How the Winning Team Won

By Meredith Norman, one half of the winning team

Camilo and I usually find ourselves competing against each other in rogaines, but this time we decided to team up for the four-hour event in Strathalbyn, one of our few opportunities to race together this year. I had previously visited Strathalbyn a few times; the most memorable was for breakfast in the Town centre with Joe Milne and Josie Smernik as we walked 53kms from Highland Valley to Goolwa.

I was looking forward to this rogaine particularly after bumping into the enthusiastic course setter Guy Schubert, a few weeks earlier at orienteering. He was eagerly enticing us to enter the event. I briefly skimmed the entry list prior to the rogaine and saw there would be many fast teams – I knew we’d have our work cut out for us!

In my last rogaine with Camilo, I accidentally packed two left shoes (silly I know) so I was meticulous when packing the rogaine gear for this event. Given the warm weather, I packed plenty of water, electrolytes, a filling lunch and a left and right shoe!

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Desperate and Dateless

Written by Bruce Greenhalgh

Before most rogaines I usually spend a not insignificant amount of time musing, pointlessly, on the coming event. I try to figure out exactly what the weather will be like, imagine the terrain, ponder which of my many enduring ailments will plague me – that kind of thing. However, for the ‘Strath Sundowner’, the time and head space I have to devote to rogaining was taken up with two things that left me with no pause for wistful contemplation. Firstly, I was busy setting the course for April’s Velogaine (a great event, not to be missed) and I also had to find a team/partner for the Strath four hour.

Getting a team together should have been easy. I was a member of a team of three for last year’s November minigaine and it was understood that we’d likely team up again for coming events. Then injuries came along and left me, almost literally, the last man standing. I started asking around. I asked no less than six people to join me, but had no takers with the reasons for declining ranging from injuries to ‘I’m washing my hair that night’. So I ended up on SARA’s answer to Tinder, the Partner Matching Service. That’s when Doug Gillott contacted me. He’d lost his original partner through injury. (What is it about rogaining? It seems all you have to do is ask somebody to join your team and they end up with an injury. Should the sport come with a health warning?)

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The Hell of the South

Written by The Callington Cruiser Velogaine survivor, Bruce Greenhalgh

The same weekend that SARA ran the 2025 edition of the Velogaine another notable cycling competition was happening on the other side of the world. The ‘Paris-Roubaix’ is one of cycling’s one day classics, arguably the most prestigious, and a race renowned for being tough. It’s tough enough to have acquired a special moniker, ‘The Hell of the North’. But in comparison to the ‘Callington Cruiser’ is the Paris-Roubaix truly hellish? The French race is held in often cold and wet conditions, but isn’t hell supposed to be hot, like ‘fire and brimstone’ hot? Our ‘Hell of the South’ was certainly that with temperatures in the mid-thirties and long sections sans any shade.

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Matthew, movies and my left knee

Written by intrepid Victor explorer, Bruce Greenhalgh

As a school boy I was taught about the European explorers of Australia. By far and away my favourite explorer, for reasons I can’t explain, was Matthew Flinders. I know it’s weird having a favourite explorer, but there you go. Anyway, when I learnt that 2025’s opening rogaine would be held in the environs of Encounter Bay I thought that the theme for my report on the event might well be Matthew Flinders and his explorations. As you probably know the bay is named after the encounter between Matthew Flinders on the Investigator and Nicolas Baudin on the Geographe on the 8th April 1802 (well, you probably didn’t know the date, but knew of the encounter).

The idea of this being the theme was reinforced by my having recently viewed the Flinders exhibition held by – wait for it – Flinders University. Amongst the items on display was a nifty combined compass and sundial once owned by Flinders, the very thing for a 19th Century rogainer! Perhaps Flinders was a fellow rogaining spirit? It did occur to me, of course, that a sundial would only be useful for part of a 24-hour event. Still, it was a desirable object and were they on sale today I’d be tempted.

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Partner matching and chocolate frogs: musings from the ‘McLaren No Flats’ Velogaine

By Bruce Greenhalgh

I’m sure I wasn’t alone in checking out the weather forecast in the lead up to the Velogaine. A week out from the event the predictions were dire and all my checking and hoping didn’t improve things as Saturday neared. On the day, my concerns look set to be realized as the rain arrived as we prepared for the start. I had contemplated an event where I’d be cold, wet and suffering for four hours, but shortly after the start the rain stopped and it stayed fine, with the weather gods, surprisingly, delivering ideal conditions. It was to be a Velogaine remembered for what the weather didn’t do, instead of what it did do.

