Riding Through Grief: One Man’s Journey Across 500km for Mental Health

Published by Tasmanian Cycling Tours

“Just get on your bike.” That was all it took. One sentence, in the cold, in the rain, after 320km of riding — and it changed everything.

In the pre-dawn hours of December 22nd 2024, a small crew of determined riders set out to cycle 500km in a single day — a physical and emotional odyssey through Tasmania’s wild terrain, unpredictable weather, and their own inner worlds.

For me (Sofia), this ride was deeply personal. I shared my own experience on Facebook:

“It was 320km in, freezing cold, and I couldn’t stop crying. Then someone quietly said, ‘Just get on your bike.’ That moment — soaked, sore, and overwhelmed — reminded me why we do this. We ride for connection, for conversation, for the ones we’ve lost and the ones still struggling.”

Among the riders was Lucas Hlis, whose reason for showing up wasn’t just the challenge of the ride itself, but something much deeper. I think I can speak for everyone in saying he was an inspiration on the road.

“It actually started as a joke with a mate,” he admits. “Back then, I didn’t even own a bike.”

But it didn’t stay a joke for long. The Speak Up Stay ChatTY 500 ride was personal. Stay ChatTY promotes a cause that hits very close to home for me as I lost my Mum in late 2018 due to a lifelong battle with severe anxiety and depression.

Being able to do the ride this year was so much more than just a physical challenge. During the years prior to taking part in the ride, I have experienced what one might call “seasonal” depression and anxiety; particularly leading up to the time of year she passed which is on the 22nd of December which also happened to be the same day as the ride. 

“It wasn’t just a ride. It was a milestone in my grief — and my healing.”

“Being able to take part in the Stay Chatty 500 was such a huge milestone for me not only as it is quite a physical challenge but also such a mental challenge for one to get through.

I can confidently say that in previous years (particularly last year) there would be absolutely no way I could even fathom the thought of participating in the ride let alone doing it due to the mental state I was in.

Therefore I guess what I’m trying to say is that being able to complete the ride meant that I had significantly improved the way I handle my thought patterns along with staying honest to myself and others when asked the question if I’m okay and explain that I am struggling or have had some hard thoughts to process throughout the day and acknowledge that they are there and can pass opposed to becoming fixated on them.”

For many, riding 500km in one day sounds impossible. But what’s even more staggering is the emotional weight carried on the pedals. Every kilometre was a reminder of loss, love, and survival. And every moment tested more than muscle and stamina — it tested the will to keep going.

The Highlands Hurt

At 340km, climbing back into the Tasmanian Highlands, Lucas found a moment of triumph — finally cresting what he described as “possibly the most physically demanding part of the day.” But that relief was soon met with cold, relentless rain and a cascade of mechanical issues. Between Poatina and Bothwell, it dumped nearly 25mm. Chains fell off. Hands froze. Legs locked.

“I’ve never been so cold in my life. I was in tears. I just kept reminding myself why I was doing it.”

And yet, he did keep going.

From roadside sobs hidden behind rain-covered glasses to a borrowed pep talk, a Coke, and a friend saying “Just get on your bike,” this rider found strength not in isolation but in connection. The rawness of the ride mirrored the process of grief itself — unpredictable, brutal, but ultimately transformative.

Lessons from the Ride

The parallels between the ride and life were clear.

“We commit to hard things knowing they’ll hurt. But if we pause and remember our why, and think about how sweet the reward will feel... we get through.”

Through it all, there was one constant: the power of community. No one could take away the pain. But they could ride alongside it.

“I wouldn’t have made it without the people around me. Even in silence — just having someone there meant everything.”

Healing in Motion

His message to anyone grieving?

• It gets better — but you have to let yourself feel it.

• Use the resources around you. - They are there for a reason and as hard as it may seem to take the first step and go and see someone about how you’re feeling, it’s also the biggest step to making a change towards having a clearer understanding of what stage of grief you are at and also gives you some great tools and coping mechanisms to help. 

• And if you can — move your body. Even a walk can help shift your perspective. Regular physical exercise has made an astronomical change towards the way my mind feels and deals with the little issues that arise and can often compile into a bit of a spiral. 

What started as a casual dare became a life-affirming journey of healing, community, and reflection. The Speak Up Stay ChatTY 500 is more than a ride — it's a reminder that even on our darkest days, we are not riding alone.

To support the ongoing work of Stay ChatTY, visit:
👉 Donate Here

Written by Sofia Tsamassiros

Lonely Planet - Best Bike Rides in Australia (Tasmania)

We were privileged enough to have been given the opportunity to write for The Lonely Planet in 2023. We were asked to submit four of our favourite rides in lutruwita/Tasmania to be part Lonely Planet’s ‘Best Bike Rides in Australia’. As a big advocate for riding bikes in lutruwita/Tasmania, we certainly weren’t going to give up this opportunity… The struggle was, choosing just four of our favourite rides!

