Two wheels better than four

One of my ex-Scouts who is now a Venturer (the next age group up) had organised a bike hike this weekend, and invited some of the older Scouts and me along for the ride.

Due to various circumstances (kids who were sick or away) there were only three of us on the trip, plus the Venturer leader doing transport logistics. The existence of “transport logistics” meant that we could ride all the way from Lilydale to Warburton without having to worry about riding all the way back (a few years ago — and also with Scouts —I did this round trip, plus an extra detour or two, and since the 90km in a day was a tad taxing it was nice not to be doing the whole thing again!).

It was a windy day, and the Lilydale to Warburton direction turned out to be the best choice, with only the occasional cross-wind to be annoying, and a tail-wind most of the rest of the time. The climb out of Lilydale wasn’t as bad as the gradient profile made it look — the fact that it is an ex-railway line means that the gradients aren’t too bad as they couldn’t be too steep for trains. In fact the hardest bit was finding a break in the traffic to make one of the road crossings. We started to joke about rationing our food in order to survive the whole trip because it was taking so long. We made it eventually, and not long after this we were sailing down the longer slope on the other side.

This was good fun, and I was pleased to find that I could give Caleb (one of my older Scouts) a run for his money when we raced (I will claim that it was my superior fitness that meant I kept winning; he will claim that it was my better bike … which may be partially true … especially given what I really know about my “superior” fitness).

Partway along the trail there is a cafe made from a converted rail carriage and we had a break here for some late morning tea (although we wondered how well the place will do in the quieter times of the year).

We then continued on the flatter section (a very slight incline up to Warburton), past billabongs, farmland, and small creeks. There was one really long bridge crossing, with uneven planks that shuddered and juddered us as we cycled across, much to the further discomfort of our increasingly tender posteriors.

We’d passed all of the nice station ruins before we decided to stop for lunch by the highway, and then a bit later on we had another rest stop where Sarah, who had somehow missed “The Monk” joke during her time as a Scout, was treated to/tortured by this particular one of my bad pun shaggy dog stories. It was her request, and I’m sure she knew the likely groan-inducing anti-climactic consequences, so don’t blame me. (She got the short version, and in daylight. I don’t do either, usually! My preferred strategy is to tell these tales around a campfire, taking as long as annoyingly possible without crossing the difficult-to-locate border between rambling but still interesting narrative and yawn-inducing tedium.)

We arrived at Warburton at around 2:30, located a cache (my first in ages) to celebrate journey’s end, and then loaded up the bikes onto the trailer for the return journey. I am embarrassed to say that I got sunburnt on the journey, despite the mostly overcast weather, but I definitely enjoyed the exercise and the company.

[NB The photos were taken using my iPhone, and the quality isn’t great.]