Otways Bicycle Tour

On the Australia Day long weekend, a bunch of us embarked on a tour in the beautiful Otways area. Some of us even took Friday off work to make it a four-day tour. It was a great trip I reckon. I certainly enjoyed it, and hopefully everyone else did too! Here are some shots from my iPhone, which I've captioned, and a few anecdotes and words on the trip by Josh Orchard (thanks Josh!)

Day 1: Colac to Birregurra

Rosie and Jess on the train to Colac.

Kat napping on the train to Colac.

Rosie and Darryl doing some adjustments to Rosie's seat before we set off.

Josh getting in a bit of slack-lining in Colac before we set off.

Darryl also slack-lining in Colac while the rest of us were getting ready.

The first day was meant to be easy: 65 odd kilometers, heaps of time, not too many climbs, start in Colac and finish in the nearby town of Birregurra. But by the time we'd done shopping, been to the bike shop for repairs and parts, and had second breakfast, it was going on half eleven, and it was already obvious that our 'best laid plans' may not survive unscathed in the real world of circumstance. 

The "before" shot. Nine of us about to set off, from left to right: Alex, Phoebe, Alex (Stovsky), Rosie, Jess, Kat, Josh and Darryl.

And because we had no other photographer, Rosie swapped with me so that I could be in the photo too.

A splendid high-yield delicious black-berry patch, about 7 km out from Colac.

Picking black-berries.

Blackberries. Mmmmm!

The climb from Kawarren to Forrest proved tougher than the maps suggested, with seemingly relentless loose gravel clambers, followed by white-knuckle loose gravel descents. But beyond a few punctures, a grazed knee and some fatigue, we got through okay.  

A break on Ridge Road. Gravel road, no traffic, scenic landscapes, the forest, great!

Lunch break, at about 4 pm.

Lunch break.

Another break about 10 km from Birregurra.

Phoebe and Alex pulling in for a break, quite exhausted.

A few snacks before we headed off again, and set up camp in Birregurra.

From Forest it was only 20 Km's to Birregurra, our destination for the night; but by the time we rolled into town the sun was setting. We rode around town for a bit inspecting possible camping sites, before settling on a grassed area by a small creek at the back of the skate park. By the time we'd put up our tents, it was 9:30 pm and we were all tired and ready for a good feed.

We had two or three trangias between us for cooking, which was more than enough, but I'd forgotten to bring methylated spirits for fuel. It wouldn't be an issue though, as Rosie and I had concluded earlier in the day, because Ned would have plenty. Ned's not the sort of person who forgets things, especially something so fundamentally important to him eating. So we gathered our stoves and our food (it was to be pasta that night), and made preparations to transition over to the picnic area across the road.

"Ned, did you bring metho?" said I

"Oh no! I forgot" said Ned

Turning to me: "He's joking isn't he?" said Rosie

"No, I'm not" said Ned

I got that sinking feeling. That awful drop of the stomach. You know that feeling you get when you're really hungry and tired, when you're bordering on being a bit grumpy, and all you want to do is just fill your face, but you realize you've come camping with no metho for your trangia? That's the feeling I got.

At this point the group gave a collective sigh of dejection, as our heads slumped towards the ground. The situation reminded me of when I'd gone for a BBQ lunch with Dad and my Nan on Christmas day many years ago, and I'd forgotten to pack matches (which Dad had specifically told me to remember). That day I had to walk into the nearby caravan park and ask people if I could borrow some. So naturally, as Dad had never let me forget this unforgivable mistake and traumatic experience, my first thought was: "Well we just have to go ask someone".

Rosie was keen too, so we gorged on some delicious fresh blackberries we'd picked along the way that day to give us another half hours energy, and we set off up the street.

