The Audax Alpine Classic is an institution. First completed in 1986 by six hardy members of Audax Australia, it has grown into a week-long festival of cycling that draws thousands of riders and their families to Bright each Australia Day long weekend. The original 200 km ride, which climbs Tawonga Gap, Falls Creek, Tawonga again from the other side, and Mt Buffalo, remains the main event but has since spawned various shorter versions to broaden its appeal.

With the sealing of the Bogong High Plains Road in 2009 the organisers saw an opportunity to go in the other direction, and in 2010 the Alpine Classic Extreme was born: a 250 km loop that climbs Mt Hotham, drops to Omeo, climbs up the back of Falls Creek, descends to Mount Beauty, then pops back over Tawonga to return to Bright. The ACE thus takes a similar route to the Bicycle Network’s 3 Peaks ride, but differs in having a valley start/finish, longer daylight hours and, arguably, more reliable weather.

In 2010, with my long-time riding buddies Quentin, Nigel and Tim – the four of us a seasoned Alpine Classic crew – I resisted the temptation to upgrade from the habitual 200 km. But in 2011 we all took the plunge, and since then had made the ACE 250 an annual event. Quentin, Tim and I even completed the 2013 ride, when bushfires limited access to Mt Hotham and instead we climbed Mt Buffalo to Cresta Valley three times in a day. They gave us a medal for that one.

We had always laughed at stories of tough nuts who would finish the 200 km ride and then head off up another mountain, just for fun. So reaction was mixed when the menu for 2015 included a new dish, the Alpine Classic Ultimate: the ACE we knew and loved, plus Mt Buffalo for dessert. Four peaks, 5600 m of climbing, 320 km. In one day. Quentin said he couldn’t imagine anything worse. I think Nigel liked the idea but didn’t believe he had the legs to tackle it. But Tim and I couldn’t resist. We signed up, and started thinking about how to prepare.

Kew Boulevard became my midweek training track – the ‘long way to work’. Fourteen punctures over the course of the year, from tacks strewn on the road there, were an annoyance but not a deterrent. When time permitted, I’d ride out to Kinglake or the Dandenongs – with Tim on the odd rare occasion when our diaries were in sync. The Tour of Bright, in early December, gave me a chance to rehearse the climb up Mt Hotham – and in foul conditions. With a month to go, a week of hard early-morning rides on the Great Ocean Road (while the rest of the family slept on in the camping ground), and a solid 130 km loop through Deans Marsh and Forrest with Tim, marked a build-up in distance and intensity. More laps of the Boulevard (and more tacks) followed, with short, sharp Yarra Street thrown in to mimic the steep climbs to come. A damp, cold Thursday on Mt Donna Buang, when lyrebirds outnumbered riders. An old favourite we call Tony’s Loop. It was nearly time.

After a final week of riding and relaxing with family in Bright, Australia Day weekend was upon us. Ready or not, buddies, families and friends gathered in Bright for a ritual evening of pre-ride pasta. Festivities wound up earlier than usual. Part of the deal was a 4 a.m. start, and there was important sleeping to be done.

By 3:45 a.m. Bright’s main street was a sea of winking LEDs. The early start and alpine region road regulations bring strict lighting requirements, including two sets of front and rear lights and a reflective vest. Tim and I met outside a cafe and made our way to the corral. We wouldn’t see Nigel and Quentin until later in the day – much later. After a safety briefing and some French-accented amusements, a sizeable group rolled out towards Harrietville.

Incredibly, with such a long day ahead, one red light went off the front on the attack even before we reached the edge of town. Most of us were content to find a rhythm and enjoy the slightly weird experience of riding in a bunch through pitch darkness. We made good time to Harrietville.

Tim had started the previous year’s ACE 250 with the 4 a.m. group and afterwards wrote enthusiastically about the light show – the ‘shadow puppet’ effect, he called it. Sure enough, as the road kicked up towards Mt Hotham, lights from riders behind cast our shadows onto tall roadside cuttings. Tim had also mentioned the pinch known as the Meg, one of the steepest on the 30 km climb to Hotham. It follows hot on a hard bend to the left, so once you’re above the worst of it there’s line of sight through the trees to the road below. As far as we could see in that direction were white lights, snaking up the road towards the base of the Meg, while up ahead red tail lights trailed into the distance.

By about the level of the alpine resort ticket box, the sky was growing lighter. The sun’s first rays were blocked from view behind the ridge we were climbing, but by Windy Hollow, at the base of a sweeping descent, it blazed from the horizon to the right. We were now above the tree line and the grand scenery of the Alpine National Park was all around us, glowing orange in the early light. The shock of a 3 a.m. alarm was forgotten and spirits were high. We pushed on to the summit, where I stopped to put on a wind vest. It was chilly up here and I didn’t want to freeze on the 11 km descent to the first checkpoint at Dinner Plain.

...o&o...

