“Why are you doing this?” My mother and sister asked me, leading into the day I’d planned to attempt an FKT (Fastest Known Time) of the proposed Great Forest National Park route.
Mitch Docker set the time for this 270km route on old forest roads, singletrack, double track and up and over multiple mountain passes with a total elevation gain of 6,490m in June 2024, with a total elapsed time of 14 hours and 25 minutes.
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Why are you doing this?
It was a difficult question to answer. I’ve competed in a heck of a lot of long-distance events, including the likes of Unbound Gravel and Leadville 100. The focus of these events has been purely to go as fast as possible, with the thrill of adventure replaced with the need for speed of racing. Nowadays, a 100km MTB marathon or 200km gravel race has become about how fast, how many carbs you can eat, how aero you are and stressing what your competition is doing.
I remember racing my first marathon MTB, the Bendigo Epic, at age 17. The whole way, it felt like I was on this massive journey with the sole purpose of just completing the ride rather than the race result.
This is the thrill the average punter gets when finishing a long ride, and a thrill I’d forgotten over the past few years of chasing that extra 1% of performance. For me, this FKT is my long ride. It provides that thrill of doing something challenging just to finish that I’d drifted away from.
What is The Great Forest National Park FKT?
A Fastest Known Time challenge is a self-supported ride whereby you pedal from A to B, generally as fast as possible, setting what is known to be the quickest time to complete the route. The adventures typically combine adventure, distance, and challenge personal boundaries.
Think of it as a training ride where you must carry all your own things and stop for supplies where necessary, as you would on any other day. But no matter what you do, the clock is ticking.
For my FKT challenge, I had photographer Phillip Sage, riding on the back of a motorcycle driven by my father-in-law, Craig Holmes, with them linking up where possible to capture content of the day.
I felt more nervous for this ride than I have for any race in the past few years. It consumed my thoughts, and I had this terrible worry I’d be stuck out in some remote land in the darkness, walking an ultramarathon in carbon shoes.
This sense of adventure is what draws me to this feat, and having raced at the highest level domestically on the road, gravel and MTB, I’ve raced World Cups and even made it into the Lifetime Grand Prix. I’ve ticked off so many of my goals on the bike, but one that remained was an FKT.
The Great Forest National Park FKT was created to show off the proposed National Park’s best features and help gain support to conserve and protect this region.
Having heard of Mitch’s ride, it’s been on my mind since, and if I were to do an FKT challenge, then I’d want to do it over this beautiful prehistoric terrain.
Don’t get caught out after dark
To do this ride and not be out there until midnight, I needed speed and a smooth run.
Mitch averaged 20.3km/h, and my concern was that if things went pear-shaped, it would affect the second half of the ride, which is the most remote. If something happened here, I would be up at elevation (the last 100km is at +1,000m altitude), in the dark, in an area I’d never ridden.
So, leading up to that was about maximising every inch of speed, looking after the bike and not dilly-dallying one bit, whilst of course soaking up the natural beauty of the forest.
So naturally, I did the first 30km at 28kph average. Psssh, no worries, today can’t be that bad, right?
But boy was I in for a shock. I’d soon come to realise that this route is designed to slow you down. If it wasn’t the steep uphills where I was grinding it out at 50rpm contemplating walking, it was the rocky, slippery descents that had me hanging on and more concerned about getting down than going fast.
I even spent a fair chunk of time walking with two 10-minute hike-a-bike sections in the first 100km. These were slow enough to auto-pause my GPS. My calves were burning, and a shadow of doubt crept in on the horizon.
The question that everyone has been asking me is did you find your physical limit? Was there anything on the ride that broke you? Physically, no.
I surprised myself at just how hard I could push all day. I expected a power drop or at least some gastric upset, but it never came.
Beyond the general aches and pains, my energy levels barely differed from start to finish. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from the looming darkness and remote wilderness, or maybe it was the entire bag of Skratch Labs — the high-carb one — that I consumed throughout the day, in addition to all of the food I ate.
Warburton rider reviver
About half way through I came to Warburton. It’s a special place not just for the natural beauty, but it’s also somewhere my Fiancé Mon and I have spent a fair bit of time holidaying and camping on the Yarra River.
We’d often go for a mini-holiday/training camp between Christmas and New Year. In the morning, I’d go training up Donna Buang in preparation for road nationals, and then we’d spend the afternoons floating down the river in tubes at the caravan park, soaking up summer.
The section from Acheron Way to Mount Donna Buang is essentially the best road I’d ever ridden. Descending Donna Buang and into the service station, I was buzzing. I had passed the halfway mark 50 minutes ahead of schedule.
My loved ones were here to support me and cheer me on. But it had to be short-lived. I filled my CamelBak, restocked snacks and pedalled away feeling full. But the adventure was just beginning as I delved into the second half of the course around the mountain streams of Warburton and into the unknown.
While my body felt strong through the effort, the mind games were something else. The passing of each hour after Warburton saw my mental state on a progressive decline from loving every bit, to begging for it to get easier.
I found myself swearing. Mouthing off at every never-ending climb that faced me.
After about 180km, the hills were not only steep but muddy too. The surface zapped any power I had to put through the pedals. It was maddening, and in my increased state of delirium, those hills well and truly knew what I thought of them.
Just me and the wild dogs
From Warburton, between 140km and about 230km, approximately five hours in, I didn’t see a single human, only sighting a wild dog.