Birregurra is a bit of a ghost town. There were houses, by no lights on. We knocked on the first door with signs of life, but they were having a party out the back, so there was no answer. The next house was too well fenced to inhabit the sort of folk that wouldn't mind strangers knocking on their door at 9:45 pm. We turned a corner, and tried our luck again. This time a woman opened the door, but after checking her cupboards, she told us she was fresh out. She suggested we try the pub, as it might still be open. But surely, we thought, surely someone must have some metho; it's not the sort of thing you throw out, you just buy it and never use it. From behind the next door appeared a young lady in a dressing gown, who said she didn't think she had any methylated spirits, but she'd go and check for us. She came back with half a bottle of turpentine and asked us if it was any good to us. She genuinely wanted to help, and I genuinely wanted her to feel as if she had, so I accepted the bottle. With our hopes beginning to fade, we pressed on to the next lit house. A small black cat ran across the path leading to the door; which I've always thought is good luck (I like cats). This door was open, and inside we could see the floor littered with paint tins and tools and various other signs of renovation in progress. This was the one. These people MUST have metho! A middle-aged man answered the door, and by now my little spiel about our hopeless situation was more polished, so I won him over almost immediately. He said he was very sorry, he didn't have any methylated spirits, but he'd have a quick check anyway. I'm not sure about Rosie, but I was beginning to consider the thought of returning to our campsite empty-handed, and the sad idea of going to bed without a hot meal. The man returned with a warm smile, saying: "It's your lucky day", and handed us an almost full bottle of premium Coles brand Methylated Spirits. We were over-joyed, and offered the kind sir some money in compensation, but of course, he would not accept. He'd made our night, and the opportunity to feed a group of starving travelers had made his.

We'd made a bet with Ned that we would be back within 15 minutes with metho, and though we'd gone well over this, we ran back to the campsite to save time (and also because we were just really hungry!). But not before returning the bottle of turps to the young lady a few doors down.

So better late than never, we made our dinner and drank our tea, and simmered down into our tents by about midnight. 

Dinner in Birregurra at about 11 pm - pasta on the trangia, thanks to the metho that Josh and Rosie obtained.

Day 1: Colac to Birregurra.

Day 2: Birregurra to Skenes Creek

Our camp-site in Birregurra. After what was a tough day 1 for them, Alex and Phoebe had decided to pack up early and catch the first train back to Warrnambool.

Alex (Stovsky) had other commitments so he also caught the train back to Melbourne. Jess also unfortunately called an end to her bike tour, while Steph who'd caught the early Saturday train from Melbourne joined us.

Saturday was a great day. We made good time in the morning on the climb towards Lorne, and the 450m descent into Lorne was very fun. I tucked into Ned's slip-stream for as much of it as I could, and we built up terrific speed. The element of terror that comes with hurtling down a winding road at 60 km/h with nothing but a foam helmet between you and the pavement both forces you to grasp and protect your fragile mortality, and instills you with enormous confidence in your capacity to absorb all the bumps and turns the road (and life!) can throw at you. Without the threat of death, does it all not get a bit boring? You can keep your 'singularity' Ned ;)

We stopped for a swim and extended lunch break in Lorne, before setting off towards Apollo Bay on the Great Ocean Road. It's a spectacular part of the world.

Benwerrin, apparently. It was mostly climing up to this point, and we were about to descend for the next 10 km.

At the beach in Lorne, going for a quick refreshing dip.

Relaxing in Lorne, pre-lunch.

Lunch in Lorne.

Riding along the Great Ocean Road towards Apollo Bay, not far from Lorne.

On the Great Ocean Road.

Great Ocean Road.

Great Ocean Road. Just beyond this point we were joined by Ariel, Haley and Cam, who had driven out to Lorne and they rode with us for the rest of the day to Skene's Creek.

The group for the days touring, L-R, back-front: Darryl, Steph, Josh, Ned, Cam, Ariel, Kat, Rosie and Haley.

L-R, back-front: Darryl, Steph, Josh, Ned, Cam, Ariel, Kat, Rosie and Haley.

A koala in the tree by the Great Ocean Road, which Kat got quite excited about (thanks for the photo Kat).

Everyone watching the koala in the tree.

Darryl on the Great Ocean Road.

Taking a break at one of the scenic look-outs on the Great Ocean Road.

Cam showing off doing a track-stand on the rock-wall beside the Great Ocean Road.

Skene's Creek, setting up to cook dinner for the group of nine, with various trangia's and stoves.

Kat and Darryl with bowls of delicious curry for dinner at Skene's Creek.

Dinner at Skene's Creek.

