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Race to the Rock. My story.

A 2.300 kms self-supported offroad race from Adelaide to Ayers Rock through the Barossa valley, Flinders Ranges, the Mawson Trail and the Oodnadatta track.

By BIKEPACKING.BE

October 25^th, 2016

The Race to the Rock?

Bikepacking is fashionable and nowadays, races are popping up like mushrooms out of the ground. The one challenge that bit longer than the other. “Race to the Rock” appeared online about a year ago and I was instantly sold, this will be my 2016 challenge. In recent years, I have cycled many of these types of challenges, in Morocco, Greece, Sardinia, the Tour Divide, Highland Trail, Transcontinental Race, Arizona Trail Race, … but Australia, no, I had never been there before. The route is 2,300 off-road self-supported Australian outback kilometres from Adelaide in the south to Ayers Rock / Uluru, the magical rock in the middle of Australia; it’s some landmark.

The route is divided up into two parts. The Mawson Trail takes you through the Barossa Valley wine region to the Flinders Ranges and is made up of single tracks and gravel roads, with a generous helping of up-hill work. After Flinders Ranges, the second part, you arrive in the real outback, long flat sections that make any possible refuelling stations seem further and further apart. Where in the first part you could easily have food and drink every 100 km, here the distances can easily reach 200 or even 300 km. The message is plan ahead, to take enough drink on the road is the advice.

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The bike.

No doubt in my mind, my Rohloff. I have had fantastic experiences with it in recent years, with the Santos 4.29, but it is now time to switch to something new, but, it has to be a Santos. I have my Rohloff customised with disc brakes and a belt drive and not long afterwards I receive a gem of a bike from the Netherlands. It is the latest Santos Cross Lite, somewhere between the MTB & gravel racer, with the option of thick tyres and, of course, Rohloff. So far this year, most of my preparations have been single speed. I visited all 56 belfries in Belgium and Northern France with a single speed, as well as doing the 1,000 km race from Vézelay to Barcelona on a single speed; only switching to the Santos Cross Lite with Rohloff a few weeks before the Rock. It takes getting used to cycling with gears again, but the bike feels good from the offset. I am familiar with cycling with a drop bar, and after a bit of tinkering I soon find the right position. The SRAM double tap shifters and Gebla box make changing the gears quite stiff to start with but as the kilometres increase the gears loosen up, although I still believe a Rohloff shifter is smoother. Two long rides as preparation, a quick ride on the Cross Lite from Luxemburg to Galibier and Grenoble and two weeks later, the complete route from Paris to Roubaix as final preparation.

The most significant modifications to the bike, compared to the standard setup, are the ENVE MTN fork, a front wheel with SON hub and tri-bars for resting the wrists on the long straight bits. The lights, as well as the charger for the GPS, GSM and external emergency battery all run through the SON hub and Sinewave USB converter. A frame bag and 2 Alpkit dry bags complete the setup. Saddlebags are in nowadays and I usually ride with them but I intentionally opt for my Tour Divide rack. I can put three drink bottles on the handlebars, but this will not be enough supplies for the 200-300 km between the refuelling stations. I want to increase it to 6-7 litres. The best solution for me is three foldable water bags that I can put in my dry bag on the rack. They don’t take up much room when they aren’t being used and they are easy to transport.

The bike is ready, the man is ready and the mind is set to tackle the challenge, off to Australia, from Brussels via Dubai to Adelaide.

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Part 1: The Mawson Trail (km 0 to 1,122)

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The Mawson Trail is a 900-km long cycle/MTB trail from Adelaide to the Flinders Ranges, ending in Blinman. The high altitudes are mainly in this first half of the Race. It is a sequence of single track, trails, some asphalt … from one village to the next.

Saturday 3 September, 6 am, about 20 participants are on Victoria Square in Adelaide. The atmosphere is relaxed. It is mainly Australians at the start line, a few New Zealanders and a Belgian who has lost his way. I had spoken to a few of them the night before last in the pub. Jesse, founder and winner of the Trans Am 2015 edition, gets it all going. We soon leave the city behind us and ride through parks and winding paths, up and down. Everyone chats among themselves, the atmosphere is relaxed until the first climb. Jesse shoots ahead like a rocket, Justin tries to catch up, I have to let the two men go and find my own pace.

