Tiff: The occurring memories for day one out to Stawell and back can be broken down into three things - wind, hot chips and the slog through the dark.

After raining all day and all night, Saturday morning started out dry and clear, a good omen for the day. The wet roads and windy forecast though meant for a tough start. That first climb/drag out of Bendigo was into a headwind and, with an average temperature of 4 degrees, it felt glorious on cold legs… but at least it wasn’t raining. The first stop at Dunolly was meant to be a quick 5-minute break, but with 54km of constant headwind we all needed a little break and I needed a coffee. And that pretty much set the tone for the first 175km.

The first checkpoint at Avoca offered up a selection of over 40 varieties of pies (including crocodile and camel) to discuss over morning coffee and we perused the menu in anticipation of what we might eat on the way back through later on. According to our planned schedule we were already 30 minutes behind our anticipated arrival time, but it wasn’t a worry. We’d had a steady headwind all the way in, it’ll be a tail wind on the way back. And at least it wasn’t raining.

Turning to the north we had a chance to use that tailwind for 8km. Fuelled by coffee, baked goods, and, frustrated by the wind, the Jem train took off with a look that I would get used to over the next two days: hands settled on to the hoods of the bike, elbows slightly bent and head cocked slightly to the right. Sam and I just held onto his wheel and our average speed jumped up by 9km/h. Flying… until the road curved to the west and we settled back into the grind.

Jem: That brief section of tailwind felt good. My legs felt pretty average all day - they weren't dead but aching for no real reason. I had been concerned about my ankle before the ride - I'd had a few twings in the area of an old injury - and perhaps I was subconsciously compensating with my position on the bike?

It wasn't really until Stawell that I felt ok, which is perhaps ironic seeing as it was a tough, tough 175km to get there. That wind was a killer and the long straight road out of Dunolly was especially painful. I kept telling everyone that that was going to be the worse section to deal with because of that headwind but really, I had no idea.

Tiff: After the turn around at Stawell, we initially made better time but the anticipated tailwind had turned into more of a cross-wind than anything and didn’t seem to be doing us as many favours as planned. A brief respite on the side of the road had Sam staring into space and Jem and I having a short lie down. I tried not to make eye contact at Sam as he glared accusingly at me, wondering where that promised wind assistance had gone. However, having perused the Avoca menu on the way through, we all knew exactly what we’d be ordering at the next pitstop: HOT CHIPS and gravy!

This became our mantra and got us through the next 40km. Between the occasional rally cry of “hot chips!” and a downhill drag, we flew along towards Avoca, at least until we turned south. Then it was a brutal drag back into a headwind that felt way worse than it did heading out. Jem seriously showed us how the train works, taking the lead and dragging Sam and I into town. I literally just hung on, gasping for air, and counting down the oh so slowly ticking over kms until we reached Avoca. I was done. Slowly getting off my bike, the boys asked how I was doing. Not good I said, then leaned against the toilet block and had a cry. I was absolutely shattered, and struggling to fathom how on earth I was going to get back to Bendigo, much less get up the next day and do it again.

Jem: Oops, I may have gone a little too hard into Avoca. Call it white line fever. Call it hot chip fever. Either way I wanted to be off the bike and in the cafe. Oddly, the kms out of Stawell (sad, sad, Stawell, if feels such a lonely place) had felt good. A little bit of crosswind, or at least no headwind, and some pleasant rollers for company had seen the distance clock over. The sun was out although it was never that warm. I didn't meant to break anyone on the run into the headwind but I was battling my own invisible enemy and it felt like the right response at the time.

Every bike is a gravel bike

13 of the best from a year of limited adventure

Part 3 - Downhill to the Med

Part 2 - Les Grandes Alpes

Part 1

Finally!