TOUR DE BEECHWORTH

Hell of the North East

By EAT MORE LARD

July 30^th, 2018

"Go ahead and order me a mushroom pizza. I'm just going to put some more air in the tyre. I won't be long"

Beechworth must be a cracking place to be a bike rider. Awesome road, gravel and mountain bike options. At the end of the ride, you can choose from some excellent coffee options or, if the sun is over the yardarm (be that the rising or setting sun), the wonderful Bridge Road Brewery for a wild selection of my favourite craft brews. It's not dissimilar to my home in the Macedon Ranges, even down to the proper winters.

Ben is the founder and brains trust of the brewery. He is also responsible for the Tour de Beechworth, an annual ride and dinner held during the Tour de France, and now in its 8th year. It first came onto my radar in 2016, a year remembered for the rain, hail and snow, creek crossings and tree hopping. It obviously didn't put me off as I was back the following year to enjoy the ride in almost perfect winter weather.

I'd originally planned to ride up from the Macedon Ranges in 2016 but pouring rain and 40km/h headwinds put me off that ride and I opted for a warm, dry car instead. With a few extras in tow, was 2018 going to be the year that the transfer ride happened?

Gentlemen's HOURS

Considering we were going to be riding for 13 hours plus, converging on our meeting place at Lancefield at 7.30am felt like a luxury. The forecast was looking pretty good. A cross/tail wind and little chance of rain. I was meeting Mark and Blair who I had dubbed Captain Gloom and his second mate, both seemingly convinced that the weather would be terrible and that they had (or rather hadn't) the legs to match.

It was a cold but not bitter start. I'd warmed up on the ride from Woodend and got used to the extra weight on the bike from the tail pack and my array of clothing options. I must have looked like I'd been on the way home from an all night party as I rose out of the saddle on a initial small rise out of Woodend, the bike wobbling like it was the beer doing the riding. You soon get used to it though and don't notice after a short time.

I'd decided to ride the gravel bike (a.k.a. the slowest road bike ever EVER) for the 280km transfer ride mainly because of the pillow like 42mm tyres. Even though the ride options in Beechworth this year included an all gravel loop, I was going to ride the mainly road course again, hooking up with those who hadn't yet seen the light.

It was a trending downhill lumpy ride into Seymour for our first bakery stop. It was a beautiful morning on quiet country roads and we had all day to get there. A quick bit of fuel and we were back on the road. Seymour's not a place for lingering. Its just one of those nothing towns or at least I haven't uncovered its secrets.

FLATLANDING

There's hardly a rise in the road let alone a hill between Seymour and Wangarratta, a distance of 150km. With the suspect shifting on my bike this was probably a bonus. Despite some fettling during the week, I'd not been able to sort it out. Every upshift required a tug on the cable where it entered the downtube as well as a click on the shifter. It was like riding a bike 30 years ago except worse! As it turned out, I pretty much rode the entire flatlands in the same gear, at the same cadence and at the same speed.

We were following the Hume on quiet country lanes, sometime close enough to hear the constant roar, sometimes further afield on a dirt road. It was a really a tour de bakeries and servos with a stop for a feed every 50km or so. At one point, we had to ride the Hume for about 4km as the "road" turned out to be a figment of the Google machine's imagination.

On the run in to Euroa, we came around a corner to find a ute parked in the road on a bridge over a small creek. One guy was on the back of the ute pouring the contents of a barrel onto the road like some crazy dude from a Batman movie. Another guy was standing in the road wearing a full hazmat suit and holding a broom. "Don't let that stuff touch you, mate" he said as we climbed over some barbed wire fencing, giving it a wide berth. Move along, nothing to see here.

The weather was kind - it was never warm - but the rain stayed away. The lowlight of the flatlands was the long straight drag into and out of Benalla and its surprisingly busy roads - far more so than I had expected for what I thought was a small country town. The highlight was the "not quite a hill" into Glenrowan that signalled that we were nearly at Wangarratta and that it would soon be potato cake time!

On the run into Wang, my rear tyre felt a little soft. I stopped and checked. It had definitely lost some pressure. I was running tubeless and couldn't find any evidence of sealant so I put some more air in and we rolled into town in search of fried goodness, just as the sun was setting.

