The tale of two Longest Days

Some rides are defined by the mountains you climb or the kilometres you cover. Others are defined by what you don't do. This is the story of two Longest Days that humbled us. Sometimes conditions are everything and there's no shame in staying alive.

The plan that wasn't

The original plan was simple enough. Run the Ettalong route in reverse to cap off the year with something special. When Swerlo, a Longest Day stalwart, heard about it, he was in immediately. There was just one small problem…. he had a flight to Melbourne that afternoon.

A quick glance at his diary and the calculations began. If everything went perfectly, he could make it. With checked bags and family airport logistics ready to go, he needed to be home by 15:00. When we suggested leaving even earlier to add some buffer, Swerlo dismissed it outright. "Not enough jeopardy," he said with a grin.

Then the rain arrived and Ettalong Reverse was cancelled. All that careful timing and choreography was rendered moot. But we weren't about to let a good Longest Day die that easily.

The Lap'o'Sydney

Sean quietly floated an idea he and Carlos had been developing. A lap around Sydney. He didn't oversell it, but the clear implication was that it wasn't for the faint-hearted. The 255kms loop wasn't a typo.

So the replacement for our cancelled ride became the Longer Day.

As I left home early that morning, I heard parting words, "Enjoy the 35 degrees!"

Gav and Kev joined the original crew of three (Sean, Swerlo and myself). By Hornsby, Gav peeled off for his 9am meeting while Kev pressed on, keen to finally see Windsor as everything after Galston were new roads for him.

Swerlo had already done his homework, eyeing two possible joints in Penrith for lunch (one burger, one brisket), hedging his bets on our prevailing mood and energy levels when we arrived.

From the opening kilometres, the heat was oppressive. By the time we checked our distance to Wiseman's Ferry, our Garmins unanimously recorded 40 degrees. It wasn't just warm, it was furnace-grade Australian heat.

At Mooriotka, an old scruffy red cattledog had other plans for us. It darted from the left with singular focus, eyes locked on Swerlo for breakfast. The dog split our group, barking between the wheels as we scattered. We regrouped, assessed the damage, and carried on. For the rest of the ride, every barking dog prompted nervous glances backwards to confirm that Swerlo was still with us.

Our regular cafe at Wiseman's Ferry was closed, so we took the next best option. Over breakfast and coffees, Swerlo generously grabbed large waters to refill our bidons, only to discover he'd bought sparkling water. He discretely replaced them, hoping nobody noticed. We noticed.

Sean applied sunscreen that immediately ran off his arms in rivers of sweat. His medical diagnosis was to drink more water and assessed it to be a 10 bidon minimum day.

River Road delivered as promised. We had billed it to Kev as the best segment in Sydney, and even in these conditions, it lived up to the hype. The road hugs the Hawkesbury River as it winds through the valley, with glimpses of water shimmering through the gum trees. On cooler days, families bustle at the waterski parks, boats cut lines across the river's surface, the ropes swing wide as skiers carve through the wake. But today, even the waterski parks looked exhausted. 

The ribbon of asphalt unwrapped ahead of us, (mostly) smooth and serpentine, following every contour of the riverbank. It's the kind of road that makes you forget you're suffering until you remember how much you're suffering. Dappled light filtered through the canopy, offering brief respite from the relentless sun. Each corner revealed another postcard view of the river below, but as we rode on we were too focused on survival to properly appreciate all the views.

We stopped multiple times to cool in the shade, letting our heart rates settle before pressing on. Even this jewel of Sydney cycling couldn't fully compensate for 40 degrees of heat.

At the Sackville ferry, a kind driver suggested shelter at Tractor 828. He later returned to offer us water. After a few minutes in the shade at the ferry crossing, we made our way to the shop for some ‘black doctor’.

Kev mentioned his battle with cramps on long rides but noted he'd been pleased with his performance so far. Irony was nearby. Immediately after resuming, cramps struck me, then Sean, then Kev. Only Swerlo escaped with minor twinges. It was the commentator's curse.

Kev was always planning to catch a train home from Windsor for an appointment. But it was Swerlo, the smart one, who voiced what we were all thinking..."I'm willing to call it."

We were all willing to take him up on it. The prospect of grinding through Western and South-Western Sydney along the M7 in unrelenting sun and heat was losing its appeal rapidly. There's no shame in staying alive, we decided.

The bike lane to Windsor was beaten up and furnace-like. Those last five kilometres rank among the toughest we can remember. Sean's urgent need for pale ale drove us toward the first pub we could find. When it arrived, it was both tasty and beautiful, but we all struggled to finish our beers being too dehydrated. The water was far more refreshing, which tells you everything about our state.

The 1.5km ride from the pub to Windsor station became the next milestone. On the train, we couldn't (wouldn't) move our bikes for one passing passenger, forcing him to turn back. We made an effort for the Sydney Trains staff member who looked far too official to mess with. 

Swerlo and Sean, both on a day of leave, planned to maximise their day off despite being home early. Kev felt sorry for Swerlo, who he thought would plan to hide in his car for the afternoon. Kev himself was now late for a lunch appointment in the city but decided against going directly there.

Some cramps returned as we rode home from Central station, but we knew relief was close. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees from the west, and it was already helping. Sean contemplated swimming in the sea to cool down but the thought of walking home from the beach afterwards was discouraging enough to abandon the idea.

We all made it home, prioritising rehydration above all else. 

Conditions are everything. They can make or break a ride. In this case, two rides fell victim to weather. Sometimes the smartest ride is the one you don't complete.

The final score: Lap'o'Sydney: 1 Riders: 0 Weather: 2

The Lap'o'Sydney lives on for another day.