Get Lost.

An essay by Luke McKew for OBSESSION.

By Black Sheep Cycling

March 2^nd, 2021

The road is how we found this sport. But it’s the single trails where we head for incomparable fresh air, a new perspective. And good times.

We found ourselves smiling around a table over a pizza and beer reminiscing on the 160km we’d just travelled from a small country town to a trendy inner-city microbrewery. Layered in an even coat of dust and sweat from head to toe, we wondered whether the other patrons thought we’d just returned from the surface of the moon. We knew better. We’d just wrung every last bit of fun out of an epic 48hrs. And wanted more.

A few weeks earlier, mates and I hatched what seemed a rash and outlandish plan to get away from the city and go well beyond our regular loops. Country air, no traffic and, of course, the new cycling ‘IT’ word: gravel. Some of us were motivated to test out new bikes, others just the idea of getting out of town.

We started acting like a bunch of teenage school kids planning a weekend party at an unsupervised friend’s house. ‘What are you bringing?’ ‘What are you wearing?” Pub attire being the most pressing question! Did it matter? Not one bit. The purpose was to go wild – literally, rather than figuratively. To look forward to something new, to escape the rat race for a weekend and indulge in some country hospitality. We wanted to break the cycle and challenge ourselves, albeit for a weekend.

As it turns out, shorts and thongs are completely acceptable for a country pub dinner.

For me, investing in a gravel bike was somewhat impulsive. I’ve always loved getting off the grid, I love the challenge of doing so unsupported. I just hadn’t done it by bike before. I was keen to use the power of my own two legs and the reassurance of mates to explore some roads less travelled.

With the impact of COVID making it a little difficult to access specific supplies let alone gravel bikes, we simply had to go with what we had. Borrowing handlebar bags from friends or swapping typres to ‘convert’ our road bikes. Life is often about compromises and nothing was going to get in the way of this weekend jaunt.

We were keen to bypass the weekend traffic and get closer to the gravel, so we took a train out of the city. The four of us sat silently in the almost empty carriage staring at our bikes and wondering if this was still a good idea. Did we have everything we needed? We quickly came to the conclusion that between us we absolutely did and most importantly, had enough heads to figure it out. We each came into the weekend with a sense of unease, be it equipment, emotion, injury. Or just the unknown.

"There was plenty of time, no reason to rush and very little phone reception. We were as off the grid as one gets these days."

What we planned to tackle was by no means a walk in the park but nothing unachievable. Rest assured, stuffed into every conceivable hole on our bikes or person we had enough maltodextrin to mobilise a small army.

Like all weekend warriors we disembarked the train, rode 300m and stumbled across a very inviting coffee shop. Not the start we’d planned, but exactly the wake up call we needed; we were not running to a clock, no meetings to attend or agenda to keep. There was plenty of time, no reason to rush and very little phone reception. We were as off the grid as one gets these days.

Multiple flats and broken parts couldn’t stop us. It was the banter between the thrills, spills, snake and bird attacks that powered us on. It’s at times like these when you are taken out of your comfort zone that you form a bond with those around you.

The wide open space gives you nothing to hide behind and it would seem the extra oxygen has a knack of making the words just fall out as the noise of the daily grind fades away. We solved many of the world’s problems that weekend, but most importantly gave each other a chance to share thoughts and opinions without restriction. There’s a lot to be said for meaningful conversations with good people.

We set off on our final leg back to the city we call home. Chests pumped, proud as punch, as if we’d just crossed the entire country east to west. The sense of achievement was immense and endorphins delivered in spades. After all, we’d just been on an epic bike ride. With mates. And it's those adventures that send us back out for more.