We arrived in Castlemaine around midday, and had lunch in the lovely botanical gardens, being entertained by a very musical magpie who stood on our table warbling at us.
Filled with lunch and enthusiasm, we headed off, following the trail signs. On a steep rise out of town, I fluffed a gear change, pushed hard to keep momentum, and somehow managed to pop two spokes, cog side, in my rear wheel. Not a great start. We had passed a bike shop a kilometre or so back in town, so we limped back there, and luckily the shop agreed to fix them straight away and to come back in an hour.
Sitting in the park as we waited, we realised that in fact we had been heading out the track heading to Daylesford, not the one heading to Bendigo. Probably would have taken us a while to realise our mistake, so the broken spokes were sort of a blessing in disguise. The bike mechanic was not particularly impressed with my 1980's mountain bike, and pointed out the poor state of the rims and the corrosion around the spokes. He didn't rate our chances of getting to Harcourt very highly I suspect, and suggested that we take the road there, much smoother and half the distance. In retrospect, this might have been quite a good idea. (More ominous music ...)
Whatever, it was about 2 by the time we really set off, the day nice and hot and the north wind gusting. We soon found that the going was not going to be easy on the GDT track. Bits of it are dispiritingly steep with loose shale or rock. Maybe younger more accomplished riders could ride it, but no way I could.
Eventually the trail entered some pine plantations and the going got a little easier, though there were still some hard sections. I realised that most of my riding is relatively un-demanding. Where we live is mostly flat, and if the wind blows, I just go a little slower. Going up these hills with the rear wheel spinning in the gravel, there is no way to ease off. I discovered the limits of my fitness. And going down, the limits of my skills. It is sort of demoralising to be walking up and down hills. But Dead Bullock Road saw us doing that - no wonder the poor old bullock died. I was worried I might be going to join him.
But all things pass, and we emerged onto a lovely undulating gravel road, and then actual tarmacadam, which was a great treat. We rolled in to Tread at Harcourt about 5, fairly hot and tired.
Tread is an old motel which a young couple have turned into bike friendly accommodation and is a really nice place to stay. There are even hooks next to the bed so you can hang your bike up nice and close at night in case you miss it too much. We were made to feel very welcome there (unlike other places I've stayed with a bicycle.)
A huge thunderstorm rolled through about 5 am. When the alarm went at 6.30 it was raining, so we snoozed till 7, and opened the door on a wonderful clear fragrant morning. We were on the road by 8 and enjoyed a lovely ride through the orchids at the back of Harcourt and round over the side of Mt Alexander.
Today's ride was twice as long and half as difficult as the day before. The trail follows the Coliban water aqueduct so it is relatively flat, except when it isn't - when the channel cuts through hills via tunnels. But overall a splendid ride through lovely country.
The trail still has some rough bits towards the end, but we were getting better at dirt and managed to ride most of them. We arrived at Bendigo Station at 1 pm, in good time for the 1.36 back to Melbourne, which was again very comfortable except for the mobile phone conversations. Unfortunate that there is no bike storage in the quiet carriage.
I arrived home about 3.30. After a cup of tea I went out get some things off the bike and found the rear tyre completely flat, perhaps as Jess says, a sign from the bike gods that it really is time for a rear wheel change.
All in all, a great microadventure.
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