When Sydney cyclist Felix Oates recently found his action camera broken he took the opportunity to enjoy a video-free cycling adventure heading north with mates. He reflected on his motivations and ‘why’ he rides his bike. Felix describes himself as a “social impact professional and endurance athlete who writes and creates with deep introspection, curiosity and care.” We’re happy to have him join us a contributor at Bicycling Australia. Over to Felix….
My why
I don’t know how (and if) I want to continue sharing my sport. At 28, I’ve built an online audience, an aesthetically pleasing career trajectory, and I’ve ticked off some big athletic and broader life goals. In that very context, it’s pretty daunting to admit that you’re not feeling 100%, and that more of the above might never be enough. The antidote? An exploration into my ‘why’. What is the drive behind all the endurance feats, and what forms my definition of ‘success’? Am I motivated by others’ perceptions, and are my actions performative at all? Are my creativity and sport serving my inner happiness, or are they extrinsically driven by my ‘audience’ and validation? Would I be doing all of this if no one was watching? Is this coming from a place of ego or love?
The mission
I recently broke my beloved DJI Action 3 camera (upon which I built my YouTube channel), so for this adventure, I had the perfect opportunity to reckon with some of the above questions. I wanted to create a space with no pressure to capture everything, where I could focus on fun and presence, and maybe write about it. Reading and writing create space for me to think, hear, and see. Maybe sport can not only expand that space, but truly become intertwined with (and inspire) my creative output. So, the key goals of the mission? Mental enrichment, presence, and fostering new ways of being.
Recruitment
For this trip, I’d enlist two great mates, Matt and Byron. Whatever this trip was to be, they were up for it. So I packed my road bike up with a Topeak saddle bag, Apidura frame bag, dozens of PURE Sports Nutrition Gels, trusty Clif Bars, and we set out north over the bridge before Sydney’s arterial roads erupted. Biz and Matt are very strong riders, so with 150km ahead, my strategy was this: sit in and load up on coffee! The first of which was served by the most characterful and lovely Italian chap in Hornsby. The following day, he’d absolutely crack me up by describing himself as a ‘passionate fat b*stard’, while speaking of his feelings toward his homemade Sfogliatelle.
Sydney behind us
We cruised over Mount Kuring-gai with Sydney’s madness behind us. The best descent in Sydney – Brooklyn – and its preceding bridge at the bottom prompted the following thought: we are in for an absolute ripper. Kuring-gai land holds the fondest memories for me as a cyclist and a frequent visitor to places my family once called home. This stretch from Brooklyn and up Mount White offers idyllic riding along an old, almost abandoned road, thanks to upgraded motorways (the only traffic light on this road is permanently switched off). This segment prompted animated discussions and grins from ear to ear. This was all very special.
The best of Sydney cycling
Onto Peats Ridge Road (an old disused motorway) toward Darkinung land, and we punched out some efficient kilometres before turning off onto some of the best riding a Sydneysider could ever hope for, on the winding river road to Wisemans Ferry, on Dharug land. Once riverside, we became engulfed by tall ridges and sheer rock faces carved by the water. Commentary was keenly provided by creatures of the sky (Magpies, Kookaburras, Cicadas, and the Superb Lyrebird, the bird that sounds like a laser beam). Again, we just smiled.
An utter privilege
Biz and Matt told me, as we boarded the Ferry (to cross the Hawkesbury, arriving at Wisemans Ferry), that 200 watts for the 150km was solid, and I was relieved to hear them admit to having worked hard! At more than one moment on the road, I reflected on what an utter privilege it was to share some of the best kilometres of my life with great athletes and mates whom I love and admire. Without a camera strapped to my chest and the need to speak to an imaginary fourth person, I was completely free of any pressure or expectations, with more capacity for such reflections.
You get the sense this place has been bountiful for all that called it home, few more so than Solomon Wiseman himself. I wrote some of this piece from his former home, Cobham Hall, which is now known as today’s ‘Wisemans Inn’. A museum in the former hall paints the picture that Wiseman was a man of great talent and ability, with little to no moral compass. More on Wiseman to come!
Wisemans Inn
As we pulled into the Wisemans Inn, it was evident that we were folks of slightly different persuasions from the usual punters. Lycra-clad, colourful, and with fancy bikes, the locals had every right to sneer. Instead, an elderly chap with a pint in one hand extended the other hand toward me as if he were greeting a dear old friend. This felt like some kind of odd sign from the universe, as was the song ‘Lucky Man’ by the Verve, playing as I approached the bar.
People are more willing to engage in conversation up here. Whether it be holiday makers, tradies, old boys on tour or locals alike, punters gleefully enjoyed refreshments under the shade of old trees, at an establishment and village almost locked in time. Upon checking in, I asked the Manager if we could bring the bikes up to the room. She said no; ‘just stick ‘em round the back’.
‘In a room or…’, I hesitantly asked. Simply, she said, ‘Just find a spot, it’s safe round here.’
Parmi
I have a rule at such pubs that I must order the Parmi – I’m a rigid beast. Over that and copious Heaps Normals, we spoke to the lovely chap who greeted us. Many pints down, he’d interject with slurred jokes and resulting punchlines that didn’t make any sense, but we laughed with him, and his energy was kind and welcoming.
The rooms felt almost preserved in their 200-year-old state (yet very comfortable and clean), and you got the impression they were once occupied – semi-permanently – by people of status. The pub’s history was on show throughout its museum, with old pictures and stories on the walls. Wiseman was deported from the UK for his crimes, and in spite of assuming a dominant position in enterprise on the Hawkesbury (controlling the flow of goods up and down), he reverted to misconduct. Convicts of the time worked in chains to build a great road from Sydney to Newcastle, and I expect the same convicts may have built this very house (from what I could read).
There was little I could glean about the Aboriginal history of this once-remote place (maybe I missed it). A later online search, though, highlighted a lack of Settlers’ documentation of the First Peoples’ names for many locations on the Hawkesbury. Unfortunately, even the name ‘Kuring-Gai’ (an entire country spanning Northern Sydney) is contested as having been coined by settlers a hundred years after the arrival of the first fleet. It’s a heartbreaking reminder of how much was lost. Whether such historical accounts were keenly discussed here in Wisemans Ferry or not, the people were very kind to us, and it’s clear that they love their slice of heaven.
Day 2
Mosquitos (and the old boys on tour drilling round after round downstairs) allowed us at least 30 minutes of sleep before we aligned on the goals of day two:
- Retrieve not one, nor two, but all three bikes from the back, as they were left; never in doubt.
- Enjoy the remaining riding through bushland shires, north of Sydney.
- Check in with our lovely Italian mate in Hornsby.
- Hit the highway after Sydney’s morning explosion of activity, preferably around 9am.
- And, finally, write these words while it’s all still fresh in my mind.
We were successful in all of the above. Having previously taken on challenges such as Everesting and Sydney to Melbourne in three days (among other daft things), I was finally asking the searching questions around why I felt the need to take on such unhinged challenges. Why did the feat have to be so enormous? And must it be recorded and exhibited on YouTube – is that actually what was driving the challenge itself? For the record, and without wanting to put a bad name on creating YouTube videos, such videos from other creators actually inspired me to take on similar adventures and challenges in the past. And yes, here I am still sharing the experience through a different medium: writing.
But in leaving the camera at home this time, I created space to reaffirm my deep love for cycling and adventure, while truly rediscovering my ‘why’: it’s bloody enjoyable, and thoroughly enriching.
240 Kilometres of the very best! Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for the next one.
