It started out as a bit of fun. A handful of random strangers on the internet, all riding through the backstreets of eastern Melbourne, all battling for a title of little real significance. It was a source of motivation to get out on the bike; impetus to get out and explore.
A couple months and hundreds of kilometres later, though, the ‘Battle for Maroondah’ has changed, becoming something much more profound. It’s provided a fresh new perspective on life and on riding; a welcome reminder to appreciate everything we have, before it’s gone.
It all began with a message from an old friend, David Blom. No context, no explanation; just a screenshot of a Facebook post from a guy who was celebrating a cycling milestone. Carl Hemmings had just notched up the highest total of unique kilometres ridden in the City of Maroondah, a local council area roughly 30 km east of central Melbourne. Of the roughly 730 km of roads and paths available in the region – at least according to Wandrer – Hemmings had covered 660 km.
It wasn’t Carl’s achievement that caught my eye. It was the leaderboard in the screenshot that my mate David had sent. There in third place, 100 km behind Carl Hemmings: yours truly. “Oooh, challenge accepted,” I replied to David, not knowing if I really meant it.
But then I started looking at my map of Maroondah. Staring at me in bright red were all the roads I hadn’t ridden, just begging me to come visit. Without realising what I was doing, I started visualising routes that would link those unridden sectors together. And then I started plotting them out for real in Strava’s Route Builder.
By that point I was committed. I’d been saying I was looking for a new challenge on the bike, and here was one ripe for the picking.
I was coming for the crown.
I wouldn’t have bothered with this challenge were it not for the progress I’d already made. By the time I committed, I’d already covered some 560 of the 730 available kilometres in Maroondah. That tally is a legacy of the COVID years, when stringent lockdowns in Melbourne limited riding to within a 5 km radius. I did many Wandrer-focused rides in those strange times, logging plenty of kilometres in the backstreets around Ringwood and beyond. One day in mid-2020 I even covered most of Croydon South in a single ride with a mate.
But in mid November 2024, as I embarked on a quest to close the 100 km gap to Carl Hemmings, I still had plenty of undiscovered roads to ride.
Most rides over the next three months went something like this. I’d start by creating a route in Strava Route Builder, trying to link as many new kilometres together as efficiently as possible, then head out and follow that route. Some days, when I wasn’t as keen on something so structured, I’d ride out to an area I hadn’t yet completed, open Wandrer on my phone, then just tick off whatever unridden streets were nearby.
Usually I’d be out on the bike for an hour to 90 minutes, clocking up 5-10 new kilometres each time. It was slow going, particularly with Carl – and second-placed rider Jeff Servaas – still building on their totals.
It’s hard to remember individual rides. Most of them bleed together into one giant tapestry featuring the scenes I saw wherever I went. Suburban backstreets of every shape and size, more cul-de-sacs than I’d care to count. A communal basketball hoop in almost all of those cul-de-sacs, residents out mowing lawns. Clusters of soulless townhouses popping up everywhere, including on the land where a childhood friend’s family home once stood. That one stopped me in my tracks – years worth of happy memories desecrated in an instant.
As banal as the riding often was, there was a certain beauty to it too. Even on rides I’d mapped out ahead of time, discovery was never far away.
I found pristine mansions hidden in unspectacular suburban streets, beautiful parklands thick with native flora. And with Maroondah sitting at the foot of the stunning Dandenong Ranges, I discovered more than a few great views of those nearby hills as well.
It was a period of re-discovery, too. Having lived in Maroondah for the first 20 years of my life – before moving away for a decade and a half – my recent wanderings have seen me revisit the streets, parks, and sporting ovals that hold so many wonderful, formative memories.
By late November I’d made up good ground, getting to within 70 km of Carl’s lead, but a new challenger had appeared. Brendan Edwards, in fourth place, had racked up more than 55 new kilometres in just three days and was fast approaching my total. I didn’t just have to worry about those ahead of me; I was being chased from behind as well.
I was fully aware of how little any of this really mattered, yet found myself deeply invested in the contest.
When my son was born in late November I took a few weeks off the bike. Returning in mid December I was surprised to learn that I’d only dropped a few kilometres further behind Carl. Jeff Servaas took the lead briefly in mid December before Carl surged back to the top. With Christmas just a few days away, I reached 90% completion of all roads in Maroondah, but Carl was still more than 35 km ahead.
As the end of 2024 approached I found myself thinking back over this strange obsession I’d created for myself. Looking for new kilometres every time I rode, checking the leaderboard on days when I didn’t, plotting everyone’s progress in a spreadsheet – as silly as it all was, I found the whole thing intriguing. Here was a bunch of otherwise unconnected people engaged in a silent battle for supremacy on an internet leaderboard no one else really cared about. We were all out there doing our own thing, all out riding our own unridden kilometres, with only names and numbers on that internet leaderboard to spur us on.
