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- Bright Boot Camp Feb 2009 A survivor's story
Bright Boot Camp Feb 2009 A survivor's story
- By Cycling Inform
- Published 8/03/2009
- Camp reports
Written By Carey Goodall - SA
The following account of the February 2009 Bright Boot Camp is written from the perspective of a keen recreational rider. Whilst the Bright Boot Camp attracts some supremely fit athletes capable of blasting up the mountains at near warp speed, the camp also caters for the moderately fit cyclist who just wants to test themselves up some seriously big hills, in a relatively safe and supportive environment.
The Bright Boot Camp "smile of achivement" from Carey.
What follows is the author’s somewhat light hearted recollections of his February 2009 Boot Camp experience.
Self-doubt
Arriving at my second boot camp in 14 months I am filled with a mixed sense of excitement and trepidation. Excited about being back in the beautiful high country again but more than a little concerned about traversing the steeper parts of Mount Hotham, Falls Creek and Tawonga Gap on my bike (It’s hard enough in a car!). Have I trained hard enough this time? Will David Heatley’s remote coaching programme have made a real difference to my performance, or will I be just as slow as I was before? I was about to find out.
Day One – Mount Buffalo – (70 ks) (Group Ranking Ride)
We gather early for our pre-ride briefing. While I am waiting, I ponder to myself – how should I ride this? Do I push for a personal best, or do I sneak up quietly and save my legs for the next few days? I look around at the other riders. I see only two people who are even slightly overweight. One of them is me.
Carey climbing Mt Buffalo day one.
I decide to throw caution to the wind, and give Mt. Buffalo my best shot. After all, while it’s a longish climb (18.5 kilometres), it is not all that steep. After our briefing, we set off. I soon begin to regret my decision. I feel my heart wanting to escape my chest cavity within minutes. We haven’t even reached the start of the main climb! Don’t those other riders know how to warm up properly, I think to myself?
Luckily, we re-group at the base of the mountain. I catch my breath a little. I then set off to record my time against the clock. My time to beat is 1 hour 58 minutes.
After 6 kilometres or so I am feeling OK, but the climb is less than one third complete. My spirits start to sag a little. Suddenly, I see a rider ahead of me. Am I catching up? Maybe he is hurting just like me? Maybe even a little bit more (although I doubt it). I press on my pedals as fast as my legs will allow. To my surprise I slowly come alongside, and then pass a fellow boot camper. “Whoo-hoo”, I sneakily cheer to myself.
I keep going, my legs pumping like pistons. I think to myself “Heatley, you’re a genius. This heart rate training really works.” About halfway up the mountain one of the expert support riders (Brendan Rowbotham) cruises up alongside me, and starts to have a chat. Can’t he see that I am listening to my I-pod? Doesn’t he understand that music is the only thing which is keeping me going? Obviously not. So I whip out my earphones and try to splutter a few words. Unfortunately, nothing remotely intelligible comes out of my mouth. Only strange little gasping noises, as I struggle for breath. Brendan realises this and proceeds to offer me a useful tip about breathing “Take long deep breaths into the diaphragm” he says “Until your whole body starts to tingle”. I wonder if he is perhaps a little insane, but I try it. Although it feels a little strange at first, it seems to help.
I continue riding, now with both my music and a new breathing technique. For a short while I feel like I am flying. I pass another rider – what a hero I am! (In fact, I had just hit a slightly flatter spot, about two thirds the way up the mountain.) There is more work to do.
By this stage it is getting hot. I look at my watch and calculate that if I keep going at this pace I will significantly improve on my previous time. I press on, keeping my heart rate at about 90%. I take a quick peek behind me. Oh no, here comes Jodie Batchelor, David Heatley’s partner (and a talented sprinter.) She is closing in on me. She’s probably not even trying, I think to myself. What should I do? I push my heart rate back up to 92% and grit my teeth. I get to another flatter section just in time, and I am able to scoot away before she realises my mini acceleration.
At last, I reach the top. In slight disbelief I realise that my time is one hour 28 minutes, a significant improvement on last time! I feel quite pleased, until I later learn that the fastest Group One riders summited in just over 1 hour. Nevertheless, it is still a big improvement.
I return to camp, happy with my effort. But now I am a little bit worried. What if I have gone too hard? What if I don’t recover for tomorrow? I convince myself that the refreshing pool water will fix my slightly sore legs. I rehydrate as best I can for tomorrow.
