wurple.net

3:43:20

Route	Mount Donna Buang loop via O’shannassy Aqueduct and Don Road (GPS Log)
Elapsed time	5:14:41
Ride time
Total distance	57.01 km
Max speed	55.7 km/hr
Average riding speed	15.4 km/hr
Weather	Cool and snowing… perfect!
Bike	Jamis
Who	Me, Harng, Andrew, Andrew, Victor, Victor, Martin, Wendy, Matt, Doug, Scott, Errol, Ro(h? w?)an, Rod

What started out as a crazy idea between a bunch of friends of going riding up in the snow appears to have gone all mainstream and stuff. Not that I’m complaining, because I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of folks to be riding with.

With all of the planning that had gone into this year’s edition of the snow ride, Melbourne weather also decide to play nice and actually snow leading up to the event. To top it off, it then become warm(er) and dry a few days before. In fact, aside from some rain early in the morning, we actually had a dry ride this year, which made all of the difference (to most of us… except Victor who decided to roll out of the house at 3am and ride to the start!).

With Victor’s super, super early start, he arrived at the start point around 7:00am for the 8:00am meet up. The rest of the group arrived in dribs and drabs up until about 8:15am. All up, 14 people… What a crowd! Andrew L decided that such a tough ride warranted busting out the Xizang titanium race bike. We were also joined by another Andrew, who turned out to be one of the guys we used to race with at Bushy Park. Wendy decided that this ride would be the best way to break in her new Baum. One of Scott’s friend’s Errol, who came along for the start of last year’s ride came again… this time with a rain jacket (although it didn’t rain this year).

Wendy’s shiny new ride.

As ride director, I felt inclined to say a few words, but I remember thinking that I didn’t actually have anything meaningful to say, so I think it came out something like “umm okay then… well.. let’s go”. Which… we did. I must remember to prepare something insightful to say next time.

Victor riding up front, after having ridden to the start.

Stage 1 – O’Shannassy Aqueduct Trail

The best part about this section of the ride is that I was meant to lead the group and I only had a vague idea of where I was going. This year’s route was slightly different from previous years in that we took O’shannassy Aqueduct, rather than the Warby Trail. In doing my recon ride of the trail a few weeks ago, I’d actually ridden the the aqueduct trail from Don Road and turned around before hitting Warburton itself. Thankfully, some well placed signs along the road climb ponted us in the right direction and we set off… and straight into a 17% gradient climb. I was immediately put into trouble from overheating. The balmy 8 degree weather, combined with the fact that I was dressed for the top of the mountain, not the bottom, meant that I went from the front of the pack, into the granny ring and getting passed by everyone.

Thankfully the climb wasn’t too long and we found ourselves at the gate to the aqueduct trail. Which, as it turns out, was actually the gate at which I’d turned around at during my recon ride. Anyway, the pacelines formed up and we settled into a nice, comfortable warm up along the flat aqueduct trail. I’ve decided that this is a much more civilized way of starting this ride, because it gives you a good 10km flat section where you can get warmed up and comfortable on your bike. I sat right at the back at Wendy and we had a nice cruise along and chat, while I admired her new Baum bike. We were soon joined by Martin and the three of us cruised along comfortably to meet up with the rest of the bunch for the Don Road climb.

First regroup point.

Martin’s Masi CX bike was in its element here.

I have to say that I really love this part of the trail. Except for a few funny climbs and descents near the road crossings, this trail is for the most part, dead flat, making for some really comfortable riding. With the towering mountain on one side and gaps in the trees providing some pretty decent views of the valley, it’s a really nice place to be. I must make an effort to get out there and ride this entire trail at some point.

The Don Road regroup point

Stage 2 – Don Road to the gates of the national park

As we turned up Don Road, I decided to move up towards the front of the group, where I found this…

Why would you wear white???

