One web site reckons that the name of Drouin is taken from the local Aboriginal word for 'north wind'.
That should have been a warning.
In his ride description, Kevin said The first 100 is medium difficulty
. (Let's face it: the term medium difficulty
tends to cover a pretty broad range, from ridiculously easy to f••• that was hard!)
That should have been a warning.
The weather bureau was forecasting strong northwesterly winds and rain.
That should have been a warning.
And I had only ridden about 50km in the week beforehand.
That definitely should have been a warning.
The Wheels on Fire 100km was a ride—as they say in the commentary booth—of two halves: cruisey and hard slog.
Cruisey
The first half, along Old Sale Rd through Brandy Creek and Buln Buln and Willowgrove Rd to Trafalgar, was a wind-assisted, undulating cruise under sunny skies.
Of course, I made the typical beginner's mistake of going out too hard, too early and barely noticing that I was being very nicely assisted by a tailwind. It didn't matter: I was feeling good (at that point).
Hard slog
But much of the fun dissipated with the right-hand turn at Trafalgar. The second half—Trafalgar to Yarragon then Hazeldean Rd to Tetoora Road and Lardner's Track to Drouin—was pushing against a headwind under an increasingly gloomy sky.
Even in perfect conditions the foothills of the Strzelecki Ranges would have been a decent workout for this Yarra Trail commuter, but the constant buffeting of the wind just made it all the more "interesting". I've got to admit, I felt as thick as a Bay Trail trundler who's surfed a tailwind all the way to Rickett's Point only to have to turn around and churn all the way back into a headwind.
Rural idyll
But nothing could take anything away from the scenery. Wheels on Fire follows a beautiful route—in particular the sections along Old Sale Rd, Hazeldean Rd, and Lardner's Track. With quiet and scenic country lanes like these, how could you go wrong? To add to the rural idyll, I noticed that almost all of the local drivers were patient and courteous—overtaking at suitable places and giving plenty of room when passing.
The same web site reckons that Drouin is a picture postcard town set on a hill overlooking lush cattle and dairy farms.
Can't argue with that: I don't know if it was the recent rain or if (as someone said) "It's always green around here", but it certainly was lush countryside when I passed through.
Drouin itself was a welcome sight for my wind-streaked eyes. And I don't think I was alone in that respect—I'm not sure if too many of the folks who registered for the 150km and 200km rides ventured out beyond the first 100km loop. And who could blame them? No, far better to head home and relax (as I did) with a jar of the finest local brew.