Saturday 5 September, 2009 – Brisbane to Nanango
Day 1 –
Smiddy Journal – Saturday 5th Sep 2009 –Brisbane to Nanango
It’s 5am, old friends have gathered at UQ pool once again, lots of new faces in the mob for the returning riders and excited chatter from the first timers. A hearty breakfast was enjoyed by all before the countdown to the rollout; but there were some concerned expressions as dark rain clouds rolled in.
There are many Smiddy traditions, and these are added to every year, but perhaps the most important one is the viewing of that amazing video of Adam, a sharp reminder of why we are all here. It features a young man in his prime who seems to have a permanent warm smile on his face. For those of us who never knew Adam, we can make a connection to him through his smile, but also through the tears that flowed that morning from his close friends; friends who have found this extraordinary passion to celebrate his life with the Smiddy Ride.
Big Kev was in a jovial mood as always and it seems that his little jigs and jives may have been misinterpreted by the gods as a rain dance; it happened right on the bell (the cow bell), pouring rain to send us on our way.
The only disappointment of the starting ceremony was that our favourite supporter and ambassador for the ride, the legendary Duncan Armstrong, could not start the ride with us as planned. The sky was darkening and heavy rain was imminent, so we could all appreciate that riding through the coming storm was going to be a challenge for a man who has had a lifelong fear of water. Seriously, though, Duncan has not been well, and we will really miss him this year, especially as MC at Clermont!
The rain and the cold were really pretty bad and it’s a great credit to the riding leadership and to the group as a whole that we stayed safe through the worst conditions we have seen in any year on the Smiddy Ride. The skies cleared as we rode towards Dayboro and by the time we started the climb of Mt Mee, we enjoyed the blue skies we have become accustomed to in previous years.
The road kill count was a disappointing ‘zero’ at the 40km mark, and in desperation someone suggested they had just seen a couple of horses in a field that ‘didn’t look too well’. The first confirmed sighting was a pretty well looking snake coiled up on the hard shoulder and I don’t think anyone actually checked if it was really dead or just sunbathing.
We are honoured this year to have with us, Phil Andersen, the man who started the Australian fashion for yellow t-shirts. Some of our younger riders might not have recognised Phil, and drawing alongside Phil for the first time, Tina asked ‘so, who are you?’. This mild goof was exacerbated by her next question, ‘so, done much riding before then?’.
A later mishap illustrated how quickly Phil has taken to the Smiddy spirit, when Chappy’s chain derailed and just as he was about to unclick to sort it out, Phil’s hand pushed him upwards allowing him to slip back on and continue up. Chappy was then also one of many riders who helped push other riders over the last few endless hills that welcomed us to Nanango.
The King of the Mountains race was well and truly on from the lower slopes of Mt Mee, with Phil ‘The King’ Tillotson taking an early lead and setting an impossible pace for the rest of the peleton. New man on the block, Bryn Somers, peeled off and swept across the road in a series of devastating attacks that had some commentators likening him to the great Contador.
Bryn arrived at the top first, dethroning our long time champion. Or did he? King Tillo, holding firm to his crown, looked around for the real summit of Mt Mee, and proceeded up the horribly steep road that leads off to the right. Amongst great controversy, a protest has been lodged and an inquiry is under way.
Someone came up to me at the summit and said, ‘hey, I beat that Phil Andersen up Mt Mee, how about that, that’s a lifetime achievement! You should put that in your journal!’. As word spread that I was writing the journal, there were a few more claims about beating Phil up the mountain, and in the end it’s worked out easier to actually list the people who didn’t beat Phil up Mt Mee, so congraluations to Geevesy.
Meanwhile, Jade had broken his gear cable and in a truly Shakesperean act of love, his devoted girlfriend drove out from Brisbane with a replacement. Jimmy’s ability to change the cable in 3 minutes flat raised some interesting questions about those bike shop bills that include ‘2 hours labour’!
We were informed by our friendly police escort that wet leaves on the descent of Mt Mee made it very treacherous for the decent. Its rare that any news like this can clip The Falcon’s wings but this did slow him up to a two-digit descent speed.
Having survived the perils of wet leaves on the descent of Mt Mee, Brendan managed to piroette out of his cleats at 5 kph, landing gently on the grass verge; but this was to be the worst accident of the day. Other dramas followed as the group was swooped by a squadran of magpies. There was talk that the main attraction for the magpies were Billy’s brand new ruby cycling slippers. At the next break, Billy, perhaps starting to feel the pain and thinking of home, was seen to click his heels together 3 times, while reciting ‘there’s no place like home’ ; a quicker way to the end of the ride is of course the chant of ‘there’s no place like Home Hill’ !
How good was lunch!? Our extraordinary Westpac support crew outdid themselves again, sandwiches in sealable boxes, kilograms of gummy snakes and the usual array of fine beverages greeted us in Kilcoy. Thanks for feeding us, thanks for smiling and thanks for getting us through the day!
The hydro-pool at Nanango baths is a luxurious end to a hard day, but don’t expect such luxury every night, there are no spa pools at Belyando crossing, in fact, come to think of it, there is nothing at Belyando crossing.
A very tired Ollie Clissold
To view a map of today’s route visit:
http://www.bikely.com/maps/bike-path/Brisbane-Nanango
Next Day >>