The afternoon “lecture”
At 4.00 p.m. we regroup in a nearby hall for an information session, presented by a personal trainer Matt Brindle on his “functional strength” exercise regime. The hall is hot, darn hot. I slide down in my chair expecting that Matt will talk quietly to us while I have a snooze. No such luck. After about 1 minute he’s got us up doing some of his slightly weird exercises. Matt speaks to us in a completely foreign language – something about “saggital” planes and “transverse” planes. After about 5 minutes of this torture I am sweating like Homer Simpson. I keep going, albeit under sufferance. Eventually, Matt demonstrates his signature move – “the Scorpion”. Its quite indescribable in words, but involves a lot of self contortion. It would be fantastic if you were trying to win a game of twister. I resolve to try some of those exercises a bit later –much later.
Day Two – Tawonga Gap/Mount Beauty/Falls Creek Return (130 ks)
The day starts early at 5.45 a.m. Its already hot, somewhere in the low 30’s. David Heatley leads Group 3 off (to get the jump on Groups 1 and 2.) He tells us “save your legs for later” by spinning at 100 rpm. I try to comply, but by the first climb I am already feeling flat. I notice that one of my fellow riders is also struggling, so I drop back to keep him company (really just an excuse for me to slow down as well). Together we navigate the first climb. At the top Heatley instructs us on proper descent techniques. With my headphones on I can’t quite hear everything he says. I pick up something about “no brakes” and “cut corners”. I wonder if that’s all there is to it? In any event, I survive the descent and manage to stay upright despite hitting some tree debris at about 60 kph.
By the time we arrive at Mount Beauty I am feeling pretty good and ready to take on the Falls Creek climb. I hold on until about the last 3 kilometres. By now my legs are gone and I slow to a relative crawl. Worse is yet to come. Just as I arrive triumphantly at the summit, David Heatley announces that there is a fire at Bogong (10 ks below us) and we have to descent “almost immediately”. I’m not quite ready to leave, but now I have a new incentive to descend fast – get down past that fire before it spreads!
We arrive safely at the bottom and re-group just past Mount Beauty. Only one more climb, I think to myself. I hear Brendan instruct Group 2 “It’s going to be tough boys” and I wonder is he joking or not? Tawonga Gap didn’t seem all that steep to me when I came down, but maybe I was wrong. How long was it? Maybe 4 kilometres? Wrong again.
I struggle up the first section. I am still ahead of two in my group, and I think I am going OK. I cheerfully say to another rider “The top must be just around the corner”. He replies “No way mate, we’re not even half way up yet”. I suddenly feel a little weak, and then extremely hot. (I later learn that the temperature has risen to 43ยบ C by this stage.) I start muttering to myself “What am I doing on this stupid mountain? This is ridiculous?” I utter a couple of obscenities out loud, to no one in particular. Strangely, this makes me feel a little bit better.
I soldier on, one bend at a time, sometimes out of the saddle, but mostly in the saddle. At last I see a sign saying “Car park”. That must be the top I think, so I put on a spurt in a foolish attempt to convince the others that I am still riding strongly. But no, it’s the wrong car park. The summit is still a fair distance away. One of the support drivers (Mick) is out of his van on the side of the road to encourage me towards the top “You’re going well – keep it up” he says. I know he is lying. I’m almost going backwards by this stage! Nevertheless, his words of encouragement are much appreciated.
Eventually I summit Tawonga and receive a mild round of applause from those who probably arrived several hours before me. I have a drink and look around, with a mild sense of achievement. I see that another rider has virtually fainted – his day in the saddle is well and truly over.
We complete the journey back into Bright into a strong head-wind and with the air beginning to thicken with smoke. I start to wonder – there must be a large fire somewhere. Back at camp I hear how bad the fires have become. There is a large fire only 30 kilometres away from us, but the caravan park operator assures me that she is in contact with the CFA fire chief, and promises to let us know if we need to evacuate. Somehow I am not entirely reassured by this promise. I start listening to the radio for updates. As there is no immediate threat to us (unless the wind changes) I head for the pool. The evening’s lectures are also deferred until tomorrow.
Day Three – To tackle Mount Hotham or not?
