Go east
There's something about mountains. Some people say they are awe-inspiring. Some say its their heroic size or their enormous rolling slopes. Some say it's how they seem to stand still as people, cities and even whole civilizations come and go.
Today, the "something" that struck me about mountains is that they can get bloody cold.
Today was also the real beginning of the ride. Yesterday had been a warmup, an out and back to Manilla covering around 45 miles over none-too-taxing terrain. Today, however, I would be starting eastward, heading over the mountains, on to the coast, and eventually to Coffs Harbour, the first town of any size I'd come across over the next three days. The day began at an auspicious -2 degrees Celsius in Tamworth. This certainly wasn't Lonely Planet's version of an Australian winter, involving sun and beach and sand as far as the eye can see. No, I had signed up for an Australia on the rocks, literally. The area of Australia I was in was even called New England for all the warm wintery beach it had. I took comfort in the fact that at least my pack was light (I was wearing everything in it) which included a thermal top, leg warmers, neoprene booties, two jersey layers, wool socks, and lobster mitts (I have always been a fan of lobster mitts, if not for their genius keep-fingers-warm-yet-maneuverable design, at least for their goofy appearance).
I set off at tempo pace to get my heartrate up, breathing in rhythm to the last song I'd heard from the pub the night previous, something by Jack Johnson. About 20 miles east the "ups" began. A good 10% grade to start. With approximately 60 miles to the finish in Uralla I was less worried about my heartrate now and more worried about rear cogs. Thankfully the warmup the day before had retooled my legs a bit and after moving the blood around in rhythm to Jack Johnson (though at tempo starting to sound more Eddie Vedder) I pushed uphill on eastward through the Great Dividing Range.
At Mondi's lookout point I stopped to take in a fresh breadth and admire the view. The sun had warmed the road and my skin enough that I began to peel off layers, piling my backpack half-full again with both clothing and dampness from layers I'd just peeled off. From Mondi's I could see all the way out to Tamworth, approximately 30 miles away. It was indeed a small town, even smaller now on the horizon.
I clipped back in, churned over the crest, and on again uphill.
Today, the "something" that struck me about mountains is that they can get bloody cold.
Today was also the real beginning of the ride. Yesterday had been a warmup, an out and back to Manilla covering around 45 miles over none-too-taxing terrain. Today, however, I would be starting eastward, heading over the mountains, on to the coast, and eventually to Coffs Harbour, the first town of any size I'd come across over the next three days. The day began at an auspicious -2 degrees Celsius in Tamworth. This certainly wasn't Lonely Planet's version of an Australian winter, involving sun and beach and sand as far as the eye can see. No, I had signed up for an Australia on the rocks, literally. The area of Australia I was in was even called New England for all the warm wintery beach it had. I took comfort in the fact that at least my pack was light (I was wearing everything in it) which included a thermal top, leg warmers, neoprene booties, two jersey layers, wool socks, and lobster mitts (I have always been a fan of lobster mitts, if not for their genius keep-fingers-warm-yet-maneuverable design, at least for their goofy appearance).
I set off at tempo pace to get my heartrate up, breathing in rhythm to the last song I'd heard from the pub the night previous, something by Jack Johnson. About 20 miles east the "ups" began. A good 10% grade to start. With approximately 60 miles to the finish in Uralla I was less worried about my heartrate now and more worried about rear cogs. Thankfully the warmup the day before had retooled my legs a bit and after moving the blood around in rhythm to Jack Johnson (though at tempo starting to sound more Eddie Vedder) I pushed uphill on eastward through the Great Dividing Range.
At Mondi's lookout point I stopped to take in a fresh breadth and admire the view. The sun had warmed the road and my skin enough that I began to peel off layers, piling my backpack half-full again with both clothing and dampness from layers I'd just peeled off. From Mondi's I could see all the way out to Tamworth, approximately 30 miles away. It was indeed a small town, even smaller now on the horizon.
I clipped back in, churned over the crest, and on again uphill.
posted by eric at
6:51 AM
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