After staring at those same names most days for more than a month, it got me thinking: who were these people? What were their stories? Were they as invested in this stupid battle as I was?
There was only one way to find out.
Two of my three “rivals” I already knew. Brendan Edwards, who’d given me a scare with his quick surge back in fourth place, was an old riding acquaintance from more than a decade ago – a rider I’d even interviewed for my book about Everesting a few years back. He told me via email that while he’d managed plenty of kilometres in Maroondah, he wasn’t going for the crown, instead describing himself as an “accidental tourist” who had made the most of work shifts in the area to explore a region away from home. He explained that with his work now taking him elsewhere, he wouldn’t be able to explore Maroondah any longer. I laughed at myself when I realised that was a relief.
I knew of Jeff Servaas too. He’d been good enough to join me for a good chunk of my own Everesting back in 2021, and had featured in my book as well. Nowadays he’s the owner of Simpatico Bikes, a local brand that we’ve featured here on Escape a couple times.
Jeff says he’s not actively going for the title of most kilometres in Maroondah. He’s just happy ticking away, racking up the k’s when he can, finding new ways to get to and from work – something he’s done for years now.
“If I’m riding on the weekend, I’m not going to go and do 20 or 30 km of Wandrer-ing just to win the points or get to number one,” he tells me. “Ultimately, I’ll get to 100%, but whether that happens in one year or two years …”
Another sigh of relief. But that left one rider. The reigning champ, the man who’d inspired this whole challenge to begin with: Carl Hemmings. Carl’s story turned out to be an amazing one, and one that put this whole silly cycling challenge into some kind of context.
Like me, Carl started on Wandrer during the COVID years, finding he’d already completed 60% of Maroondah when he first imported his historical Strava data. In the years since, he’s been gradually chipping away, working towards 100% completion. It’s been a motivating challenge for a rider whose relationship with cycling has needed to change in recent years.
In his earlier years Carl was an avid club racer, making his way up to B-grade level on the road. In the mid-’90s he traded his racing club for a touring club so he could “smell the roses and enjoy the scenery”. Many long touring rides followed in the decades afterwards. Nowadays his riding is far more humble.
“I’m not fast anymore,” Carl tells me with a grin via video call. “I’m 60 now, and a cancer survivor, and it’s hard not to compare [with] your previous pre-cancer life, how fast you were, and how strong. You look at your Strava segments and compare it to mates who are still riding, and they’re way up here, and I’m at the bottom.
“So if I can’t be fast, I can be a consistent tortoise – the tortoise and the hare. And at least maybe I can get on the top of the leaderboard and before I kick the bucket: ‘Oh well, I rode every road in Maroondah.’”
When it comes to “kicking the bucket” Carl’s been closer than most.
A lump in his neck in late 2006 turned out to be a non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and he started chemotherapy a few weeks later. The treatment was initially successful, but the cancer returned a year and a half later in his abdomen. Again treatment put him into remission.
A few years later though, the maintenance drugs Carl was taking to prevent the cancer’s return created their own complication. The way Carl tells it, the drugs essentially killed off his immune system, leaving him hospitalised a handful of times. The third visit, in June 2011, was very nearly his last.
“I just had a stomach ache,” he recalls. “I went to a cafe in Croydon, had some coffee and soup, and afterwards I got a stomach ache in the evening and it wouldn’t go away. It just got worse and worse. I was in agony.
“A local doctor came around and said, ‘Look, if it doesn’t get any better, straight to emergency.’ I went to emergency. ‘Ah, you’re zero neutrophils, zero white cells [cells that make up the immune system – ed.]. We’ve got to isolate you, look after you, keep you away from everyone.’ And then, from that night I just went downhill. Multiple organ failure. Basically, the doctor says, ‘We gotta put you in a coma so hopefully your body will repair itself. You’ve got colitis [swelling of the large intestine – ed.], sepsis, your kidneys are packing up, your heart’s packing up.”
Carl spoke to his parents on the phone, telling them he was about to be put in a coma and that he didn’t know whether he’d wake up. It was two weeks later that he came to, having had the most vivid dreams he’d ever had, including one in which his son had drowned before his eyes (his son was fine – he’d celebrated his fourth birthday while Carl was in a coma.)
Carl would go on to spend eight weeks in ICU then about the same in a general ward. Somewhere along the way, he tried to eat real food for the first time post-coma. It didn’t go well.
“I couldn’t hold it down; I felt sick,” he says. “‘So let’s do another CT scan.’ And they found gas in my abdomen. That’s not good. You shouldn’t have gas in your stomach. So basically it means you’ve got a ruptured bowel. So, operation: bowel out. So I don’t have a large bowel, but I have a bag. It’s been great. I’m just used to it.”