We don’t really get to see much of the sun, on the other hand we see lots of rain and there is a biting wind. That is not how I had imagined Australia. I finally reach a service station around noon and half a litre of coffee returns my body temperature to normal. We are presented with a few strips of mud; the clay sticks in your tyres making it difficult to cycle. My Rohloff/Gates belt combination ensures I can beaver away at full power. Justin and Jesse are having more trouble and are more cautious with their derailleurs. The temperatures drop dramatically in the evening, I underestimated the cold. At night, after having reached 275 km, I reach the deserted Burra and a disabled public toilet offers me shelter from the cold and rain.

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Melrose Bike Shop

After a few hours of sleep I crawl back into my wet clothes and depart. It is still dark. Jesse, Justin and Sarah are ahead of me. Sarah is the only female in the peloton and she also rode the Trans Am this year. I reach Sarah just before sunrise and we spend almost the entire day riding together. The landscape is very green with gentle hills and slopes, kangaroos everywhere. Quite a lot of cattle roam free in this area, too, and we regularly have to pass through gates. There are nowhere near as many as on the Arizona Trail Race but here, too, every gate has its own opening and closing system. A rather high gate is padlocked so the only solution is lifting the bike over. In a biking accident a few years back, I tore a tendon in my right bicep and have lost strength. It is hard work getting my bike over the gate and I drop the back wheel in agony. My pedal gets stuck in the iron wire and the spring in my pedal breaks. Damnit! That’s a setback. I crawl over the gate, untangle everything and try and click it all back in place. The springs in a Time Atac pedal are all connected, I can’t click them back into position. Fortunately, I did my homework. There is only one bike shop on the entire route, in Melrose, and that is 120 km away. I have but one option, to cycle to Melrose.

I leave Sarah behind me in the dark forest, it’s cold but the gardening gloves I bought this afternoon in a supermarket offer some warmth. A blessing in disguise, there is a party going on at the bike shop, so I can still buy new pedals although its late in the evening. I get two pints and some tall stories on top of that and an hour later, I lay down under a lean-to next to the shop. At night, I lay there shivering in my sleeping bag, I hadn’t imagined Australia would be so cold. Even before dawn I am back on the bike and the first faint rays of sun heat me up like a microwave oven.

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Melrose - Cradock - Blinman

The following two days, I cycle alone. Jesse, Justin and Sarah are ahead of me but within catching distance. It will be difficult keeping up with Jesse. The route is still amazingly beautiful, especially through the Flinders Ranges. It is cold in the morning, the mist hangs between the trees and the fields, the plants are speckled with morning dew. You can see kangaroos in the distance and there are emus walking around here and there. The route through Flinders is a sequence of single tracks and creek crossings. It’s spring in Australia right now, as is obvious from the plants and trees. There has not been a drop of rain for the past two days, and luckily the temperature is increasing.

In Blinman, I devour a large hamburger, the other tourists and the locals at the bar don’t quite get it. A Belgian coming here to cycle from Adelaide to Ayers Rock … is he mad? The descent is very fast, glorious. Here and there, a creek crossing; the message is to reduce your speed, you never know how deep the passage could be.

Finally, after 940 km, I reach Parachilna. I quickly down two colas in a café. And all of a sudden there’s a camera crew in front of me wanting a brief interview. Anthony and Michael are following the race and try to post a short report on the internet every day. To my great surprise, I hear that Jesse has dropped out due to a wrist injury and that Justin has been sleeping here in this café since this morning … Sarah is an hour and a half ahead. Fill the drink bottles and off to Leigh Creek; get there before closing time and then ride on to Marree, that’s my plan. That would put 305 km on the counter today, 1,122 in total, just under half the race and in second place.

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Part 2: The Oodnadatta Track - (km 1,122 – 2,300)

Day 5, the sandpit, a common sight in Australia. The endless outback plains, gravelled roads, no houses. There aren’t even any villages here, Blinman in the Flinders was the last one, we will have to settle for a few pubs and restaurants. Sometimes more than 200 km apart, sometimes more like 300 km. And in between …. nothing. No trees, no houses, nothing. Limited opening times and food options. This becomes the challenge, to get everywhere on time, or to wait until an establishment opens.

