival in Palm Beach a bit of rain set in, so we waited it out for 10mins while it passed (what did people do before smartphones and the BoM radar?!?). Today was the first day of the AFL final's and my mate/flatmate's team was playing (Richmond). When a mate is such a massive fan of a team, you can't help but it rubbing off on you and I now had a new mission - to get home in time to join him on the couch to watch the game with an icy cold FULL STRENGTH beer in hand.

The ride from Palm Beach to Sydney was pretty typical for Sydney. Busy traffic and inconsiderate drivers. We were going to stop at a friends house in Manly on the way through, but pushed on. We agreed on a stop at Milsons Point for some obligatory "RAAR - How good are we photos". I felt fine for this leg, probably in the knowledge that I was so close to finishing. I arrived at Milsons Point and joined up with Santo for some photos....

Perfect day for it. I looked around at the normal activity in the area (tourists, a wedding, runners) and thought to myself, if only these people knew what I had just completed. This is where Santo and I went our separate ways, since he lived on the north side. Santo, it was a pleasure riding with (or several km's behind) you, good sir. Thanks for the adventure, support & company. A motivator in a very non annoying way, at least for this ride ;-)

Anyway, I had this thing about getting to the GPO, so continued on, over the bridge to the city. Oddly, this was the first moment I started to detect some resistance from the bike; the odd squeek and dodgy gear change. Given the amount of rain we rode through, I guess this was inevitable. I arrived at the Sydney GPO at Martin Place and found a random to take a photo. Success. Brisbane GPO to Sydney GPO. 9 Days and 963km's.

After a momentary reflection, I was back on the bike for the ride home to Drummoyne. The feeling in the body was odd. I knew I was fatigued. My legs were tired, but I could have comfortable kicked on, doing this day after day if I needed to. It was all about the routine - good feed and hydration in the evening, limited alcohol and I am positive the 30mins of legs in the air each evening was a saviour.

I was home. Dumped the bike. Emptied my bags onto the bedroom floor. Shit, shave, shower and I was on the couch, icy cold bottle of goodness in hand with seconds to spare before the start of the AFL.

Mission accomplished. But there was one last thing I had to do. I had ridden 963km. I was a mere 37km's short of cracking the 1000. I would ride tomorrow....





The legend is born,
Justin.

Day 8 - Tea Gardens to Budgewoi

Distance: 116.2Km's
Pain Factor: 6 out of 10
Magpie attacks: 1
Cow sightings: We're not in Kansas anymore Toto!
Accommodation Highlight: Oh man, bling accommodation compared to what we have been having, but also the most expensive of the journey.

http://www.strava.com/activities/191512799

An interesting day. You win some, you lose some, and today was like a roller coaster in that respect.

But first my guts. They weren't right today. Breakfast bucked the normal trend of a healthy bowl of carbo-rich, energising muesli. I instead doubled up on two of my guilty pleasures - a blueberry muffin and an slice of banana bread. This was only because the muesli option wasn't available that morning. Anyway, that shit must have stuck in my stomach (no pun intended). The only thing that mattered on my body for the first 2 hours of riding was my stomach. I hit a service station about 20kms out of Nelson Bay. I chose (wisely) to hang here for 20mins or so.

Anyway, back to the start of the day. Today was the only flat tyre I had - but even this is a little dubious. Upon leaving the motel I noticed the front tyre was flat. When I changed it, the tyre seemed fine, but we noted the valve was a bit bent. So I am not going to include this as an official "flat".

Today started a little differently. First task of the day was an easy ferry ride from Tea Gardens to Nelson Bay. For those not familiar with the area, you will see, we have a legitimate reason for not riding this bit...

 

The Ferry ride was quite enjoyable and a nice way to start the day. We kept one eye on the sky. I spent the majority of the journey on the phone to Dad.

It was a simple process....

Boat arrives...

 Bikes go on boat....

Boys enjoy boat ride (except for one wanky tourist on board)....

Boys get off boat....

Now. I have already explained the first part of my journey out of Nelson Bay so we will leave it at that except to say...


- I hate Magpies (1 attack)
- I hate the wind (head wind persisted).
- Though a couple of fighter jets overhead (presumably based at Williamstown airport provided a momentary distraction.


So once I solved my bowel issues, the ride into Newcastle was fairly benign. I followed the GPS, but did make an executive decision to ignore it when it was taking me to Stockton, just north of Newcastle, which I knew was a point. I assume the GPS knew of a ferry I didn't. I went around the ports of Newcastle and then started entering Newcastle...

