Inside the Melbourne to Ballarat

Editor's note: BSCC's Jay Bourke is occasionally inspired to write a story about his experiences racing in the top echelons of the Australian road scene. Jay's dad Wayne, one of Australia's pioneering Ironman triathletes, was a regular BSCC rider in the 1980s. Jay himself started out as a triathlete, and set a few Victorian course records that still stand, before he was seduced by cycling. After his breakthrough Oz Champs ride in 2008, he's been a regular in national-level road races. This year he's riding for the Cycle City team, along with BSCC members Rhys Gillett and Mitch Brogden, and unofficial BSCC member James Mowatt, so Jay's sponsor is also a BSCC club sponsor.

The Melbourne to Ballarat seems to conjure up the allure of the majestic Alpe d'Huez. The Alpe is neither the highest nor the steepest climb in the French Alps, yet it continues to host the most epic battles royale, and is the climb about which most cyclists say, "I'm going to do that one day!"  Similarly, the Melbourne to Ballarat is not the longest, nor the hardest one day race on the domestic calendar, yet it continues to hold this public fascination, and of course the war stories from racers are like no other.  But it is this public fascination which raises the Melbourne to Ballarat above all other classics.  Tell any Joe Blow you raced 130 km climbing out of Creswick in the Fred Icke and they will nod their head as they do with any other bike story.  But tell them you raced from Melbourne to Ballarat and they will shake their head in disbelief.  "What? All the way from Melbourne?  Up the highway?  In one day?  But what about those hills?  And the wind?  That's crazy!  Can I come watch next year?"

On the drive down to the start, I enjoyed my relaxing pre-race coffee and newspaper, only to be confronted by an overflowing car park, and I immediately became nervous.  It was actually a great sight, with the car park a hub of activity - cars all lined up in rows with bikes on roofs, some already warming up on rollers, others heading off for a roll down the road, an endless line waiting to register, and the truck stop full of people wanting coffee and breakfast. 240 riders, 26 of them from Ballarat, along with their families and support crews, police and officials: it really was a grand build up to this classic.

With the cross-head wind slowly picking up, as a scratch rider you smile because you know you have a chance today.  So I was straight on the rollers, eyes down and headphones on in an attempt to just get on with warming up properly without distraction.  The start is slightly downhill, so it is always fast right from the whistle.  As the early groups were marshalled off down the highway, it's funny how 30 minutes is such a large gap to chase down, yet time seems to pass very quickly in the lead up to the start of your own bunch as you try to stay on the rollers until the very last moment before stepping off, race wheels on, drinks packed, gels in pockets, kit on and a quick goodbye and good luck from friends and family.

Our group, the 3 minute bunch, took off solidly as expected, with everyone pulling turns, aware that if we all work for a common goal, we have a really good chance of catching the front markers, and catching them early.  James Mowatt, Ballarat's own adopted rider for Cycle City, was also in this bunch, as was TT brute Rob Doyle, and Phil "I can't believe he is a veteran" Orr.  A few familiar faces are always reassuring.  As we continued driving the pace down the highway, we were warned of a rider who had come to grief near Melton.  A few in the group slowed and had a look at the scene, and this was enough for them to drop the wheel.  It was a bit early to start dropping riders, so you just knew this would encourage the scratch bunch and they would pick the pace up that little bit more.

As I continued to roll through, and give James the nod, "I'm good", I began thinking about placing myself near the front and who not to sit behind for the impending catch by scratch.  Perhaps I was thinking too much and not concentrating in the gusty winds, but as we descended Anthony's Cutting I was blown from the dotted line in the middle of the road, right across to the gravel inside the emergency lane.  Damn!  In a split second I was off the back!  I was telling myself, "Don't panic.  Keep you heart rate steady and close it down, calm and steady."  I was within 10m of the back of the group, just as the road turned right at Bacchus Marsh and into a block headwind.  Not good.  The group of 15 went away from me.  I initially tried to sprint to close the gap down in one panicked burst, but no, they continued to pull away.  "Aaaargh!" I won't print what I was yelling, but I was so angry with myself. I felt strong, everything was good, but my race was over and I had only ridden 20 km.

My girlfriend then drove past and yelled some encouragement out the window, "C'mon, don't give up!"  That was a turning point, and I began to think, "Well, I should have started in scratch, so starting in front of them, even for only 20 km, was a bonus. Eat, drink, fuel up, and when scratch come, slot in and start doing turns like nothing happened." I nearly completed that plan to the letter, only that as we begun to climb the Pentlands, David Pell tightened the screws, powering up the long drag and stretching the group into one long line.  We caught two groups up that first real climb, and spat out a lot of riders. Rhys Gillett was in front of me, James behind me, I didn't see Rob [punctured - ed.] or Phil [saving himself for Sunday - ed], and Damien Turner was sitting behind two of his teammates.  Our group was about 25 riders strong but only a selection of 10 were working into the crosswind.  I was only doing every second turn, as I used this time to recover a bit from the efforts I made earlier.

Then up the Pikes Creek climb, Jono Lovelock attacked, and the race really opened up. Riders were changing their lines, darting around stragglers blown off groups ahead, as they were swallowed up by this select group. David Pell continued the momentum over the top of the climb towards Ballan, putting everyone into red zone.  It was really important to hang on here.  This was the first real selection.  A lot of riders could not match this acceleration, and the group was halved. It's always a great spectator point at the top of Pikes and I remember a wall of noise as the crowd willed their favourite riders up this pinch.

