Florentine mission.

The Florentine Valley is remote, but a particularly scenic destination for cycling

There's a loop that's been tempting me for a while up in the heart of the Florentine Valley, a bit over an hour north-west of Hobart. It's a shade over 100km on forestry roads and describes a more or less complete circle around the Mt Field National Park. As is usual in Tasmania, there's a fair bit of climbing, but the ride as a whole is certainly an achievable challenge. I scouted sections of this ride a few months back in the car, but to be sure the roads were passable and was impressed.

So we set off last Sunday for a lash.  Given the remoteness of some of the road and the expected lack of traffic we chucked a satellite phone and an EPIRB in my hydration park, just to be on the safe side.

Tyenna River Bridge.

 

Having carefully planned the route using the excellent RideWithGPS website and given the weather forecast due regard, I'd decided that the best way to tackle the loop was to get most of the climbing done early. To this end we started from the little town of Westerway and climbed steadily on the tarmac through National Park and Maydena, where we had a quick stop.

The gravel started at the 23km mark as we turned off the Gordon River Road. The climbing was steady, not overly so, but certainly long and taxing. The white road surface had me thinking of the famous 'strada bianca' of classic rides of Italy's L'Eroica.

I have a theory that gravel roads are much easier to ride after rain than after prolonged dry spells because the loose material on the surface tends to be compact a little into the road. Instead, we found ourselves cursing out tyres choices and pressures on the loose dry gravel, which saw us frequently sliding sideways unexpectedly on the gentle camber of some of the uphill corners.

Gravel roads can be a challenge after long dry spells.

The views along the way are well worth the effort. The range made up of Florentine Peak, Tyenna Peak and the Knobs dominate the skyline from the road, and the odd clearing where forestry work had felled a coupe allows for some spectacular photo opportunities.

We made reasonable progress in the warm, still conditions, topping the range after about two hours of solid effort. It was here I heard the first rumblings of exhaustion though, a combination of not enough miles in the legs and a lingering debilitation from having had the flu. I told Ben I wasn't sure whether I was going to get all the way around and we agreed to give it a few more kilometres and see if the feeling passed. 

The Niner RLT continues to impress as a comfortable, capable all-day all-surface bike. 

Sadly it didn't. At the 45km mark, with the worst of the day's climbing behind us, I was spent. We decided to turn back as the ride back to the car was a simpler proposition than the 60-odd kilometres ahead. In hindsight it turned out to be the right decision, despite my disappointment at not completing the loop. A bit more training would help, although I already knew 100km+ in a day might be pushing it my luck after a couple of weeks off the bike. It's better to have tried and failed etc.

The ride back was a confirmation that this ride might be best tackled in spring or late autumn. The loose gravel had us sliding all over the place and in parts we were travelling more slowly downhill that we had on the upward journey, picking our lines with great care lest we come unstuck. A short break at Maydena and we were back on our way, 90km for the day still being a decent enough effort. And the Florentine still beckons for an outing on another day.

4164km so far this year.

Central Plateau Gravel Grinder - a quick lap of Tassie's frozen heart.

Setting out into the weather on Sunday morning.

We were creeping up the hill near Hermitage when the ice storm hit. There was a sprinkling at first, then 'hey, some hail' and then suddenly we were being pelted by small chunks of windblown ice mixed among a hefty downfall of freezing rain. I pulled up my rainjacket collar and raised my hand to shield my face from the stinging onslaught and looked back at Ben who was doing the same. There was nowhere to shelter and nothing to do but to press onward. Within moments were were wet and cold and resigned to a having a Very Bad Time. But as quickly as it came, the squall was gone and we were on our way again. So passed the only unpleasant five minutes of the best weekend's cycling I've done in years.

Leaving Waddamana for the big climb of the day.

In the middle of Tasmania lie the central highlands, a barren, mostly treeless swathe of high country dotted with pretty little lakes beloved of fishers and hunters. The Australian Antarctic Division trains its expeditioners in these parts, the coldest part of Australia's coldest state. The seed was planted when someone showed me their plan for a 150km loop near here a couple of years back. Then the idea morphed into a single day dash 'Over The Top', from Bothwell to Deloraine, a distance of about 130km. Finally it became a 200km two-day circuit from the town of Ouse with an overnight stop in Miena. The ride is about 95 per cent unsealed roads. (Our eventual route can be found here.)