If an army marches on its stomach, a long-distance peloton does something very similar. Nutrition and hydration are crucial. Alpine Classic riders take responsibility for their own needs out on the road, but volunteers lay on food at Dinner Plain, Omeo, Falls Creek, Bright and Dingo Dell, and there are water wagons at several other points. After 14 previous finishes, I had a successful formula of water, energy drinks and food supplements worked out. But the food at the checkpoints – real, chewable food – counts for a lot, and here Alpine Classic riders are fortunate indeed. Surely no ride anywhere has better catering. The range is wide, and each checkpoint has its signature dishes, repeated year after year. Approaching Dinner Plain, I visualised white bread and Nutella. I looked forward to a Frosty Fruits icy pole with my salad roll in Omeo. Slogging across the High Plains into a headwind, the mere thought of creamed rice at Falls Creek gave me strength. And in Bright – oh, please! – custard tarts and jellied fruit would refuel us for the final effort up Mt Buffalo. It would have been seriously demoralising had any one of those treats not been there – but there they were, every one, plus some new and inspired choices: plunger coffee, for instance. And chunky vegetable soup to wash down the bread and Nutella. Maybe not, you think? Believe me, it was sensational.

…o&o...

The 43 km descent from Dinner Plain to Omeo is one of the easier sections of the ride. There are some minor climbs to break things up, but mostly it’s either undulating or blasting downhill – the scene of my maximum speed for the day of 83.2 km/h. After crossing the timing mat for a break (salad roll, icy pole) at Omeo football ground, we pushed on.

There’s a 4 km climb out of Omeo, then the road undulates some more before dropping to a water point at peaceful Anglers Rest. A headwind was blowing, but the scenery is wild and beautiful, and we settled into a rhythm and made the best of it. I was feeling a bit fresher and was happy enough on the front, but Tim shared the work and we found another wheel to follow for a time as well. Conserving energy was a high priority. Had we been repeating the ACE 250, we would still have been nursing our legs for the impending slog up Falls Creek. The prospect of finishing up Buffalo at the end of the day made it even more important to keep something in reserve.

I pulled up at Anglers Rest and looked behind. No Tim. I hopped off, drank, refilled bidons and took a leak. Still no Tim. Hmm. An arriving rider remembered seeing someone pumping up a tyre: ‘Tall guy, white and green jersey.’ That’s him. A few minutes later Tim rolled in with a puncture story, nothing out of the ordinary. He filled up and we rolled straight out again.

A few more kilometres brought us to Shannonvale, also known as ‘WTF Corner’, where the climb to Falls Creek starts with brutal suddenness. A moment ago you were cruising along the valley floor; now, in a few turns of the pedals, you’re out of the saddle and grinding uphill in the lowest gear you can find. It was not yet midday and only warm (rather than stinking hot), which was a blessing, but this is still a brute of a climb where each rider has to find a pace they can manage. For some, that means walking pace. Not for us, fortunately. At the next water point Tim said he’d see me ‘somewhere up there’, and I put my head down and pushed on.

The back of Falls is long, steep and mostly unrelenting. Sometimes it lets up and you might think you’d done the worst, but then it kicks up again. From past experience I knew to expect this. Even so, the next water stop at Trapyard Gap was a long time coming. I considered pulling over sooner to wait for Tim, but we’d agreed on the need to avoid unnecessary stops. This was a necessary one. There was no food here, but I took on water and visited the national park issue long-drop toilet, then just sat for a while until Tim arrived. He only dismounted briefly before we were back on the bikes.

More climbing, which didn’t seem quite fair, brought us out onto the wide, open Bogong High Plains and into a stiff headwind. In truth, the wind was the only thing we could possibly complain about. In every other respect the day was ideal. Still, the wind was undeniably there, and there might be creamed rice waiting at Falls Creek, so we got down on the drops and whittled away the intervening kilometres.

It was a relief to reach Falls. The legs were feeling it. After 187 km and two monster ascents this was to be expected, but I was mildly concerned. There was the small matter of 133 km more to ride. And then there was Buffalo. I’d thought about this a lot in the lead-up to the ride. I told myself that setting out to climb Buffalo after 250 km couldn’t be any worse than heading out there for the third time in one day, as we’d done in 2013. Or worse than on some of those early 200 km rides, getting back on after a mere 130 km, but in the full heat of the day and with the pressure of chasing a PB. We were older and wiser now, more experienced and perhaps less competitive. Perhaps. But there was still the matter of the legs.

Fortunately, after a reviving double serve of creamed rice and a long descent to Mount Beauty, the signs were good. The 7.6 km climb to Tawonga Gap seemed easier than it sometimes does, the descent was a blast, and I took care not to waste energy on the drag back to the Great Alpine Road. A shout from some friends who were waiting for us at the turn-off gave me a further boost, and I arrived back in Bright at 4:09 p.m., on track and in a buoyant mood. The legs and me, we were OK. It was game on.

