IN SEARCH OF THE HOLY BREAD: KINGLAKE GRAVEL RIDE
On an innocuous Sunday morning a small group gathered for a bike ride. Little did they know of the divine experience that awaited...
Looking at our collection of past adventure rides, it's incredible to think we've never ventured out to the Kinglake area, and explored the hills beyond a humble Mount P. return loop.
On a rather quiet, and otherwise innocuous Sunday morning – Aaron, Adrian, Nick and Will gathered outside the St. Andrews Church for the 9 am service of the local dirt church for the very first time.
Not with us in person, but certainly with us in spirit was our good friend Ben Lehner, who had been incredibly generous in his gifting of frankincense, myrrh, no gold, but our route for the day. Inscribed with 36mm knobbed tyres in mind, perhaps the two of us running big slicks were putting too much faith in a higher being. Nonetheless, we were looking forward to traipsing through the local ranges between now and lunch.
ROUTE: KINGLAKE GRAVEL RIDE
Distance: 62.8km / Elevation Gain: +1545m
I: BAPTISM
Right from the get-go, the climbing and the local hills made their presence known. There would be enough of an occasional respite to steer clear of it being a proper baptism of fire, but with each turn around the bend, we were given a glimpse of a fresh new, gravelly ramp. These would bring a shock equivalent to having our heads dunked into a bath of holy water, delivered straight into our still half asleep legs.
In the stifling humidity of the morning which was intensifying by the minute, that feeling would only strengthen – manifesting itself in dripping sweat from brows, along arms, down backs, and out of the vents of removed helmets. HOT.
Despite the conditions we would soldier on further upwards, the gravel roads we'd met at the start had shapeshifted into rocky pathways that required the utmost concentration from each of us.
We would occasionally be rewarded a brief respite, and we would look to the flat, grey sky in search of Ben Lehner looking down upon us from Sydney, and we would shout "is this the end?".
There would be no answer. Instead, as our faces returned to road – nay, goat track level, we would be met with a second, third, fourth and fifth helping of rock-garden-esque climbs. Until things finally came to a halt.
II: REPENTANCE
It would begin with a dismount as we made our way around the gate and onto the Bundy Track. It would then continue with a gentle descent that was nothing short of overdue and very-fucking-welcome.
The change of terrain brought a fresh perspective to the ride, as we mixed with a pair walking their dog, small groups of walkers, and other riders occasionally popping up around corners. But back to what we mentioned about things finally coming to a halt.
The perhaps slight overzealousness and blind faith put into the tyre lords meant Adrian took a turn much too wide, threw his front wheel into a mound and instantly sent the air in his front tyre gushing.
In the five minutes that followed, there was a strong review and several genuine moments of reflection. Slippery hands from the earlier baptism meant that repairing the front tube would be quick, but not pit stop quick. The additional time granted to the group meant snacks were able to be onboarded before we continued on our way with a fair bit of trepidation.
III: SALVATION
The humidity remained but was now joined by sporadic bursts of hellfire (direct, beaming sunlight) as we rolled down the main street of Kinglake. Long overdue drinks and snacks were enjoyed as we revelled in the knowledge of the hard part done, and the funn-er parts about to begin.
IV: WONDER & AWE
Soon that part arrived and was joined in the fresh discovery of a double black diamond mountain bike trail. For today we would leave the shredding for those willing to dance with the devil – a father and son rocking 90's Kmart bikes with no helmets.
Instead, we'd continue along the main road that soon took a duck dive towards the earth's core – our first visit to the fabled Bowden Spur. In contrast to earlier in the morning, we would be using all of our concentration to keep things upright, but for a different reason – this time we'd be contending with dropped jaws at the views ahead.
V: THIRST
As the road began to flatten out, so did our energy levels. Any sustenance onboarded at Kinglake was now depleted, and we were left yearning for the finish line of our ride. Hopefully, there would be enough carb-based goodness in St Andrews eucharist to spring us into new (jury is still out on wanting everlasting) life.
The remaining kilometres following the Bowden Spur descent took us past farmland, small wineries, swimming holes and beloved hay bale art. In a real game of too-and-fro, each descent re-energised us, while any small crests arrived abruptly.
Soon we were spat out at one of Greater Melbourne's most famous four-way intersections, in itself a sign that the gravel had ended and it was all but a downhill cruise towards the finish.
VI: RECEIVING COMMUNION
Having completed the most allegorical of cycling routes a morning of riding could bring, now was the task of finding the one thing we truly came looking for. The Holy Bread.
Fortunately, when it came to receiving communion there wouldn't be much of a line ahead of us – put down to either our timing or perhaps just the unpredictability of the days’ heat.
With a nice table right out front, we were ready to experience another tradition in which our participation was again, long overdue: a post-ride lunch at A Boy Named Sue.
Body of Christ, the blood of Christ, all of that jazz, it was the perfect way to round out the day.