When I last posted I began the story of my first (and to date, only) attempt at the 7 Ascents Challenge in the Victorian high country. It's been a slow news week so I'll continue from where I left off.
The Second Tale - Mount Baw Baw
Car packed, super bike on the roof, and kids in the back we headed off for the four hour family drive (one way) just so I could get another precious stamp in my passport. The plan was to drive to the base of Baw Baw, jump out of the car and start my ride, whilst the wife and kids went on ahead for a spot of sightseeing. I would then meet them at the summit for a picnic lunch and get my passport stamp. We would have a lovely family day out before driving home, probably singing songs and reminiscing on a wonderful day out. The day was warm and clear, the drive was nice and I was watching the dash GPS unit counting down the km to the destination I had keyed in for the wife. When it ticked over to 20km remaining to the top of Baw Baw I decided it would be a great idea to actually start riding earlier, kind of warm into the real climb. We pulled over at the next "Slow Vehicle" turn out and I set about setting up the bike. I was feeling good, the air was fresh and warm and that's when the problems started.
The wife had also gotten out of the car to help me with the bike and my gear, she was the first to notice the large "wasps" that were now investigating these strange outsiders. I've never seen her move as fast as she did that day, in quick fashion, she was back in the car with the doors and windows tightly shut, kids still in the back seat happily playing their games machines leaving me alone outside, holding my bike in one hand and its front wheel in the other. Sanctuary was brief though, quick as she had been, she hadn't been quick enough. A buzzing intruder inside the car lead to much screaming and a panicked exodus to the roadside for the entire family.
So, here's the scene; We are 2 adults and 2 kids 4 hours from home on a country road side, we can't stay here because of the insects, we can't drive the car because they have commandeered it and the only available vehicle is a bike and the front wheel is still yet to be attached. The day appears doomed even before I've turned a single pedal stroke.
A quick investigation of the beastie that caused our current predicament reveals truth, we are not being assaulted be wasps but just massive flies. Wife and kids back in the car, kids back to their games (they're resilient like that!) and I finish setting up the bike and assembling my gear for the ride. We are back on track.
Um, I'm sure I packed my cycling cleats, at least, some one must have right?
We've not driven this far, done battle with the natives just to let a little thing like wrong shoes to derail this train! I'll just need to do the ride in my runners instead, it is only a 20km ride.
Goodbye kisses given, or at least, blown through closed windows of those not willing to get out of the car again and I watched the car drive off as I saddled up and finally began to ride. For a little while, I kept up with the car pretty well, the kids and I exchanging waves through the back window. How were they to know I was trying to tell them I've just realised I've left my phone in the car?
As the car sped away I resigned myself to the fact that, no matter how difficult this climb got, I would not be reduced to making the call again, if only because I didn't have the means this time.
I like to find the positive side of things.
No cleats, no problems! I was getting on with the job nicely, climbing and descending through the rolling countryside without much difficulty, things were looking good again. That is, until I made the right hand turn at "The Gantry" and got my first look at 13%.
The road went up faster than my jaw could drop at the sight of it. Nothing for it, no turning back and with my only way to get home to ahead of me and not contactable I completed the turn, rose out of the saddle and hit the base of the climb with 6.7 km to overcome. I think I conquered about 60m of it before I was shot down, I phrase is so because it sounds more impressive than less the 1%, again with the positives...
You see, almost as soon as I got out of the saddle and kicked up the pressure to the pedals there was a very substantial rubbing in the back of my bike. Forced to stop to investigate this mechanical issue I checked the brakes and span the wheel. It all appeared to be running true so I jumped back on and tried again. I reckon I got a couple of peddle strokes this time before the extra and unexplained friction forced me to stop again.
What followed was not a pretty sight as I began to walk my bike up the Baw Baw tourist road. Several times during that climb I remounted to try again, motivated by either a slight slackening of the road's incline (it never truly flattens out and actually has a maximum gradient of 20%) or an attempt to outrun the march flies that started to bite me through my cycle wear.
I guess I was lucky in that I'd at least brought the right shoes for this...
I am happy to report I did at least manage to ride over the summit, if only because the last couple hundred meters are relatively flat.
