The fourth day straight on the bike.
Tender would be the best way to describe it's beginning.
My shoulders were sore, my hands were sore, my derriere was VERY sore.
Coupled with that I was forced to begin the day (again) on an empty stomach, or wait till 8am when Wellington's General Store opened it's doors.
The ride from Wellington to Strathalbyn was hard. It was billiard table flat, and the wind whipped straight off the ocean. After an eternity of solid pedalling on a road that disappeared far into the distance I eventually rolled into Strath' and the town was in Tour hangover mode. Signs of towns 'Welcomes the TDU' echoed of what I'd seen on SBS' coverage of Le Tour. I got chills. I was getting close.
After a hippy breakfast, I headed for Willunga. The guy in the local bike shop recommended I go via Meadows/ the back way to avoid the hills. I dismissed this idea. Afterall I love hills!
If you ask Uncle Google for directions, he would also tell you to go via Meadows... but this is the route I took.
As the road rose rapidly out of Strath' a storm front closed in, I was getting wet, the road was a slick of humidity but at least I had a fully belly and full bidons. I reached the cross roads of Ashbourne and according to my GPS I was to take THIS road.
I'd passed a guy mowing his lawn, so I back tracked and asked him the way to Willunga.
'Go back, along the main road and take McCarg's creek after the bridge. You dont want to go THAT way unless you have a mountain bike.'
'But my GPS says to go this way...'
'Yes, that road will take you to Willunga. But I wouldn't take my car on that road. It's only a few extra kilometres, and much less headache.'
I took this bloke's advice, and though smoother, the routes once again intersected and I was faced with the same corrugated gravel road that pitched steeply, and descended equally.
I'd love to see next years Tour incorporates some of the rough stuff.
Finally I was back on a sealed road to the delight of my hands and cheeks.
I saw cyclists up the road - I must be close!
And I was....
Through the crowds I found familiar faces, and strangers willing to hand me some 'sports' drinks - the key to keeping hydrated. They wouldn't even let me pay.
Cheers to the boys from Benalla!
South Australia puts on a fine show, a spectacular route, and fantastic weather every year.
Want the experience of the Tour without having to cross the globe? The TDU is a greater taster - and you don't have to speak francais.
SW and I headed to the pub and I nearly cried with joy as I entered, in my sweaty CT kit and Sidi's....
Not for the beer, but inside the crowd gazed up at the TV, drinks in hand, a flurry of discussion, and the race was on the screen. Outside the race whizzed by, the crowd ran out to cheer, and then ran back in to follow it again on the screen. If only it was like this for 22 weeks of the year.
Here's my pics from the day. Click the PLAY button below and scroll with the arrows.
Caught up with Wade on Willunga Hill and rode back into town on the bike path.
No ordinary bike path it was.
Winding it's way through vineyards, undulating hills, and few pinches, and some 70kph descents, this is what commuting on a bike path SHOULD be.
The pain of morning had been erased, the legs felt good and we motored back into town as a peleton.
Boy was it nice to follow a wheel for a while.
The number plate?
I'm all for cycle registration if it means I don't have to listen to another motorist gripe about how we don't belong on the road.
It was a good talking point with motorists anyway.
Just as I announce the vaguest details of Melburn Roobaix, a legend of the race has passed.
In our hearts, forever.
Our brief encounter in a haze of spitalian and hinglish was something I'll always remember.
Grazie, Franco.

A giant on two wheels.
The final stage to come.
*TC
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