It was cold on top. I was grateful for the hot soup at the checkpoint 5 rough kilometres down the other side. As the sun started to drop, so did the temperature. The vollies pulled out a blanket for me as I waited for Mark, enjoying the conversation and the comfort. He was in good spirits when he arrived. Despite a few moments of his own, he had survived the beast that had chewed him up and spat him out last time. Soon we were on our way off the mountain.
It's a long descent. Well, when I say descent, it's possibly the most disappointing descent of all time. After starting a little bumpy the first 3 kms is a pleasant gentle descent before the road flattens and then actually starts to rise in a series of false flats. Hang on, aren't we heading down now? To add to the oddness of the "descent", as it started to get dark we noticed that there were cow pats in the road. Soon there were actual cows on the road and in the bush, running with the riders!
Eventually, the road did head down. At this point it was butter smooth and we hardly noticed when the seal suddenly appeared. Surely the hard work was done now? And then I crashed.
I remember suddenly being on unseen gravel over seal as I hooked into a turn. Then I hit the deck hard, the bike going the other way. The wind had been knocked out of me and I thought I had landed on my hip and knees, which were now bleeding profusely down my legs. I seemed to be ok but my hip was real sore. I stood up slowly. It was still a little over 50km back to Glenmaggie. Apart from a ripped saddle and bar tape, the bike looked ok. As the next 5km was downhill, I gingerly climbed back on and slowly rolled on into the night. My hands and arms seemed fine.
We briefly stopped at Licola. Mark asked me how I was. I said I wanted to keep going. Those rollers - the Three Sisters, although I had other names for them - hurt. I was pedalling on one leg and sitting at all sorts of angles on the bike. The first climb seemed ok. I was still running on adrenaline at that point. The hardest part was stopping and starting. Pushing off with my leg was super painful. Was it a good idea to keep riding? I don't know but as it seemed that I could, I guessed it wouldn't do any harm. At some point before the final climb we ran into Josh and Lance. Josh had been taken out by a wombat and his ride was over.
The last few rises involved a fair bit of teeth gnashing and grunting but I made it and rolled down to the lakeside at Glenmaggie. Damn, I don't remember the camp site being this far uphill, I thought, as I crawled to a finish. People helped me off the bike, into a chair, gave me some food and beer and patched me up. It was almost 1am. I was too sore to move so I ended up sleeping in that chair after the world's slowest shower.
The next morning I was in pain. Everything was lazily bundled into the car and Mark drove home. When I got there, my family were amazing. Not only had I had the luxury of being away for the weekend just before Christmas, but now I was home and completely useless too. The kids kept telling me it was good practice for being 100. If this is what 100 feels like, I'll pass thanks!
Thanks to Gareth and the amazing volunteers throughout the day, especially Claire who patched me up. The ride didn't quite pan out as expected - 5 mins before the crunch, I would have felt very differently about the day! Thanks to my family for tolerating and never failing to support me. Finally, thanks to Mark for guiding me through those painful 50km home!