The Almost 400

I guess I shouldn't let the myth continue too much longer...


We didn't actually manage all of Hobart-Launceston-Hobart two weekends ago.


The combination of Colebrook Hill, a strong headwind, and the promise of coffee in Oatlands meant a start from the main street of Oatlands in cool, foggy weather again.  Thankyou for driving us up Keith and Margaret.  It was nice to have your company as we checked tyres, packed packs and generally fiddled about in preparation to ride.


I suspect that Gav's track pump reads a little low - we managed to blow another tyre right off the rim with a report that temporarily rang gav's bell and frightened the life out of me for the second ride in a row.  A front tyre this time - and we all judiciously let a few Psi whistle out of Presta valves on the off chance of a repeat a little further up the road.


Some quick snaps alongside a gorgeous dry stone wall ( for which Oatlands has developed a real reputation ) and away we went.  Over St Peter's pass and into the strengthening headwind.



Restored working flour mill in the background


Before setting off, Margaret ( this is Craig's mum ) slipped up to me and asked for my Dad's mobile number - obviously on the ball - as it had not occured to me to dig it out for them so that they could meet Patrick in Campbelltown easily.

And there they were, standing together outside The Red Bridge as we wheeled in and made our way inside for a toasty in front of the open fire.

As we were mounting up again, the Red Bridge owner came past in his ute and stopped quickly, exclaiming; 'it's 1939' with a big smile.  I guess we are starting to look like weekend regulars.  

I always find it interesting to watch people's reaction to the biker garb in public places.  It seems to vary somewhere between the look up and down in a very doubtful way, to complete disregard, as though it is completely normal to clomp around in cleated shoes, knickers, tights and funny caps.

While Keith and Margaret would head home with a wave, Dad then played leap frog with us to Longford, on  the 522 - and it was nice to see his face along the road, as he pulled over periodically to take photographs and check our progress.

About 10 from Woolmers Gav's rear tube let go with a fizzle, and we pulled over again to swap in a spare.  I'll have to put my hand up again - the rear pads had rubbed through the spanking new tyre when braking - causing the puncture.  Very irritating to trash a new, and lovely, tyre through rushed preparation - and so easy to remedy

By Longford I was feeling a bit empty and weary, but snakes, a salad roll and date scone - devoured in about 5 minutes - got me going enough for the final run to Prospect.  This short 15Km hop was not without incident, as Gav's front brake cable then let go, leaving him to navigate the old Bass Highway round-a-bout at warp speed in the face of oncoming traffic.  We were pleased to pull into his parent's home to survey the damage and get ready for the next day's return.

As you've previously heard, I was pretty reluctant to start the day.  Thanks to dad again, and Gav's new car, we convoyed back to Campbelltown, and drove out from under the rain clouds that had soaked Launceston during the night and early morning.  I was awake and listening to the pelting sheets of rain at 5am, hoping that it would clear away.

It did sort-of stop.  The roads were largely wet as we set off from Campbelltown again at 9.  Gav had the Aero safely tucked up in the boot of his car - The intention to swap with Craig onto the Whatley at Oatlands.

What a fantastic tail-wind.  Cruising at 35 was in marked contrast to the trudge North the day before.  The image  of Craig standing to pedal ( further above ) was taken on a little false flat rise between Campbelltown and Longford - straight into the wind.  It had been shocking, and also a saviour, to swing off and go to the back, and have to ease off so much effort to sit behind without running over back wheels.  The sheltering effect so pronounced - and welcomed after a couple of Km's of driving.

I like this little image - ghosts on St Peters Pass.  Yes we were rolling at a good clip.  The road was dark and fairly quiet as we slipped through, treading hard on the pedals and wishing for more ratio's - mid too low, high too high.

I think for the first time, Craig let the Whatley off the leash on the descent into Oatlands.  He rolled away quickly - a satisfying blast to the Oatlands turn-off, where all I could think of was a bowl of steaming hot chips.  Only another 70 to home.



Treats - and a little shameless plugging of Craig's great web site


Team 750M living it large - Banana's and hot chips in Oatlands.   It doesn't get much better.  Bendy yellow fruit are something of a luxury - and I have to thank my lovely mum for spoiling her oldest boy with a treat for the ride home.  Banana's have been a little few and far between recently...

Gav and Craig made the swap - a tweak of saddle height, Gav fitting well into Craig's bling shoes to avoid playing around with a pedal swap.  A chance now for Gav to assess Craig's bling ride.  Craig in the car, camera in hand for the last sprint to the Mudwalls turn and then bomb to Richmond.  And we did really fly - big gear all the way from the top of the hill above Oatlands to the turn, pushed on by the ever-freshening breeze.



Oatlands Sweet Shop and Cafe - where the dudes hang on a Sunday afternoon


A quick breather at the top of Colbrook Hill to seat a cotterpin again and check brakes, then a welcome run down into the valley.  This should have been an uneventful run - we have ridden it so many times now, knowing where the effort is required.

The run was marred by 4 youths in a wagon who physically brushed Gav as they went past - we think with a cap or hand.  VO 0664, an aqua coloured Commodore - the number passed on to the Police once safely home.

And then the final uncomfortable run through to Cambridge in soaking icy rain.  I was pleased to step off and into the car, sodden and tired, but satisfied at two solid days - just not quite enough at this point.

I feel rude too - apologies Keith and Margaret.  Thankyou for driving out to meet us - I apologise, as I piled into Gav's car without thanking you or saying goodbye.  All I could think was 'warm shower, warm shower'.

So contrary to expectations, the Malvern Star has run a treat, the Whatley is settling in - though seating the left crank cotter will need to be carefully sorted before France, and the Aero requires more attention - so that you feel safe and secure Gav - It's on my mind.

More about the state of bearing races and rebuilding next time...

SD