By Jack Chang.
There is a sportif ride in the Chianti region of Italy every October called L’Eroica. It started in 1997, as a way of remembering the old days of cycling. Roads were unpaved, bikes were made of steel, jerseys were made of wool and cycling shorts came only in black. It traverses a beautiful hilly region, where many of the roads are covered with white gravel faded by the sun’s ray , the ‘strada bianchi’. The ride has grown in popularity over the years, with rider numbers capped to around 5000 recently. This year celebrated riders such as Marianne Voss, (the all time greatest female cyclist from The Netherlands) and Pauline Prevot (the newly crowned road race world champion from France) participated and supported the event.
I wanted to ride the L’Eroica since I heard about it a couple of years ago. I had my bike built by a good cycling friend in Sydney, a beautiful deep green Eddy Merckx steel bike with all the vintage bells and whistles and gleaming with chrome.
Then came the bad news. Due to its popular demand, riders wishing to participate were prioritized to people over the age of 60, Italian nationals, and females. All other riders had to go in a ballot system, and let fate decide. Since I didn’t fit in any of the priority categories, I had to kiss the L’Eroica ride good bye. : (
I heard about the inaugural Beverley Heroic ride here in WA from a SPR post by another vintage bike nut, Mr. IAM cycling Paul Braybrook. Needless to say I jumped at the opportunity. I signed up as soon as I got the OK from the family. I was testing the bike on dirt roads, deciding on which jersey to wear and familiarizing myself with the toe-straps, and down tube shifters.
There were four SPRers taking part in the 100 – Miler Heroic ride. Paul rode a red Colnago Mexico and Francine yellow Bergamin, and Sarah a single speed (Kudos before even starting the ride)! Shane who we met along the way was tackling the 50 – Miler on a stylish Baum, the go-to bike brand for titanium connoisseurs (alas El Prez’s white stallion).
However, I nearly didn’t make the ride….
You see, I am what you call a fair weather cyclist, my rule is that if it rains but is not too windy (less than 25km/hr.), I ride; if it’s windy (more then 25km/hr.) but with no rain, I can cope; but if it is raining and the wind is more then 25km/hr., I stay home and do a trainer session or sleep in.
The weather forecast for Sunday, the day of the Beverley Heroic — rain and 30+km/hr. wind!
A few days leading up to the event, I was thinking of not showing up and forfeiting the entry fee, then I got a text from Paul, who was sending the detailed ride plan. I guess we were all in it together, so no backing out. Doesn’t Paul know it’s gonna be rotten weather? Maybe he is from the UK and is used to riding in bad weather…
I decided to give my bike a bit of spit and polish the day before the big event. Upon inspecting the wheels, I noted the spokes were out of tension, I could bend then easily with thumb and middle finger, ‘mmm, this is going to fare well on those gravelly descents….’. So on Saturday afternoon, a few hours before I drive down to Beverley, I had to figure out how to fix the wheels.
A light bulb flashed, I could contact Toby, the event organizer to see if he is a bike mechanic whiz or if he knows someone who can fix it. No luck, however he suggested that I seek help from Elite Racing Cycles, the event sponsor, I tried my LBS first, and then ERC, both said too busy, but on my insistence, the guys at ERC agreed to have a look. When I took the bike to the shop, I was greeted immediately with a number of Woos and Arrghs, they all liked my bike, and more or less fixed it on the spot! Thank heavens.
The drive to Beverley from Perth was just lovely. The roads became winding, narrow and quiet after the Great Eastern Highway turn-off. The late afternoon sun beat down on dense gum-tree forests, the barks glittering like the sequins of a silvery dress. Then yellow farmland framed by clear blue sky, and silhouettes of a few bare branched trees standing like sculptures in the distance. As I drove through York, I could see a few farmhouses with rusted tin roofs breaking up the yellowness. Red and purple colored wild flowers fluttered in the wind alongside the bitumen. A scarecrow jutted up the wire fence striking a pose, the sound of a farm dog barking in the distance. It’s all so quiet and serene. I felt a tinge of sadness, ‘How nice would it be if the heroic ride was on today’.
The meal at the pub was great, Sarah was chuffed about how cheap the drinks were, and John, the barman calmly announced that the weather would hold up as his knees were not sore like when a change of weather was coming through.
We were greeted with a lovely sunrise the next morning. Porridge and instant coffee the locals put on for us were consumed with gusto. At breakfast, we discussed the ride plan, which according to Paul involved lots of eating with no less than 15 pieces of food during the ride, not including lunch. Paul was making absolutely sure we were not going to bonk during any stages of the ride.