Unbeknownst to me, Phillip and Craig, who had stopped for lunch, were having quite the time trying to catch up on the motorbike, as the roads got more remote and muddy.
I noticed their absence and wondered where they had gone. The terrain was too treacherous for the moto to continue, and they pulled the pin and headed towards the finish line, the long way via sealed roads.
The rest of the crew who were in a car had a similar situation and had to detour two-and-a-half hours due to poor road conditions after being on their own adventure checking out the Ada Tree — the largest flowering tree in the world at 76m tall and some 300 years of age.
At the 200km mark, it was 4:30 pm, and I was in the most remote section of the route. I’d averaged a measly 20kph over the previous 10 hours. This was far slower than I’d hoped.
I had to keep the pressure on the pedals while reminding myself to make smart decisions and play it safe on the descents. If something happened in this section, help was a long way off.
Math and mind games | How fast did I need to ride?
In the lead up to this attempt, I’d worked out different average speed and time projections based on Mitch’s attempt and put them into a note on my phone.
My goal pre-FKT was a 23kph average with an estimated moving time of 11 hours 45 minutes. After 200km, that goal was no longer in reach, and I was concerned about how long I was about to spend riding in the dark — the one thing I didn’t want to do.
In my mind, from the 240km mark, I was finished with the final 30km being one big descent off the Baw Baw Mountain range into the small town of Erica.
The sun had long set, but on that final 30km I averaged 35kph — thankfully, I’d opted for the 1300 lumen Knog blinder, and not any of the smaller, lighter versions. The extra grams were well worth it because I could see.
Coming around the corner onto Henty Street in Erica at 7 pm, I pressed stop on my Wahoo. With an average speed of 21.8kph, I had 12 hours 29 minutes 51 seconds of moving time and an elapsed time of 13 hours 1 minutes 59 seconds, taking the record by 1 hour 23 minutes and 1 second.
After all the effort and preparation to have the FKT is fantastic, but it was never the sole focus of the ride. The main feeling I had was relief to be done, and the excitement to see the support crew who helped support this crazy ride. I couldn’t wait to hear everyone else’s stories and share what was a long day in this beautiful country.
The adventure wasn’t over yet
That elation was short-lived, as our adventure for the day was not quite over. Soon we’d have our phones out dialling 000 and calling for help.
But not for me.
My soon-to-be father-in-law, Craig, ruptured his quad tendon dismounting his motorcycle — it seems this long day hadn’t just taken its toll on me.
He’s now recovering from surgery. Thankfully, he says he does not regret the sense of adventure the day provided, and I believe I am still welcome in the family…
What you get out of an adventure of this nature will always exceed your expectations. Testing my mental and physical limits is a privilege, and 13 hours of riding felt like a week’s worth of memories.
It’s a weird feeling to return to work and life after completing such a feat.
I felt refreshed, like I’d just come home from a two-week holiday.
Except instead of sitting on a banana lounge, drinking a cocktail with an umbrella in it, I sat on a tiny titanium railed bike saddle for 13 hours, turning the pedals as hard as I could
Like all great adventures and stepping out of your comfort zone, it helps you appreciate the little things in life. Or maybe that’s what 13 hours on a bike in your own head will do.
What it took | The stats
For the bike nerds out there, here are the key stats from the Great Forest National Park FKT effort.
Stats:
- Training Stress Score | 435
- Distance | 272km
- Moving Time | 12hr 29mins 51sec
- Elapsed time | 13hrs 1min 59sec
- Average speed | 21.8kph
- Elevation Gain | 6,490m
- Normalised Power | 224w
- Average elevation | 700
- Max elevation | 1183
- Kilojoules burnt | 37,000
What I ate:
It takes a lot to fuel a 13-hour effort. Here’s everything I consumed through this ride.
- 25 scoops of Skratch Super High Carb Mix in bottles (375g of carbs)
- 4 x Skratch Bars (160 grams of carbs)
- 4 x Skratch Energy Crews (160g of carbs)
- 1 x Allens lollie bag (140g of carbs)
- 1 x bag of pikelets (80g of carbs)
- 2 x Snickers bars (50g of carbs)
- 1 x small Coke (25g of carbs)
- 1 x coffee can (9g of carbs)
- 4 x Uncle Tobys bars (72g of carbs)
- 2 x gels (50g of carbs)
- Ham and cheese sandwich (60g of carbs)
- Salt and vinegar chips (25g of carbs)
Total Carb intake | 1206g
Carbs per hour | 96.5g
The bike set-up
- Frame | BMC Kaius
- Groupset | Shimano GRX 2 x groupset 50/33T 11/34T
- Wheels | Shimano RX-880 Wheelset 25mm internals
- Tyres | Pirelli RC-X 700x40mm
- Luggage | Orucase top tube bag, handlebar bag and saddle bag
- Hydration |Camelbak bottles and Chase Vest
- Lights | Knog Blinder 1300 front light, Blinder R-150 rear
- Cockpit | Pro Discover Carbon Bars 400mm
Photos: Phillip Sage / @phillipsage
Editor’s note:
We recognise that the term Great Forest National Park refers to a proposed park, not an officially designated area, and that there is ongoing debate around its potential creation. For this article, we’ve used the name as it’s commonly adopted by local riders, groups and events connected to the region — it’s also the name of the FKT route. We acknowledge the broader discussion, including recent opposition raised through a parliamentary petition, and appreciate the importance of all perspectives on this topic.
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