My Top Ten rides of 2013

This year I cycled over 8,200 kilometres, mostly on a circuit around my beloved Blue Mountains. However, I�m extremely fortunate to have an occupation that requires regular travel. On these trips, I always take my bicycle, or hire one when I reach my destination. Here�s a Top Ten of my favourite bicycle trips for 2013. It�s divided between flat rides along beguiling paths and roads and invigorating climbs in the mountains. 

Number 10 - The Brisbane River loop

A gentle thirty-four kilometre meander on both sides of the muddy Brisbane River which includes a breezy cycle on dedicated bike paths beside the river and quiet roads through some of the leafy and wealthy suburbs of my home town. It�s a pedal down memory lane for me, although when I was ten years old, there were no cycle paths and thankfully, fewer aggressive motorists. Any city that has three dedicated cycle/pedestrian bridges earns my vote as the bike capital of Australia. It looks as though Queensland will also be the first State to legislate for one-metre safe passing distance for motorists. A city where cycling and commuting don�t have to be mutually exclusive.

Number 9 - Ispica to Noto and return, Sicily.

On the southern tip of Sicily, overlooking the Malta Channel, this ride starts among olive groves and gentle hills before following a quiet coastal road with a restaurant every five kilometres. Unfortunately, most are closed during the day as this part of Italy slumbers in the midday haze. If you keep to the backroads, it�s likely you�ll see more wandering dogs than cars. Noto is listed as a World Heritage Site - an ancient village of honeycomb coloured buildings, cobblestone streets and justly famous for having more churches per square kilometre than anywhere in Italy. A staggering collection of 18th century Baroque buildings cluster on the hillside and there�s enough gelato shops and restaurants to offer fuel before you return on the same route. A ninety kilometre circuit, with more details here.

Number 8 - Mount Hotham

My first climb of the top ten is in the Victorian Alps, a thirty-one kilometre grind to the summit of Mount Hotham. It�s a ride of three parts, with the section from Harrietville steep and forested for ten kilometres before a middle section where you barely raise a sweat on a false flat. The final ten kilometres is characterised by a windblown stunted-tree moonscape with some really steep gradients. Of all the Australian Alps, Mt Hotham reminds me of the French Pyrenees climbs - harsh, unforgiving and offering a continually changing gradient. There�s a few descents near the summit, followed by even more brutal climbs. I was crazy enough to do it on a forty-degree day. The perfect weight-loss program. More details here.

Number 7 - Col d�Aspin

If I was forced to ride one road every day for the rest of my life, it would be this mountain climb in the French Pyrenees. Perhaps the relatively �minor� altitude of 1,489 metres sees it, literally and metaphorically, dwarfed against its giant neighbours, Col du Tourmalet and Col de Peyresourde, but any mountain that has featured sixty-six times in the Tour de France deserves respect. The secret of Aspin is the view you get while climbing, from the snow-capped mountains on the Spanish border in the south to the fearsome Tourmalet and neighbours to the north, this climb is a sight-seeing wonderland. A herd of cows live on the summit and casually wander over to greet puffing cyclists. We enjoy the view together. More details here.

Number Six - Canungra to O�Reilly Guesthouse, Queensland.

When I was a child, I read a book called �Green Mountains� by Bernard O�Reilly, which detailed his search and rescue of the survivors of the Stinson plane crash in the rugged rainforest of the MacPherson ranges. He was my Mark Twain. And it only took me forty-odd years before I made the pilgrimage to my Mississippi - a thirty-five kilometre climb from the village of Canungra up to the guesthouse where Mr O�Reilly began his search in 1937. It�s a lovely gentle climb with long vistas of mountain ranges south and west; an easy section beside lush green cow pastures before a awe-inspiring ascent through rainforest with a dense canopy of towering trees and creeping vines. On the descent, I rounded a bend at forty-kilometres-per-hour to be met by a large kangaroo. We missed each other by centimetres. I rode the last few kilometres very slowly. More details here.