We lined up with fellow riders at the start line, the rain was just a soft drizzle. Within 20 min in the saddle we were on the first section of the gravel, it felt a bit bumpy but otherwise quite manageable. The crimson red gravel roads were a dramatic contrast to the yellow colour of farmland and black and green silhouette of the trees in the distance. The sun pierced through the clouds intermittently and made the road glisten and flicker. We were travelling at a fairly steady pace. We all knew it was gonna be a long day ahead. During this second leg, there was a good splash of sunshine and a few gusts of wind, but generally the weather held up OK. We made it to York without major issues and felt quietly confident that we can do this.
As we started the next section, the wind really picked up. Sarah and I were joined by an Irish guy Cormack, who was riding a Surly fixie. We swapped turns and tried to catch Paul and Francine who set off a bit before us. The wind was howling and gusts of wind blew down small branches of trees, so we had to swerve to avoid the branches on the gravelly road. On the side of the road, shrubs were shaken around violently like a rag doll. The 30+km/hr. wind made for a pretty dramatic scene as riders tried to grind through the big gears on the vintage and single speed machines. ‘I should be staying inside and reading the newspaper’, a sneaky thought came into my head. ‘No, riding in this wind and rain adds so much more to the hero factor!’ We kept rolling through our turns and encouraged each other, pretty soon, we were back on the paved roads and signs of Shire of Northam spurred us on to our lunch stop. Sarah surged away as we hit the last slope to get into Northam. ‘She is a fast rider! ’, commented Irish Cormack.
We reached the checkpoint and got our card stamped, a lovely lady volunteer took our photos. Sarah missed the turn into town and had to double back. However, Paul and Francine were nowhere in sight. Sarah rang them and was surprised to hear that they went the wrong direction and ended up back in Beverley having followed the riders doing the 50- Miler! They must have been so disappointed. At the checkpoint, we chatted to the other riders, everyone was quite beat up by the wind and rain, at the same time relieved that we had passed the halfway point.
So our SPR 100- Miler team dwindled down to two riders.
We had a quick lunch at the bakery. At this time due to the rain, and body cooling down, I got a bit cold and was shaking and shivering, so I put on my warmers and rain jacket and stood in the sun (when it peeps through the clouds) to try to get warm.
More head wind and more drizzle, more hard slog….
We were joined at one section by a rider named Peter, who was riding a cross bike. He was a big burly bloke with a sprinter type physique. He had a cup mount on his handle bar and he was sipping a cup of hot chocolate his girl friend had made and saying how nice it was. He took a few turns pulling at the front and shielded us from the wind. His effort was very much appreciated by us three. When we hit the gravel roads, he took it like duck to water and disappeared into the distance. I decided to call him Peter Sagan, ‘cause of his stocky build and the fact he was wearing a kit with splashes of green like the Cannondale team.
The route back to York and Beverley felt decidedly hillier and periods of rain kept the road wet and dust level down. As promised by the organizer, the roads were very quiet with only a handful of cars passing us the whole day.
Sarah had a rare wheel puncture. Me, Cormack and a couple of other riders stopped to offer moral support. A big guy named John was riding a Langster single speed, his mate Anton was on a beige colored Colnago Expert with some nice pantographed parts and schmick looking Brooks saddle. We set off again after the puncture fixed and rode in a group for a while. We chatted about the next vintage bike project, what material was Casteli gabba jerseys made of, and how nice it would be to sit down at the pub with a beer in hand after the ride… The rest of the ride was all a bit of blur, I became aware of the hardness of my vintage saddle after around 120km, and this made me ride faster so I could finish and get off my bike.
I was elated to smash through the final few kilometers and rode past the finish line greeted by cheers of a small crowd that gathered outside the Town Hall. I went back into the beautiful Art Deco style building and got the final stamp. My bike and myself were covered with red mud and dust; the red mud caked onto the brake pads. Sarah came in a few minutes ahead of me, she did a great ride! We were re-united with Paul and Francine, they did look a little disappointed having to cut the ride short.
I was on a high for finishing the event without a mechanical or a fall. It was a top day of cycling!
To top off the day, I won the random prize of 12 (small) tubs of artisan ice cream from the York Dairy Company! Thanks to the town of Beverley and all the hard working volunteers and organizers for a wonderful experience! I will be back again, may be on a bike with even more heroic factor!
‘Rule # 9. If you are out riding in bad weather, it means you are a badass. Period.’ – Velominati