Marree - William Creek

I arrive in Marree at night. A few hours before, I had loaded up my bike with enough food and drink to reach William Creek. The last 120 km from Leigh Creek were smooth, a flat route. Around midnight I almost fall asleep on the bike but I keep pushing on until I reach Marree. I spend the evening in my bivy in an open kitchen at a campsite. I get up a few hours later and go onto the Oodnadatta Track before sunset. Still another 1,000 km to the finish…

The sunrise is amazing. The yellow and orange glow over the ‘desert’ is fantastic. It soon warms up. Where the first part was varied, from here it’s a straight route through the desert. Some find this monotonous, but I like it. The solitude, the feeling you are on the moon. If one 4x4 per hour passes, that’s a lot. The temperature starts increasing, eat lots, drink lots, that’s the message. Besides my usual drink bottles, that were enough in the previous part, I have added a first 2 litre water bag. Further along the track, I can fill a second water bag or even a third if I really need to. It was with good reason that I decided to cycle with a frame bag and rack, I can easily carry the extra litres and kilos on the bike.

The infamous corrugations make it a tricky route. They are an assault on your Achilles’ tendons, your ankles and your behind, too. It’s a case of constantly looking to find a smooth bit; keep going, keep going. From left to right. The route is easily 8 km wide but at some places there is no flat strip to be seen. I had anticipated this as there are the same type of strips in the Tour Divide. Just get your head down and push on, staying in the straps as much as possible.

It isn’t until later in the afternoon that I see the CyclingTips 4x4 suddenly appear beside me. Once again they are filming and it’s nice to have someone to talk to once in a while. A bit further on, they stop to take some shots, the drone approaches me. I saw the aerial pictures afterwards, fantastic. Ten-minute chat and then back to cycling; they drive on to William Creek. I still have about another two hours; 20 km to William Creek, going through a creek, wonderfully cooling on the feet, and I reach my destination just before sunset. A café, an airport, a fire engine, a service station and cabins … that is the total agglomeration that is William Creek. Oodnadatta, 200 km further is even smaller.

Sarah left about half an hour before, the film crew has left, too. The track from William Creek to Oodnadatta has been completely blocked off for motorised traffic and they have a 500 km detour. I am tired, for the first time in days the corrugations have really taken their toll on me. It’s 210 km to Oodnadatta. I order a soda and stop to think … and quickly make a decision. Have a good meal for a change, rent a cabin, take a shower – first in six days – get up at 3 am and ride to Oodnadatta. A man with a plan. The barman at the William Creek café has a few sandwiches made for me for tomorrow, after all there is nothing until the Pink Roadhouse in Oodnadatta.

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William Creek … William Creek

3 am … GSM alarm goes off. I feel empty, I get myself to the toilet and 5 minutes later I feel even emptier. This doesn’t feel good. Adjust my plan, no panic. The race is only another 1,000 plus km. Back to my bed, sleep until 7:30 am, double breakfast, 1 to 2 hours’ rest and then leave, ride onto the Pink Roadhouse. I probably won’t get there until night time, sleep on a patio and when the shop/restaurant opens, eat, buy drinks and ride on to the next café over 300 km away … that’s my new plan.

When I’m ready to leave late morning, the barman doesn’t think it’s a good plan, he advises me to talk to the pilot by the door. “A lot of water, the creeks are really high just before Oodnadatta and we expect bad weather by late afternoon.” That, in a nutshell, is the pilot’s feedback. I don’t have many options and I leave. Today is slightly warmer than yesterday and the extra hours of sleep and breakfast have done me good. The corrugations are still just as big a challenge when trying to pick up any speed but the “mood is high”.

.In late afternoon, I see the first storms appearing, and as the sun starts setting I see lightning. The sun continues to set, the ground gets wetter, it has clearly rained here already. I am still dry so far though. On the one hand, the lightening in the distance is quite something to see but on the other, it scares the life out of me, I have to go in that direction. I take a few photos of the setting sun and just as darkness falls, fate strikes. In only a few seconds, my tyres fill up with mud, they become the size of 5-inch fat bike tyres. Everything gets stuck. Mud everywhere. The drive is under the mud. I get off the bike, up to my ankles in mud. This is the nightmare everyone fears. It’s got nothing to do with choosing good or bad tyres, you just can’t get through this. I instantly think of the pilot’s advice; he was right …

