An Otway Odyssey

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “odyssey” = noun (pl odysseys) a long eventful journey.

No shit.

Some of you may or may not be aware of my weekend past time of mountain biking. Occasionally I get a bit ahead of myself and sign up for crazy events such as 100km Marathons. It happened last year when I completed the BMC 100km Classic. For some strange reason, I signed up to compete (well, “take part in” really) in the 2010 Otway Odyssey. A 100km MTB Marathon that runs from Apollo Bay on the Great Ocean Road up through the Otway Ranges to the township of Forrest. And as I discovered this weekend, the OO made the BMC look like a swift jaunt to the shops to get skittles. The first 50km is basically up (and with a total elevation gain of around 2000m you’d expect that), then there is around 27km of beautiful singletrack around the world class trails in Forrest before the final 13km loop to the finish.

I knew this was going to be tough, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how tough. It was a belter of a day and quite cool when we set off at 7.15am, but after a quick warm up on the flat the first major climb of the day began as we ascended Wild Dog Road into the heart of the Otway Ranges. What then followed was around 40-50km of step descents followed by leg-destroying ascents up step 4WD tracks. It was at this point I realised that instead of spending my training doing long rides around the singletrack of Woodend and Forrest, I should have joined my partner, Annie, in running up and down hills (she’s training for the Six Foot Marathon you see). At least 50% maybe 60% of the hills were un-ridable for us mere MTB mortals and at my end of the field we were all reduced to pushing. It was after a few of these that I started to realise my legs were getting smashed. As we rolled into the 50km drinks station I had a very glum feeling. I couldn’t comprehend how I was going to get through another 50km, and my legs had zero power in them.

After a rest and a refuel we pushed on into the Forrest singletrack. These are some of the greatest trails around, and normally I love them. But today, I was cursing every bend and incline. The walking earlier meant that any minor obstacle and climb appeared to take on behemoth-like qualities. I kept on asking the legs for more power, but all I got in return was my internal knarly scotsman screaming something about “givin’ her all she’s got Capt’n”. It was at this point I hit the first “wall”. With a little bit of help from Annie, a quick stop to fix a dodgy saddle (read “have a breather”) and a few sweets we pushed on. By the time we’d finished the first section and rolled into the Forrest Football Ground (the event centre) for the first time I thought I might have conquered the first wall. A quick Gu sent us on our way into the final singletrack loop.

This didn’t start well with a steep sandy climb out of the football ground. And things then got worse as I descended further into the hurt locker. In fact, at one point I was so far into the locker that I swear I ended up in Narnia. There were Fawns dancing around the track and I think I saw a Lion and a Witch playing poker. Things got really strange when, around one corner I came across a Polar Bear drinking sherry. I guess this was wall number 2. And it seemed a bit bigger then the last one. Again Annie came to the rescue as she recommended I eat something. Good thinking I thought, as I quietly cursed the ground she walked on with her “fresh” legs. Despite the increasing frustration I was feeling, I normally love smashing round these trails, somehow I managed to get to the end of the loop in one piece.

Only 13km to go. 13. That’s 13,000m. Almost the same distance I ride to work each day. Surely I could make it. Annie was bleating something “cracking on” and “getting in under 9 hours” and in my delirious state I was plotting her doom. We started off anyway, and were met by another long fire road climb out of the football ground. This one however went on and on. False crest after false crest. All around me, fellow competitors started to grumble. All one guy could say is “What’s this bullshit?”. Indeed.

Everyone was looking for an excuse to quit. If a martial had approached me and told me the race was canceled, I would have kissed them. I got comfort from looking at other people and seeing that they were in as much pain. As I spun up the hill I started making all sorts of deals with my legs. Every muscle was screaming for me to stop. “Look, there’s a lovely bush there, just lie down and have a kip, we can continue tomorrow”. The brain was working over time trying to keep everyone on the same team. Soon I started making rash promises to the Devil if he’d see me through. The climb continued however, and I was reduced to walking all the up hill sections. The inclines were as gentle as the fluffy white towels you see in those fabric softener adverts, yet they reduced me to a bumbling wreck. When we eventually hit the top, we were met with a knuckle-whitening descent down rutted single track. This would have been difficult when fresh, but in my tired state it was tantamount to suicide. My earlier deals with the Devil must have paid off as he saw me down in one piece (I guess later in life I’ll find out what I promised him!).

There was one final obstacle between me and home now. “The Sledgehammer”. A 200 odd metre vertical incline (maybe not vertical, but it felt like it) back to the fire road. With fresh legs this “might” have been ridable. If I had thighs of steel. In my state though, I could barely walk up it. In fact, I had to rest 3 times on the way up. When I finally reached the top, I was met with the blessed shout from some sort of angel that it was “all downhill from here” and I rolled through the finish in 9 hours 13 mins and collapsed in a heap. It wasn’t the best time, and secretly I had fancied something closer to 8. But, I had actually finished, and it was officially, The Hardest Thing I Have Ever Done™.

I’d like to give a big shout out to two unknown residents of Melbourne to whom we got chatting to on the bus on the way back to Apollo Bay. Having been dropped off early at the caravan park, they had noticed that I had left a bag with my mtb shoes in it on the bus. They promptly then tracked me down to return them to me. Top blokes. They also gave us a great recommendation for breakfast the next day at the Wye River cafe.

Would I do this next year? Maybe. But I’d spend a lot of training time pushing a bike up a steep hill.