Day 10 – Rubicon to Warburton: Bacon, Leeches and Other Poor Life Choices
The day dawned with perfect cycling weather and an “easy” 35 km roll to breakfast in Marysville, which is cyclist-speak for “downhill with coffee at the end.” Johno declared his bacon and egg roll the best he’s ever had, but after 35 km on a bike, so who can blame him. Alan, never one to be outdone, was soon seen sharing his roll with a tame king parrot.
From Marysville, the route pointed up and kept pointing up, a steep but steady climb to lunch at the top of the next mountain, punctuated by frequent photo stops, scenery appreciation pauses, and “just checking my derailleur” breathers.
Rob and Howie decided to embrace their inner Braveheart with a bit of paddling in a mountain stream, only for Rob to discover a leech keen to insert itself into his ankle, clearly under the impression it had found an all‑you‑can‑drink buffet.
Twice the team crossed the Rubicon and twice they defied the legend, which proves they are made of stern stuff.
The afternoon served up a glorious fast downhill, which should have been the perfect end to the day, but someone remembered the ride tally and an extra loop was bolted on to round up to a neat 100 km because apparently Type 2 fun now comes with decimal places.
Howie took full advantage of gravity to clock his second fastest descent ever, proving once again that what goes up grimacing comes down grinning.
An ice cream stop was planned at the turning point, but then a hotel serving Guinness came into view, and priorities were rapidly and unanimously rearranged. The promised “quick stop” stretched into a proper debate about important topics like tyre pressure, knee replacements, and whether Guinness counts as a recovery drink, with the scientific consensus firmly in favour. The Home Hotel hosted an early supper and delivered a shoulder of lamb that Johno also declared the best he’s ever had, making it two culinary lifetime achievements in a single day, which for Johno is not entirely unheard of.
Hero of the day was Rob, not for his leech‑wrangling, but for hauling himself all the way from New Zealand to rejoin the peloton for a few days and quietly reminding everyone what “better than yesterday” looks like, one hill at a time. His presence on the road turned the day from just another ride into a masterclass in grit, gratitude and incremental self‑improvement, which is what the Old Legs Tour is really about when you strip away the jokes and the chamois cream.
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