The wife and kids were not hard to find, they were at a picnic table in the square having already eaten and discovered there really wasn't much to do at the summit of a sky resort in summer. With my slower than projected climbing pace, they had had plenty of opportunity to do both.
A couple of sandwiches, a coffee and a second stamp in my passport* and it was time to leave. Glad to be past all of the dramas and with the mission accomplished, if via a loophole, we descended Baw Baw. Back at the gatehouse at the base and just before we turned right onto the main road I noticed something odd
"Is that smoke coming out of your wheel well?" I asked
Left turn to the shoulder and, for the second time that day, there was a hurried exit from the car. Smoke was indeed billowing out of the passenger side front wheel well! We popped the boot and I grabbed the camelback I had brought with me and pointed the nozzle into the smoke and opened the bite valve.
Once I was satisfied the smoking had stopped I repeated the process on the driver's side front wheel. There hadn't been any tell-tale smoke from this side but, the load hissing and steam that resulted confirmed that the flashpoint had not been far off.
The remaining trip home had been punctuated with questions of "do you smell smoke, or is that exhaust?" Later that evening, we arrived home safely, without further incident.
The outcome: a few new entries in the car's vehicle log and $750 for parts and labour (burnt disk rotor and shocks) and the superbike was in the shop for almost a week as they struggled to remove the wheel spacing bolts that my efforts had jammed into the rear dropouts, all for one small rubber stamp in my book.
Two climbs done, five to go.
What could possibly go wrong that hasn't already...?
To be continued...
*I got that stamp with my head held high as I rationalise that I did actually climb that mountain "with my bike", the rules didn't say you had to climb it on you bike
Let me begin part two with a question; following a disastrous beginning to your mountain climbing career, where do you go next?
The sensible among us take a step back and reassess their abilities, weigh them up against the task/s planned, recalibrate and find a suitable challenge. Of course.
Of the seven peaks the comprise the challenge, Lake Mountain is a relative baby and is the closest one to my home in Melbourne.
Taking all of this into consideration, and with my failures still painfully fresh, I set my sights on my next target, Mount Baw Baw...
To put this decision in perspective, here is a quote from the 7 Ascents Challenge passport; Mount Baw Baw is "the second most difficult climb in the cycling World"
In hindsight, I'm guessing this move was my attempt to rationalise my prior failure and dismiss the evidence that I'm not actually bullet proof.
Heck, Baw Baw is only a 6 km climb, nothing like the torture of the 80km I endured last time. How hard can that seriously be!? Also, this time I'll be in the car until the start of the climb, besides, how steep is 13%!!?
Maybe I should have checked The Climbing Cyclist for advice beforehand:
A warning to the recreational riders - this is a seriously challenging climb and one that should not be attempted unless climbs like Lake Mountain and Inverness Road can be accomplished without too many difficulties. Treat this climb with the respect that it deserves!
The Second Tale - Mount Baw Baw
Car packed, super bike on the roof, and kids in the back we headed off for the four hour family drive (one way) just so I could get another precious stamp in my passport. The plan was to drive to the base of Baw Baw, jump out of the car and start my ride, whilst the wife and kids went on ahead for a spot of sightseeing. I would then meet them at the summit for a picnic lunch and get my passport stamp. We would have a lovely family day out before driving home, probably singing songs and reminiscing on a wonderful day out. The day was warm and clear, the drive was nice and I was watching the dash GPS unit counting down the km to the destination I had keyed in for the wife. When it ticked over to 20km remaining to the top of Baw Baw I decided it would be a great idea to actually start riding earlier, kind of warm into the real climb. We pulled over at the next "Slow Vehicle" turn out and I set about setting up the bike. I was feeling good, the air was fresh and warm and that's when the problems started.
The wife had also gotten out of the car to help me with the bike and my gear, she was the first to notice the large "wasps" that were now investigating these strange outsiders. I've never seen her move as fast as she did that day, in quick fashion, she was back in the car with the doors and windows tightly shut, kids still in the back seat happily playing their games machines leaving me alone outside, holding my bike in one hand and its front wheel in the other. Sanctuary was brief though, quick as she had been, she hadn't been quick enough. A buzzing intruder inside the car lead to much screaming and a panicked exodus to the roadside for the entire family.