We made it as far as Skenes Creek, where we stopped for another swim, and decided that's as far as we'd get that day. We cooked our tea on a table by the road, and became comfortable with the idea of camping across the road in a picnic area under a sign that said "NO CAMPING". As we ate our dinner and enjoyed a mug of wine or two, a few blokes walked past us walking their dog, and one of them stopped for a chat. He asked us where we'd come from and where we going. He asked us where we were going to camp that night, and at this stage I started to see through his faux interest in our well-being. I said we were either going to camp somewhere up the road (unfortunately I pointed to exactly where we planned to camp, which just happened to be in front of the nearest road inland; then I said we may end up continuing down the Great Ocean Road and find somewhere to camp once we were too tired to continue. I tried to be as vague as possible. But I assured him that wherever we ended up it wouldn't be here! He warned us that the ranger comes around in the morning to check for people camping illegally. Hint hint. He even thought it right to mention that some terrible people even have the audacity to use the near-by caravan park facilities despite the fact that they're not paying customers. Would we? How dare he insinuate that we'd be cable of such immoral behavior! When those in our group who had gone to the caravan park to wash their dishes had returned, the conversation about the man's true intentions was just heating up. I seemed to be the only one who was firm in the conviction that this man, who purported to live in a house across the road, really wasn't concerned about the financial consequences we were sure to face if we camped in this town illegally, and that his true motivation was to scare us free-loading tourists with the illusory conceptions of entitlement into buggering off from his town! And for this they called me cynical!

So we waited until it was dark and we were ready for bed before we quietly crossed the road and put up our tents in the shadow of the dog-walkers house. And we were up at 6:00 am to beat the ranger, who never came.

Day 2: Birregurra to Skene's Creek.

Day 3: Birregurra to Skenes Creek

The next morning, when we were filling up our water bottles and taking advantage of the caravan parks toilets (which we wouldn't have had to use if they hadn't locked the public toilets!), Ned and I were verbally chastised by I man, who seemed authoritative, for using the toilets reserved for paying customers. He also asked me where we had ended up the night before. I wonder if it was the dog-walker? I wonder if the dog-walker was really the caravan park manager in disguise! The plot thickens!

Packing up our tents at our beautiful camping spot in Skene's Creek, at about 6 am.

Breakfast in Skene's Creek. Cam, Ariel and Haley were to leave us to ride to Apollo Bay and then back to Lorne, while the rest of us were to head back towoards Colac.

Rosie, and Josh demonstrating his Irish ancestry, wearing Rosie's...saddle cover.

The start of the climb from Skene's Creek. The road would go upwards for 10 km from this point!

One can just make out Steph up the road in this shot, climbing Skene's Creek Road.

The view back towards the ocean from Skene's Creek Road.

A view of the valley from Skene's Creek Road.

Looking back towards the ocean from Skene's Creek Road.

Rosie on my wheel before she over-took me up Skene's Creek Road.

The scenic narrow winding Turtons Track.

Turton's Track.

Steph, Kat, Josh, Rosie and Darryl on Turton's Track.

Turton's Track, with the sun kindly offering some rays.

A view from Turtons Track.

Turtons Track.

Lunch-stop in a picnic shelter in Beech Forest. 

The forecast called for mostly sunny conditions all weekend, with a chance of showers on Sunday morning. "No need for a rain jacket" Ned said to Rosie. "No need for a rain jacket" Rosie said to me. So the three of us set off without rain jackets. After the horrendous experience of forgetting a rain jacket on the last bike tour I went on (see Ned's previous blogs on the Sydney to Melbourne tour Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3), I had gone and bought a quite expensive jacket from Katmandu, specifically for the purpose of bike touring (actually Rosie was with me at the time of purchase, and such was my superb taste in rain jackets that she'd bought the same one), so I was a little disappointed when Rosie told me not to bring my jacket because she wasn't bringing her jacket because Ned wasn't bringing his jacket because it wasn't going to rain. I had gone to great lengths to make sure I remembered to pack it, putting a note under my car keys, and another note in front of the speedo in my car: "BRING RAIN JACKET!" And because I knew I would have a nice warm jacket with me, I only packed one jumper (or 'warmer' as I am now calling them, because they don't jump).