As we blasted up towards Gordon, there were spectators hanging over the bypass.  I don't ever recall this many spectators in past years. The pace was really solid now, never below 45km/h, the large 40+ rider front groups had split in front of us into groups of tens, twos and ones at this stage, which made it easier to get past safely.  The odd cyclist would swing harshly into the echelon, only to be blasted verbally, before succumbing to the torrid pace.  It was becoming quite physical as riders fought to get that perfect sit out of the wind with such limiting space. Jonathan Lacey flashed past [backwards - ed.], so too Matt Albiston.  Scott Townsend tried to use his technical skill to hold until the road flattened, but the pace was too high. Jon Townsend slipped into the echelon and seemed to be rolling through smoothly until we hit the final group.

Leigh Howard drove the group hard up to the final bunch, hitting them quickly so no one could hitch on. Over the top of Howard came Pell again, this time so much harder than before and up the gutter of the road.  This was the move of the race.  I was hanging, going as hard as I could in the gravel, 50km/hr, just thinking I can hold this pace for 1 more second than Pell, but it was so hard.  Lovelock and Brett Tivers had gone with Pell, then a small gap to myself, with Howard, Mowatt and Turner on my wheel.  Howard used me and leap-frogged across the gap, taking James with him. They hooked on, and the lead pace slowed just enough for me to bridge across the gap also.  I had to outlast Pell.  Turner came with me, but all the other riders were gone, a long way back taking risks in the gravel on the side of the road. The race had been whittled down to seven riders with still some 25 km to ride.

I bunched right up behind the drivers Pell and Lovelock.  At one stage I fell off the road and was riding off the ledge of the asphalt in the gravel and tussock grass for about 300m, all just to get protection from the wind and bring my heart rate down.  Leigh Howard had a go at me to roll through, but I let him know that it was I he had sat on to get into this break, so just let me get my breath back.

Past Mt. Warrenheip and down around the bypass, everyone was rolling turns, pulling hard into the wind and up the deceivingly solid final climbs to extend our advantage beyond doubt.  James indicated he was feeling good, and gee he looked fresh, chatting easily.  I gave him the thumbs up.  We knew Howard was the fastest in the bunch.  As we turned of the bypass and picked up the tail wind home, I protected James from the wind and motioned for him to come up next to me and follow Howard's wheel.  I begun to plan my own moves also: go with the second move, or be second to attack, otherwise if it stays together, go hard and keep the pace high for James in the sprint.

I was only part of the way through these thought processes when Lovelock went hard up the middle of the road with 4 km to go, Ouch!  I looked across and the sprinters were hesitating.  I thought, Jono is too strong to give any leeway, and went myself.  That false flat up to Ring Road felt like Dana Street at this stage in the race, and with all the sprinters on my wheel, I just focused on the back of Jono's bike, and buried myself to get as close as possible.  As I blew up and my legs flooded with lactate, our speed slowed.  Lovelock was but 5 meters in front but no one would come around me.  I was trying to hold the gap as my legs failed me.  Howard went past me with James, Tivers and Pell on his wheel.  My job was done, my legs were cooked and as Damien Turner went around me, I gave it my all to just try and go again.

From the Ring Road roundabout to the finish, straight ahead in the distance, is a blur.  I had my head down, trying to go as hard as possible to pick off as many of the others as I could.  Damien was really straining ahead, as were Pell and Lovelock.  It was a drag race! I sucked up into Damien's slipstream and pushed harder past him to try and discourage a challenge. Pell and Lovelock were coming back to me real fast now, but I was dying and the line was approaching fast.  That last 100m I was locking up, my legs, buttock and back were really stinging, I had that sickly, acidic lactate taste in my mouth, my heart rate peaked at 193 bpm, but I was gaining on the others with every stroke.  I just had to override everything that was telling me to stop, and keep my legs going round for 1 or 2 more seconds, and then I could rest.  I got on to Pell's shoulder and threw myself over the line.  It was over.  I could rest.  That overwhelming sense of exhaustion as your body tries to flush the lactate and bring everything back to normal levels is quite satisfying.  Satisfying to know that you could not have tried any harder.

Originally I though I had pipped Pell for 5th with my throw to the line - the closest I will ever get to being a sprinter of any sort - and the judges agreed.  But I didn't know for sure, as everything was a bit fuzzy with pain at the time, so I ran it by David.  He reckoned he got it, and I have a lot of respect for him as a rider, so I trust that he got 5th and I was in 6th.  James sprinted like pro to 2nd, left Howard in his wake, but couldn't quite get around Tivers.  Upon finishing I rode straight through to James, almost crashing into him as I was seeing stars a bit.  For us to work together and nearly get the win, as well as James out-sprinting a pro like Howard, was a great result for Team Cycle City. There is nothing greater than your teammate turning to thank you after sacrificing yourself for him. I felt really proud to have done my bit to get him up there.

Rhys lead the 2nd bunch over the line in a blanket sprint for 9th. Three riders in the top ten for Cycle City, and with Damien getting 7th, four Ballarat riders in the top ten.  Chloe McIntosh was 2nd women, only outsprinted in the final kilometre. What a great display of depth by our club and what a great advertisement of what the Ballarat region has to offer cyclists.

Corrections? Questions? Comments? Contact the web lackey

back

show all articles