The dates were pre-ordained by leave and rostered days off, although the forecast was not promising. Cold temperatures, rain, snow and wind do not make the best riding weather. All the same, Benny, Kiwi and I set off from Ouse at 9am on Saturday ready to take what came our way. All three of us rode steel bikes, lightly loaded. Two of us sported mudguards hastily fitted in the days before.

Ben admires the view not far south of Miena.

Our route took us through pretty farming country from Ouse north-east to Bothwell. Route-finding was made much easier by uploading a pre-plotted course to my Garmin 810 which squawked well in advance of every turn we needed to take. Our first day saw a big gain in height and we were riding uphill from the start, the tough ascents compensated for by the long descents through hidden valleys containing impossibly lovely sheep farms and willow-lined streams. Though it was cool, the rain held off. We had a snack at Bothwell before pushing north for a while on the Highland Lakes Road, one of the few sections of sealed road we would encounter on the trip.

Less than an hour later we turned onto the gravel again, passing through Hermitage and its pack of chained and very vocal hunting dogs and the momentary bad weather then climbed steadily alongside powerlines leading to the hydro electric village of Waddamana. There was a thrilling and scenic descent before we rolled past the well-preserved old village to our lunchstop at the power museum staffed by a delightful volunteer who was knitting following the Australian Football League grand final on the radio. We ate our lunch on the steps and took a quick tour of the museum, the only people to sign the visitor's book in three days.

Kiwi powers through the forest.

The climb out of Waddamana was around 400m over 4.5km and was tough. Ben and Kiwi patiently waited for me to plod up the hills all day and this climb was no exception. The steepest bits had a couple of us on foot. But soon enough it was over and we were thinking of the beers and the meal awaiting us at the pub in Miena. The cold westerly wind picked up as we regained the highway for the final push. Here I began to tire a little, though the final hill was soon passed and the road flattened s it passed the shack community at the southern end of Great Lake. We had covered 110km for the day on seldom-ridden dirt roads, climbing more than 2200m. Strava called it 'epic', I'm inclined to agree.

A hot, fast and filling meal was consumed and some beers downed in short order and we settled in for the night in the bunks of a fisherman's cabin. It was sufficiently cold outside to deter anyone from taking advantage of the shower block and the heater ran all night.

Morning dawned crisp and overcast and after a couple of toasted ham and cheese sandwiches and a breakfast pie from the local shop we were on our way again. Though rain looked possible there was little wind and there were fewer hills on the gravel Malborough 'Highway' so the going was much quicker than the day before. The scenery was starker too, more alpine compared to the forests we'd traversed on Saturday. I kept stopping to take photos which kept me well off the back of our small peloton. We rested at the shop at Bronte Park for a drink and to top up our supplies of chocolate for the last leg of our journey which we were hoping to complete before we needed lunch, as there were no other facilities on the way.

Heading across Stockyard Flats past Dee Lagoon.

The best of the ride came right at the end. We raced along past Dee Lagoon an into some stunning farming country before turning off towards the locality of Strickland. Here the road turned downwards and for a good 20km we were able to sit back and coast, dodging the rock on the descent through the pine plantation. Kiwi suffered a trio of punctures here on the rougher road. Reaching the highway we turned east and picked up a tailwind to propel us down the last six kilometers of highway to the car, thrilled at the stunning finish to the ride.

Gravel rides are becoming more popular worldwide - I suspect in part thanks to a desire by cyclists to seek out quieter and safer roads. We saw perhaps half a dozen cars on the dirt sections on Saturday (the grand final would have kept many inside) and maybe a dozen on Sunday. Even if we caught a lucky weekend with the weather and the traffic, I know I'll be heading back to the central highlands for daytrips and longer rides. It's stunning country and well worth a visit for the intrepid cyclist.

Nearing the highway to Miena near Shannon.

Dodging potholes near Bronte Park.

Dee Lagoon

Onto the highway for the final run into Ouse.

5,311km so far this year.

