I Never Stood a Chance!

T​he morning started off well enough, but it wasn’t long before a string of mishaps brought my planned ride to a soggy, frustrating end. Read on to find out how it all unravelled.

Everything was just about ready to go for my circuitous ride out to Boorowa and back home. 

I had preplanned my route so I would hit some of the dirt roads, which had previously been recommended to me. Sure, the weather didn’t look great, but I figured if I could push past Gunning, the skies would clear and I’d be in for a decent day. The Boorowa forecast promised 24°C and only a 10% chance of 0mm of rain — basically code for “don’t worry about it.” By the time conditions were expected to shift, I’d be well on my way home. So, with cautious optimism, I packed a light rain jacket to wear under my riding gear in case things took a turn.

Dressed and geared up — SPOT tracker, goggles, helmet — I was ready. Or so I thought. I decided not to bother refuelling at Eaglehawk since the tank was almost full. Instead, I topped it up from my 5-litre jerry can, reset the odometers to track fuel consumption, and turned on the SPOT tracker. Or tried to. Once, twice, three times — nothing. Flat batteries. Inside I go, only to discover we’re out. Great. Looks like I am stopping at Eaglehawk after all… to buy batteries.

I rolled the bike out into the drizzle, fired up OSMAnd+ with my preloaded route, and it actually worked — I’d finally figured out how to convert the GPX file properly. It’s about 5km to Eaglehawk, so I figured I could assess the rain jacket situation once I got there. About 3km in, I regretted not putting it on earlier. The drizzle had crept through my jacket, but I held out — no point stopping on the highway when I could get sorted under shelter.

By the time I arrived, my gloves were soaked and my shoulders were damp. No backup waterproof gloves, so nothing to do there but hope I’d dry out later. I grabbed fresh batteries, got the tracker running, and set off again.

Heading towards Sutton via Majura Lane — a dirt stretch — I quickly realised my pants were soaked through. Wet undies. Excellent. I reassured myself they’d dry out eventually. The new Motoz Tractionator Enduro IT front tyre wasn’t exactly inspiring confidence on the slick dirt, especially at 25psi. Still, I pushed on — it wasn’t far to Gunning, and I could adjust things there.

Along East Tallaganda Rd, still not feeling stable in the wet, I told myself I’d reassess at the next dirt section. The drizzle seemed to be easing the further I rode. On Dicks Creek Rd, I finally decided enough was enough — I dropped the front tyre to 18psi and the rear a bit too. Much better. By the time I reached Boutchers Dr, the rain had all but stopped and the road was looking good — damp from last night, but solid. Even the sun showed up, and I started to dry out.

Turning onto Greenwood Rd, I saw they’d finished the new higher bridge — hopefully it floods less now. On to Yass River Rd and, of course, back into the very rain I’d just escaped. The road turned to dirt again at Elms Rd. A few kilometres later, I turned left onto Berrebengalo Rd, cruising comfortably...

...until my phone rang.

My wife. Huh. What could she need?

FFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKK!

Our daughter had a sore leg and couldn’t go to vacation care. I had to come home. Ride over!

FFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKK!

I turned on to Lade Vale Rd and hit Gundaroo Rd. Just a few kilometres from Gunning — so close — but I had to turn back. I wasn’t getting to Boorowa. The frustration was mounting.

And of course, the rain was waiting. It felt like a tiny cloud was gleefully following me, dumping cold water right down my neck. Again. Now I was wetter than ever, and my hands were freezing. Fortunately, I had merino liner gloves in the tank bag. Bless merino wool — warm even when wet.

Another call from my wife, but I missed it, juggling two sets of gloves. A few minutes later she rang again — I answered. Our daughter had miraculously recovered. I could go on with my ride.

Grrr. I was soaked, halfway home, and the day felt like a write-off. No point continuing now. May as well head home, warm up, and dry out.

But I had one last idea. I pulled over and called back. If our daughter was magically fine, she could go to Vacation Care — and my wife could drop her off on the way to work. She agreed.

When I got home, everyone was still there. My wife was finishing up some online work before heading out. My daughter was cheery as ever. Me? I was cold, dripping, and trying very hard not to be grumpy. My shirt was damp halfway up from the hem, and my undies were a disaster zone. I stripped off and jumped in the shower. Took ages to warm up.

Next time, I’m definitely taking rain pants too.

So here I am, at the computer, alone and a little out of sorts, venting to all of you.

Here’s the map of my aborted Boorowa ride.