Tour de West Head
Simon Dean takes us on a tour of some premier riding spots around Sydney’s northern beaches and Kuringai National Park.
Simon Dean takes us on a tour of some premier riding spots around Sydney’s northern beaches and Kuringai National Park with his devoted group of riding mates, collectively known as ‘The Cluster’.
If you’re looking for a ride with ‘the lot’: cheese, onions, sauce and mustard on top, then head to Sydney’s northern beaches and enter Kuringai National Park. It can take a while to devour but the punishing ascents and slick open stretches punctuated by awesome water views will leave you hungry for more.
You’ve got to have good incentive to crawl out of the cot at 5.30am on Saturdays and go for a bike ride. And while hotdogs are not on the menu, the habitual post-ride feast takes pride of place and is the real reason we turn up each week.
The world’s best bacon and egg rolls are washed down with tall mugs full of piping hot latte. It’s a banquet repeated in roadside cafes all over Australia as sweaty cyclists chew the fat, review plans for the weekend and talk groupsets with their mates.
Before enjoying the aroma, we have a headland to conquer; a testing two-and-half hour ride that dodges traffic, skirts the shore of Pittwater, climbs hills, crosses creeks and follows ridge lines through Kuringai National Park and out to West Head and back. This is no leisurely ‘look at me’ lap around Centennial Park…more like a Saturday slog-fest with the ‘Cluster’; a chain gang who are as serious about their cycling as they are about their bacon and eggs.
We’re not a big bunch. Up to 10 riders front up at a beachside car park at sparrow fart each week. Most have ridden together on and off for 20 years while other blow-ins like me are more recent additions and have remained due to the camaraderie within the Peloton.
No ‘Go Fast’ Parts Allowed
After the obligatory verbal jousting and a cursory glance to check that no tredley is sporting any new gadget that might give a rider the edge, we set off from BK’s café in Narrabeen and travel along pulsating Pittwater road for a few kilometres before branching off at Mona Vale and continuing the snaking route through Bayview.
The road is relatively flat—a good opportunity to settle in the saddle, find rhythm and prepare for the hill climbs ahead. Tracing the shoreline we zip along smooth bitumen and soak up the scenery. Million-dollar marinas and sandy coves are left in our wake, as are crazy cockatoos which take flight at the sight of our approaching road train. A sweeping bend at Church Point (the launching pad for Scotland Island), brings a pause to morning banter as the road begins to rise.
From here the course dips and weaves its way between waterfront homes and heavily wooded pockets of palm rainforest. At low points on the road, cool blasts of air remind us of chilly winter riding but the temperature soon rises with the gradient.
Chain rings ping in unison as we change down through the gears and begin the measured ascent away from Pittwater. With each rider out of the saddle, breathing begins to labour and thoughts of Friday night’s bevies weigh heavily on one’s mind as the pack races to the top.
On Saturday mornings the apex of McCarrs Creek Road is a ganglion of arms and alloy; at the top entrance to the park, large numbers of cyclists converge from all directions to regather and refuel before heading off. From this point, there are cycling options south to rejoin Mona Vale Road, east and back towards Pittwater, or north into the park and down to Akuna Bay.
There’s little time to recover; only an opportunity for a swig of water and a chomp from a highly prized banana. We head northwards into Kuringai National Park, knock over a few undulating kilometres before free-wheeling down to Akuna Bay.
It’s a tricky decent with some well disguised, brutal bumps in the road. Soft bends are punctuated by more aggressive turns and a sharp switchback near the end keeps riders honest. At the turnoff to Cottage Point, water views return. Wide vistas of Coal and Candle Creek—a haven for boaties and fishermen—beckon as multiple chain gangs whiz back to sea level.
Traffic Free Goodness
With two solid hill climbs behind us, our lycra-clad juggernaut rolls on. Leaving Akuna Bay behind we veer left and enjoy a ridgeline run out to West Head. The lack of traffic in Kuringai National Park at sunrise is one of this ride’s great attractions. Apart from the odd Harley Davidson clearing its throat or bushwalkers making for a way point, vehicles are rare on this road.
Gas guzzlers are replaced by warbling birdsong bursting forth in stereo. This, coupled with increasing glimpses of Brooklyn and the legendary Hawkesbury River, result in one spectacular symphony for the senses.
