Cadel Evans comes home … and brings the world with him
Fourteen years after Mia Freedman criticised the Cadelmania that followed Cadel Evans’ historic Tour de France victory, the media publisher has found a surprising ally - the champion himself.
It is said that to find happiness, you need someone to love, something to do, and something to look forward to. Cadel Evans, the only Australian to win the Tour de France, the holy grail of professional cycling and perhaps the cruellest and most gruelling three weeks that exists in sport, can’t wipe the smile off his face. Happiness for Evans, in his life’s second act, is his young family, his recent move from Switzerland back to his native Barwon Heads, and the only event on the pro cycling tour named for a rider: the Cadel Evans Great Ocean Road Race.
For athletes who have truly stood atop the pinnacle of their sport, the transition to life after retirement can be a minefield. And there are few bigger names in Australian sport than Evans, a prodigious natural talent whose physical gifts remain unequalled at the Australian Institute of Sport, a champion who stayed squeaky clean in an era of dopers and a man whose name even sounds like a pedal stroke (he was actually named for three Welsh kings).
Yet Evans has navigated the potholed road back down to Earth with grace, humility and the deftness he once deployed on the slippery switchbacks of Alpe d’Huez and the Col du Tourmalet. And it’s the race that bears his name that has been his salvation. This unique event, which takes in the AFL heartland of Geelong and a stunning stretch of coastline more famous in surfing circles, has become his mission, passion and raison d’etre.
After the Tour Down Under (the opening stage race of the pro cycling calendar), all eyes turn to Geelong at the end of January for the first professional one-day race of the year for elite men and women, and much more besides. For this year’s Cadel Evans Great Ocean Road Race, my mission is to keep up with the man himself. It won’t be easy. But I’m looking forward to everything about it. For one weekend a year, Evans is everyone, everywhere, all at once; man of the people and international man of mystery, part deity and part Everyman. He’s sipping drinks with dignitaries, swapping gossip with pro riders, shaking hands, posing for selfies, commentating, predicting, reminiscing, and getting back on the bike, all with his signature cleft-chinned grin. The pace will be relentless and I’m along for the ride.
The story of the Cadel Evans Great OceanRoad Race begins with an ending. Its first edition, in 2015, was also the last race of Evans’ professional career. He didn’t win, despite a valiant attack on the final decisive climb – but he’s OK with that. “I crossed the finish line and for me, that was a closing of that chapter of my life,” he says. “As a professional cyclist, I always looked at it as a great opportunity, a window that would close one day. I crossed the finish line with few regrets and a great deal of satisfaction. I didn’t step away from the sport with regrets or anger or self-pity.”
Rewind to when Evans did the unthinkable and won the 2011 Tour de France. An upstart from Down Under who’d got his start in mountain biking, then dared to mix it with road cycling’s titans and prevailed. He came home to Cadelmania.
Long-time manager and agent Jason Bakker takes up the tale: “It was quite surreal,” he recalls. “There was a semi-hysterical rush to secure his legacy. We had a thing in Federation Square where 30,000 people turned up. There were federal and state sports ministers almost coming to blows to be first to congratulate him. Everyone wanted to bask in the glory. There were offers to name roads after him, bridges, statues. But you have to remember, Cadel is a fairly modest person and his main focus was on winning again in 2012.” (He didn’t, although he came close).
Bizarrely, Evans was also the subject of backlash. As the country celebrated his victory, Mamamia founder and journalist Mia Freedman appeared on Nine’s Today show and came to a different conclusion than her countrymen and women: “I just don’t care. I just don’t get it. He’s a man who’s paid a lot of money to ride a bike.”
Later she clarified her position, writing in The Sydney Morning Herald: “My point was simply this: why do we place such a disproportionate emphasis on sporting achievement in Australia? Why doesn’t success in other fields receive similar attention? And what about the kids who don’t like playing sport or even watching it? The ones whose dreams, ambitions and interests lie in other areas? Where are their national heroes?”