Number 5 - a cycle through the Minervois region, South-western France

If in doubt on where to cycle, ask a local. Hilary, the owner of a lovely B&B in Bize-Minervois, directed us along a back road to the ancient town of Minerve. The road wound through vineyards alongside the La Cesse River. The only car we saw in the first thirty minutes was a farmer�s Renault van. He stopped ahead of us to check his vines and waved as we rode past. Minerve is located on an island in a canyon on the river, given suitable billing as Les Plus Beaux Villages de France. Despite this, it�s not overrun with tourists or tacky souvenir shops. The site of a massacre of Cathars in 1210, the town has banned vehicles (except those of residents) from its cobblestone streets and is a worthy shrine to the Cathar memory. 

Number 4 - a ride through the Tuscan hills

Okay, wanker alert. I apologise. Everyone raves about Tuscany - the vineyards, olive groves and pencil pines. But the hills deter many cyclists. This is cycling as an excuse to eat. Starting in Radda in Chianti, it�s downhill all the way for a few kilometres before a quiet ride through the valley floor and then a long slow climb up to Panzano where Dario the Butcher has a world-famous restaurant serving more meat than any cyclist can refuse. Perfect for lunch. Afterwards, we follow a dirt backroad over the hills to Volpaia, perhaps my favourite village in the world, with my favourite restaurant, La Bottega - a Tuscan cliche of outdoor tables under cool leaves, with expansive views. From slow-cooked wild boar to rabbit stew with olives, no main course exceeds $14 A. I kid you not. From there, it�s a fast downhill and a steep climb back up to Radda on the adjacent ridge. 

Number 3 - Col d�Aubisque

I hadn�t read much about d�Aubisque before attempting the climb. It was very tough for the first two kilometres and then levelled off along the lovely Val d�Azun. Easy, I thought. And then the climbing started. The Col du Soulor was a steady 8% all the way to the summit. From there, the road descends a few kilometres before ramping up along the famed Cirque de Litor, perhaps one of the most filmed sections of the Tour de France - an asphalt balcony with towering craggy peaks above and a sheer drop to the valley below. The gradient is relatively easy, and once I reached the summit of d�Aubisque, I had a coffee to celebrate, content in the knowledge that I�d be descending along the same route. Next to Col de la Croix der Fer and Passo Dello Stelvio, the most awe-inspiring mountain I�ve ever been fortunate enough to ride. More details here.

Number 2 - Deggendorf to Passau, Germany

After a brutal climb, what better alternative is there than a gentle waltz down the Danube River. My wife, Cathie and I had been cycling along the Donauweg path for five days, mostly in the rain with temperatures barely topping fifteen degrees. Deggendorf offered us the first sunshine of our trip and the hotel filled us with a typically robust German breakfast. In fact, one of the highlights of any German cycling trip is the opportunity to fuel up on pastries from the local backarei. The entire fifty-eight kilometres is spent cycling along lovely river paths with cruise boats gliding past and small restaurants offering fish soup, crusty bread and pints of lager. At one point, we board a punt, exclusively for the use of cyclists, to cross from the south bank to the north. Such a civilised way of cycling. Passau is a university town at the confluence of three rivers, the perfect destination.

Number 1 - Passo dello Stelvio

I arrived at Bormio, the starting point for the climb at lunchtime. All the bicycle shops were closed for the long Italian lunch. So, instead of hiring a suitable road bike, I scaled Stelvio on my trusty, though very creaky hybrid bike. La Gazzeta dello Sport has called Stelvio �the sacred mountain of the Giro d�Italia�. Two weeks before my ascent, the Giro had been forced to cancel the climb because the route was snowbound. When I cimbed, the Bormio side was the only road open. It�s a climb of three sections. The first is a grind through tunnels and along a narrow road with a steady 7-8% gradient. Once clear of this section, I look up and see what can only be described as a serpent of asphalt scrawled into the side of a mountain. This second section is tough and visually stunning. Once I�ve climbed the serpent, I look back and see the weird optical illusion of a road seemingly clinging to the side of a mountain. 

The last section is through snowdrifts two metres high on either side of the road. Three kilometres from the summit, a skier plunges past me, a few metres away. I reach the summit and look down the other side, the serpent is clothed in snow, one lonely snow-plough attempting the impossible. I descend the same route at seven in the evening. It�s a magical ride. More details here.

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