Now I know it’s very Euro-pro to have a white jersey, shoes, knicks, saddle and bar tape, but it’s very un-pro to actually get any of them dirty. I mean really, why would you wear an uncovered white jersey on a ride where you are guaranteed to get wet and muddy. Not only that, Harng actually turned down my offer of a rear mud guard earlier that morning.

Anyway, as the road turned upward, the group splintered and we each settled into our own pace. For the most part, the chatter died down and was only punctuated by the odd call of “Car up!”. At this point, I started to realise again that the saddle on my mountain bike is very, very hard. This is not actually the only time that I’ve realised this. In fact, it’s on this very ride every year when I realise the same thing. Of course, that’s never actually a problem when I’m out on the trails, since I hardly ever sit down, but for a ride like this… ouch! Of course, I will promptly forget this in a week’s time and remember again during next year’s ride.

Le peleton rolls out from Don Road

Victor and Harng pushing the pace

The climb in this section is pretty comfortable, with nothing too steep and the road surface quite easy to manage, so it wasn’t long before we found ourselves at the end of Don Road, ready to cross into the national park. The road signs here were the cause of a bit of confusion. Is it…

14km to go?

Or 16km to go?

Stage 3 – Behind the gates of the national park

To me, this is always the best and worst part of the ride. The closed gates means that we can ride anywhere we like on the road. At this point, the weather always starts to close in and eventually the bitumen road gives way to gravel and in this year’s case – mud. One important thing to note about this part of the ride was the fog.

Very… very… dense fog.

That’s the flash being reflected by the fog

More of Mr Poopy Pants

Spirits were still high

As we pushed on up the hill, the group started to get well and truly broken up along this section, with the lead group containing the two Andrews, the two Victors, Harng and Martin up the road. My mid-pace group with Rod, Matt and Doug, generally riding alone. While not far behind was the group of the floral lei containing Scott, Rohan, Errol and Wendy were all a bit more chatty. I have to say that the forest at this point is absolutely stunning. Massive trees on both sides, shrouded in fog, with streams of snow melt trickling along most of the gullies.

Lovely scenery… the trees, not Matt & Rod.

However, during this part of the ride your body gets the real test. You’re starting to get tired. Hunger will kick in if you haven’t had enough to eat. Your mind starts to get annoyed about the fact that you’ve been constantly pedalling with no respite. The cold starts to seep through your gloves. The muddy trail makes smooth riding hard. PLUS, the snow starts.

Except this year, the snow didn’t start.

Actually… I was getting kind of worried. We pushed on and on and yet, there was no snow to be seen. I was actually getting kind of worried that the elements had conspired against me and the previous day’s 10cms of snow had become nothing more than mush overnight. We pushed on and on, yet there was no snow. Past the point when I was blown into a ditch two years prior. Past the ski jump.

Nothing.

I was honestly quite worried that there would be 13 disappointed riders who didn’t get any snow.

Then, we hit the snowline! Whew!

Woohoo! Snow!

Last one up the hill

The road also turned to bitumen which I knew meant that the gates wouldn’t be far… and the end of stage 3.

Stage 4 – Homeward bound… almost

Just a little bit of fog.

With the bulk of the climbing out of the way, it was a matter of a formality to do the final ascent. Everyone was quite tired, but we all knew that the end was in sight. Unlike last year, we actually took it a bit further and rode all the way to the top, which involved dodging peds along the final section of ungraded road. Thankfully no one fell on top of any stray kids on toboggans.

Where’s that foot going?

At the top, I attempted to get some folks to try riding across the snow, but no one seemed interested, so it was on with all of the ski gear that we’d lugged up to the summit and it was time to bomb the descent. For the first time ever I was totally comfortable on this descent. More than that, I was actually warm. Wow. What a difference it makes. Unfortunately high speed descending doesn’t make for good opportunity to take photos, so there aren’t any, however we all made it down safely and back to the cars, some, a lot slower than others.

As we rolled into the carpark, I started to feel an huge feeling of satisfaction. I’d actually managed to plan a snow ride one month out, had a huge turnout and not only finished, but finished quite strongly. I was quite pleased with that outcome. Also, no one spat the dummy this year and there were no concerns about freezing or broken teeth.

