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Jennacubine Ride What follows is Geoff Law's account of the trip. Gary King
Early, in fact very early last Saturday, a small bunch of recumbent riders set off from the hills near Perth in the darkness to ride to a tiny own called Jennacubbine, some eighty kilometers away. I really felt sorry for these guys, because at that time I was still under the doona, snuggled up in bed with my teddy bear, listening to the pitter patter of rain on the roof. My plan was to meet the group at around lunchtime in a town called Toodyay, when it was warmer, hopefully drier, and 50kms would have been covered. Sure enough, by the time I had packed the bikeE into my van and driven to Toodyay, the intrepid riders were straggling into town. The ride had been quite hilly and appetites were strong, so lunch at the pub was the first thing on the agenda. The gang and their machines consisted of Ron on the Ronocar, Fleur on her newly acquired Linear aluminium LWB folder, Des on his beautifully constructed homemade trike "Agnes" (There's got to be a story there…) Mike on his Greenspeed, Bruce and Lightning Stealth with Bob trailer (Hauling a huge fluffy pillow, arctic grade woolly beanie , and pair of sheepskin lined "Ugg" boots, Case and his Flevo SWB with ensuite trailer, Gary and the famous "Toobent" now with fairing, who actually got up somewhere in the middle of the night before to ride a couple of hours to the start of the ride, Paula on her Logo trike, and of course me and my bikeE CT XL. Both Paula and I had joined the ride at Toodyay. With food and beer in our tanks off we went up the first of many long rolling hills. Ron, one of the ride organizers, assured us that the terrain was "undulating" but I had a little trouble with that definition. I reckon that if the weather changes noticeably from the bottom to the top of a rise, you got yourself a hill there, Ron. Anyway, hills or not, I was pretty fresh having missed the first 50k's and didn't have too much trouble beating those tired pedallers up to the tops. Another factor, my lunch was a mere sausage roll and cup of hot chocolate while the others had tucked into huge pub lunches with chips, and sour cream, washed down with big draughts of Guinness.
If you ever need to win a race with someone, first buy them a big lunch, you'll romp it in. If I'm painting a picture of a tough ride here, well, that's pretty much how it was on Saturday. We had a really strong crosswind practically the whole time, bringing occasional horizontal showers as well. I was cold. I just wanted to get to that Jennacubbine pub and sit by the fire, so I pedalled my butt off. About half way up the fourteenth hill someone suggested that WAHPV stood for "Are We Having Fun Yet?" But it didn't quite fit the letters.. At least what traffic we had on that road was light, and drivers well all pretty courteous, waving to us and giving us plenty of room. We had very little trouble anyway, no punctures and no mechanical failures, except Des who wore through one of his tyres, (Stop it with the wheelies, Des). Never mind, Mike produced a brand new 20" Comp Pool from his luggage and we were away again in a few minutes. I don't know why Mike bothers carrying spare tyres, as he seems to prefer riding his trike on two wheels. Anyway, as the rain cleared up, our spirits began to rise The last few k's were downwind and we really picked up a bit of pace, getting to Jennacubbine just before sunset. Did I call this place a town? It was a pub, a hall, and a church, all surrounded by sheep farms. Fleur was obviously so happy to see the place she jumped, or fell, off her bike, and took a bit of skin off her knee. Just as well it's not very far to fall from a Linear. The first job was to settle in to the local hall which was booked for us, and find a bit of floor to lay out our sleeping bags ready for crashing out after a night out at the pub. I tried to distance myself from known snorers but I needn't have bothered. As it turned out, even moving to the next town wouldn't have made much difference.
I was a bit jittery about stepping out in public with Bruce dressed in those Ugg boots and beanie, I didn't want to get beaten up so far from home. But my fears melted away as we walked into the bar and there were all the local farmers in their checked shirts , beanies, and Ugg boots. The pub was great. Roaring fire, huge steaks, and plenty of stout. Neil, a friend of Ron's, turned up to join us, and had a couple of dishlickers standing guard in the Landcruiser outside. Most of us couldn't get through our steaks and those puppies dined on top quality Scotch fillet that night. Neil also smuggled in a bottle of his home brew stout to let us compare with the pub variety and it wasn't bad at all. I needed about three glasses before I had formed my opinion, and then I wasn't interested in the pub brew anyway, so the home brew won as far as I was concerned. Back to the hall fairly early as we were all yawning at each other, and we had a early start next day anyway. The Hall was next to a railway track and trains were reputed to be going past every hour or so, but I must say I didn't notice them over the chainsaw that Bruce had running most of the night.
The Alarm went just before dawn and after the round of accusations about who was the loudest snorer, we had a bit of breakfast and got on our way. Our plan was to return by back roads rather that the main road. What a beautiful day greeted us outside! As much as Saturday was bleak, Sunday was pleasant. It was sunny and warm, with not a breath of wind, and we were in a lovely bit of countryside. Flocks of ringneck parrots and pink-and-grey galahs flew along with us through the trees at the side of the road. Above a town nearby, we saw hot air balloons hanging in the still morning air. Even the hills were gone! This way was a lot flatter than the way we had come. Unfortunately, though, the visibility wasn't quite good enough for Mike and Des, who got separated from the rest of the group only 1km from the start, and found themselves heading back on the same road we had arrived on! Once we had discovered they were gone, they had covered quite a bit of ground, and no amount of entreaties or threats over the mobile phone would persuade them to turn back. Oh well, it's kinda nice not having those pesky trikes zigzagging around your ankles as you ride. So we cruised along the country roads three abreast. I found a great station on my radio and listened to good oldies the whole way. The day wasn't without incident however. Fleur managed to get a couple of punctures. Also Bruce caught a sparkle of sunlight reflected from a coke can by the side of the road, and mistaking it for a sniper's rifle barrel, leapt from his bike and executed a perfect US Marines breakfall in the loose gravel. He tried to tell us he fell off, of course, but nobody bought it. What amazed us all was how, ignoring his own safety, he caught the bike before it hit the ground. Face it, Bruce, sooner or later, you WILL get a scratch on that bike. As we got closer to Toodyay, we started to hit those "undulations" again, and then they got bigger, and longer, and steeper. I didn't mind too much as I was finishing at Toodyay, but some of the other riders still had 50k to go. I won't mention any names, but one person was suffering a lot from the hills, er I mean undulations.. and I mean suffering. I wish I had taken along a few hundred bucks, I could have picked up a cheap trike just before that last hill. Jumped in the van at Toodyay, and I couldn't help noticing there were a lot more bikes getting shoved in that van than on the previous day. Anyway, we still had a few toughies who plugged on and covered the whole distance. We went back and hung out at Fleur and Ron's lovely country house drinking coffee while we waited for them to arrive. A well organised ride, and a fun weekend. Geoff Law
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