Now it rained during the night and into early morning on Sunday, but it had stopped by the time we all got up, so I assumed that the predicted showers had passed harmlessly in the night and that we had gotten away it. But the rain came again as we rode through the rainforest along 'Turtons Track'. Now there's nothing worse than having no dry, warm clothes to put on when you stop for a break, so I thought I was better off keeping my one and only warmer in my waterproof pannier, and toughing out the cold and rain in a t-shirt. But after our lunch stop in Beech Forest, I couldn't bring myself to take my warmer off when it came time to get back on the road. After all, surely the rain was all gone now? The forecast said "a chance of showers in the morning". Well we'd had our chance, and it was no longer morning.

We were heading down to Triplet Falls Walk, and we hadn't gotten very far before the rain set in; softly to start, then building. By the time we'd reached the horrible rocky downhill dirt road a few k's short of Triplet Falls, we were contending with belting rain coupled with horizontal hail. All I could do was smile. This is EXACTLY why I spent all that money on a fancy rain jacket with genuine Gore-Tex Pro, arm-pit ventilation zips, extra large hood to fit over a helmet, and a tracking device embedded in the hood just in case I get caught in an avalanche in North America or parts of Scandinavia.

So it turns out the elevated area that feeds Triplet Falls has the highest average rainfall in Victoria. When this was confirmed to me, I resigned myself to a very wet and uncomfortable night. But mercifully, the rain disappeared, and it wasn't long before my warmer regained it's warming capacity. 

Down at Triplet Falls, after being barraged by "horizontal hail and sleet" on the way down from Beech Forrest. Steph did well to remain mud-free on the gravel descent.

Darryl, Kat, Steph, Rosie and Josh, on the Triplet Falls walk.

A massive 300 year old Mountain Ash, on the Triplet Falls walk.

Soaking up some sunlight, on the Triplet Falls walk.

Triplet Falls - one of my favourite places, because I love rainforests and big trees, and waterfalls are pretty good too.

Steph, Kat, Darryl, Josh and Rosie in front of Triplet Falls.

Steph, Kat, Darryl, me and Rosie. Okay, they were singing the little tea-pot song, you know, that one from play-school? "I'm a little tea pot,..."

Steph, Darryl and Josh running on the Triplet Falls walking track...because we could. And it was a good way to keep warm.

The old boiler which was used to run the saw-mill that existed at this site many years prior.

Love the new look Kat!

Back at the carpark at the start/end of the Triple Falls walking track loop, before we rode back up to Beech Forest.

From Beech Forest, we headed down the "Old Beechy" rail trail towards Colac. This shot was just after Josh had an amusing mis-hap and fell of his bike. Sorry Josh, had to laugh!

Stopped by another little black-berry patch, stocking up on some black-berries which we would add to our breakfast.

Kat, Rosie and Josh, as we prepared dinner in the picnic shelter at Gellibrand.

A monument in Gellibrand, with another of many brief rainshowers we'd had throughout the day.

A rainbow in Gellibrand.

Kat, Steph, Darryl, Rosie and Josh eating dinner (pasta and casadia's), in Gellibrand.

Setting up at our campsite by the river in Gellibrand.

Our campsite even had a kitchen sink!

Day 3: Skenes Creek to Gellibrand.

Day 4: Gellibrand to Colac

Packing up camp the next morning in Gellibrand.

Back on the rail-trail, heading towards Colac. 

At around Kawarren, faced by a steep section of rail-trial, Josh, Rosie and Kat decided to take the main road back to Colac, while Darryl, Steph and I stayed on the rail trail.

After a few quick pasties and spinnach rolls at the local bakery, we were back at Colac Station, about to catch the train back to Melbourne. 

We forgot to take an "after" group photo, so this is the best we have: Kat, Steph, Josh, Darryl and Rosie.

Day 4: Gellibrand to Colac.

Our good friend Rosie has left us now for higher pursuits in another part of the world. Monday was a day of dampened spirits for me in the knowledge that once this one was over, once the Melbourne folks were on the train and goodbyes had been swapped, who knows when such a thing as this will happen again? Without Rosie's connections and enthusiasm, would such a thing be possible? I hope so, but one thing's for sure: it won't be the same. So hopefully this tour will be enough to remind you of us Victorian's Rosie, and you'll come back and organise another one for us! Or we might have to come to you...

Thanks to Ned, Rosie, Darryl, Kat, Jess, Alex, Steph, Alex, Phoebe, Ariel, Haley and Cam for an awesome few days!