MONARO CLOUDRIDEThen it started to rain. The droplets grew
bigger, before a deluge soaked me to the skin.
I arrived into the village exhausted and looked
forward to getting into the local hall, drying
out and getting a good night’s rest. But the
town was deserted and the hall locked tight. I
pitched camp in the local pre-school, fixed a
quick dinner and collapsed into my tent.
The past 24-hours had been eventful. But it
was just another day on one of the toughest
bike-packing races in Australia: the Monaro
Cloudride. I was five days in – and I was barely
half-way.
River deep, mountain high
The idea of a non-stop 1,000-kilometre
mountain bike race over the country’s
most inhospitable terrain is, at first blush,
preposterous. The statistics alone are
terrifying, with over 24,000 meters of elevation
gain almost entirely on fire-trails or unsealed
country roads.
The pitiless mastermind of this event is
Steve Watson, an affable septuagenarian
rider from Canberra. Steve’s only
concession to the riders is that he has
thoughtfully routed the race through a
lovely array of regional towns and villages.
As gloriously remote as the ride is, one is
rarely more than a day’s ride from food,
bike repair, a comfy bed or rescue. The last
is significant. Every edition of the Cloudride
has been a brutal war of attrition with
failure rates at around fifty per cent. If the
weather turns, it is even worse.
I had watched previous editions of the ride
with intent, carefully noting the strategies
of each rider and the reasons behind every
success or failure. My training focused
on strength. Six months before the event I
attached a three-kilogram tent to the front of
my mountain bike. I rode this to work and on
plenty of hilly training rides. It wasn’t close to
the battle weight of 26 kilograms, but it was
enough to toughen the sinews and the soul.
Nothing builds power like pushing a
touring load. Six months before the race,
I spent three weeks riding the fabulous
1,000-kilometre Munda Biddi Trail in Western
Australia. After this I rode a 200-kilometre
road ride every month and completed a
tough 600-kilometre road event a month
before the start. Ten days before the race
I rode another 200-kilometre day ride, this
time on my mountain bike. I must confess
that I did not take my tent! From then on, I
did very little at all.
I spent time perusing pre-event social media.How to save weight is a consistent theme.
Such pedantry will not help you complete the
Cloudride. In truth, nothing can quite prepare
you for a multi-day ride of this magnitude.
Fitness helps, but very few riders have failed
to complete this course because they weren’t
fit enough. Things can and will go wrong.
Strength and tenacity are more important
qualities to take with you on this journey.
And strength I would need. With food,
gear and water, my bike handled like a
tank but it had snowed the week before
the race. I wanted to be able to pitch
camp anywhere and see out any weather
event. And I really didn’t want to be the guy
calling for rescue because I was worried
about a few extra kilograms.
Undulating country roads and shaded
forest trails over to Wee Jasper, 80-kilometres
west of Canberra, made for a gentle start,
before some sterner climbs over to Tumut.
Not planning to contest the podium, I opted
for a motel. The more ambitious pressed on
into the darkness.The company of strangers
The Cloudride is a solo race, but joining forces
with others along the way has its advantages.
The high-country can be an intimidating“When the sun goes down the place really starts jumpin’. Wildlife is one of
the obvious risks on the Cloudride: wombats, roos, brumbies and deer are
common obstacles. A less obvious danger came from the livestock I met as
I moved through various pockets of private property.”