Heat, Gravel, and Grit | Conquering Mt Canobolas at goodnessgravel Orange

Six. That’s how many goodnessgravel events I’ve done, and yet every single one still gets me excited. There’s something about these events that keeps pulling me in. Maybe it’s the flawless organisation, maybe it’s the challenge of unfamiliar terrain, or maybe it’s just their simple mantra of getting people out of the city and riding in new places.

This time, the adventure led me from my home south of Sydney to Orange, NSW, where deep forest trails, big scenery and the rolling countryside all revolved around one inescapable feature, Mount Canobolas. On paper, it’s just another climb. With the weather forecast to be in the 30s, in reality, it was a furnace waiting to test riders’ mettle. There are two-course options, 60km and 125km, both featuring the climb. I opted for the full 125km, knowing that my fitness would carry me through as long as I paced myself and made the most of the aid stations.

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A Fast Start, A Costly Mistake

The roll-out from Lake Canobolas was prompt. I started strong but quickly found myself dropped from the lead group. No need to panic though, the wonderful thing goodnessgravel is that you naturally find riders of a similar level — it’s not a race after all — and this time was no different. I settled in the slightly above-average but not elite group with Paul, Dean, and Simon. Within minutes, it felt like we’d been riding together for years.

Simon and I had run into each other at several previous goodnessgravel events. As we settled into a rhythm, I joked, “I think you’re getting fitter”, as in previous events, I had passed him on the course. The man behind goodnessgravel, Will Levy, had told me 50% of the riders had done a goodnessgravel event before. I mentioned this to Simon, who quickly replied, “I can see why.”

Picturesque, sheltered and lush, flying through the towering pine forest distracted me from the rolling ascents and uncomfortable pace. The descents were particularly lively, with exposed rocks keeping everyone’s attention sharp. I wished I’d opted for wider tyres.

At every other goodnessgravel event, I always stopped at the aid stations as they are a buffet of delights to enjoy in the moment and grab and go stash for the road. But today, we were locked in, cohesively rotating turns. We flew past the 32km aid station like it wasn’t even there. It felt too early in the ride for a break, so everyone skipped it. That decision would come back to bite me.

Throw me a lifeline

The quick pace through the forest had taken more out of me than I’d realised. By 50km, I was running on fumes. I had only packed four gels, each making less of a dent than the last. My emergency stash of gummy snakes was buried in my hydration pack, useless mid-ride. As a Type 1 diabetic, this wasn’t just a performance issue, it was a potential danger.

Then, like an oasis in the desert, we spotted a tiny setup at 60km — a ute with lollies, drink mix, and ice blocks. I started shoving lollies down like my life depended on it.

That’s where we met a local farmer, also with the name Will. He was out here offering support for anyone in need. His wife had passed away a year ago, and he said she would’ve wanted him to support the riders, so here he was. He wasn’t just handing out food, he was keeping spirits alive. A LEGEND in every sense.

A crosswind into no man’s land

Recharged, I rolled into the next aid station at 68km, which I’d ultimately have to visit twice, having left something behind. By the time I doubled back to grab it, my group had disappeared up the road.

Now, I was alone, pedalling into a brutal crosswind that dried the sweat on my skin as fast as it oozed out of me. The heat had crept up, the shaded forests were no more, and ahead lay long, lonely stretches of gravel roads. No shelter, no reprieve.

Looming in the distance, but lumbering ever closer like a cruel joke, was the upcoming Mount Canobolas climb and the radio towers on the summit. It seemed too far away to be where we were headed, but alas that was the target in which we were flying towards.

The Beast Awakens | Climbing Mount Canobolas

The first part of the climb was on asphalt, but that brought about its own challenge. The black road radiated heat like a stovetop, and sweat began dripping on my Garmin screen: 26km to go, 1200m of ascent left.

About 10km into the climb, I rolled into the third aid station. I had finished both bottles since the second aid station and felt utterly shattered. It was like an oasis among furnaces.

I met two other riders there, Scott and Rod, both equally broken. We bonded over mutual suffering while I tossed four salt tabs into each of my bottles, and then we parted ways. They took the shortcut home. I kept climbing.

The second half of the climb wound through a pine forest on gravel. The heat eased slightly under the forest cover, steep pinches replaced the waves of heat. Signs along the climb read “Will We Walk?” a gentle razzing from Levy that elicits a chuckle in the moment but also a fitting question for some of the steeper pitches.

I saw Paul ahead of me with an answer to the question the course was asking. Plagued by cramps, he was forced to walk up the steeper sections as his legs would lock up if he tried to pedal. I was proud of myself for staying on the bike, though my pace was such that it was a horse race between us.

When I finally spotted the radio towers after the final pinch, I knew I had broken the back of the climb and reached the summit. I grabbed a doughnut that was promised to us at the top and collapsed into a camping chair.

Nearby, medics stood ready, providing us with kudos for our precious egos and also checking us over physically. It was that kind of day with the heat.

Friendly faces, a helping hand and an exit plan

By this point, a number of riders had opted out of the full climb, either taking the shortcut back or being shuttled by the event organisers. Honestly, I didn’t blame them. The heat was brutal, and the climb was relentless.

But what really stood out was the support. The aid stations were dialled in, the volunteers were so friendly, and the organisers ensured everyone had an exit plan. The challenge was real, but so was the safety net.

Interestingly, Levy mentioned that the last three riders of the day chose to keep climbing after the third aid station instead of taking the shortcut or a shuttle. That’s no small mental feat.

Hats off to everyone who completed the 60km and 125km loops.

What Goes Up Must Come Down

The final reward was a 10km downhill. Fuelled entirely by gravity, the suffering of the past few hours faded with every meter of lost elevation. My body was fried, my mind exhausted, but the satisfaction of crossing the finish, having emptied the tank, made every meter of climbing in the heat worth it.

A complimentary sausage sandwich and a cold drink had never tasted so gourmet as we sat there, swapping stories with other riders. My salt-streaked jersey and bibs were so crusted in white they looked like tie-dye. It was a difficult day, no doubt, but the scenery, the adventure, the people, and the support made it nothing short of a fantastic day out.

Would I come back for another goodnessgravel event in Orange, Glen Innes, Bulahdelah and/or Parkes? Without question!

Photos: Outer Image Collective