I awake feeling really leg sore. The heat from yesterday has really taken it out of me. Am I up for Hotham? As I debate this issue in my mind there is a knock on my cabin door. Its Tony, the camp mechanic. “It’s raining at Hotham, and there’s a storm on the way. We will review the situation at 7.30 a.m. – go back to bed”. I feel relieved. I return to bed and listen to the growling thunder. It then starts to rain. No riding today I think to myself, as I snuggle under the covers. But then it stops. I think to myself that I had better confirm that we are not actually riding. I speak to David Heatley who is remarkably up-beat. He says enthusiastically “It’s clearing up at Hotham, we are right to go”. Now I am in a serious dilemma. Do I ride to Harrietville (only 35 ks) and have coffee (the wimpy option) or do I press on for the summit? I decide to see how I feel once I get on the bike. My legs feel awful. Jodie, our support rider for the morning, takes off at a brisk pace. This makes me feel even worse.
Suddenly, Jodie gets a flat tyre. Great, I think, I can slow down. Group 3 rides on at a more sedate pace, most of us struggling from the day before. About half way to Harrietville Mick’s van passes us, with Jodie on board. Oh no, she’s back with a new wheel! She rejoins the ride, but takes sympathy on us and slows down a tad, enough in fact for me to sprint to the front of the peloton for a brief photo opportunity.
Carey's "breif brief photo opportunity".
We arrive at Harrietville. Will I climb or won’t I? I tell myself to stop being so indecisive. I decide to go. I soon get into a good rhythm and for a while I sit on the wheel of a Group 1 rider who has fallen behind his group. I struggle on (in the silver medal position for Group 3) until all of a sudden, I see a large bunch of riders stopped on the side of the road. Apparently it is too dangerous at the top – very windy and poor visibility. We are all turned around.
Carey climbing through "the Meg" on Mt Hotham.
A few of the A graders have already made it to the top, but stories later emerge of four-wheel drives and caravans appearing out of the mist without warning. This convinces me that safety first is always the right call.
We descend to Harrietville and have a well earned coffee break. Brendan instructs all of the Group 3 riders to join in with his Group 2 riders for a “quiet roll” back to camp. It’s mostly flat or slightly down hill, so I think I should be able to handle that. All is fine until the B graders start ramping up the speed in a dual “pace line” formation. At times we are humming along at up to 52 kph, (on the flat) which is much faster than I am used to. In fact, it is quite a hoot. I am able to hold on until we reach Bright, and I then limp home more sedately by myself. Just before I arrive at camp I am passed at high speed rider. It’s Brendan! He casually admits later sitting at “about 75 kph” and complains that his gearing was not right for him to go “really fast”.
After a brief massage I head into town for the afternoon meetings and some dinner. The speakers for tonight are Tony (bike mechanic), David Heatley (efficient training ) and Brendan Rowbotham (general pep talk – mental toughness). All three presentations are excellent. Tony quickly convinces me that bike maintenance is best left to the experts. David produces graphic evidence to show why social rides will not get you fit and recommends a better way (something akin to flogging yourself at near maximum heart rate with a cat of nine tails.) He kindly points out that I am not quite ready for such self abuse just yet. Brendan’s talk is both funny and inspiring. He leaves us with a number of key messages which include :-
• Set yourself some realistic goals
• Commit to those goals by writing them down
• Eliminate negative thoughts when they enter your mind and replace them with positive thoughts
• Celebrate your successes
• Train efficiently so you can spend more time with your family
• Social riding is not training
At the end of the evening a series of certificates are presented. David congratulates us all on our individual achievements in the camp so far.
Some lucky prizes are drawn – I score a new set of handlebars worth $400. Not bad!
Day Four – Mount Buffalo (in lieu of Tawonga Gap loop)
The fires result in some road closures, so we are re-routed up to Mount Buffalo. I start the ride feeling quite good. However, as I approach the first hill I go way too hard. I rev my heart well into the red zone (98%). I blow up a little, and my legs now feel like lead. This is going to be a painful climb I think to myself. Suddenly, I realise the peloton ahead has stopped. The road to Mount Buffalo is closed as well! Hallelujah! The group then decide to do a coffee ride to Harrietville. I decide to bail out and pack up my bike for the drive to Melbourne and the flight to Adelaide.
The Verdict
Despite the sometimes searing heat, the smell of smoke, the gusting wind and the rumbling thunder, it was an amazing four (maybe 3 and a half) days of riding. The camp was unbelievably well organised and there was plenty of opportunity to interact socially with like minded riding nuts. The expertise on offer (and the rider support) was fantastic. Bright Boot Camp poses some big challenges, but also offers big rewards as well. So far as I know, it is a unique riding experience for cyclists in Australia. The traffic was virtually non existent, and the scenery and the terrain are superb. If you have ever thought about going, but haven’t done so, I have one piece of advice – “Don’t miss it – it’s well worth the effort”.