I examine my bike and start taking off the mud with my hands. Push the bike ahead 2 metres and repeat the ritual. This is a pointless task. I look around me. The moonlight shines in the puddles beside the track. I make an attempt to get to the side of the track. Take the handlebars like a cow by the horns and drag the bike forwards. This takes a lot of energy. Stop. Think. Look at the GPS. I am over half way, 120 km of the 210… Dragging the bike all the way to Oodnadatta is not an option. Maybe it’s just a little bit of bad luck, I’m stuck in a bad spot, one filled with mud. I decide to leave my bike behind and walk no more than half an hour… If it gets better, then I will come back for my bike and battle through. But will it get worse again later on? I leave my bike behind and start walking. Walking? It is more like skating on mud. My Gaerne shoes are unrecognisable as such, the mud sticks to everything. I must have been walking for 20 minutes and hadn’t got far at all … I start to lose heart. The mosquitos are driving me crazy, buzzing around my head, my legs have been bitten to pieces by the awful things. I plod back to my bike. Desperation. There you are, in the middle of nowhere … there is nothing in a 200-300 km radius … and no one will pass by in the next week. Sleeping here is not an option, it won’t have dried up by tomorrow morning. Out of pure despondency, I start shouting out, the tears are not far away … Months of training, great physical condition, but this is pure shit, miserable. The mosquitos are only adding to my frustration.

In the end, I decide to cycle back to William Creek. I can’t see any way of getting through this, maybe there will be 5 km perhaps another 50 like this. You should really take heed of advice from someone like the pilot, in the end they are the ones who know the area well. Facing my bike back towards the south is painful, really painful. At that moment I know I will not be riding the full route, that I am quitting the race, that I am giving up my 2nd place. That is a major come down. I drag my back to the cycleable part of the trail. It takes ages before I can get my feet back on the pedals. But it’s not long before I see a sign, “WC 120”, so another 120 kilometres to get back to William Creek.

I don’t worry about food and drink and I try to charge myself up mentally. All kinds of things are racing through my head. The kilometres pass by. Lightening in the distance all around me, but I am still dry. It cools down quickly. The hours pass by and with only 60 kilometres to go, a big windstorm picks up. The GPS states only 7 km per hour …. another 9 hours of this??? If I keep going at this slow pace I will even miss breakfast in William Creek… The storm intensifies and in a short time I am blown off my bike twice landing on the trail, the second time I land painfully on my handlebars. Pfff … The storm finally dies down a bit and at 4 am I am standing at the spot I left from yesterday, having cycled 240 km and not advanced a single inch. There are public toilets on the square in front of the pub. I put my bike in the disabled toilets (I wonder how many wheelchair users come here?), I put on my down jacket and crawl into my sleeping bag, muddy clothes and all… I try to sleep but I am trying to think of an alternative. I can’t come all the way to Australia and simply give up. Nature has won, today any way…

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William Creek … a 3rd meeting with the barman in the middle of the outback

The alarm goes off at 7:30 am. Tired and worn out, I pack everything up and stagger to the café. The barman is both surprised and not surprised to see me there again. A double breakfast, please, and another three sandwiches … I will need them. Figured that one out in my sleep. The track from William Creek to Coober Pedy and then on to Oodnadatta, it’s open for 4x4s … The same route as the film crew, that’s the one I will follow! I will add an extra 600 km but I am determined. Fatigue is getting to me after seven days but I am still physically fit and the will is strong. As I tuck into four eggs and bacon I am preparing a mail for the travel agency to change my flights. No connection, I will send it when I get to Coober then.

I buy some sweets, fill up my drink bottles and water bags and depart. The first part of the track is exhilarating, gently up and down, a bend every so often breaking the long straight parts, even a sporadic creek crossing. Late in the afternoon, I hear a hissing from the back wheel followed shortly afterwards by a loud bang. The small tear in the tyre by the edge of the rim has enlarged and the inner tube has forced its way out, it’s hit the rim and blown up. I curse but don’t panic. I have a second inner tube with me, as well as a patch to seal any tears. I detach the Gebla box, take the Rohloff out of the mount and start fixing it up. It takes some effort to put everything in place, the tear is at least six centimetres long and just by the rim. Finally, everything is back in position and I can increase the tyre pressure.