Getting Lost and Crashing a Lot

Picton River Bridge.

It's pretty hard to get lost and die in the bush. Most people, no matter how badly prepared they are, seem to muddle through ok and find their way home. You have to go to extraordinary lengths - like not taking maps or having a clear idea of where you are going to make sure of having a real adventure. In that pioneering spirit Ben and I tackled the Picton River loop on the weekend.

There was a minor series of fuck-ups to begin with. We started a bit late due to a miscommunication. At the Tahune Airwalk we breezed past the ticket-selling lady saying "We're just going up the Picton" so we didn't have to pay admission. She didn't bother pointing out we were heading the wrong way. Even before leaving the premises I managed to eat shit when my front wheel lost traction on the wet boardwalk and I went down hard. At least I got my hands out.

We set off at a good clip on a nice piece of track heading in the right general direction. Pretty soon it narrowed and it became apparent we were on the Airwalk's purpose-built mountain bike track. No big problem, except we were on road bikes and Ben was sporting 28mm slicks. Soon it was his turn to eat shit in the mud. Sadly I was too busy trying to hang on, but I'm assured his high speed crash could only have been more spectacular if there had been flames and a small explosion on impact.

Ben, not crashing. 

Once Ben had come to terms with the pain in his crash-injured leg, we decided we were heading in the wrong direction. Navigation was complicated by the fact that for some reason my bike computer was reading roughly twice what it should have, making it hard to know how far we'd gone. Doubling back we eventually found a faint track which took us out to the road we'd been looking for - about 800m from the start.

We set off on the fast, smooth surface, bounding up a few gentle undulations as Ben looked for the turnoff. We went past, "I Think This is It Road", past "No, This Looks More Like It Spur", before arriving at the "No, I Think It's This One turnoff - which happily it turned out to be.

Stunning tall forests.

As befits all grand adventures, the destination was well and truly worth the effort.With a little rain and fog about the old Picton River Bridge is a very atmospheric spot. The bridge is condemned and is probably not real safe even to walk across, but very scenic nonetheless. We stopped a while to soak it all in and put some more elaborate touches on the long-planned but highly unlikely to ever happen "Shitterbike Rafting Trip" - which is slated to begin at this spot - before heading back on the opposite bank of the river.

The road back featured even fewer of the gentle undulations of the other side. Since we now had a rough idea where we were going, progress was a lot faster and we were back at the Airwalk in fairly short order, where a couple of chicken burgers quickly eased the pain of our exertions. With all the detours we road about 25km and saw not a single car.

Bundle of Styx ride.

King of the Styx

There are great rides, and then there are rides when on the way back someone remarks: "Well, at least you'll get a good blog post out of this". Although it was a pleasant ride by any stretch, The Bundle of Styx was definitely in the latter category.

In our never-ending quest to seek out and ride fresh gravel, the mission was to ride a couple of sections of forestry road we've not tried before. The starting point was at Westerway, about an hour from Hobart. We were planning to do a 70km loop, heading up from Karanja to the Styx River Bridge and then having a poke through the Valley of the Giants towards Maydena before returning on the fast downhill tarmac to Westerway. Having driven these roads on reconnaissance trips I was confident we'd have no trouble finding our way and completing the circuit. (Route and profile here for the curious.) 

Benny and Kiwi and I set out around 10.30am, and made good time of the first dirt sections. The weather was good and the road wasn't in bad condition apart from a couple of short bits which had a bit of loose rock on them. We had a short stop at an old quarry then headed on towards the Styx River Bridge at about the 25km mark.

Because I thought the roads were in pretty reasonable condition - and because Ben had had reasonable success running narrow tyres - I took along my road bike shod with 25mm Gatorskin Hardshells. Gatorskins have a sometimes deserved reputation for being quality tyres able to soak up the worst punishment, so I didn't give much thought to carrying more than the usual two spare tubes in my repair kit. And that was to prove our undoing.

Heading down the steep, fast hill down to the river, I had a rush of blood and picked up a bit too much speed. Inevitably I've hit one of the larger rocks in full flight and managed to puncture both tyres at once. 

