A Longest Day Inferno
Ah, the end of the year in Sydney. A time for festive cheer, questionable fashion choices, and... unpredictable weather. This year's annual Wollongong return ride was shaping up to be a scorcher, with the mercury threatening 30+ degrees and wind gusts that would propel us southward.
I'd booked our breakfast stop at our regular North Wollongong cafe for the diligent, but slightly ambitious time of 08:30. This meant our crew had a mere three hours to conquer the 90km to Wollongong, fueled by nothing but pre-dawn enthusiasm and the promise of coffee and breakfast. With the 15min late allowance at the cafe, perhaps.
Tailwinds and punctures
Thankfully, the tailwind gods were smiling upon us. With Jeff already plotting his escape route by train (to make it back for lunch), Julian and James joining for a "casual" warm-up, and Elliot confidently outlining his meticulously planned nutrition strategy, we set off at a cracking pace.
A rogue piece of wire had other plans. Just past Loftus, a puncture struck. Now, changing a tube is usually a minor inconvenience, but doing it with one thumb after a pre-ride tyre-wrangling incident left me with a raw digit, was a challenge.
James, ever the opportunist, and normally a committed Longest Day enthusiast, seized the moment. Declaring an impending weather apocalypse based on some ominous clouds, he bade us farewell and set off on a solo retreat. The last thing he said was that he was “planning a(nother) day of doing nothing”.
Julian, our resident speedster, parted ways at Waterfall, bravely facing the headwind alone. That left six of us to tackle the remaining distance, with a sense of foreboding hanging in the air.
As we descended Waterfall, a sense of déjà vu threatened. The ominous skies, the wind swirling mischievously, the eerie silence... it all felt a bit too familiar to our experience last year (read about it). And then, BAM! Another puncture.
With my spare tubes safely tucked away in Elliot's jersey, I found myself stranded without spares and in a mobile dead zone. After a frantic dance of phone-waving, I finally managed to send an SMS to the guys, who would have now finished the descent.
Cafe booking canceled, spirits slightly deflated, I waited for my rescuers. Jeff arrived first, bearing a spare tube and hopefully a long enough valve stem, less like a knight in shining armour. Then, the whole team emerged, Lewis having apparently used the unexpected climb back up as an opportunity for an early "effort session." (We'll see how those legs feel later, mate.)
Wind, weather, and Wollongong breakfast
Tube replaced (with Shane's pump now in my pocket for extra security), we pressed on. The wind was now a fickle beast, swirling and changing direction. The storm clouds loomed, threatening to unleash at any moment. One gapped gust threw Jeff’s wheel around on a descent but to no avail, somehow holding on.
As we reached Bald Hill lookout, Swerlo, a Longest Day stalwart, declared the storm had passed. With just 30km of rolling hills to Wollongong…easy!.
Lewis' legs staged a mutiny on the climb after Sea Cliff Bridge. It turns out that completing an Ironman in Busselton doesn't guarantee eternal cycling prowess, especially not on climbing stages. A few recovery moments and some encouraging words got him rolling again.
We encountered a fellow cyclist from Bondi, on a solo mission to Narooma to meet his family. He seemed surprisingly chipper, considering the weather and the distance.
Arriving in North Wollongong at 09:30, we found Diggies cafe fully booked. Curse you punctures! We settled for the adjoining takeaway, where burgers and an açai bowl were devoured with smiles. Swerlo, was on a "no unnatural sugars" policy, apparently the key to his cycling endurance.
Jeff, ever the punctual one, farewelled us and hopped on a train to his lunch appointment. Lewis, fueled by his burger feast, opted for a later train. That left four of us to face the return journey, the sun now blazing with a vengeance, already burning.
Heat, headwinds, and heroism
As the wind whipped our breakfast napkins into a frenzy, I offered the "train option" home, secretly hoping someone might take the bait. But alas, Shane, a cycling explorer and connoisseur of suffering, declared himself "not a quitter," and Swerlo was "ready to give it a go." Elliot, though visibly wilting, affirmed that he was "all in." I had three brave souls with me.
The journey home was a three-stage epic: conquer Lawrence Hargraves Drive, survive to Helensburgh, and then crawl to Waterfall, after which it would be all downhill.
The heat and headwinds were brutal. We sought refuge in a servo for cold drinks before even leaving Wollongong. Swerlo, took the opportunity for a work call and managed to assist with a FX forward rollover with the lone junior manning his trading desk. He apologised for the work interruption. We enjoyed the irony of a large currency deal being orchestrated from a grimy petrol station, with near derelict Post Office, loitered by sweaty cyclists.
With the temperature hitting a scorching 41 degrees, it felt like riding in a fan-forced furnace. For the benefit of everyone, I called for some heat relief at the next shady spot. We found sanctuary in the air-conditioned haven of The Imperial at Clifton. Twenty minutes of blissful coolness later, we were ready to tackle the Lawrence Hargraves climb.
Helensburgh servo, a familiar haven for MC Velo riders, was our next lifeline. Slurpees, drinks, water, ice... and coconut water for Swerlo, still clinging to his sugar-free strategy.
We resorted to stuffing ice down our jerseys, a well known desperate (but very effective) cooling technique. The ice in our bidons gave temporary relief, but soon the water was hotter than warm tea.
Sutherland, sugar, and a straight shoot home
Sutherland servo was our next target, and we braced ourselves for the soul-crushing headwinds that awaited us atop the plateau after Waterfall. But thankfully, the trees sheltered us and we made good time.
Elliot, however, was not having a good time. He arrived at the 7-Eleven declaring his hatred for that particular leg of the journey and proceeded to demolish a sausage roll like a starved wolf. We waited while he recovered, taking full advantage of the air conditioning.
A final coke stop at Brighton provided the necessary boost for the last leg. Swerlo was no longer our sugar-free warrior, and fell to the call of salt and vinegar chips and an ice-cream and sugar. The heat was clearly getting to us all.
"What's the straightest, flattest way home?" Elliot pleaded. And that's precisely the route we took, parting ways at Pagewood for our respective solo rolls home.
We all made it home just before the heavens opened, unleashing a thunderstorm and hailstorm. Talk about a dramatic finale and an echo of last year!
The day's fire warning summed it up perfectly. Extreme! It was hot, it was hard, and it was definitely a test of our cycling mettle, and especially our young debutant.
It’s rides like this that make nearly all the others easy.
Until next time..
The numbers:
- 172kms 1976^m
- 06:33 moving time / 10:32 elapsed
- 8 starters / 4 finishers
- 3 punctures
- 5 drink stops homeward between Wollongong & Maroubra
- 1 FX-forward contract rolled over
- 2 Longest Days in 1 week
“One of the great all-dayers!” Cold shower done and now watching the cricket.” Swerlo
“It’s bloody good to be home with a gentle sea breeze - almost as good as air conditioning.” Shane
PS. Elliot is still in recovery, not saying much after a massive effort in intense conditions for a young rider only on the bike for less than 3 months.
PPS. Swerlo arrived looking fresh for the MC Classic on Saturday.