Carey Goodall
Adelaide
The following account of the February 2009 Bright Boot Camp is written from the perspective of a keen recreational rider. Whilst the Bright Boot Camp attracts some supremely fit athletes capable of blasting up the mountains at near warp speed, the camp also caters for the moderately fit cyclist who just wants to test themselves up some seriously big hills, in a relatively safe and supportive environment.
The Bright Boot Camp "smile of achivement" from Carey.
What follows is the author’s somewhat light hearted recollections of his February 2009 Boot Camp experience.
Self-doubt
Arriving at my second boot camp in 14 months I am filled with a mixed sense of excitement and trepidation. Excited about being back in the beautiful high country again but more than a little concerned about traversing the steeper parts of Mount Hotham, Falls Creek and Tawonga Gap on my bike (It’s hard enough in a car!). Have I trained hard enough this time? Will David Heatley’s remote coaching programme have made a real difference to my performance, or will I be just as slow as I was before? I was about to find out.
Day One – Mount Buffalo – (70 ks) (Group Ranking Ride)
We gather early for our pre-ride briefing. While I am waiting, I ponder to myself – how should I ride this? Do I push for a personal best, or do I sneak up quietly and save my legs for the next few days? I look around at the other riders. I see only two people who are even slightly overweight. One of them is me.
Carey climbing Mt Buffalo day one.
I decide to throw caution to the wind, and give Mt. Buffalo my best shot. After all, while it’s a longish climb (18.5 kilometres), it is not all that steep. After our briefing, we set off. I soon begin to regret my decision. I feel my heart wanting to escape my chest cavity within minutes. We haven’t even reached the start of the main climb! Don’t those other riders know how to warm up properly, I think to myself?
Luckily, we re-group at the base of the mountain. I catch my breath a little. I then set off to record my time against the clock. My time to beat is 1 hour 58 minutes.
After 6 kilometres or so I am feeling OK, but the climb is less than one third complete. My spirits start to sag a little. Suddenly, I see a rider ahead of me. Am I catching up? Maybe he is hurting just like me? Maybe even a little bit more (although I doubt it). I press on my pedals as fast as my legs will allow. To my surprise I slowly come alongside, and then pass a fellow boot camper. “Whoo-hoo”, I sneakily cheer to myself.
I keep going, my legs pumping like pistons. I think to myself “Heatley, you’re a genius. This heart rate training really works.” About halfway up the mountain one of the expert support riders (Brendan Rowbotham) cruises up alongside me, and starts to have a chat. Can’t he see that I am listening to my I-pod? Doesn’t he understand that music is the only thing which is keeping me going? Obviously not. So I whip out my earphones and try to splutter a few words. Unfortunately, nothing remotely intelligible comes out of my mouth. Only strange little gasping noises, as I struggle for breath. Brendan realises this and proceeds to offer me a useful tip about breathing “Take long deep breaths into the diaphragm” he says “Until your whole body starts to tingle”. I wonder if he is perhaps a little insane, but I try it. Although it feels a little strange at first, it seems to help.
I continue riding, now with both my music and a new breathing technique. For a short while I feel like I am flying. I pass another rider – what a hero I am! (In fact, I had just hit a slightly flatter spot, about two thirds the way up the mountain.) There is more work to do.
By this stage it is getting hot. I look at my watch and calculate that if I keep going at this pace I will significantly improve on my previous time. I press on, keeping my heart rate at about 90%. I take a quick peek behind me. Oh no, here comes Jodie Batchelor, David Heatley’s partner (and a talented sprinter.) She is closing in on me. She’s probably not even trying, I think to myself. What should I do? I push my heart rate back up to 92% and grit my teeth. I get to another flatter section just in time, and I am able to scoot away before she realises my mini acceleration.
At last, I reach the top. In slight disbelief I realise that my time is one hour 28 minutes, a significant improvement on last time! I feel quite pleased, until I later learn that the fastest Group One riders summited in just over 1 hour. Nevertheless, it is still a big improvement.
I return to camp, happy with my effort. But now I am a little bit worried. What if I have gone too hard? What if I don’t recover for tomorrow? I convince myself that the refreshing pool water will fix my slightly sore legs. I rehydrate as best I can for tomorrow.
