New Norfolk to Hobart: Hobart bound, I wish I was...

Wednesday November 18, 2009, 38 km (24 miles) - Total so far: 1,174 km (730 miles) 

Today I will be in Hobart, back where I started. The route is short and promises to be easy.
A fine sunny day is expected, perfect for a triumphant re-entry to the city. I don't want it to rain on my (private) parade.
Not having a big day ahead, I had planned a lazy start to the day, but woke at the usual time, so I got packed and headed off to the local bakery for breakfast, and was out on the road by eight am.
Leaving New Norfolk the highway runs along the bank of the by now wide Derwent River, with a smooth, fast running surface. Cranky Franky, the burly Surly Long Haul Trucker seemed to sprout wings and fly down the road, and I covered the last of the Lyell Highway in no time at all.
Soon I was on the outskirts of the city, and taking the old highway through the suburbs, I continued to follow the river, with fine views all around, until I reached Claremont, best known as the site of the Cadbury chocolate factory and its model workers village. Here I turned on to the Inter-City Cycleway, which followed the railway line through the industrial back streets all the way to the city.
And then, just like that, it's over. I am back at Salamanca Place where I started, for another photo with Abel Tasman.

In keeping with other southern hemisphere paradoxes, such as Christmas in summer and water flowing uphill, the swans are black...

The city awaits...

And upon my return - g'day Abel, old mate - you're still here then...

 

Climbs on my mind: my mental map of hilly Tasmania...

I had expected Tasmania to be hilly and it was. Here's a list of those "climbs" that registered as possibly difficult, and my rating of them afterwards.

These ratings are based on my perceptions of the difficulty, and are influenced by my level of fitness, the point enroute where the climb was encountered, and most all, the weather conditions.

The Giro Tasmania understates the hillyness of the terrain, and although I wouldn't want to overstate it, and by no means wish to discourage anyone, tourists should prepare an itinerary that allows for perhaps a little slower progress.

Fortunately my cycle computer has an inclinometer, so I was able to monitor the gradients as I climbed. This was particularly useful on the numerous false flats and downs, which could have lead me to despair if I didn't know they were false.

The Gog Range was the steepest at 18%, and there were others, including an unnamed hill near Paradise, and the climb out of Vale River which touched 16%. These were quite short however, and presented no major difficulty.

The long 10 percenters at Cethana Gorge and Black Mountain really had me on the limit.
Apart from day one when I suffered from cramping on Bust-Me-Gall Hill, and on the impossible Gog Range, I did not walk on any of the climbs - all were conquered (with plenty of rest stops) on the bike.

The number of false flats and false downs surprised me. Obviously the terrain can really play tricks on your perception. See my picture of water flowing uphill at Tarraleah. I don't recall any false ups.

These are the "climbs" I had anticipated enroute:
Grasstree Hill **
Black Charlie's Opening **
Bust-Me-Gall Hill ***
Weldborough Pass ****
Gog Range ****
Forth River (Cethana) Gorge *****
West Coast Range ***
Queenstown (Mt Lyell) ***
King William Pass ***
Nive River Gorge (Tarraleah) ***
And these are the climbs that I had overlooked:
Vale River ***
Black Mountain ****
Victoria Pass ***
Nive River Gorge (Wayatinah) **

I have rated the climbs on a scale of 1 to 5 according to my perception of their difficulty.

A climb that my route avoided was Elephant Pass at St Marys, but you may tempted by the promise of pancakes at the top from the well-known pancake restaurant.

Travelling Whoburys: the freeloaders...

 These little critters keep me connected with home...

The freeloaders - Hati the elephant and Alfie the Bull Terrier pup, better known as Poopie...

And of course, Cranky Franky, the burly Surly Long Haul Trucker...

And finally...the good, the bad, and the unspeakable!

A great place
Tasmania is a land with great natural diversity. In a relatively small area there is wild coastline, verdant pastoral land, forest and mountain. There is much to see and do. For the cyclist it is quite hilly in places, but there is nothing insurmountable - you must simply expect to progress a little slower than in flatter landscapes.

There is a defined network of roads which are for the most part well-maintained, although occasionally narrow in places. With a population of only around 500,000, traffic is generally light outside the urban areas.
With few exceptions the motorists I encountered were patient and considerate - even the logging trucks generally gave me plenty of room, although there was the odd tight squeeze.

And most of all, I found the people friendly and helpful everywhere I went.

A good bike
Cranky Franky, the burly Surly Long Haul Trucker performed flawlessly for the entire trip. I had no punctures in my Schwalbe Marathon Supreme tyres. The Tektro V-brakes I fitted were powerful and silent with a little toe-in adjustment to the pads, and little pad wear was evident even after numerous quite steep descents where I had to modulate the brakes for kilometre after kilometre. The Paul Thumbie mounted shifters proved to be perfectly positioned for hilly terrain where frequent gear changes were required. My Brooks B17 saddle was remarkably comfortable under the circumstances (see below). And my full complement of Ortlieb panniers and bags keep my gear dry and well-organised. Nothing broke, rattled or fell off. What more could you ask?

A bad move
By mistake, on only the third day I put Bushmans, an insect repellant containing DEET on the chamois of my cycling shorts. I quickly realised my error and removed as much as possible, but the resulting irritation led to a serious saddle sore, causing me enormous discomfort and severely hindering my performance for the rest of the tour. I'll never make that mistake again.

In Memorium

This journey is dedicated to the memory of my mother, Marjorie Lillian May, who passed away during the tour.

I spent many hours and kilometres agonising over the logistics of suspending or abandoning the tour to attend her funeral in Mandurah, Western Australia, on the other side of the country. In the end I decided to continue, sure that she would have wanted me to do that. Every time I think of this trip, I will remember her.

My most vivid memory of Mum is of a strong and independent woman, and her advice forever rings in my ears..."You have to live your own life - to do your own thing."

Thanks Mum, for everything...

Tour Album

Giro Tasmania 2009