Makes me want to ramp it up even further next year. :)

Links

• Forum thread with lots of photos
• Andrew’s photos
• Victor’s mega ride report

So today, we moved into our brand spanking new, super high tech, ultra efficient office. It’s a pretty cool place and honestly doesn’t feel like it houses thousands of staff. Being a relatively new facility, there’s still some construction going on and not everything works perfectly.

Such as… the lifts.

Yes, today I was stranded in one of the lifts, somewhere between the 6th and 7th floor.

I was on my way to lunch at the time, travelling from my 9th floor desk to the ground where I was to meet some colleagues. All very normal stuff. Being a relatively early lunch, I managed to beat the lunchtime crush and so was alone in the lift.

All normal stuff, doors open, walk in, press the button and away we go…

*thump*

The lift jerks and I stumble. The lift stop.

The buttons flash then light up again as if I hadn’t pressed them. Try again. Nothing. Try them all. Still nothing.

Uhhhh…

This is not good.

So I put a call through using the emergency button, give them my name and mobile number, after which I’m informed that someone will be on the way as soon as possible. Great. Now what? Take a seat and wait it out I guess. Thankfully there’s mobile reception, so I call a few people to let them know what’s happening and settle down to some mobile internet browsing.

At this point, I wasn’t really too fussed about the whole thing. I’m not really scared of confined spaces and figured that nothing bad could really go wrong. My brain starts to tick over about what the rescue will look like. Is it going to be like the movies where someone busts in through the roof and hauls me out? Or maybe they’ll pry open the doors and I’ll have to shimmy out while the lift is half stuck between floors?

Then of course, my brain starts to play tricks on me. Hey, what just happened there? Why did it jerk like that? Am I about to plummet to the ground and a pair of broken legs? Gee it’s stuffy in here… What’s the air quality like in here?

I wonder how long I’ll be in here…

The screens in the wall turn off and turn back on. Nothing to stress about

Then the lights go off.

Okay, that’s scary. Now it was only a second or two, but that one second was enough to give me the jitters. Honestly, I can’t imagine what it’d be like spending a long period of time stuck in a little box, with stale air and no light.

Of course, nothing that exciting was going to happen. In fact, it was a bit of a let down. The lift just… started moving… slowly.

*ding* Level 6

The doors open… s…l…o…w…l… y.

I peer outside expecting to see someone in uniform waiting for me. None to be seen. There was actually someone there, but it was just another employee who wanted to hop onto the lift. I suggested that he try another lift.

At this point, the relief hit me. The jitters got me and my legs started to feel a little bit shaky. Not so much that I didn’t give my colleagues a call to find out where they’d gone for lunch, but I’ve been feeling just a little bit unnerved for most of today.

So I head downstairs to the reception/security desk and tell them what’s happened. They aren’t even aware of the issue. So what do I do now? Go for lunch I guess…

Honestly, it was all a bit of a let down after all the exciting daring rescues that you see in movies. Where was the rescue crew and counselling service? Heck, I didn’t even get a phone call from the lift people… is it wrong to be disappointed about this?

In my few short years of owning a mountain bike, there has been one ride that has constantly eluded me. I’ve tried to organise this ride for two years running, but despite my best efforts, the elements have always turned against me. This year threatened to be the same with consistent thunderstorms throughout this week and a forecast for more thunderstorms in the alpine district today. Despite all of this, it actually turned out to be a stunning day… it was finally time to hit Mount Buller.

Planning is not this group’s strong point
The idea for this ride started earlier this week. The prospect of a “long weekend” and some potentially good weather meant that I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for a good long ride. From the get go, I was most definitely, probably certain that I was going to maybe go. Early on, HPG wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to go due to work commitments, but in the end he was able to go. Sandy also stuck her hand up at first, then realised that she had another function on in the evening and couldn’t go. Steve was immediately keen, however the other half wasn’t initially all that keen, then after a bit, she was okay with it, but at the last minute (I mean literally last minute – 5:30am on Sunday), Steve was caught up with parental responsibilities at the last minute.

