Four Days on Australia’s Sydney to Summit (Video)

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PUBLISHED Apr 14, 2025

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Words and video by Taylor Charlton, photos by Chris Huang

Developed in 2023 by Dan Hunt, founder of the Hunt 1000, the Hunt Sydney to Summit is a self-sufficient bikepacking challenge that takes riders through some of Australia’s most beautiful terrain. Starting in the bustling metropolis of Sydney, riders will navigate their way through national parks and remote areas, while climbing around 13,000 metres, from sea level to the the highest point in Australia. No winners. No podiums. No medals.
Just the road ahead and a personal battle to push further than yesterday. That’s what this journey was about.

For me, it was more than just riding across some of Australia’s wildest terrain. It was a comeback. After stepping away from racing full-time and not even touching my bike for eight months, I needed something to reignite the spark. When a few mates took on the Hunt 1000 last year, I found myself diving deep into what the ultra-cycling world in Australia had to offer—something I’d never explored while in the race scene.

Day 1: Leaving the Opera House

Rolling out from the steps of the iconic Sydney Opera House in the dim early light felt surreal. No crowd. No fanfare. No pressure. Just a couple of mates cruising through the quiet city streets as the skyline slowly lit up. It was almost too calm—like Sydney’s fast, familiar tarmac was lulling us into a false sense of security.

Things shifted at Saddleback Mountain. Around 150 kilometres in, the real challenge began. After the steep climb and a technical descent into Berry, it was time to dig deep—both physically and mentally—climbing up Berry Mountain into the rugged beauty of Kangaroo Valley. After 200 kilometres of constant effort, I limped into Nowra under the stars at 9:30 p.m. and headed straight into Domino’s. Sadly, I couldn’t stomach a bite. And I knew I’d pay for that tomorrow.

Day 2: The Beast Awakes. Nowra to… Almost Captains Flat

This was always going to be the make-or-break day. Everyone had warned me about Yalwal. “Soul-crushing,” they said. “Some of the worst riding you’ll do on a bike,” said others. They weren’t wrong. After a massive first day and zero food in the tank, I hit the infamous section. Two kilometres in 50 minutes. Sixty kilometres in five hours. It was brutal.

The Cervelo Aspero with its 40mm tires was at its limit for this kind of chaos. Corrugations, rocks, unrideable hike-a-bike climbs through remote bushland. But in the suffering, there was beauty. The Sassafras National Park delivered unexpected moments of peace: birdsong, shafts of sunlight breaking through thick forest, and a deep sense of isolation that felt both punishing and strangely magical.

I finally reached Nerriga, barely a town, with a closed kitchen and only bar snacks to survive on. We were hours behind schedule. I called it; I’d stop in Braidwood instead of pushing through to Captains Flat. But fate had a gift in store: Charleys Forest Road, a hidden gem of smooth gravel winding through rolling farmland. After 13 hours and 150 kilometres, I reached Braidwood exhausted but smarter. Terrain, not distance, defines your day.

Day 3: Redemption Ride

This was the reset I desperately needed. I crossed paths with Lachy again in the early light. We rolled out of Braidwood together, sharing stories and soaking in the camaraderie that only ultra-endurance can foster. The miles ticked by easier with conversation, though the fatigue never really left.

Cooma was the next milestone: 150 kilometres in 12 hours. After some greasy McDonald’s fuel, I had 60 kilometres more to reach Buckenderra before nightfall. As the sun dipped behind the hills and the air turned cool, something switched on in my legs. I felt alive again. Then, disaster. A flat tire at the base of a 10-kilometre climb. My only mechanical of the trip, and it came at the worst time. I couldn’t seal the tubeless, so I threw in a tube and kept pushing.

Fifteen hours, 210 kilometres. I made it. I was back on track.

Day 4: Summit Season

The final day was supposed to be a celebration. Only 80 kilometres to go, up to Charlotte Pass and the summit of Mt. Kosciuszko. Sounds simple, right? Not quite. Each day had tested a different limit:
Day one was climbing.
Day two was brutal terrain and no food.
Day three was fatigue and distance.
Day four? Wind. Relentless alpine headwinds.

The first 20 kilometres felt okay, sheltered by farm roads and low hills. But once the landscape opened up, bam, the wind hit like a wall. It clawed at every pedal stroke, pushing me back with every gust. The climb from Perisher to Charlotte Pass was familiar from training days past, but with more than 600 kilometres in my legs, it felt like a different mountain entirely.

As I neared the summit trail, I spotted other riders—fellow masochists who had started earlier. We swapped stories and smiles, each of us carrying our own battle scars. And then, finally, clear skies, wide views, and the top of Australia. Thirty-nine hours of riding, 686 kilometres, and 12,644 metres of elevation.
And a heart full of something you can’t quite put into words.

Visit SydneytoSummit.com to learn more about the route and annual event.