I satisfied my craving for jellied fruit and custard tarts, filled bidons again, and left a heavy front light with Ely, who had been sitting on the riverbank and keeping an eye on Quentin’s kids as well as our own while they rode the rapids on inflatable mats. Tim appeared out of the crowd, steely purpose in his eye, and we saddled up, left the crowd behind us and headed out of town on the Back Porepunkah Road.

Into a headwind. Really?! Was this necessary? Apparently it was, so I suggested to Tim that there was no point both of us burning energy into the wind. He dropped back onto my wheel and we made good time out to the base of the first bump before Buffalo. Time had been in the back of both our minds all day. We’d made all our deadlines with a bit to spare; now we had just on 4 hours to get to Dingo Dell and back before the dread cut-off time of 8:30. With fresh legs we could do it in three ...

The uphills, even the little ones, were where you really felt it now. No amount of cajoling would extract any more speed from the legs. Whatever you had left in the tank, it would either be enough, or it wouldn’t. We both knew that my legs were still going that bit faster uphill, and on the ‘pre-hill’ Tim, ever generous, cut me loose. ‘You should go,’ he said. ‘Get a bit of a buffer on that cut-off time, Nick.’ I hope I would have done the same if the roles had been reversed. I pushed a little harder; Tim dropped back. And with that, we went our separate ways. Or, rather: same way, different speeds.

I tried to distract myself by thinking of all the times I’d ridden up Mt Buffalo – getting on for 20 times now. This would be a slow one – though, come to think of it, probably not the slowest. I’d never ridden it this late in the day. While not as pleasant as early in the morning, this was a big improvement on a scorching mid-afternoon, when the soft tar sticks and pops under your tyres and you can feel the heat pulsing off the road surface. There were not many riders still on the road; just us 320-ers and perhaps the odd 200 km rider who had been at it since sunrise.

buffalo at its best, early in the morning – a training ride with quentin and Tim from a few years ago

The landmarks slipped by. At the last water point, known as Waterland, I stopped, not because I needed water but to give my backside a few seconds off the bike. Had a chat with one of the volunteers there – I can’t remember what we talked about, but I remember the warmth of it. Here was someone who understood this crazy thing we were doing. Probably even wished he was doing it himself. On again. Zig followed zag as a familiar series of traverses led to McCutcheons Corner, then to Devils Elbow, and at last to the Gap. The top. Uf! That felt good. In other years there had been someone here in a deck chair, applauding every rider who made it that far, and I would push back tears as I passed. Down to the plateau now, along to Lake Catani, then a couple more ks of climbing to a vast, empty car park. Off down a short side track, tucked in the bush at Dingo Dell, lay the final checkpoint. It was 6:57 p.m. I had an hour and a half to be back in Bright. Surely it was in the bag now. I only had to stay upright.

I think there was food there, and I think I ate some. It wouldn’t do to suffer a hunger flat so close to the finish. Then got back on the bike for the last time. Or almost the last. I soon realised I was shivering – and the descending had barely started. I stopped, put on a wind vest, kept going. Gave Tim a shout as he went by, still going up. The descent from the Gap is a cracker, but the occasion called for caution. It had been a long, tiring day and it would be a shame to blow it all now by misjudging a bend. Still, descending sure beat going up, and soon I was at the bottom, where the gatehouse used to be, tucking the wind vest away in preparation for the return climb of the bump.

There’s a burst of energy that always takes me by surprise on the road back from Buffalo. Maybe it’s because you finally let yourself believe you’re going to make it, and release a mental handbrake. I know I’m not the only one who feels it. Between Porepunkah and Bright, with less than 5 km to go, I realised I had company. Soon a young bloke, also wearing the fluoro vest of a 4 a.m. starter, pulled to the front. He had also found the secret reserve tank and was loving it. ‘Only 2 ks to go’, he shouted, ‘and I’m more excited than I’ve been all day!’

With a wheel to follow, the last 2 km into town flashed by. A few cheers from roadside diners, a left at the information centre, a little swoop down over the timing mat, and it was done. By this time each year an enthusiastic crowd gathers to give every rider a reception to remember. I’d never finished late enough to earn it before. My name flashed up on the board, and my arrival time: 20:12. Sixteen hours and 12 minutes since 4 a.m. Quentin and Nigel were there, having got in from their 250 km ride a few minutes earlier. We joined Tim’s entourage to wait for him to arrive. Which, a few minutes later, he did, looking pretty much how I felt – wrecked but satisfied after a big day on the bike.

…o&o...

Twitter, 27/01/2015
Tim Fitzgerald
320 km, 4 peaks.
‘So will you ride it again next year?’
Immediately after: ‘No’
1 day later: ‘I don’t think so’
2 days later: ‘Perhaps’

Twitter, 27/01/2015
Nick Tapp
@timf_ffla Hmm, I still don’t think so …

Twitter, 28/01/2015
Tim Fitzgerald
@NickTapp3 Day 3: ‘Next year I’ll do it in under 10 hours, for sure’.

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A ride in the hills