Dodging pot holes and road kill, we crank up the speed on flat stretches and jostle for position. Short sprints are mapped out at intervals between ‘wallaby hill’ ‘the creek crossing’ and ‘sign post’. With nothing but a spoke separating the best from the rest we wait for someone to pull off a McEwen-esque move before sharing the glory of victory and offering endless excuses for coming second.
As if aware of the route’s energy-zapping qualities, nature saves its best till last with a killer 200 metre climb at what feels like 13 per cent close to the turnaround point at West Head…just what lactic happy quads crave! But the pain is worth it once you reach the top. Scrub turkeys scatter and the speedos hit the red zone on the short downhill run to the Lookout.
This stretch of bitumen has left its mark on many a rider; this year, a wayward wallaby jumped from a ridge beside the road and skittled a cyclist like a ten pin. With shorn skin and multiple fractures he was air lifted to hospital and thankfully made a full recovery. Such painful visions vanish with more stunning scenery.
Through the trees Lion Island guards the entrance to Pittwater and Palm Beach is dead ahead. It’s well worth stopping to soak up the scenery. But for us, there’s no time to enjoy the natural wonders; a tight loop turn takes us straight back up the hill and puts the focus firmly back on the bitumen.
With thigh muscles screaming and sweat sizzling into salt we begin to retrace the path to Narrabeen. Back on the flat and with little energy left in the tank, it’s the whiff of bacon in the air at Church Point that pushes us on to the finish. The pace quickens on the home run as we bolt back to the car park.
So what is the reward at the end of our ride? What will it take to bring us back next week? Not a yellow, green or polka dot jersey, just a golden yolk sitting atop a slab of crispy bacon wrapped in a toasted, fresh white roll. Now if that’s not a protein-induced incentive to hit top gear every Saturday, then I’m Floyd Landis.
What’s in a Name?
If you find it tough to choose between aluminium and carbon, Campag and Dura Ace, try deciding on a name for your cycling group and you’ll be sure to contract a severe case of pelotonitis.
Naming your chain gang should be as simple as falling off a bike but scratch below the lycra and the psychology behind deciding on a title will send you into a spin. Most of us wear the same kit, follow the set bike route and enjoy the obligatory post-ride caffeine shot. So why can’t we agree on slapping a name on a shirt? Off the bike, riders are an eclectic bunch, and therein lies the problem.
Our motley crew includes a shipwright, teachers, a couple of number crunchers, advertising types, motivational men and scribes. And what do we have in common other than a penchant for two wheelers and a craving for caffeine? Absolutely nothing, especially when it comes to word games.
We used to mock the well-oiled machine that is the Turramurra Cycle group as they shot past us on Saturday morning. How unimaginative…be more creative! But there’s a lot to be said for calling yourself what you are.
Where did we begin? For us, topography seemed the logical place to find a bright idea that would hopefully evolve into the hub of a name. Sydney’s spectacular Northern Beaches, Akuna Bay, West Head and Kuringai National Park is our patch. Such scenic locations offer Le Tour with the lot—a veritable hot mix of KOM stages, sprint series, time trial terrain and ubiquitous road rage.
So who takes the lead in the battle for naming rights? The methodology can be likened to the way one rides. Those who refuse to head the Peloton are content to mock all suggested names. They remain tucked behind others in the pack and let the domestiques do the work. Others explode out of the saddle and shoot half wheel salvos into the mix before tearing off into the distance.
The longer you allow the naming process to run, the more ‘derailleured’ it becomes. Our shipwright went off course, teachers sent entries to the back of the class and the finance guys said none of the names added up. The advertising geeks were told to be more creative and the corporate trainer was left to restore some sort of harmony within the group. Our wheels were close to falling off.
But despite the vibrations coming from within our group, early entries came flooding in. Akuna Kahunas and Coasters were dismissed for being ‘too eighties’. Hillseekers, Breakaways and Big ringers were “naff”. And in an effort to up the ante, Top Cogs, Nutty Cluster, even Pedalfiles entered the velodrome, but they too were dismissed on technicalities. Akuna Climbers, Hoonas and Zoomas followed but none of them passed muster. And then, when all seemed lost, the finish line appeared through the morning mist. We settled on The Cluster, a tightly knit bunch of blokes who regardless of their background, just love to ride. In reality, we’re more like Missing Links!
Image: Nick Raman
View Top 10 List Tour De France Product Receive Newsletter Contact Us
