If there is one thing in life you can be certain about, it’s the uncertainty’s it throws up. I’d set my major bikepacking goal for 2023 to be the Karnu Rally in South Australia taking in the magnificent Ikara-Flinders Ranges at the end of September. That wasn’t to be. A week before the start I contracted Covid from family returning from an oversea holiday.
I did the Tassie Gift in 2022 and loved it but hadn’t considered returning for another slice of ‘a scenic trip to Hell’. The Gift is not an event to be taken lightly. With around 34,000 vertical metres of climbing in the 1,800km route of which 66% is unpaved, combined with some sketchy descents and plenty of hike-a-bike, the route is only part of the picture. It’s remote, not well supplied and areas can feel a tad weird, but hey, that’s Tassie. Emma Flukes, the course designer is a legend in these parts and always heads out at the start of November and either wins or nearly dies in the attempt. ‘Nic you sly dog’ was her comment on seeing my name pop up a week out from the start.
Of the 30 starters only half would be expected to finish. I love the start of these events. After rolling out, all the pre-race anxiety subsides and all that is left to do is pedal. Last year, I’d taken a jetboil stove and three days worth of food. I was determined to just finish and basically be comfortable in any weather. Not sure after three days of solid rain I was still comfortable. But finishing 5th in 11 days was beyond my expectations. This time around, I decided to streamline my packing, with the help of my Wagtail Frame bag, Top Tube and Feed bags. I had all the essentials but took a bit less food and no stove. This made my limited technical skills somewhat less restrictive on the downhills.
Day one went as expected, though somewhat wetter than predicted. 180 km with 4,600VM put me at the same spot as last year. The seemingly minor decision of sleeping in my riding gear to save time, resulted in a poor and cold night sleep, as the night cooled down. Fatigued and cold I set off to reach the Waddamana (population: 2) coffee van for breakfast. I finally reached the van at lunchtime and Llyr fed me pumkin soup, cakes and coffee. She wouldn’t accept payment. She said I hadn’t taken any food away as the contents of my stomach were now in a puddle on the road. I’d suffered from this type of gastric upset previously and usually recover well so pushed on.
Night two was spent in a room at Miena (285km) in the hope of a good feed and sleep. Just scraped in for the hot chippies and got 6 hours sleep leaving at 4am. I’d forgotten about the riding on day three. The relentless rolling hills of Tasmania’s logging industry. I spent night three in a bivvy. Not repeating my night one error I had a comfortable 4 hours.
Cold chips and a vegie burgers have never tasted as good as the ones that had been sitting, sweating in a plastic box for about three hours, on the verandah of the Arthur River store. I planned on getting there when the shop was open, not to be. I spent the night sharing stories with two other Gifters in the day shelter.
I was gradually catching time on my 2022 schedule, having got half a day behind. The Norfolk Road down the west coast of Tassie to Corinna is one of the highlights of the Gift. I decided to wait to have lunch before heading across the Pieman River on the Fatman Barge. This leads to one the most brutal parts, Climies Track. Although close to the ocean, the views are obscured by the massive ruts of four wheel drives that make a lot of the track unridable. 
I made it to Zeehan in time for a few cokes, nuts and packet chippies at the pub and chat with an exuberant track builder and dot watcher who’d spent the day working on local mountain bike tracks. I decided to bivvy for a few hours sleep once off the highway. I was starting to feel stronger and was looking forward to pushing hard on day five.
I slept well and ate my cold soaked oat and quinoa in my toasty sleeping bag. As I was getting up I noticed intense pain and swelling of my right foot. Foggy fatigued brains tend not to think clearly. I had no idea what could have caused this but possibilities included snake or spider. Spider bite being more feasible. I made my way to Queenstown and was even more confused when I had no phone signal. Optus was out nation-wide. Eventually I organised to see a doctor and get an x-ray. Health care workers are amazing, not even flinching when I took my shoe and sock off with days of sweat and odor built up. The diagnosis was GOUT. Usually associated with meat eating, beer drinking people who exercise little. I wasn’t an obvious candidate but severe dehydration and metabolic changes associated with ultra endurance events could be the cause. There’s a bit of literature about it on the web.
After a few rest days in Queenstown I bused it back to Hobart. By now I’d recovered and was wondering why I’d thrown in the towel. The Tassie Gift is full of contrasts. From desolate logging coupes to thick lush temperate rainforests. From feelings of elation to the despair of what could have been.
Thanks Will for helping me get organised and keeping my gear dry. The large zips make it easy for access as the hands get numb and fingers clumbsy.