UNDER PRESSURED

The run from Wang should have been a highlight, all off road on the rail trail despite a summit finish in Beechworth with 280km in the legs. In hindsight, I should have put a tube in the tyre - as I found out later, the sealant had completely dried up.

After a little air top up while we ate in Wang, I got as far as Everton - about half-way - before giving it another blast. By now it was proper dark and a light rain had settled in as we started the pull uphill to Beechworth. 10km later, I was stopping again and Mark decided to keep on moving - "I'll just roll slowly up the trail". In the dark and with the fatigue, this trail felt awfully steep for a train to navigate. Perhaps that's why they closed the line as no train could get up it?

We'd barely knocked off another 6km when I had to stop again. You'd have thought that I would have got the message by now and just put a tube in? I checked the time. Damn. Only 20 mins until the kitchen closes so I told Blair to ride on. I'll be fine.

And then I wasn't.

The pump I had been using decided that it was going to unscrew the valve core every time I tried to remove it. This was the fifth time I had used it today and I'd had no previous problems. I pulled out my phone. No reception. Damn it, I'm walking.

I was just packing up when Mark rolled back down. It turns out it was only 3km to Beechworth and with food ordered and me not turning up, he'd decided to roll back down the trail. My saviour. Tyre duly pumped up, we were soon at the brewery for beer and pizza, although the tyre was completely flat as I rolled in!

Le TOUR

The Tour de Beechworth is a cracking route. A gentle climb to Stanley that sorts out the bunches on the road. That hairy, ever wet, ever greasy descent (sadly another soul hit the deck despite the warnings), sunshine, gravel, coffee and cakes. It's such a pleasure to share this ride with others. This year we were up to 5 with the 3 of us being joined in Beechworth by Dave and Doug.

Mt Pilot didn't disappoint with its roller coaster, smooth as silk gravel. The creek crossing was a mere tyre width deep. The 42mm tyres were definitely overkill. 25mm would have been fine despite a little slick mud topping at one point that had us all hanging on a little. That 25% gravel pull up Lady Newton Drive to the food (and beer!) stop never gets any easier but this year I wasn't forced onto the even looser stuff by a car and was able to ride the whole thing.

The food was even better with hot soup and egg pies and a whole selection of cakes including the potent (and highly recommended) rum cake. The soup in particular was welcome as despite the occasional sunshine, it was never really that warm. That downhill race to the brewery where everyone has a second (or third) wind was just plain wheeeeee!

And if that's not enough, you get to go have a shower and come back to the brewery for more beer and an amazing four course French themed dinner whilst watching a stage of the Tour. Now that's what you call a day on the bike.

RETURN TO SENDER

If you'd asked me on Friday night as I stood in the dark and the rain, contemplating my pump and what metaphor it represented about the world, for my thoughts on the return leg, I would have muttered something about "getting a lift" or maybe something less pleasant?

Fortunately, we weren't planning on riding all the way back. We were cunningly chopping the flat bit out of the middle by riding to Chiltern, catching a train to Seymour and riding the 80km home from there. You might ask why we didn't think of that on the way out and that would be a fine question to which I have no answer.

It was all downhill to Chiltern - apart from the 5km uphill that no one ever talks about. The train was uneventful and, in typical VLine fashion, a little late and somewhat leisurely in its progress. The sun was out as we hopped back onto the bikes out of Seymour and we were soon out of town and onto the back roads. It was easy rolling as the sun sunk towards the horizon. It was quite a drag between Pyalong and Lancefield, the road twisting and climbing between these beautiful rock formations, the hillside dotted with sheep. You could almost have been in Yorkshire.

The reward for our efforts was a stunning sunset as the light finally disappeared and the long easy descent to Lancefield took us quickly to our original meeting place. We parted ways with Mark. Blair joined me for most of the run back to Woodend, heading north to Kyneton at Newham. He hadn't fancied the idea of being solo on Three Chain Rd on a Sunday night so took the slightly longer route.

I slowly passed the Holgate coming through Woodend, looking for a familiar bike and an excuse to stop for a quick one but it was quiet and I (sensibly) rolled home to the end of a cracker of a weekend.

Thanks to the family for a weekend on the mental health machine. Thanks also to the crew, Mark and Blair, who joined me on the transfer ride and to David and Doug for hooking onto the Tour de Beechworth bus. Finally thanks to Ben and the Bridge Road crew for an amazing day and night.