So, I didn’t get cold and wet, but I still suffered. My cycling form in recent times has ranged from pretty ordinary to pretty awful and as we embarked on the climb up Pennys Hill Road to the range heights it was clear to me that I was on a ‘pretty awful’ day. That might not have been such an issue if my partner, Kerstin, and I weren’t such an ‘odd couple’. Kirsten is so much faster than me (even on my good days) that it’s embarrassing. She sailed up the hill while I cursed every pedal stroke. Kerstin is, though, a novice when it comes to route planning and navigation so that’s where I could contribute. Our pairing wasn’t so much a coincidence of talents, but a combination of them, an exercise in synergy. Importantly, our event mindset remained on par throughout the Velo.

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In Search of Lost Time

By Bruce Greenhalgh

I have a confession. I don’t really understand gravity. Oh, I know the basics, what goes up must come down, why the apple fell on Isaac Newton’s head, all that stuff. What I don’t understand is why gravity works in such an exaggerated fashion. Let me explain by reference to the ‘Stirling Pump’ 4-hour rogaine. As the record number of participants will attest, the Stirling area affords gravity plenty of opportunity to strut its stuff. The terrain is, to put it mildly, hilly. I can’t recall a truly flat section anywhere on the course. When I was running downhill this was fine. Good, in fact, and I found myself thinking, ‘I can run for four hours. It’s not that hard.’ Unfortunately, when the road or track turned upwards my thoughts ran (at least something was running) along the lines of, ‘Will this climb ever end? I can’t take much more of this.’ It’s such a complete and extreme change in what I experience that it challenges my comprehension. I can appreciate that gravity can help or hinder, I don’t get why it does so in such a dramatic way.

Another thing I don’t fully understand is time: how its passage is so variable. For example, take the five or ten minutes before the start of a rogaine when everybody assembles and last-minute instructions are given. Time almost stands still. At Stirling, the course setter, Guy Schubert, did his best to make the time pass, but no mere mortal can change this phenomenon. Conversely, as soon as the rogaine starts, time begins leaking away faster than water from a Camelbak bladder whose top hasn’t been properly tightened.

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Of Lakes and Luck and Elections

By Bruce Greenhalgh

As a frequent contributor to the rogaine email newsletter I now find myself contemplating ideas for reports even before the rogaine is run. ‘The Lakes District’ rogaine, for example, had me entertaining ideas of weaving into a report references to the famous Lake District in England (ignoring the plural/singular discrepancy). I was thinking, in particular, of the poet William Wordsworth who is associated with the Lake District and perhaps contrasting some of his well-known lines about wandering ‘lonely as a cloud’ and discovering ‘golden daffodils’ to the travails of rogaining. On starting the rogaine another contrast presented itself too, that of comparing the beauty of, say, Lake Windemere in England to the first body of water we encountered which was, of course, the Mount Barker effluent ponds. However, the problem with this angle is that while I acknowledge Wordsworth’s place in literature I don’t actually like his work much and so writing about it held little appeal. I also suspected that too many tenuous references to poetry and faraway lakes might turn readers off.

Not to worry, there was always the coincidence of the Twilight rogaine and the State election and so the possibility of writing about rogaine control corflutes that I wanted (desperately) to find as opposed to those election corflutes that I wish would go away. Again, though, there were problems with this theme in that I suspected that a lot of people would be thoroughly sick of election dribble by voting day and reading anything even tangentially about the election would not be appealing.

I’m left then, with the fact that Steve Sullivan and I won (something that occurs with only slightly more frequency than sightings of Halley’s Comet) and trying to anticipate what readers might like to hear from the winners. There is nothing new about a winner writing an event report. Indeed, for a long time it was expected and routinely completed. Those reports often featured detailed descriptions of astute route choice consummated by athletic prowess, intelligent navigation and helpings of grit and determination. As a winner I can attest that those sorts of things are important, but I also have to admit that a win has a lot more to do with luck. Yep. Luck.

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Fright Night – What a Hoot!

Written by Deanna Hutchins

I travelled from Renmark to meet my son who was my team mate, at Mt Crawford on a lovely Saturday afternoon.  Witches pointed us to where we should camp and we settled in.  To get our maps, it seemed to be overly important that we had a whistle within easy reach so we could blow the ‘safe’ sound as ‘screams will be disregarded’. This seemed a little over the top.

A lot of effort had gone into costumes.  A couple of zombies even started the event running with a stiff-legged zombie run; that was commitment to their characters.

We had set our course and scooted off to the north, quickly finding ourselves alone and wondering if we would see anyone else during the event; we need not have worried about that. A couple of checkpoints in and we arrived at “Ruin of despair” where the ghost of a little girl was wandering around in her night dress.  Completely freaked out by this, we ducked and weaved around the ruin to avoid her and buzz the checkpoint.  As we skedaddled out of the ruin we ran straight into some masked person standing on the other side of the road. Neither of us can tell you what they looked like as we both ran screaming in what we hoped was the right direction.

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