King of the gravel
‘We are going.’ It wasn’t a question.
I wasn’t home yet. Hell, I hadn’t even made it to the car. Somehow, through reception so patchy you’d think it was a regular day in the Melbourne CBD, my partner managed to squeeze a reply back to my sneak-peek mid-Big Ride Instagram story. I’ve been on some great trips around all parts of the world for these features over the years. This is the first time I have had a demand for a return laid out so explicitly.
If that is not the biggest affirmation you need to add the following adventure to your bucket list, well, I’m not sure what is.
So, from this point on, intrepid reader, I’m going to assume you’re convinced this is ‘must-do’ gravel. Snaffle a few extra copies of the mag if you’re reading this in the newsagent and start making plans with your riding buddies for what is a truly magical corner of Victoria.
The Button Man
Did I say ‘magical’? There does come a small caveat with this trip – of the dark magic variety. Part of what follows is in jest. Part of it is something of a public service announcement. And part of it just ticks that ‘Straya’ box where the rest of the world lives under the impression our bush just wants to kill you.
Aussies trying to scare each other with tales of