The afternoon “lecture”
At 4.00 p.m. we regroup in a nearby hall for an information session, presented by a personal trainer Matt Brindle on his “functional strength” exercise regime. The hall is hot, darn hot. I slide down in my chair expecting that Matt will talk quietly to us while I have a snooze. No such luck. After about 1 minute he’s got us up doing some of his slightly weird exercises. Matt speaks to us in a completely foreign language – something about “saggital” planes and “transverse” planes. After about 5 minutes of this torture I am sweating like Homer Simpson. I keep going, albeit under sufferance. Eventually, Matt demonstrates his signature move – “the Scorpion”. Its quite indescribable in words, but involves a lot of self contortion. It would be fantastic if you were trying to win a game of twister. I resolve to try some of those exercises a bit later –much later.
Day Two – Tawonga Gap/Mount Beauty/Falls Creek Return (130 ks)
The day starts early at 5.45 a.m. Its already hot, somewhere in the low 30’s. David Heatley leads Group 3 off (to get the jump on Groups 1 and 2.) He tells us “save your legs for later” by spinning at 100 rpm. I try to comply, but by the first climb I am already feeling flat. I notice that one of my fellow riders is also struggling, so I drop back to keep him company (really just an excuse for me to slow down as well). Together we navigate the first climb. At the top Heatley instructs us on proper descent techniques. With my headphones on I can’t quite hear everything he says. I pick up something about “no brakes” and “cut corners”. I wonder if that’s all there is to it? In any event, I survive the descent and manage to stay upright despite hitting some tree debris at about 60 kph.
By the time we arrive at Mount Beauty I am feeling pretty good and ready to take on the Falls Creek climb. I hold on until about the last 3 kilometres. By now my legs are gone and I slow to a relative crawl. Worse is yet to come. Just as I arrive triumphantly at the summit, David Heatley announces that there is a fire at Bogong (10 ks below us) and we have to descent “almost immediately”. I’m not quite ready to leave, but now I have a new incentive to descend fast – get down past that fire before it spreads!
We arrive safely at the bottom and re-group just past Mount Beauty. Only one more climb, I think to myself. I hear Brendan instruct Group 2 “It’s going to be tough boys” and I wonder is he joking or not? Tawonga Gap didn’t seem all that steep to me when I came down, but maybe I was wrong. How long was it? Maybe 4 kilometres? Wrong again.
I struggle up the first section. I am still ahead of two in my group, and I think I am going OK. I cheerfully say to another rider “The top must be just around the corner”. He replies “No way mate, we’re not even half way up yet”. I suddenly feel a little weak, and then extremely hot. (I later learn that the temperature has risen to 43ยบ C by this stage.) I start muttering to myself “What am I doing on this stupid mountain? This is ridiculous?” I utter a couple of obscenities out loud, to no one in particular. Strangely, this makes me feel a little bit better.
I soldier on, one bend at a time, sometimes out of the saddle, but mostly in the saddle. At last I see a sign saying “Car park”. That must be the top I think, so I put on a spurt in a foolish attempt to convince the others that I am still riding strongly. But no, it’s the wrong car park. The summit is still a fair distance away. One of the support drivers (Mick) is out of his van on the side of the road to encourage me towards the top “You’re going well – keep it up” he says. I know he is lying. I’m almost going backwards by this stage! Nevertheless, his words of encouragement are much appreciated.
Eventually I summit Tawonga and receive a mild round of applause from those who probably arrived several hours before me. I have a drink and look around, with a mild sense of achievement. I see that another rider has virtually fainted – his day in the saddle is well and truly over.
We complete the journey back into Bright into a strong head-wind and with the air beginning to thicken with smoke. I start to wonder – there must be a large fire somewhere. Back at camp I hear how bad the fires have become. There is a large fire only 30 kilometres away from us, but the caravan park operator assures me that she is in contact with the CFA fire chief, and promises to let us know if we need to evacuate. Somehow I am not entirely reassured by this promise. I start listening to the radio for updates. As there is no immediate threat to us (unless the wind changes) I head for the pool. The evening’s lectures are also deferred until tomorrow.
Day Three – To tackle Mount Hotham or not?
I awake feeling really leg sore. The heat from yesterday has really taken it out of me. Am I up for Hotham? As I debate this issue in my mind there is a knock on my cabin door. Its Tony, the camp mechanic. “It’s raining at Hotham, and there’s a storm on the way. We will review the situation at 7.30 a.m. – go back to bed”. I feel relieved. I return to bed and listen to the growling thunder. It then starts to rain. No riding today I think to myself, as I snuggle under the covers. But then it stops. I think to myself that I had better confirm that we are not actually riding. I speak to David Heatley who is remarkably up-beat. He says enthusiastically “It’s clearing up at Hotham, we are right to go”. Now I am in a serious dilemma. Do I ride to Harrietville (only 35 ks) and have coffee (the wimpy option) or do I press on for the summit? I decide to see how I feel once I get on the bike. My legs feel awful. Jodie, our support rider for the morning, takes off at a brisk pace. This makes me feel even worse.
