The Great Victorian Bike Ride is an annual event held throughout the state where riders of every skill and ability come together to become a part of a giant moving carnival of gears, sweat, and a good time. It is an exercise in logistics and insanity as thousands of riders pay for the thrill of biking in 110 degree heat up the side of mountains...over nine days. I couldn't help but think that Aussies do these kinds of things out of a sense of guilt that the country was established by convicts dragged in ships from the UK, forced to do painfully tough labor, in a land designed in almost every way to kill off those who want to settle here. Australia is now such a clean and lovely place that, at least in my humble opinion, those with a conscious tend to put themselves through a healthy dose of physical strife just to balance the books.
This year my school took eleven boys on the nine day ride through the alpine region of northern Victoria. We had kids who had bikes that weighed as much as shadows and who themselves were nothing more than bone and muscle, and we had kids who, by my estimation at the beginning, wouldn't make it through the first lunch stop.
Day One: Wangaratta to Beechworth 40k (25 miles).
We arrived at the leaving point in Wangaratta at 1:30 and were the last group out of the 3,740 people to get on the road. By the time we got off the bus to hit the road the temp was already in the 90s. The ride started with a slight uphill grade and then, after about 12 miles, pitched itself on its hind legs and drove us at a ridiculously steep grade for our first day. I was one of the last on the ride. In the baking heat my pace was just slow enough that my face became a landing site for countless flies. After a few hours I was wondering how in the name of god I will be able to finish nine days of this grinding riding. The steepest hill of the day loomed ahead of me and I slowly, with persistent pedalling, managed to reach the top just in time for one of the escort motorcycle cops to puul up next to me. Mouth agape, sweat pouring down, flies darting in and out of my mouth and nose, I turned to hear...
"You from Southwood?"
"Yeah"
"You've got a boy back there about a k who doesn't look too well."
"Oh. Really. Well. I can stop." huff huff "He'll be here soon."
"No mate, you need to go back there and check him out."
"Oh. Okay."
He sped off and I looked at the top of the hill and then, with concern for the boy somewhere driving my back, I sped back down the hill. At least the wind kept the flies off for a few minutes.
There he was sitting on the side of the road telling me he was fine. He draped his lanky frame over the bike and started again to pedal. He stopped about 100 meters up the road.
We did this for almost 45 minutes. This increased the heat and flies.
When I realised there was a chance that he might actually expire, either from heat stroke, or from me pushing him off the cliff for keeping me stuck on this goddamn frying pan of a road, I signaled the SAG Wagon, which carries riders and their bikes to camp when they can't go any further. He pulled up next to me.
"There's a tall kid back there from Southwood. He might tell you he's fine, but he's not. Get him and take him to camp please."
"Right-o"
A few minutes later the SAG pulled up next to me and the driver rolled down his window, student in the rear, and yelled out with a big grin.
"You should hear him in here mate, he's paying out on you for being slow. C'mon. Pedal faster!"
I had a good laugh as sweat, or a tear, rolled down my face as they pulled out ahead over the next hill.
I rolled into town and then up one last ridiculous hill to get to the camp. I flopped off my bike and walked the length of the grounds to our camp, surrounded by a thousand other tents. It was shady, clean, and there was a water station greeting me at the gate.
My fellow teacher, (and leader of this excursion) Ed, had our tent set up and he directed me to the semi-rig that was our showers. An hour later I was clean and we lined up for a surprisingly fantastic dinner under the huge main tent. We finished it off with a beer and had a chat about how the boys did then headed back to our camp. I sat on a small camp chair watching the sun go down behind the beautiful mountains.
They were playing the movie Kenny tonight under the big tent and Kenny himself was going to open it (Kenny will most likely open in the US as it is actually a great Aussie comedy about a septic guy that made a fair bit of money.).
I was too tired to go and fell asleep at about 8:30, to the lovely sounds of a farting contest transpiring in the girls school's tents next to ours. Go St. Lukes!
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