And finally the day came, our last full day in Australia and more importantly, the
Slog to Sale. For years we'd heard about the Slog and the excitment it brought to the community of Cardinia so this year we were determined to get involved regardless of our personal fitness levels and take on the 160km bike ride that is
the Slog.
Our training regime; a 10km bike ride in (very flat) Belgium, a 17km ride from Cowes to Rhyll (Phillip Island) and a 15km ride from Cowes to Churchill Island, and let's not forget my secret weapon .... leg weights which I wore under my jeans for the month leading up to the ride. Oh yeah, we were ready.
Always the confident one, Woz decided that he wasn't going to ride with me as I might slow him down so Claire and I (a.k.a Parkes and Monroe) rode together along with our camera man, Benny. Our plan - to have fun, stopping along the way and chatting to our camera man, and of course, to make it to Sale. What actually happened was very different indeed.
Before we started, we had worked out that in order to make the 160km in the time allowed we would need to take no more than 45 minutes for every 15km at which point there was a stopping point. If we took 40 minutes we would have 5 at each stop, to stretch, rest and re-energise. The pit-stops were great - manned with enthusiastic and encouraging volunteers, handing out drinks, chocolate, bananas and oranges to each rider.
We made it to our first stop around 44 minutes after heading off which meant that we had time to shove some oranges in our mouths, stretch and get back on. Nevertheless, the short break did us a world of good and we rode of full of energy and enthusiasm. After torrential rain the night before the sun had broken out and we rode in good spirits, even getting a little hot at times. We were having fun!
The next 15km however was brutal. The slight incline of constant hills had a stinging bite to them as our legs grew tired and the clouds which had in the morning cleared to reveal the sun, once again gathered dropping buckets of rain on our path.
By about 50 km's we had stopped passing any other riders and were now the last. Claire, Benny and I were joined by Mel and Lauren and lo and behold, Woz, who couldn't keep up the pace with the front runners. Being the last riders, with the safety bus following closely behind us, was demoralising to say the least, and it took me quite a few km's to come to terms with the fact that no matter how much we pushed ourselves, it was unlikely we were to pass anyone else. However, as the day went on, Bo (who drove the Safety bus) became part of our team, cheering us on at each pit stop and letting us know how we were getting along. We felt safe riding on the busy highway knowing he was right behind us watching out for us, particuarly as time grew on as I was dangerously sleepy, barely managing to move my pedals around another cycle.
Just 3 or 4 km's out of Taralgon, the designated lunch stop, Bo had to pick us up. We were so close and were really pushing ourselves to make it to lunch but with so little energy our efforts just weren't enough. The five of us dragged our heels onto the bus and consoled ourselves that we'd ridden 100 km. After a 15 minute break for lunch we had to decide whether or not to go on. It would be another 60km of the same, fighting to make it in the time allowed, riding through rain,
wind and mammoth hills, and most likely, with the safety bus behind us. For me, it was a no-brainer, the last 30 km had taken every last ounce of energy I had and I knew that I wouldn't survive another 60, certainly not in the time I had to do it in. Claire was exhausted too, although I get the feeling that she might have gone on if not for me.
Benny, who completed the 100km in relative ease, decided that he would stop with us too. Lauren went on to do another 40km, and Woz, along with Stephen -the full 160km to Sale.
The feeling once we stopped was something I've never experienced before. Our muscles aching so much that nothing would relieve the pain. We walked it off as much as we could but it took every ounce of energy to stay awake and alert when all we wanted to do was collapse in a heap. Once home that evening, we were faced with another seemingly insurmountable task - packing.
I'm not entirely sure what to write to accompany this photo except to say that Woz is a very lateral thinker. The problem which presented itself whilst painting the boat in the water (most people take it out of water to a dry dock) was that the pontoon which runs along one side of our boat stopped about a quarter of the way of the boat. The solution; a canoe (of course!) in which Woz precariously manoeuvred his way around the boat with a paint brush in one hand and a bucket of paint in the other. It's an absolute miracle he didn't fall in.
