Mt Buffalo, Australian Alps, Victoria

6 November 2017

It is one of those melancholy days where things are okay but ever so slightly off being at their best. It is the kind of morning that, if certain elements were just tweaked a little it would be a stunner of a day. I’m going to head up Mount Buffalo in search of another challenging ride, my second for the long weekend, that strangely odd weekend we have for a horse race. This mountain is one of the iconic rides of alpine Victoria so I’m pretty keen to give it a go despite the slight ache in my legs, my pensivity and a nagging sense that I need to rewind and restart the day. Feeling the coolness of a breeze, I get on the bike and move off from our accommodation and ride the kilometre into Bright; there’s a hint of a tailwind, the weather is cold – not freezing, just bitey – and there are annoying droplets of rain pinging my face. A hint of light, maybe sun, is visible in the distance, higher up, trying to burst through the sullen-grey clouds, somewhere over…there…just not quite…here, where I am.

I love the town of Bright with its sleepy nonchalance and its dignified simplicity. I feel the natural charm that sits deeply in the place despite the many people who flock here and demand a higher pretentiousness of it. Bright is just plain agreeable. There’s some dampness to the asphalt near the edges of the road, plus a few puddles that need avoiding as I head out of the main street – Gavan St – to meet the Great Alpine Road and onward to Porepunkah.

The tailwind is helpful – I should remember that on the way back when I’m bemoaning the headwind – and after 10 or so minutes I’m at the roundabout turnoff to Mt Buffalo. I’ve ridden the 6km at about 30kmh, which is a good start, although it is quite flat. I burst into the Porepunkah roundabout, imagining the race-helicopter shot as I navigate the arc – it is a big roundabout so ‘bursting’ might be a bit extreme, and the arc is possibly more like a slow motion cranking of pedals. But I’m out the other side quickly enough and on the road to Mt Buffalo. I’m beginning to feel more comfortable and the frowning clouds seem to be improving the further I go. The pastures are fresh with that vague smell I associate with farms, maybe its the smell of cows. The road winds in long, easy bends with slight rises and falls, like I’m in rhythm with the countryside as it breathes and sighs. In the distance, the walls of Mt Buffalo loom, as if holding the clouds in a wreath upon its head. I feel as though things in the world have shifted through the force of my will but realise it might be simply my mindset. But, as I reach the beginning of the National Park, I am a little concerned that there may not be the view from the top I am hoping for – the resolute shroud of mist and cloud at the peaks resolved in their determination to stay put for now. But hey, that’s not why I do this, is it? With one final downhill sigh, I’ve made the 11.5km from Bright to the base of Buffalo in about 25 mins. The slight tail wind helping me push my average speed up to about 27kph. Now for the real test.

I move past the welcome sign and into the Mount Buffalo National Park. The road rises and the climb commences. The initial gradient seems like about 6 or 7% so I settle into a rhythm, a low gear and prepare for the grind. This part of the road seems fairly straight, beautiful foliage on both sides, common Australian bush with brown and green-grey saplings. I gain plenty of height quickly so maybe the gradient is a bit more than I judged or it has increased quickly. The ride, like the view, is getting better and better. I reach Eurobin Creek and the road bends and twists around a delicate ferny hollow. A delightful contrast and point of distraction amidst the constant bush and uphill battle. The red-brown eucalyptus trees are giving way to larger, whitish ghostly trunks.

I continue on and upwards approaching a spot with some activity; there are numerous people stopped near Eurobin Creek, some checking out the creek, others investigating further up the trail. It seems like a good place to begin a hike, which is a popular thing to do in this area but it does seem these are serious slopes for walking. It’s not ‘The Big Walk’ hiking trail which crosses further up, but perhaps a nice starting point for a smaller walk. The road opens up a bit more as I keep climbing and I’m struck by the way I can either glimpse the huge buttresses of Buffalo ahead and upwards or the brilliant valley opening up off to the side, down below. Sometimes I can see both, the sight exceedingly picturesque.

I grind on and settle in with a group of three riders completing a tight box of us all with a similar goal. For some reason I think there are four other riders – I realised later on reflection that I was the fourth, although this was later after explaining to Kaye the amazing way that I had joined the four riders and overtaken them with breathless ease! They (the other THREE cyclists) are chatting away with each other; it is clearly a group ride and they are fairly serious in their discussions. I pause my music because it’s obviously rude to ride along with earphones on when others are talking, but after a few nods and ‘heys’ they don’t chat to me at all. This is fine, but I’m wondering why I felt the need to utilise this ‘manner’ here and now. Sometimes we have these ideas of what is appropriate in certain situations, but we’re not sure where these come from. On top of this, it seems that there are also many examples of ‘manners’ that are culturally imbued and of supposed significance. At times, these fail to prioritise people over the convention. And now I”m feeling rude for listening in to the conversations of others. No matter, I think to myself, as I unpause my music. I stick with the riders for a kilometre or so, then ride away – with supposed ‘breathless ease’. It is time to grit my teeth (metaphorically: I don’t like physically ‘gritting’, but do like the mental concept) and grind away at some more of the uphill slope. It is quite steep and I’m about 18kms into the ride and 6 or so kilometres into the climb. The view is still magnificent – sheer parapets above and endless valley below.

I hear a car!

There have been a few vehicles whilst I’ve been riding but I recognise the sound, the slowing, the changing down of gears, the whirring of a window and the excited voice of my support driver, Kaye!