Evans tells me that, for what it’s worth, he agrees with Freedman: “I definitely see it from Mia’s viewpoint. Everyday heroes deserve to be recognised too.
“I look at the situation after the pandemic and all the hard work done by doctors and nurses, unsung heroes like caregivers for the aged and disabled, and it does seem a bit strange that sportspeople are so revered in society. It’s disproportionate.”
Whether it was his humility, or his eagerness to get back into compeition, Bakker says Evans “didn’t want to get caught in the hype [following the Tour vctory], so we politely declined all the offers.”
“But we started thinking longer term. At some point over the following 12 months, a picture began to form. An event. A race. Something that would complement but not clash with the Tour Down Under.
“At first, everyone said it wouldn’t work. Then I ran into the head of Victoria Major Events in Paris and we had an initial chat. We met again a week later in London, when Cadel was riding in the 2012 Olympics. That planted the seed. So for three years we worked on what the event could be, how we could bring cycling to everyone, not just watching the best in the world but giving everyone a chance to participate. Kids, parents, amateur rider, fans. Something that would show the world the region he calls home. And the Cadel Evans Great Ocean Road Race was born.”
It took three more years of networking and connecting, sweet-talking police, cajoling local authorities and strong-arming sponsors to get the inaugural event to the starting line.
The starting line is where I find myself at6.30am on a Saturday a decade later. The crackling static of serried ranks of mamils is electric as we await the start of the amateur portion of the weekend, the People’s Ride, a prelude to the professional races. This circuit from Geelong to Barwon Heads, then along the jaw-dropping beauty of the Great Ocean Road past Torquay and Bells Beach, on through the dry fields of Moriac and Ceres and then back to Geelong, is particularly close to Cadel’s heart. The 124km route is no joke; it follows the same course the pros will later ride (albeit without the extra laps of the city circuit at the end). Evans will be starting at the front, with celebrity cyclists like Formula 1 legend Valtteri Bottas, AFL luminary Max Gawn and recently retired Olympic and World Champion Grace Brown. Later in the ride, Evans will join his wife Stefania, a retired Italian professional skier who’s no slouch in the saddle.
While I’d love to actually keep up with Evans, I’m an enthusiastic amateur rider who has tackled some tricky courses across the Snowy Mountains and the Victorian Alps. I’ve twice finished one of Australia’s hardest gran fondos, the Peaks Challenge, and participated in numerous events run by the global long distance cycling association Audax (rides from 200-1200km), as well as being a former Guinness World Record holder for the world’s longest indoor spin class (30hours).
And while I’ll be delighted with my average speed on the People’s Ride, around 30kmh, Evans will be whizzing around the course at least 10kmh faster; now 48, he has kept himself in top shape: slim and ripped, the vascular map of his legs a reminder of the VO2 max of 87 that once shocked the sport. (It’s still the high water mark of maximum oxygen consumption recorded in Australian sport; AIS officials famously thought their equipment was faulty when he was first tested). Evans is modest about his current fitness. “When you’ve actually been very fit, it’s quite easy to just look fit,” he says. I’ll be starting further back, in the 30-35kmh wave, with a VO2 max that edged 47 at my best.
In his official greeting to the riders before the start, Evans gets reflective about the race since its beginnings in 2015: “Ten years. Approximately 25,000 riders and more kilometres ridden together than I care to calculate. The climbs around Bells, the nasty beast that is Challambra, the descents that make the climbs worthwhile. The headwinds and the tailwinds. The bloody punctures. The unexpected words of encouragement from a stranger who becomes your best friend in the moment. The slightly anxious feeling at the start. The elation of the finish. For doing this together, whether it’s your first or whether you’ve completed every edition, it’s not about me, nor is it specifically about you. It’s about us. Let’s go!”
And with that, we’re rolling on a cool and pleasant morning. Saturday’s forecast is for a maximum of 27C – 13 degrees cooler than the inferno that awaits the men’s elite race on Sunday. The first 50km or so of the ride is flattish with gentle undulations and I latch onto a group of 20-30 riders, tucked into the slipstream, rolling along at 35kmh or more.