No problem, I thought, I'll have these fixed in a jiffy. The only minor problem was that on mounting one of my spare tubes, it immediately went flat from a faulty value. Ben, who was cracking nervous jokes about what might happen to us if we were stranded out in the bush, had a few self-adhesive patches, so we patched the three or four holes in one of my other tubes and put that in. It too went flat. As a last resort we used Ben's single spare tube. 

So here we were: in the middle of nowhere, 25km from the car, with no spare tubes or patches. We decided that pushing on would be foolish so we retraced our steps. That too proved to be a wise decision.

As Ben struck up jaunty songs featuring the assorted atrocities inflicted upon the stranded in these parts, my back tyre blew again. We were about 15km from the car. This time the only think I could think of was cutting the valves off the four punctured tubes and stuffing them into the tyre. Ben and Kiwi took off on a rescue mission and I limped onward. I eventually managed to make it all the way back to town.

The ride wasn't a total disaster. It was a nice day out and I got to play with a borrowed GoPro camera (low quality video here). And I re-learned some valuable lessons about how many tubes to carry and the need to carefully select your tyres to suit your ride.

3360km so far this year.

Cygnet loop

It's been a while since I did the very agreeable loop down along the Huon River to Cygnet and back. The ride follows the Huon River, pretty much from my house, along the Glen Huon Road, through Huonville, then along the delightful Cygnet Coast Road from Cradoc.

Even though winter is upon us and the forecast was somewhat inconclusive, Saturday turned out to be a very pleasant day for the outing. After fitting a new set of the magnificent 28mm Grand Bois tyres and a new set of brakes, I set off from home - joining up with the other four at Huonville.

Luck seemed to be with us. The day was still and the views through the trees of the river were lovely. There was hardly any traffic - just three cars in the middle 30km of the ride - and though it was overcast we didn't get a spot of rain. The dirt road section of the ride was smooth and dry and fast, the hamburgers at Devour at Cygnet were terrific and even Balf's Hill didn't hold its usual sting. We made it back to Huonville just before the rain hit and watched the worst of it pass over a hot chocolate in DS cafe before the gentle spin home. All in all a magnificent day to be out.

1796km so far this year.

Out along the Huon

There's a big river that runs not far from my place and a heap of logging roads through the tall forests on either side all the way south to Geeveston and beyond. Since moving here I've only ventured out there once, but I've been keenly aware I've been missing out on something. Ben and I had a crack at the southern forests today with fat knobby tyres on our Surly Cross Check cyclocross bikes.

We set off with the dim plan of following the river down to a tourist attraction known as the Tahune Airwalk, have some lunch and ride back. It's about a 40km round trip and reasonably flat. I had a bit of an clue how to get there, but there are no up-to-date maps and Google Earth is only so much use. We made good time and picked up some unexpected road signs counting down the distance to the Airwalk, counting it down from about 20km out. We crossed the Huon on the bridge near the Ta Ann veneer mill and pedalled on. After a while we didn't see any more signs, but we hadn't passed any obvious turnings and it never occurred to us we might be on the wrong track. Never mind, of such stuff are adventures made.

After about 25km of a planned 20km ride we came to a T-interesection. Airwalk 15km right,

Geeveston 8km left it said. Bugger, we're miles out of our way. Which way to go? We decided to press on regardless, climbing a long and arduous hill I've noticed form the car and vowed never to tackle on a bike. Never mind, some lovely descending followed and we counted down the kilometres to the Airwalk in pretty quick time with 45km on the clock by lunch.

A lovely feed was had and some directions gleaned and we were back on the bikes along the fast and mainly flat dirt roads back towards the car. We spotted the veneer mill through the trees and decided to take a shortcut when the road turned in the wrong direction. Often this is a bad idea which leads to backtracking, but a section of pretty cool singletrack took us to a broad but shallow river crossing which we forded with the bikes before pressing on again.

Back at the mill, it was simple navigation and an easy ride towards the car. Undeterred by a flat tyre about 5km out we rolled back down the dirt to the end of a very enjoyable adventure. I'm a little disappointed I haven't spent more time checking out these largely traffic-free roads in the past, but now I've had a taste there's some pretty cool trip plans forming in my head.

5755km so far this year.