It had been a while since I had written in a formal capacity, so I was really excited, a bit nervous, but mostly honoured to have been given the opportunity to show off our island state. Giving people access and insight into a few locations and loops that I love to show off, felt like a great parallel to everything I hope to achieve within the business.

Lonely Planet requested I include a ride on Maria Island, a ride on Bruny Island, a ride directly outside of Hobart and another ride of my choosing. Naturally, I chose a ride in my hometown of Cygnet in the Huon Valley.

I was also able to give a special mention to my all time favourite ride in lutruwita/Tasmania, an ascent up Golden Valley in the state’s Central Highlands, as well as a special mention to the West Coast of Tasmania. An area so unique and different to the rest of the state, I had to make sure it had a mention in there somewhere!

I tried to include as much personality and local know how into each of the rides as I could, so that when you are planning your next trip to Tasmania, you are able to have some local insight in where to go and what to do. Honestly, the opportunities are endless and showing of our island state in any capacity is a priviledge I will never get sick of.

“The opportunity to surrender yourself to the environment in which you are travelling. To me, this is the beauty of nature, knowing and feeling how, at times, insignificant humans can be within our surrounding environment.”

You can purchase a copy of Lonely Planet’s Best Bike Rides in Australia, here.

Sofia Tsamassiros

Bringing in the Winter Solstice with Gravel Nationals and a bikepacking Trip home

When I was reflecting about the things I wanted to achieve this year, I thought it would be fun to celebrate the passing of the winter solstice (the shortest day of the year) with a big ride. Then I realised it fell on the weekend of the Devils Cardigan, a 106km gravel ride around Derby, which happens to be the Australian Gravel National Championships. So, I thought, even better, I can race Devils, then toddle my way back home via some fun gravel backroads.

I suggested this to Gab Summerdays on a Girl Gang a couple of months prior. The rest, as they say was history. A very loose plan to ride from Derby to Cygnet and a fun weekend ahead of us.

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Some brief reflections of the Devils Cardigan

I’m not much of a racer myself, however as someone who regularly organises races and is big on participation within the industry, it would be rude not to attend the weekend that the Devils crew put on. Having a gravel national championship in our home state is something truly special. To see mainlanders make the trek across to the little smoke to enjoy our scenery, our terrain and our weather is something worth celebrating in itself. It’s also just nice to rock up to a race and know all I have to do is ride my bike, rather than the list of tasks I usually have on race day.

People always talk about our weather being harsh and horrible during winter, which, at times can certainly be true. But when I read the forecast of light southerly winds for the morning of the race, I knew there was a fair chance of frost and a day that to me, defines a Tassie winter. Still, blue bird skies and light that you just can’t describe. Beautiful.

Race Day: Devils Cardigan

106km, 2,600m, 5hrs; https://www.strava.com/activities/11708763406

Lining up in the elite category on a cold, but spectacular winters day was somewhat nerve wracking. As I said, I’m not much a racer and standing next to a bunch of ladies who have just been over in the US racing part of the Lifetime GrandPrix series seemed somewhat surreal. I’m not much of a fan girl, but if I were, I’d probably be fan girling. Like I said, having events like this in our little home state is truly very exciting. And something to celebrate. Whether a little girl (or boy) hoping to one day make it to a national, or even international level, or just your everyday cyclist, being able to line up next to Australia’s best riders in an opportunity we rarely get to have, particularly in our little corner of the world.

As a state, it can often feel like we’re the forgotten about part of Australia. While that is certainly changing, it still feels like we are a long way from having regular opportunities such as having gravel nationals at our doorstep. So I just want to make a big shoutout to the Devils crew for creating an event with a great vibe and giving reason for some of the best riders in Aus to come ride bikes in Tas!

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I think anyone who has even ridden their bike in Tassie, know just how lucky we are down here. Just how special every little corner can be. How ever changing our landscape is. How our history can so strongly influence our people, particularly in our small towns. And how unique we are as a state.

Having the opportunity to bikepack home just emphasises all of these things. Here is a brief excerpt of our ride home…

Day 1: Derby - Launceston

104km, 1,500m; https://www.strava.com/activities/11716738161

As the sun on Sunday morning arose, neither of our bodies arose with it. It was a slow start; to waking up, to prepping our bikes and to trying to convince the legs that we still had 400km ahead of us to get ourselves home. But, to be honest, the ride home excited the both of us more than the race itself.

