3rd, Dirty Warrny 250km
Racing the Dirty Warrny – 250km of Gravel, Grit, and Mateship
There’s something special about racing the Dirty Warrny. It’s the gravel cousin of the legendary Melbourne to Warrnambool, a race with over 100 years of history and a reputation as one of Australia’s most prestigious events. The Dirty version covers the same epic distance, but instead of tarmac, we’re sent down fire roads, through singletrack, and across rugged off-road terrain. It’s a proper test of endurance, skill, and tactics.
Going into the race, I felt good. At the time I was the national champion, and the start list was stacked with some of Australia’s best elite riders. From the gun, there were plenty of little attacks, but nothing that truly stuck. It was fast, but controlled.
Everything changed around the 100km mark. I found myself riding alongside my coach, Scott Bowden, and good mate (and ex-pro) Dylan Sunderland. The three of us were chatting, rolling through the bunch, when the idea struck—we’d attack together. As we hit a narrow singletrack section, we all went. By the time we popped out the other side, the race had exploded. A peloton of more than 100 had been whittled down to just 10 riders.
From there, it became a war of attrition. Every kilometre ticked down like sand through an hourglass. With 150km still to race, it was about who could conserve, who could suffer, and who could gamble their energy at the right moment.
With 60km to go, Scott made his move. My coach, my mate, my biggest rival on the day—he went all-in. Dylan was sharp to follow, and before I knew it, the two of them had a gap. I tried to bridge across, but the group was onto me. Every time I moved, I was marked. Scott and Dylan rode away, their gap stretching to three minutes.
At that point, my race became a fight for the podium. In the closing kilometres, I was still with a group of four. On a steep climb heading back into town, I decided to roll the dice. I attacked hard, opened a gap, and held it. I knew I wasn’t catching the front two, but I wasn’t going to miss my chance at the podium.
I crossed the line in third—just a minute behind the win, and within eyesight of second place.
Of course, there’s a bittersweet sting in being so close to the top step, but honestly, I was stoked. It was an epic day on the bike, one that tested every part of me. To share the race with my mates, and to see Scott—my coach and friend—take the win, made it even more special.
The Dirty Warrny lived up to its reputation: long, brutal, tactical, and unforgettable. And I’ll be back for more.