...I should have continued to ignore my GPS and follow that sign to Charlestown, which I knew very well was on the south side of Newcastle and where I needed to go. The arrow shows my "desired" route. The red, where I rode.

Yes, tour de Newcastle. Right through the city, and up every fucking hill the GPS could find to make me go up.

So as a Wollongong boy born and bred, it is my god given right to hate "the other steel city" north of Sydney. I'm sorry Newcastle, but I don't like you - dodgy GPS or not.

I eventually found my way to Darby St, which is the hip place to be street in Newcastle. I was over my 3 hour (must have lunch) mark and my radar was set to cafe. But I was not in the mood for a hipster cafe and rode past all the funky looking ones. Just when I thought I'd missed my chance I saw a rather unassuming place that looked like it had seen better days. I can spot a coffee machine from 200 meters without glasses. "This will do" I thought. I walked in. Dude looked dodgy. Place looked dodgy. A shrine to surfing awesomeness of a time gone by. This however was a lesson. Don't judge something on first impressions. The coffee was awesome. The wrap (complete with fresh cooked chicken) was awesome. And the dude gave me two of his left over hash browns. We got talking. He was fascinated in my adventure (that is, after serving as the 10th person on the trip to ask me if I knew my bike likes were still on - THEY ARE LED's I DON'T CARE!!!). 

I knew what lay ahead of me. The Old Pacific Highway, around Glenrock and up through the hills of Charlestown. I told surfer dude this. A look of "processing" crossed his face. He grabbed his iPad and proceeded to show me the "Fernleigh track". An old train line converted to a bike path he explained (he also told me how he used to ride it with an ex gold medal winning paralympian). "16km's long and it will take you all the way to Belmont", he told me. I am smart enough to know that like me, trains don't like hills, so this was a sure bet. Furthermore, I'd spoken to Santo just 10mins ago. "How many km's have you done?" he asked. From memory I'd done about 62kms. "How many have you done" I asked. "82" was the reply. Now Santo is quicker than me, but my tour de Newcastle put me woefully behind. 

I thanked my new friend and off I went. As usual, lunch was like turbo boost and I felt great. His instructions were sound and I found the Fernleigh track.

Fucking wow. This thing rocked. Now, back at the start of this post I said you win some, you lose some. I have explained my losses today. This was a WIN. Big time. This was one of the most awesome parts of my entire ride from Brisbane to Sydney. I hit it with speed. I had a grin from ear to ear. I was enjoying the ride. Indeed it was a converted train line. None of this roads + cars + trucks + pollution crap. This was smooth riding through what bordered on rainforest. Newcastle, we (Wollongong) have a coastal bike path, but yeah... you win...

The start of the track, which commenced at the Adamstown station - you could still see the train line and crossing from the station that headed off to this line.

This was magic, an old tunnel that I had to ride through...

In several places along the ride, they left evidence of the old railway line, which was an awesome touch...

 Some of the old stations were even left....

It was sad when this track ended (at Belmont) and I had to get back onto Shit (aka Pacific) Highway.

It wasn't so bad though. I got to Swansea in next to no time (another Magpie attack of course). I had to wait for the bridge which was open. And it was about this time I made the fatal assumption that Budgewoi was 10 minutes up the road. WRONG.

The ride to Budgewoi was on the Old Old Pacific Hwy and Old Pacific Hwy. It was mostly "Meh". I was pretty spent, but was in that zone that if I needed to go another 50kms, I could have (the diesel engine was well and truly warmed up). I do not know how I didn't get a puncture on the old Pacific Hwy. There was that much shit and glass on the road it wasn't funny. I could only assume the Kevlar lining in my tyres was doing it's job. I knew there was two ways into Budgewoi, I turned off where I "thought" one way was, but checked with a local who was manicuring his front garden (very helpful I may add). This was a valid way (dodgy locals probably didn't want council to put a direction sign up for fear of the passing through riff raff... like me... taking this route). A toot from a P-plater later (no idea why) and I was in Budge upon Woi. This was motel accommodation and far beyond our normal standards. By far the best accommodation of the trip and the "hefty?" price of $75 each to match. Santo, you did well....

I rode about 10-15km's more than Santo today, thanks to my tour de Newcastle.

The last night of our trip was an enjoyable one. Other than being a bit tired I felt fine. I still resisted the temptation to "get on it" though and indulged in just two glasses of wine. Dinner was a motel room picnic after visiting the local Coles. Sydney was within one day's ride away. I finally felt confident I had this one in the bag...


Oh and it was tonight my weight loss was painfully evident. My jeans were falling down and upon proceeding to tighten the belt, I realised I was already on the smallest hole!


Captain Justin.