Never Alone: Memories of the 2023 Hunt 1000

Words and photos by Rhys Jones

On November the 19th, my best friend and I set off on a ride through the alpine region of Australia from Melbourne to Canberra. For those of you who don’t know, this route is called the Hunt 1000: 1000 because it is 1,000 kilometres, and Hunt because the annual event was created by legendary Canberran bikepacker Dan Hunt of Hunt Bikes.

The ride has a total elevation climb of 23,000 metres. It’s safe to say this event is for people who do not mind suffering a little while they exercise. On top of this, it is also self supported. This means you are solely responsible for your food, water, navigation and general well-being—a thought that wasn’t lost on me as we clung to the side of a mountain near Mt. Hotham inside of a thunderstorm. Yeah, it was a new experience for me too.

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This was the most challenging endeavour I’d ever been a part of, definitely because of the physicality of it but also because you are constantly keeping house: acquiring food and water, setting up camp, cooking, cleaning and servicing bikes, and constantly servicing your own undercarriage so it wouldn’t fall apart with saddle sores. The ride often felt overwhelming and relentless. At times, I felt quite isolated and lonely. There was a tremendous amount of space around and not much margin for error.

We certainly had some dark times, but they were all quickly forgotten when I took a moment to realise where I was and the calibre of people that surrounded me. There were so many chance encounters with wonderful folks who would offer words of support. On an extremely wet day in the high alpine, we bumped into a wild bearded man, who was counting pygmy possums near Perisher who said, “It’s amazing the amount of weird people doing weird things up here.” Touché my friend. Touché.

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I can’t really put words to everything that transpired over the 14 days that it took us to complete the journey. The whole story is just not compatible with the Instagram format, and if I’m honest with myself, I think I’m still processing many facets of this achievement, one of which I am extremely proud. I also want to embellish this tale, and time always helps with this.

However, some memorable highlights worthy of boasting about on social media right now include:

– The visit to and the lovely owner of the Licola camping ground who knowingly overstocked her tuck shop to cater for the many hungry riders passing through and who also lent me a towel. Legend.

– The ascent and descent to Licola. Brutal.

– Staying at our friend’s apartment at Mt. Hotham after what could only be described as a catastrophic day of hike a bike and being inside of thunderstorms with metal objects. Thanks to David; the cold shower was needed!

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– Any pub meal that was eaten. Epic. They all tasted like a million bucks including the chicken Kiev in Benambra and the entire pizza that followed.

– The views. The endless mountain views.

– Sour worms. If you know, you know.

– All the animal encounters including snakes, echidnas, brumbies, and leaches. Not the flies. The flies were not a highlight.

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– Daniel riding out of the saddle for more than 700 kilometres due to a mess that was created by the wear and tear of the ride. An unbelievable effort, and his smiles; you could run off his vibe for days.

– Paul the plumber from Wodonga, who could only be described as plumber up top and marble sculpture of David below the waist. Definitely don’t judge his book by its cover. His endurance and leg strength provided us with endless chat and inspiration and he was also a wonderful source of information as we traversed trails that he had some familiarity with.

– Thomas, who basically had bitten off more than he could chew but just kept on chewing. Such a pleasure to ride many hours with this man, mostly in silence and in pain, but always with some special food treats accompanied by a big smile. He was an integral part of my journey and a super positive influence for many other riders.

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– My dear friend Jono always providing some comical or sarcastic relief when needed, solving any problem that comes to hand including the seizure of his hub after a few grotty days in the hills. And, for the most part, telling everyone how it is or in the very least how it was. Thanks for lighting the fire of this trip and making it happen and also testing the waters. Literally. It was a lot.

– All of the guiding forces we encountered along the way, including Max, who powered past us up a foggy hill, shirtless, wearing some really tight footy shorts whilst not really looking like he was exerting himself. He became our demigod and we dot watched this man to the bitter end. Phenomenal.

– My face-off with a brumby after a long day. I was at the end of my tether and didn’t really have the bandwidth to cope with a charging brumby, so I charged it. I won. Thankfully.

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– Staying in the alpine huts. Rudimentary at best but such a luxury on some of the more danker days in the alpine. Thanks to the folks who continue to maintain these beautiful relics and all those who we shared the spaces with.

– And finally, every single rider we came across and all the tales, meals, and lollies shared. Extraordinarily normal people doing something so completely outrageous seemed to bring out so much generosity and kindness from the group. The bonds in adversity were fused immediately, and I have much love for the lot of you.

So, what did I take away from all of this. What is the point?

I quickly realised how fortunate I am to live the comfortable life I lead. The experience I had was for a mere skerrick of time, and knowing that I would return to my life of comfort gave me a sense of understanding about who I was and more to the point how insignificant some of the things I’d started to care about were. Second to this, you really don’t need that much to have a bloody good time.

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I also realised how important the relationships in my life are, all of them, but especially the one with my wife Olivia. Thanks for being a voice of reason when sometimes I lose my way and for allowing me the grace of two weeks in the wilderness whilst you held the fort down. You are a hero.

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We live in a time where we’ve very quickly forgotten where we have come from because of what is right in front of us. This very thing I’m boasting about from my adventure. Adventure is just around the corner, and it doesn’t have to be extravagant. You just have to say yes. Say yes to adventure and new experiences in your life, whatever that looks like for you. You truly can do anything you put your mind to, you just have to be comfortable doing it your way, and nobody else’s, which sometimes can be half of the challenge.

And finally, I learnt that recognising that you are never alone in life is sometimes super hard to comprehend but so very important to know. Even when the chips are well and truly down, there is always someone, somewhere out there, barracking for you. Don’t stop moving forward. A brighter day will materialise and there is always sunshine after rain, eventually.

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