So after all of that, it just ended up being Harng and I.

It’s quite a long drive
Nothing much to report on the drive except for copious amounts of fog which made the burnt out Kinglake district look exceptionally creepy. We briefly stopped in Mansfield to pick up lunch supplies then pushed on to the mountain. It’s pretty cool to see how cycling has taken off in this part of the state. To be driving out of town in the morning and seeing bikes out on the highways is evidence of this. It’s not just roadies too. We spied many groups of people who were just out for a casual Sunday morning ride.

Not to say that there weren’t roadies of course. In fact, as we hit the serious climb of Mt Buller itself, we started to see more and more roadies. In fact, we even came across a damsel in distress, by the side of the road fixing a puncture, who turned out to be Jess Douglas who was running a clinic this weekend. Of course, being an Australian champion, she wasn’t exactly in distress – everything was really under control. And I promise you, that if she wasn’t female and blonde, we would have still stopped to help. No really, we would have.

None the less, we did actually pull over and offer our assistance. Of course, changing a tube is mostly a one person job, so this assistance actually turned out to be Jess muscling a tyre onto the rim, with me standing around holding a track pump and HPG… well.. just standing around. He didn’t even take a photo, despite the fact that he was holding his camera moments before we stopped the car.

Good deed for the day done, we continued the drive upwards and found ourselves at the village with absolutely no idea where to go. We eventually found a spot that looked like a carpark that didn’t have any no standing signs and unloaded. I should point out that trying to get two mountain bikes off a moderately tall car, that’s pointed up a ~10% gradient hill is rather tricky.

To the hills!
After getting ourselves organised, we rolled into the village and had a chat to Jess & co who were just pulling up to the top of the mountain. Karen also happened to be walking past and pointed us in the right direction, so off we went.

Kind of.

Honestly, they could do with a few more signs in the village itself. There was a bit of confusion as we headed in the Stirling direction only to find ourselves facing a no entry sign. Of course, as it turns out, the trail started just after this. We eventually found our way on to one of the beginner trails just below the village. It was soft and grippy, with a bit of a roller coaster of little bumps. Good fun, but reasonably tough going on what was meant to be a green run.

We pushed out towards Corn Hill, past the sewerage treatment plant, which had another no entry sign that had a Bike Buller sign immediately behind it. Weird. We seemed to be doing a disturbing amount of downhill, which of course would mean the equivalent amount of up hill to get home. We finally hit the outbound Corn Hill trail. Was pretty good, but I was really struggling. I actually started to wonder if the altitude was messing with my breathing, because I seemed to be going verrrry slowly.

Out to the picnic table, we decided to take the wrong route and actually took the directly vertical firetrail up Corn Hill, which actually sits between the two Corn Hill singletracks. The big, loose rocks meant that we actually walked this section instead of riding it and HPG was worried that his stiff joints wouldn’t like too much of this. Thankfully, we soon got to the top and it was back on the bike, over the hill and back down.

Down, down and down. Lots of it.

This stuff is truly a brake burner, with loose softball sized rocks, threatening to take your wheels out from under you. Honestly, none of the stuff was exceptionally steep – I didn’t even have to sit on my back wheel – but it just went on and on and on. With the long slopes and big rocks, I didn’t really want to let go of my brakes, because I was afraid of losing control at speed. Almost had to ditch it several times, but managed to stay upright the whole way down to Silk Lane.

I was pumped. Forearms, triceps and lats were hurting from absorbing the rocks, brakes were sizzling and I was grinning.

Awesome fun.

But of course, I now had to go uphill to get back to the car.