Night falls and again the sunset is breathtaking. You see a series of colours in only a few minutes. But then fate strikes again, for the second evening in a row. The protective strip on the tyre must have shifted, again the inner tube comes out and with the loud bang I know it’s all over … No more inner tube, you can’t repair a tear with plasters. I look at my GPS, still 45 km to Coober. If people can run 42 km then I can walk 45 km is how I figure it. I see my whole plan falling to tatters, but I will reach Uluru, that’s for sure. I start walking and see 4.8, 5.2, 4.9 … displayed on my GPS … that means it will be at least a nine-hour walk, so until some point early tomorrow morning. A sense of resignation falls over me. I can consign myself to this happening, after all, it is an adventure, it can happen and you are on your own. These are the kind of challenges I set myself.

After walking for about an hour and a half, I suddenly see a 4x4 appear in front of me, it has stopped, stuck in the mud. I go left to avoid the mud pool, and knock on the 4x4. The indicators come on, the window comes down … I look inside and we both have the same reaction at the same time “You!?” … the barman from William Creek …. For the third day in a row. We could almost accuse each other of stalking. He has been stuck for over 7 hours and is waiting for someone to come looking for him; there is no phone connection here. After a chat, I decide to sleep in the 4x4, maybe help will arrive and I need a lift to Coober. The 4x4 is filled with mosquitos, we both squash countless numbers to kingdom come. Every hour the barman puts the engine on for ten minutes or so to warm himself up. I am lying cosily in my sleeping bag in the back, he is in his sandals, shorts and shirt … that’s all he had on him. I sleep reasonably well, last night was a short night and the darkness starts fading about 6 am. Still no one has passed by. We haven’t moved an inch. I decide to get all my bits together and continue my walk. Less than 40 km to go, it is chilly but I keep my down jacket on and the sun starts to warm me up.

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Outback - Coober Pedy - Marla

After about two hours I hear noise behind me, I turn and, yep, another 4x4. Yesterday afternoon I saw a trailer stuck in the sludge, it’s the owner, he has gone to pick it up. He had to leave it there a week ago because the track was so muddy. The barman is also in the truck. We sling my Santos on the trailer and I take a place in the back … on route to Cooper. My internet connection returns when we are a few kilometres from Cooper. My GSM goes mental. Text messages, mails, Facebook messages … A lot of people are following the event on the internet, we all have a SPOT that sends our position by satellite every 5 minutes. My movements over the past two days were closely followed, resulting in a slight panic. When followers zoom in on Google Maps they know which café you are in and can even see which public toilet you are sleeping in…

We say our goodbyes in Coober, I walk to the service station for coffee and something to eat and when going to pay … shit, my shirt with money and my credit card is still in the jeep that’s stuck… Curse, no panic, a call to Card Stop to block the credit card … and take a second card from my frame bag … that’s called experience; I’ve landed in a similar situation before.

The search for a new tyre doesn’t go swimmingly, on the contrary. The hardware store doesn’t sell them. The lady from the clothing store across the street only has inner tubes. She has never heard of 29”. Give me a 27.5” thorn proof 1.5 kilo inner tube then. The duct tape from the hardware store doesn’t stick to the outer tube very well. The inner tube valve is too big to fit through the hole. The hardware store doesn’t have a drill so I can drill out the hole. My only option is to see if I can get another inner tube from the lady in the clothing store across the street. She appears to have a drill. Then I drill out the rim, tyre on, inner tube in, tyre on the rim, pump it up … a good result. Once again it took a lot of energy but…. I can get back on the road.

I decide not to ride back into the outback but to take the Stuart Highway. I think it would be foolhardy to go back into the outback with a cut and stick solution. The 45-km walk could become one of 100 km. If the tyre gives way on Stuart Highway, I will at least be able to hitchhike to my destination. Buy food and drink and 490 km to Erldunda, the intersection to Uluru.

Roadkill … the road is littered with dead, stinking kangaroos. Not killed by wild animals but by monster trucks. I pass those beasts regularly: a truck with 3-4 trailers. When they overtake you at 100 km/hour you are stuck in their slipstream for another 30 seconds, if they come from the other direction … hold on to your drop bar! Riding into Istanbul during the Transcontinental Race felt like suicide and this comes close.

