Donna Buang
Yesterday our ride took us up the Reefman Spur, considered by some, as one of the most scenic rides in Victoria. Starting 20km from Warburton, a town that must vie for one of the most scenically sited towns in Victoria, the road winds its way up the Spur using 180 corners in less than 20km to maintain a sensible gradient. On either side of the road is the most majestic forest – magnificent mountain ashes towering above the road and at their base a mini forest of tree ferns.
That was yesterday. Today, I ride to Mt Donna Buang. Where yesterday was considered to be merely one of the most scenic rides in Victoria, the ride to Donna Buang is considered The Most Scenic ride.
Having now ridden it, I will go further, and state that the 17km to the summit of Donna Buang are possibly the most consistently pretty 17km I have ever ridden. Not the most dramatic, or majestic, or spectacular, but pretty from start to finish.
The ride almost didn’t happen. The body sore from the effort up the Reefman Spur and the weather not improved with the occasional rain shower still falling enough to raise doubts. The average November rainfall for Warburton is 60mm, in the last 3 days 120mm have fallen, and with the mountain itself hidden by cloud there is a good chance even more will fall. Why ride the most scenic ride when nothing can be seen – a reasonable question I am asking myself.
Don’t think. Sometimes with cycling, it is best not to think, just do. So I did.
The climb starts immediately from the edge of town, on the banks of the Yarra River, and rises over a thousand metres at an average gradient of 6%: but it’s not the numbers you come for.
It’s the forest.
If you’ve been to the Bluies’ and have visited the Blue Gum Forest, then imagine riding through a 17km long Blue Gum Forest. Better still, don’t imagine it, come here and do it.
It’s not just birds that can soar, so too can trees. The neck strains as you gaze up to the tops of the impossibly straight and tall trees. Place a spirit level against the trunk and you will see they run straight as a rule, for 50, 60 up to 70m.
Beneath the incredible trees is a carpet of tree ferns, filling not just the sheltered gullies but covering the slopes and on the ridges, an unbroken canopy of tree ferns from the start of this climb to the top. In places, the fronds form an impregnatable wall on the edge of the road.
Mist drifts through the trees, chased by a light wind. Always, you question the value of being out in the forest on misty cloudy days, feeling cheated of extended views, forgetting that the effect of the cloud and the mist is to draw the forest closer to you, forced as you are to focus on the near ground, not the distant views. Ultimately, it is the misty days in a forest that are savoured the most. The feeling of intimacy I experience is enhanced by the complete absence of any cars.
The gradient: almost forgotten. The climb averages 6% and apart from a few sections closer to 10% it sits on or near the average for the entire climb, never steeply sustained for long enough to cause suffering, but without any sections that allow for recovery.
The muscles that make up the rear have started to call out to me. Immediately I am disappointed in myself. This had been an issue for me earlier this year when cycling in the Snowies, but the exercise program put together by Coach Sweeney had seen this pain disappear on even the longest and steepest climbs. I had promised myself that I would continue with the exercises during this road trip, but they had fallen victim to what my physio Ian Austen calls, “the law of diminishing intentions”. It is the promises made to ourselves, that when broken, hurt the most.
The majesty and stillness of the forest combine to offer you the feeling of serenity, but if your mind is a jumble of random and competing thoughts then you are not yet ready to accept the offer. Eventually, the rhythmic motion of pedaling up a continuous climb assists with quietening the noise in the mind such that by the time you reach the summit, quads burning and body sweating in-spite of the cold, you are now ready to accept the offer of serenity first made at the bottom of the climb.
I lock eyes with a wallaby, and we hold each others gaze as I labour closer. Typically all you see of a wallaby is the swish of it’s tail as it darts away from you, wallabies not being the most social of creatures. But this one holds still until I am almost level with it and then with an effortless bound it disappears into the tree ferns. It is not that uncommon for us to see kangaroos on our rides, even when we ride on the fringes of Sydney. But a wallaby, this is something special. I saw it again on the way down, at the same spot.
The descent was decidedly uncomfortable: in spite of my experience I had thought only of the climb, and did not carry with me enough warm clothes for a long descent through a cold forest on a misty day. Over-breaking for corners became the norm as a way to reduce the wind chill, and provide time to view the forest again.
My intentions to maintain my exercise program may have diminished, but the promise to myself, that I would ride Donna Buang, was kept. It must have been a core promise.
The Numbers:
Distance: 37km
Height Gained: 1,200m