Suddenly, Jodie gets a flat tyre. Great, I think, I can slow down. Group 3 rides on at a more sedate pace, most of us struggling from the day before. About half way to Harrietville Mick’s van passes us, with Jodie on board. Oh no, she’s back with a new wheel! She rejoins the ride, but takes sympathy on us and slows down a tad, enough in fact for me to sprint to the front of the peloton for a brief photo opportunity.
Carey's "breif brief photo opportunity".
We arrive at Harrietville. Will I climb or won’t I? I tell myself to stop being so indecisive. I decide to go. I soon get into a good rhythm and for a while I sit on the wheel of a Group 1 rider who has fallen behind his group. I struggle on (in the silver medal position for Group 3) until all of a sudden, I see a large bunch of riders stopped on the side of the road. Apparently it is too dangerous at the top – very windy and poor visibility. We are all turned around.
Carey climbing through "the Meg" on Mt Hotham.
A few of the A graders have already made it to the top, but stories later emerge of four-wheel drives and caravans appearing out of the mist without warning. This convinces me that safety first is always the right call.
We descend to Harrietville and have a well earned coffee break. Brendan instructs all of the Group 3 riders to join in with his Group 2 riders for a “quiet roll” back to camp. It’s mostly flat or slightly down hill, so I think I should be able to handle that. All is fine until the B graders start ramping up the speed in a dual “pace line” formation. At times we are humming along at up to 52 kph, (on the flat) which is much faster than I am used to. In fact, it is quite a hoot. I am able to hold on until we reach Bright, and I then limp home more sedately by myself. Just before I arrive at camp I am passed at high speed rider. It’s Brendan! He casually admits later sitting at “about 75 kph” and complains that his gearing was not right for him to go “really fast”.
After a brief massage I head into town for the afternoon meetings and some dinner. The speakers for tonight are Tony (bike mechanic), David Heatley (efficient training ) and Brendan Rowbotham (general pep talk – mental toughness). All three presentations are excellent. Tony quickly convinces me that bike maintenance is best left to the experts. David produces graphic evidence to show why social rides will not get you fit and recommends a better way (something akin to flogging yourself at near maximum heart rate with a cat of nine tails.) He kindly points out that I am not quite ready for such self abuse just yet. Brendan’s talk is both funny and inspiring. He leaves us with a number of key messages which include :-
• Set yourself some realistic goals
• Commit to those goals by writing them down
• Eliminate negative thoughts when they enter your mind and replace them with positive thoughts
• Celebrate your successes
• Train efficiently so you can spend more time with your family
• Social riding is not training
At the end of the evening a series of certificates are presented. David congratulates us all on our individual achievements in the camp so far.
Some lucky prizes are drawn – I score a new set of handlebars worth $400. Not bad!
Day Four – Mount Buffalo (in lieu of Tawonga Gap loop)
The fires result in some road closures, so we are re-routed up to Mount Buffalo. I start the ride feeling quite good. However, as I approach the first hill I go way too hard. I rev my heart well into the red zone (98%). I blow up a little, and my legs now feel like lead. This is going to be a painful climb I think to myself. Suddenly, I realise the peloton ahead has stopped. The road to Mount Buffalo is closed as well! Hallelujah! The group then decide to do a coffee ride to Harrietville. I decide to bail out and pack up my bike for the drive to Melbourne and the flight to Adelaide.
The Verdict
Despite the sometimes searing heat, the smell of smoke, the gusting wind and the rumbling thunder, it was an amazing four (maybe 3 and a half) days of riding. The camp was unbelievably well organised and there was plenty of opportunity to interact socially with like minded riding nuts. The expertise on offer (and the rider support) was fantastic. Bright Boot Camp poses some big challenges, but also offers big rewards as well. So far as I know, it is a unique riding experience for cyclists in Australia. The traffic was virtually non existent, and the scenery and the terrain are superb. If you have ever thought about going, but haven’t done so, I have one piece of advice – “Don’t miss it – it’s well worth the effort”.
Carey Goodall
Adelaide