I couldn’t actually figure out why Silk Lane is named as such, because there’s absolutely nothing silky about it. Aside from the debris all over the trail, all this trail was made up of was a series of rocks. Lots of them. Honestly, this is some of the hardest climbing I’ve ever done. Technical, altitude and hairpin after hairpin after hairpin. This was tiring at first because I was struggling to take the hairpins, so it ended up being 10m of riding following by a short walk around a corner. Rinse… and repeat.

But then it all started to come together.

I started to learn how to handle these ascending hairpins and actually started to relish the challenge. Sure there were some that were just a bit too sharp for me, but for the most part, I was getting them. Which took me to this…

Woohoo.

Then we descended some and started to climb again. This time, however I just couldn’t get it. It was all just a bit too rocky and I was starting to get a bit too tired and so we began a moderately long section of hike a bike.

Apparently, these guys however, could handle all of the rocky climbing.

Annoyingly, halfway through the hike a bike, we found this view, which I feel that we didn’t really earn… but no matter, it was a good excuse for another rest.

Next up was Misty’s Twist, where I started to enjoy myself again. When I saw the map of the trails, I said that I definitely wasn’t missing this trail. I’m really glad that we didn’t. Sure the flow isn’t as nice as Mariner’s Run at Forrest, but the moderately steep and repeated bermed hairpins are absolutely awesome. No speed records here, but just enough peddling required with just enough downhill. Perfect combination. The climb wasn’t too bad either and we soon found ourselves back at the spot which we’d just left.

Homeward bound, we turned towards the short Corn Hill climb and started to bomb the Corn Hill descent. Oh lordy. This combined with Misty’s was pretty awesome. Again it was tight descending berm after berm and this time it just worked for me… I think this was quite possibly my favourite trail of the whole day. Back at the picnic table, we decided to shortcut back home by riding the road up, which took as back to the car where lunch was waiting.

The GPS data showed a puny 13.57km of riding, although there was an astounding 1400m of climbing. Can’t complain I guess.

The bit where my face fell off
After lunch, we joined WAK and co for a tour of the trails closer to the village. Since we just finished lunch, I was struggling a bit with all of the climbing and found myself off the back. Not just once too… it was again and again. Ah well, no one seemed too fussed about a bit of extra waiting and resting.

We took in the Gang Gangs, which we wanted to do at the start of the ride, but totally missed. Despite my full-ness, I really enjoyed the trail. It was wide enough that you could just flow with it and not stress too much about the cliff of a drop on the left hand side. Climbing back up past the sewerage treatment wasn’t very much fun, but we climbed and climbed and climbed.

Past the car and onwards to the summit.

It was a pretty hard slog, but I wasn’t bothered too much because lunch was settling down and I could just settle in for the climb. Legs were starting to get a bit weary, but we took a break near the top so I actually felt okay. Past Spurs, we started to head down a singletrack… where my face started to fall apart.

It was just a sketchy little left hand, downhill turn and as with most falls, one second I was upright, next second i was upside down and in this case… spitting out my false tooth. At first I thought that I’d actually copped a handlebar in the teeth and busted my face, but on reflection I’m fairly sure that it was just due to my chomping down a bit hard as I went down. I reckon that if I caught a bar in the teeth there would have actually been some other damage to my face. In this case, aside from the busted false tooth, there was absolutely no other damage.

Either way, following the fall, my hip was feeling a bit sore where I’d landed on a rock, so we bade WAK & Co goodbye and returned to the car. Sure it made for a really short second ride, but I was feeling kind of bitter after spitting out my tooth.

Oh well. Off to see the dentist I guess.

All I want for Christmas…
Overall, it was a pretty awesome day, despite losing part of my face. It was great getting far away from the village far into the bush. This ride also revealed to me why I want a 5″ duallie. Honestly, so far, not much of my other riding has really highlighted the NEED for a duallie, but the punishment dished out on this ride really highlighted it for me. Also, on doing some further reading, I’m really keen on doing the Delatite Trail, which apparently goes down and down and down, including some river crossings. Maybe for next time, while the shuttle is running.

Can’t wait to go back…

sooooo very long to do this ride.