As a former surfer, I’m particularly keen to glimpse Bells Beach, home of one of pro surfing’s oldest and most revered events. But Bells is just a blur as the first real climb and descent of the day unfolds. As a heavier gentleman of decidedly average abilities, I’m untethered from the swift suck of the group and, as the course turns away from the coast and gets hillier, I’m suddenly on my own. The adrenaline of the fast start subsides and reality bites.
The People’s Ride was a deal-breaker for Cadel Evans. He didn’t just want a professional road race to bear his name and legacy, but something more inclusive. “This means everything to me,” he shares. “I really wanted to promote cycling to females, amateurs, ex-pros, everyone. As much as I love racing, this to me is the real highlight of the weekend.”
Keen cyclist and former prime minister Tony Abbott was a special guest at the first edition. Subsequent celebrity riders have included Olympic swimming sensation Mack Horton, AFL legend Patrick Dangerfield, and Daisy Pearce of AFLW fame. “But beyond cycling, it’s also about promoting regional Victoria and my hometown,” Evans continues. “It’s very special for me, as these are the roads that I trained on getting ready for the professional season every year. It’s about showcasing the region to the world.
“I walk around and see so many people having fun. For those watching, it’s spectacular racing like they’d see on TV in Belgium or France – but they see it live. My North Star goal, my hope, is that a little boy or girl standing outside their house will see the race go by, get inspired and come back and win it one day.”
It’s also about business and bums on seats. Restaurants, cafes and bars are bursting at the seams for the duration of the event, and proprietors are grateful. And it’s about inclusivity, too: recent editions have included the Family Ride on Friday evening, where more than a thousand mums and dads with kids on training wheels and balance bikes trundle up and down Geelong’s iconic seaside promenade, past the piers, parks and Ferris wheels.
Evans’ love of the event and the locals is palpable. And it boomerangs back. The entire weekend is a king tide of good vibes and fun times, backslaps and handclaps. At the event village that has transformed the Geelong waterfront, there’s a carnival atmosphere. The VIP section is all smiles. Bottas, with his blond mullet and moustache, has become one of cycling’s unlikeliest ambassadors; he’s clearly on a high: “It’s so cool riding with Cadel. I love the whole thing – the atmosphere is amazing.” AFL star Gawn concurs. “Fantastic,” he smiles.
Soaking up the atmosphere, I meet other luminaries who, like Evans, have made life after pro cycling work for them. Simon Gerrans, one of Australian cycling’s big names, now runs Geelong’s best known bike shop, Hendry’s, and kindly provides me a Trek Madone for the weekend. Scott Sunderland, the race director, is another former pro who landed on his feet. Then there’s Grace Brown, the race ambassador, who is navigating her own transition after recently retiring from the sport.
Evans says he still loves cycling, perhaps more than ever, and rides most days. He looks back on his former life philosophically. “You do 30,000km a year of training and racing as a professional. A thousand hours or more on the bike, sweating, hurting …” While he revelled in the science and the suffering, and the cut and thrust of racing, he was less enamoured of the frenetic frenzy of the pro cycling circus. He would famously lock himself in the team’s toilet with his noise-cancelling headphones just to get some peace.
“Now I have time to do other things. Family of course is a priority, with two young boys. But the event is a great way to keep me connected to the sport.” His sons Aidan and Blake are six and four. He also has an adopted son, Robel, from a former relationship; he’s 14 and lives in Italy. It’s tempting to speculate about the genetic gifts likely bestowed on his offspring, but Evans is casual. “The four-year-old is interested in riding, but the six-year-old has zero interest so far. As long as they’re active, I don’t mind. You can’t force it.”
Until recently Evans lived mainly in Switzerland, partly to stay close to Robel as he grew up, but also due to his commitments with BMC, the Swiss cycling brand he remains an ambassador for and whose famous red and black bikes he rode to glory.
