Each February penny farthing enthusiasts from around the world converge on the small village of Evandale in Tasmania
An occasional cyclist who first gripped the handlebars of a bike (boyfriend’s brother’s BMX) aged twenty-something and lacks the confidence fostered by learning to ride as a child, I am in awe of people who sprint around velodromes, accelerate uphill away from the peloton in the Tour de France and career down mountain bike tracks lumpy with hazards. And that’s on bicycles with brakes, gears and wheels of equal size.
Awed is an inadequate word for how I feel watching people ride penny farthings. And saying I was scared when Di Sullivan, dynamo organiser of the National Penny Farthing Championships, held annually in Evandale, Tasmania, convinced me to have a go during the 2004 competition, is an understatement. For the few seconds I remained vertical, while slipping backwards on a smooth-worn hard leather seat so far above terra firma I needed oxygen, I was terrified.
A decade on, I return to Evandale happy to keep my feet firmly grounded and leave the high wheeling to folks with better heads for heights.