So, here's the scene; We are 2 adults and 2 kids 4 hours from home on a country road side, we can't stay here because of the insects, we can't drive the car because they have commandeered it and the only available vehicle is a bike and the front wheel is still yet to be attached. The day appears doomed even before I've turned a single pedal stroke.
A quick investigation of the beastie that caused our current predicament reveals truth, we are not being assaulted be wasps but just massive flies. Wife and kids back in the car, kids back to their games (they're resilient like that!) and I finish setting up the bike and assembling my gear for the ride. We are back on track.
Um, I'm sure I packed my cycling cleats, at least, some one must have right?
We've not driven this far, done battle with the natives just to let a little thing like wrong shoes to derail this train! I'll just need to do the ride in my runners instead, it is only a 20km ride.
Goodbye kisses given, or at least, blown through closed windows of those not willing to get out of the car again and I watched the car drive off as I saddled up and finally began to ride. For a little while, I kept up with the car pretty well, the kids and I exchanging waves through the back window. How were they to know I was trying to tell them I've just realised I've left my phone in the car?
As the car sped away I resigned myself to the fact that, no matter how difficult this climb got, I would not be reduced to making the call again, if only because I didn't have the means this time.
I like to find the positive side of things.
No cleats, no problems! I was getting on with the job nicely, climbing and descending through the rolling countryside without much difficulty, things were looking good again. That is, until I made the right hand turn at "The Gantry" and got my first look at 13%.
The road went up faster than my jaw could drop at the sight of it. Nothing for it, no turning back and with my only way to get home to ahead of me and not contactable I completed the turn, rose out of the saddle and hit the base of the climb with 6.7 km to overcome. I think I conquered about 60m of it before I was shot down, I phrase is so because it sounds more impressive than less the 1%, again with the positives...
You see, almost as soon as I got out of the saddle and kicked up the pressure to the pedals there was a very substantial rubbing in the back of my bike. Forced to stop to investigate this mechanical issue I checked the brakes and span the wheel. It all appeared to be running true so I jumped back on and tried again. I reckon I got a couple of peddle strokes this time before the extra and unexplained friction forced me to stop again.
What followed was not a pretty sight as I began to walk my bike up the Baw Baw tourist road. Several times during that climb I remounted to try again, motivated by either a slight slackening of the road's incline (it never truly flattens out and actually has a maximum gradient of 20%) or an attempt to outrun the march flies that started to bite me through my cycle wear.
I guess I was lucky in that I'd at least brought the right shoes for this...
I am happy to report I did at least manage to ride over the summit, if only because the last couple hundred meters are relatively flat.
The wife and kids were not hard to find, they were at a picnic table in the square having already eaten and discovered there really wasn't much to do at the summit of a sky resort in summer. With my slower than projected climbing pace, they had had plenty of opportunity to do both.
A couple of sandwiches, a coffee and a second stamp in my passport* and it was time to leave. Glad to be past all of the dramas and with the mission accomplished, if via a loophole, we descended Baw Baw. Back at the gatehouse at the base and just before we turned right onto the main road I noticed something odd
"Is that smoke coming out of your wheel well?" I asked
Left turn to the shoulder and, for the second time that day, there was a hurried exit from the car. Smoke was indeed billowing out of the passenger side front wheel well! We popped the boot and I grabbed the camelback I had brought with me and pointed the nozzle into the smoke and opened the bite valve.
Once I was satisfied the smoking had stopped I repeated the process on the driver's side front wheel. There hadn't been any tell-tale smoke from this side but, the load hissing and steam that resulted confirmed that the flashpoint had not been far off.
The remaining trip home had been punctuated with questions of "do you smell smoke, or is that exhaust?" Later that evening, we arrived home safely, without further incident.
The outcome: a few new entries in the car's vehicle log and $750 for parts and labour (burnt disk rotor and shocks) and the superbike was in the shop for almost a week as they struggled to remove the wheel spacing bolts that my efforts had jammed into the rear dropouts, all for one small rubber stamp in my book.
Two climbs done, five to go.
What could possibly go wrong that hasn't already...?
To be continued...
*I got that stamp with my head held high as I rationalise that I did actually climb that mountain "with my bike", the rules didn't say you had to climb it on you bike
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