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The kilometres increase rapidly. I reach the first service station of the day in the evening, grab a burger and on to Marla. An hour and a half later I stop in the middle of Stuart Highway, I need to brush my teeth. My mouth is stuck together from all the sweets and biscuits and it is at least three days since I brushed my teeth. It is 1 am, after 234 km and all the tyre misery, here beside the service station seems a good enough place to sleep as any.

A quick look at Google Maps, exactly 501 km to the finish in Yulara. Perfectly achievable over two days, but also in one go, why not try? During the night, I have to get up three times to go to the toilet and at 5:30 am I get up for good. Deprived of sleep I get back on the bike until I reach the service station for coffee and food, quickly freshen up a bit in the toilets and then … I notice I am peeing blood. Not simply dark urine, it’s quite clear but with a stream of blood. Bummer. I take a selfie in front of the mirror, nine days of outback racing takes its toll on a person’s body. I grab a coffee and sit down on the parking lot, on the ground with my back against the wall, staring into infinity. I quickly Google ‘blood in urine’ … kidney stones, dehydration, exhaustion, common with mountain bikers … It doesn’t hurt. It is the third setback in as many days, I don’t know what’s wrong, whether it will get worse or cause other complications … The nearest doctor is in Alice Springs, 450 km away. I decide that my Race to the Rock ends here. It doesn’t bother me giving up the saddle sore, painful Achilles’ tendons from the corrugations, losing weight on route or falling asleep while cycling … these things are all part of long-distance cycling. But urinating blood is not on my list, there is a limit and my body appears to be letting me know that I’ve reached that now.

Thumb in the air. Hitchhiking, I finally reach Yulara, the resort by Uluru. I spend another two days with Jesse, Sarah and the film crew, Anthony & Michael. Four fantastic people I have had the privilege to get to know. Sarah was the only one to ride the full route. Where it all ended for me on the Oodnadatta track, she had an incredible adventure; creek crossings over a meter deep, terrible corrugations and sand on the track, so you had to get off your bike, hats off to her achievement. After me, three other participants arrive in Uluru via alternative routes.

The following morning, a final bout, get up at 5 am to see the sunrise at Uluru with Michael, one of the cameramen. A spectacular experience, the brown mountain turns orange as the sun rises. Kata Tjuta / Mount Olga, bit further on, has a somewhat different rock formation but is no less impressive. Hitchhike back to Erldunda, a final hitchhike to Alice Springs, pack up the bike at the local bike shop, a flight to Melbourne, two days in the big city, enjoying food and drinks and then the long return flight to Belgium. Australia … I’ll be back!

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Race to the Rock …

Was this how I expected it to be?

Yes, a feeling of more than 100% satisfaction. The solitude, the vast distances, the outback, kangaroos, emus, rain and heat…. All Aussie ingredients were present.

Shame about all the setbacks?

Yes, but it doesn’t dampen the joy of the adventure. This was the first edition, so not even the local Australian cyclists knew what to expect. When you start here, you know you are on your own, and that it’s all up to you. I still think I made the right decisions at the right time. It is a shame that I wasn’t able to experience the final part of the route, that would have probably really have been something, experiencing nature and all its whims.

How was the bike?

Apart from the problem with the tyre, everything went smoothly, once again a fantastic Santos bike. When I discussed the bike setup with Robbert in the spring, I was critical of that Gates belt. But the combination of the Rohloff and belt means you don’t have to worry about anything along the sticky strips, you can’t warp your derailleur. Zero maintenance. I had no problems with the ‘electricity network’. The SON hub charges the GPS and GSM perfectly, I was never dependant on places to stop and charge.

Was this the trickiest, hardest …challenge so far?

It’s hard to compare them. Each trip, each adventure, has its own specific challenges. But this Race to the Rock, together with the Arizona Trail Race, are very high up in the list when it comes to adventure value and physical and mental satisfaction. The Tour Divide is a service station race through America, the Transcontinental Race a supermarket race through Europe, and this Race to the Rock is a café race through the Australian outback. The distances between the possible refuelling stations are vast, just like in the Arizona Trail Race … and that is perhaps what makes it so appealing. In places like that you feel you are alone and often there is no one around in a 200 km radius.

And will you go back?

Yes, but not to ride the same route. The country is big enough and there are plenty of other challenges and I am sure that in the years to come, at some point in the autumn, one will appear on Facebook and I will say, yep, that is my challenge for next year!