Boundary Trail Ball Breaker

The idea was simple, take the new mountain bike out and test it on some trails. We were staying in Adaminaby in the Snowy Mountains, which is renown for it's mountain bike trails in the non snow seasons. The problem was, most of those well known trails were in the Kosciuszko region. That meant packing the bike up and transporting it for over an hour's drive from where were staying. That was not simple.

The day before the ride I headed out on the bike to ride the fourteen kilometres along the Snowy Mountain Hwy to check where the trail head began, and that was the easy bit.

Now, getting back to "simple". The plan was to ride an approximate thirty-four kilometre route, up the Boundary Trail, join onto Brayshaw's Trail and visit the iconic Brayshaw's Hut. From there I was jumping onto the Gravel Hut Trail then check out the Gravel Hut, then back down onto the Boundary Trail back to the car.

The trip was worked out on Google maps well in advance, hence thirty-four kilometres, with a modest four hundred and fifty metres of climbing. Yeah good one Google maps, you got me good.

The bike was loaded, coffee made and I headed out for an adventure in an area that I had never been before, the Kosciuszko National Park. The land of the Man From Snowy River territory.
Once I got to the trail head the bike was quickly unloaded and I set off with great anticipation.

Once leaving the car there is a brief down hill moment as you go through the gates and onto the trail, then you just stare upwards. The first climb I encountered was around seventeen percent. Not overly horribly (yeah right), but with cold legs, an overweight body and lack of fitness, it made the heart race.

OK, now I was at the top of this one, only about six hundred meters long. A brief down hill run, then onto the next climb, another seventeen plus percenter. This time around one thousand meters long. Eventually at the top of this one and now there was a great down hill run. This gave me a good chance to check out how the Cube would go on rough surfaces, which it did with ease. The shocks worked well, even though I didn't have enough air in them. This was an issue I rectified as soon as possible.

The general surface of the trail was rough, to extremely rough at times. Loose gravel with large rocks, ruts and some wonderful little creek crossings were the norm. What else appeared to be normal? The constant up down, up down, up down. As I progressed up the trail, with every down hill run, a longer and steeper incline waited for me.

The trip was meant to take around three and a bit hours. After many stops, rests and uphill walks, my three hours was nearly up...AND...I had only covered about seven or eight kilometres. I thought mountain biking was riding you bike in the mountains. Not hiking in the mountains whilst pushing a bike...lol.

I continued onward and what appeared to be never endingly upwards, and upwards and, yet again upwards. Are you starting to see a pattern here? My aching body was...

I reached my first turnoff in the trail. This was a bend where I kept following the Boundary Trail and it would join up to Brayshaw's Trail not far ahead. Now, the tree line appeared to be levelling out. So I pressed on and able to ride up some smaller ten percenters. But alas, this didn't last long, the hills turned into mountains once again, and I was off the bike pushing it.

I had now done eleven kilometres, I was low on water and not far from the Brayshaw"s turnoff. It appeared to flatten out again so I thought I'd go a little further. Then from out of nowhere this incline before me just made me gasp. I had to make a decision.

My decision was to turn around. I was in the middle of a very remote area with no phone service and little water. I didn't know what lay ahead. I didn't know how the trails would be, I didn't know if there was water around up there. It was here I chose wisdom. I knew there creeks behind with crystal clear water. I knew what I had done, and what I had to, yes, walk up...again. The devil you know so to speak...

I turned around, my food supply of peanut butter sandwiches, apples and bananas were all but gone. I was down to my last mouthful of water and the last creek I had crossed appeared as I rambled down a loosely covered hill. Ah, the water was so cold, it was like drinking it from a well chilled fridge. After I had a large drink, I filled my water bottles up and continued downwards, or was it upwards...I'd lost track. It didn't matter which way you went, you climbed.

I was now well into the afternoon when I stopped to take a photo. I had a ping on my phone as a message came through. I had phone service. I had told my wife I should be back at the cottage by 1:30 pm, so I took this time to ring and let her know my grief and that all was OK...well and truly knackered, but OK.
It was here I felt myself starting to bonk. As I hadn't been on the bike much in the past year, I had completely forgotten about this. I sat down in the shade of a small bushy tree, swatted horse/march flies and ate my last apple, and sipped slowly on what water I left. I knew I had another creek to cross, and by memory it wasn't too far into the distance.

So, next creek crossing after a much needed rest, I refilled the bottles again and continued up or down the mountain, I had completely lost track. I did, however, notice on the Garmin that the altitude was decreasing, or was that just because I was in a gully? Who knows...

FINALLY...I approached a familiar sign, I knew the car was just over the next hill, which turned out to be three more hills...but whose counting right? Not to be disheartened I pressed on, or should I say pushed on, and yes there it was, the old Pajero waiting for me in the sunshine.

It had reached well over thirty degrees on the trail and the car was rather warm inside, so  much so the remainder of my morning's coffee was still warm...sustenance...lol. I let the car idle as I mounted the bike onto the rack to cool it down inside, to cool me down immediately when I hopped inside. Mounting the bike was not easy, as every time I stopped the pesky flies kept landing and biting. My legs were burning more from the fly bites than the ride by the end of the day. It was great when you were moving, but once stopped you could hear them swarm in to take their pound of flesh.

It was a great ride though. The scenery was magnificent, although I would have liked to reach the top and check things out along the plateau. But I learned some valuable lessons that day...
1...how unfit and overweight I had become
2...that I have a habit of biting off more than I can chew
3...don't ever trust Google Maps. The total ride was just over twenty two kilometers, with one thousand meters of climbing. Instead of three hours, the ride took all day.

It was this very ride that imprinted something in my brain. How fit I was a little over twelve months ago compared to now. Yes, the knee prevented me from exercising, but it was my decision to sit and stuff my face with over sized meals and copious amounts of beer. It was here I changed, it was on this ride I knew what I had to do.

Would I do this ride again? Hell yes, in a heart beat. Will I again bite off more more than I can chew? Well a leopard can't change all it's spots.

Cheers guys, and as always, ride safe out there...