While he counts Barwon Heads as his spiritual home, he was actually born in the Northern Territory. His mother raised horses, and he nearly died at the age of eight when one of them kicked him in the head. When they moved to Victoria he discovered mountain biking. “There’s mountain bike trails everywhere now,” he notes. “In my day, the only way to get some singletrack was to make your own.”
The big move back to Australia will be good for the Cadel Evans Great Ocean Road Race, he says. “I’m going to have more time to do what needs to be done. That was a big part of me coming back, to put more time into the event. For me, on a professional level, it’s the most important thing I have. Plus, it’s my name on the billboard so if something goes wrong …”
Those plans include attracting more big names for the pro races, although the event has already seen its share of stars. This year, former Tour de France winner Geraint Thomas is on the starting line. Another Tour winner, Chris Froome, has taken part. “And we also had a young Tadej Pogacar in 2019, who is the biggest star of cycling at the moment and probably on target to become the greatest rider of all time,” says Evans.
The 2025 men’s and women’s pro races prove to be worthy additions to the weekend’s rich history. The women’s race, over 143km, is won by Kiwi Ally Wollaston, who adds her name to legends including Liane Lippert, Annemiek Van Vleuten and Amanda Spratt on the shark-fin-shaped trophy. Swiss rider Mauro Schmid prevails in the 184km men’s race, which unfolds in temperatures akin to a blast furnace, etching his name next to previous winners like
Laurence Pithie, Dries Devenyns, Elia Viviani and the only Australian to win, Jay McCarthy.
Thrillingly, I get to do the last lap of the city circuit just ahead of the men’s peloton in one of the official cars. The showpiece climb up Challambra Crescent in Geelong is a cacophony of honking horns, cowbells and cheering crowds, the suburban street transformed into something like European cycling’s famous bergs. I get spat out near the finish line and just have time to sprint back to see the winner come hurtling past the barricades. (Professional cycling is much noisier and faster than it looks on television, and to see riders sprinting at more than 70kmh is awe-inspiring). It’s a brilliant end to an epic weekend.
Challambra doesn’t look much on paper, a climb of almost a kilometre up through the Geelong suburbs, with an average gradient of around nine per cent. But looks can be deceptive. On the People’s Ride I hit it having burned most of my matches, with 115km in my legs and the late morning heat beginning to bite.
It starts off innocently enough, but it ramps up towards the top, ending with a final 30-40m at a gradient of over 20 per cent – challenging for the pros, and a thigh-burning exercise in not toppling off the bike for the likes of me. A crowd is beginning to assemble in anticipation of the women’s elite race, and a smattering of cheers propels me towards the top. This steep final pinch is often the selective part of the professional races, where the rider who still has legs makes the decisive move. I’m just happy to crest its summit without the ignominy of walking, while suppressing the sudden urge to hurl.
Twenty minutes earlier, I’d caught up with Evans at the dusty hamlet of Moriac, the ride’s second and final official rest stop. After waiting for the queue of selfie-seeking cyclists to abate, I inquire as to what awaits, scoffing Allen’s Snakes to assuage my carb-starved stupor.
Evans chuckles.
“You’ll know Challambra when you hit it. We only added the climb to the People’s Ride last year. It’s great challenge for the amateur riders. It gives you a taste of what it’s like on the iconic climbs at the big one-day races in Europe. One thing I remember as a rider so vividly, if you make the front group at the big races, going up the climbs near the end is like being in the front row of a rock concert. So we wanted to try and recreate some of that.”
Inspired, I set off. Minutes later, I sense the presence of greatness. I change up a couple of gears and increase my cadence, for riding next to me, in his yellow jersey, is the man who not only won the Tour de France but came second twice, ascended to the podium at the Vuelta a Espana and the Giro d’Italia, while also winning the 2009 UCI Road World Championships and the Beijing Olympics Time Trial.
For a minute – well, OK, for maybe 20 seconds – I’m keeping up with Cadel.
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