“Hey mate! How’s it going?”

As always, she is suitably excited and, in a similarly appropriate way comments on the ferocious gradient.

“Pretty steep…”, she says…

She has managed to snap a photo as she approached and, once I comprehend the greeting-statement-question-thingy, I puff a “yeah, I’m okay”. I add that it is pretty steep but lovely up here and suddenly I’m really excited to explain my reflections on the amazing views. This is a bit strange because she has just driven up the same road. Still, it is exciting to see someone I know and I feel like a real cyclist, riding and talking and puffing along as she drives. I feel like I should lean on the car door and discuss tactics, ask for some medical assistance or at the very least grab a musette or water bottle through the window  for a mid-race snack. But I don’t need any snacks or water and she moves off ahead and I get back into the uphill rhythm. This climb is pretty constant – puff, puff – I feel I’ve been at a constant 6 or 7% most of the way so far. The initial climb was slightly harder, but the ongoing gradient so far is tough. It is still and overcast with glimpses of light breaking in – I’m a little buoyed by the prospect that the clouds will clear and I’ll manage a view from the top.

I come across some fabulous bends. Bends are great on hills; although they tend to be a bit steeper, they give texture and are also distracting. Every rider – oh, well, me anyway – can do with as much distraction as possible to magically get them up part of a climb. I see another rider ahead, as I’m looking through and up into one bend. He is looking less happy than I am. I’m not traveling all that quickly, but with the possibility of both aforementioned distraction from bends in the road and that magical adrenaline that comes from the potential to pass another rider, I increase my momentum. I’m not sure why, but as I reach him, I feel like I need to sit behind in his slipstream for a short period of time. Is this another manners thing? Not sure. I can only nod as I go past because, now that I’ve managed to catch him with this renewed effort, I’m finding it difficult to say anything, even mutter a ‘hey’. He doesn’t say anything or nod back so I continue on. Of course, the problem when you overtake another rider is that you need to keep riding at that faster speed for a reasonable period of time so that it seems worthy of the ‘overtake’. Eventually, though, I’m back to my usual uphill grind speed.

It is hard to believe that this road can still continue upwards. And it seems that the constant 6% is going to continue all that way. This is really dragging now but I must be close. Grind on, I tell myself, but I sense I might need some Rocky IV training music or something similar. But I’m sort of emerging at a ‘top’ and the clouds are getting closer. I’ve passed the 1,180m elevation above sea level at McKinnon’s Corner, so I must be nearing the end. Then I remember that I need to ride out to the Chalet and I’m not entirely sure what that is like. Challenges of the great unknown. So, with fortitude and mettle – which is the same thing – plus a bit of determined resolution – again, the same thing – I press on.

It is wonderful to reach what is essentially the top. I know it is the top because it is the first time in this whole climb that I’m finally going downhill. The relief in my legs is palpable. Not really, because that would be like saying it is ‘literally’ something tangible, which it is not. So I’ll say that it is ‘almost’ palpable. This has been a tough climb, a bit longer than I’d imagined. The gradient has been constant, long and steep, with little respite. This is such a contrast to the Falls Creek ride of two days ago, with its sporadic downhill elements. Although these were short they did provide occasional reprieve. I’ve still got to get to the Mt Buffalo Chalet, but some relief! This has been spot on 18kms of climbing and I’ve ascended 1,014m at 6%. It has taken me 1:26:09, grinding away at about 12.6 kph. I ride down Mt Buffalo Rd and find Chalet Rd.

Two kilometres to go – I flash past the cricket pitch…what? The Oval? Really?…and up the final slope…again, longer than expected…

And I’m there. Made it. The ‘lovely old lady’, the Mt Buffalo Chalet, stands in the background, as my ride takes me up her driveway and to her front door. She is closed and condemned, wire barricades blocking access to her crumbling, disinterested ruins, as though the days of bygone eras, too, are well and truly languishing and disintegrating. I look out towards the rocks and cliffs – there is plenty of mist and not much of a view.

The clouds roll in, the view is not as amazing as it could be…if just the elements were tweaked slightly…

…I think, however, that I’ve adjusted my mindset – in those famous words of Sanka in Cool Runnings, “peace be the journey”! As I gaze back to the Chalet, maybe the history of this place is also more about the journey.

After meeting up with Kaye, I start to feel the cold and head back down. I am tentative with the descent, navigating the bends and damp edges but still manage to complete this in 26 mins, averaging about 41kph. Strangely enough, I pass two young-ish kids on mountain bikes a fair way up this slope and a fair way ahead of their parents. Maybe the parents are pacing themselves and they’ll see the interesting bends, get distracted, fire up on overtaking-adrenaline and overtake the younger ones. One can only hope.

As the road flattens out and I’m back into synchronised breathing and sighing with the landscape, I pick up the return pace. I do appreciate the earlier tailwind as I press hard back into the headwind. This is a worthy ride and a great challenge. Nonetheless and overwhelmingly, it is the views of Mt Buffalo and the valley below that are the breathtaking highlight of this ride.

This has been a great ride, as is always easier to reflect on once you are down again. I traveled 69.8kms, riding for 3:10:50 and averaging 22kph. Total ascension for the ride is 1446m.

Thanks kindly, as always, to Kaye, the best cycling support ever. And more super photos by Kaye.