Even that brought its own difficulties. Complications from the surgery to remove his large intestine led to blockages in his small intestine, which meant more visits to hospital.
Listening to Carl tell his story, my obsession with beating him for the Maroondah title is feeling sillier than ever. Here’s a man who’s had more than his fair share of health issues, and who is understandably proud of a cycling achievement that’s literally taken him years. And I want to beat him, why?
Sadly for Carl, there’s more to his story. While he’s been cancer-free since 2011, his treatment has left a terrible legacy. Chemotherapy has caused damage to the nerves that control his muscles – a condition called peripheral neuropathy.
“The nerves control your muscle actions, and if it’s not a good signal, it sort of lets them waste a bit,” Carl says of the muscle weakness he experiences. “So I’m trying to keep on top of doing a bit of strength stuff. It’s harder because everything’s always sore or stinging.”
Chemotherapy has also done damage to Carl’s lungs, meaning he often gets breathless. Worse still, after getting chest pains throughout 2024, Carl had a CT scan late in the year which picked up another couple spots on one of his lungs. He’s due to have another scan in February to see if the spot is larger, smaller, or gone.
And there might be further challenges to come.
“Going to get my nerves tested, I was thinking, ‘Well, in a year’s time, am I going to be able to walk?’ I’m thinking ‘If I have to choose, I just say: stuff the bike. I want to be able to walk.’” Walking around is already challenging for him – his nerve damage, and the muscle damage it’s led to, makes him unsteady on his feet.
I try to imagine what it must be like to go through what Carl has. I wonder out loud whether cycling feels like a much-needed escape for him.
“I’m just happy to get out on the bike and do a ride and not feel like crap the next day,” he says. “But then I’ll go out in reality, like yesterday. Hills all around, my legs were tired, and it’s sort of a bit of a let down.”
Despite all his challenges, Carl’s still motivated when it comes to Maroondah. Throughout our chat he’s been impressively positive, smiling almost non-stop – he can see the bright side in everything he’s been through. And with a laugh, he tells me he’s a competitive person and that winning Maroondah – getting to 100% first – is still very much his goal. “I think it’s on, because I want to win!” he says with a wide grin.
I’m delighted to hear that.
Like Carl, I’m a competitive person, and I started this challenge with the goal of winning. But I’ve realised that I don’t really mind if Carl keeps his lead. Hearing his story has made me realise that the ‘Battle for Maroondah’ has become something bigger and more profound than simply topping an internet leaderboard.
It’s been a welcome reminder of the things that are most important in life. A reminder to not take good health for granted; to celebrate each pain- and illness-free ride and the physical and mental benefits they can bring. Carl’s progress has been enlightening, too. His ability to battle through pain and discomfort to continue riding towards his goal has been an inspiration. For context: a 44 km effort in late December (for 5.4 new kilometres) took Carl more than 5.5 hours, 3.5 of it on the bike.
Carl’s story has helped me put my own disappointments into context, too. When I lost a ride to a corrupted Garmin file in early January – and almost 15 new Maroondah kilometres along with it – I was far less frustrated than I might have been. I found it easier than ever to appreciate the more than two hours I’d still been able to spend riding in glorious weather – itself something worth celebrating.
Were it not for our silly internet battle, I also wouldn’t have met Carl. I’m glad I did. Ever since our video call we’ve been messaging each other regularly, sharing updates on our Maroondah progress, talking strategy about tackling dangerous sections of road, and encouraging one another as we march slowly towards 100%. That this challenge has fostered such camaraderie between “rivals” has been an unexpected joy.
As I write this in mid-January 2025, Carl Hemmings is still the King of Maroondah. He’s 14 km ahead of me (with Jeff Servaas somewhere in between) and only around 20 km from 100% completion. If someone’s going to get there, I reckon it’ll be Carl who manages it first.
I say “if” because getting to 100% is not a given. The closer you get to finishing a region, the harder it is to find new kilometres. Already I’m spending a good chunk of each ride getting to new roads, having covered everything closer during lockdowns. For Carl, unridden sections of road aren’t long red lines on his Wandrer map anymore; they’re just dots. Dozens of them, spread all over the place. Some of those dots are mapping errors or areas no longer accessible, making it a real challenge to reach the full 100%. I’ll run into the same problem if I keep going.
And I think I will keep going. I’ll keep adding to my total whenever I can, so long as I’m still feeling motivated by the challenge. If that sees me take the title at some point, and maybe even ride every street in Maroondah, great. And if not, well, I reckon I can live with that.
Snapshots of Maroondah
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