Day 3 - Wangaratta to Beauty
To my excitement I found a cafe in the main street that was open before 7 AM. I could start my day with an espresso and baked goods. Today was already going to be better than yesterday even with 600 km in the legs. The weather was cool and I’d been told the old railway line, now converted to a bike path, would be a good route to take. It meandered slowly upwards passing vineyards, orchards and stock all the way to Beechworth. There, I took in my second breakfast of the day with a toasted chicken focaccia and espresso. The road out of Beechworth plummeted down to the valley. The road was twisty with each bend in sight, comfortably sitting on 70 kph without even turning the pedals. My mind escaped to the first time I took my first mountain bike down the steepest hill in the area. Behind my house were paddocks and a gorge. Kangaroos and hay bails were the yardage. It was a dirt road covered in loose rock, a gradient of around 20%. 4WD access only and a braking bump half way down. A quartet of young men stood at the top, each daring the other to go first. I was scared and excited in the same breath. All I can remember is shaking wildly, my eyeballs and helmet rattling around, grabbing the brakes but not slowing. For a brief moment I was airborne as I lifted the anchor into the air. “Woohoo!”
As the speed washed off and the road climbed to Yackandandah my mind was back on the road in front of me. The Victorian Alps are not grand by world standards. I’ve hiked the Andes in South America to heights of 4500 m, ridden and skied in both the French Alps and the Canadian Rockies. Australia, though we call them mountains, has hills. Scale aside, they are no less beautiful and very different to ranges found around the world. Particularly the snow gums, and ghostly towering trees, which remain from bushfires past. The smell of eucalyptus trickling through the air, broken by the stench of road kill, is typical.
Some local advice took me on even smaller backcountry lanes that twisted and pitched severely. The occasional logging truck would offer a polite honk as I’d move over into the dirt and gesture them past. The afternoon turned very hot and the road followed the river into the valley. A small bridge spanned the river and it was an invite I couldn’t resist. Off with the Sidi’s and into the water up to my bibs. A handful of young kids performed acrobatic feats from a rope swing that dangled from a shady gum, judging each other based on twists, height and water displacement. This is the life.
I pulled the Sidi’s back on and leisurely rode the last 40 km into town on the Mullagong road into the town of Tawonga, where I would finish for the day. Mt. Bogong, Victoria’s highest mountain (1986 m) loomed over the valley. The afternoon storm was on its way. Time to unwind for the day. Eat, sleep, repeat.