Our first day of the trip was relatively simple. We took the rail trail from Derby through to Scottsdale, which felt pretty slow going, but took us off the highway and through some impressively blasted rock formations. The day was relatively uneventful, bar one moment where we went through a 4wd mud pit after managing to get ourselves lost off the rail trail. I still have no idea how we managed to take a wrong turn, regardless, it was short and not too problematic. I should at this point note, my own adventures usually do not reflect that of a tour. They are usually far more eventful and unplanned… I like to think it is so I can be planned for all occasions while on tour, but others may argue otherwise.

After the rail trail we took a little detour so we could work our way up towards Mount Barrow (in my opinion, the prettier cousin of Ben Lomond). The intention was originally to summit the top of Barrow, however as we were quickly loosing daylight we opted not to ascend the top and hightail it straight into Launie.

Day 2: Launceston - Miena

115km, 1,800m; https://www.strava.com/activities/11725060215

We started the day with a compulsory visit to Bread + Butter. I usually tell people this is the only reason I ever visit Launceston, because their pastries really are top notch!

On paper, day two was pretty simple. We rode through some country backroads towards the foothills of the highlands before taking my favourite route up via Liffey Falls and Golden Valley rd. For those who have been on tour with me, know I will frequently either try and put this route into the itinerary or at the very least talk about it.

It is a bold call, but this is probably my favourite road in lutruwita/Tasmania.

While I’ve completed this particular ride multiple times, this day felt particularly rough. A combination between the cumulative fatigue from the race, the day before, the 20+% gradients, a fully loaded bike and the temperature not exceeding 4˚ all day. If I’m honest the lack of sun is the thing that personally tipped me over the edge.

But it still stands as my favourite road in Tas.

As we approached the top of the Highlands at 1,210m above sea level, the weather really does its own thing up there. The wind gusts increased, the cloud cover came over and the temperature, which was already low, plummeted some more. But this is the highlands after all. I wouldn’t expect any different.

I’m unsure who the idiot was that decided it was a good idea to ride through the highlands in the middle of winter. However that is what we did. To be honest, we got off pretty scott free, because only a week after passing through, Liawenee (the coldest permanently inhabited place in Australia) recorded the lowest temperature recorded in the country at a startling -13.5˚C.

*It was me. I am the idiot.

It felt like a long slog traversing the plateau. It always feels so much longer than it should do. But eventually, we made our way to Gab’s shack in Miena. Started a fire. Got warm. And had the biggest bowl of pasta my eyes have ever seen.

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Day 3: Miena - Hobart

150km, 1,000m; https://www.strava.com/activities/11733294392

Over our bowl of pasta the night before, we had unanimously made the call to shorten our final day. I had originally planned a pretty hectic 200km back country ride into Cygnet, which would have evolved a hell of a lot more elevation and a fair bit more time on the saddle. Something neither of us would usually be opposed to, but we were here for fun, and the route in the middle of winter, on the shortest day of the year seemed somewhat unnecessary.

Having this flexibility while bikepacking and in life, to me is one of the key traits to ensuring life is fun. To know when to push, but also when to push back and change directions. To understand why you are choosing to do something and to manipulate that path to ensure the desired outcome. Knowing that no path is more or less correct than another, however the path that you choose to take, absolutely influences the journey you will have. At one point in my life I would have chosen the hardest, silliest option without fault. And anything less than the hardest option I would deemed a failure. But I have grown. I have learned. And my intentions were not to push my body to its limits. It was to get from point A to B while having the best time possible… Plus, we already pushed our bodies on Saturday. That memory had not yet faded.

I was a bit worried when jumping on the bikes this morning. We were sitting in alpine country and my body did not yet feel like it had entirely warmed up from the day before. We put every piece of clothing on our bodies that we had packed. And thankfully, that meant that we were overdressed. The preferred option for the morning.

As the sun rose, the light was absolutely banging and Gab could tell my mood was definitely far improved from the day before. The light bounced across the road. It lit up the trees and the shrubbery around us. There is something special about winter light that I just can’t describe, other than it making me feel overwhelmed with the beauty of the world around us.

We experienced that light on this morning and I was very happy about it.

The route today was again, a pretty simple one. We worked our way from 1,100m of elevation back down to sea level. So in theory, it was all down hill from here. Although as anyone who has ever ridden a bike in Tas will know… it is never all downhill.

As we approached Bothwell, I informed Gab that I was optimistic that the one cafe in the town was going to be open. Whenever I pass through Bothwell they seem to be closed for one reason or another, but this day was going to be different, I could feel it!

… I was wrong. Still no luck at 11am on a Tuesday.

There aren’t many options in these parts, so instead we opted to fuel our bodies with the best in nutritional standards that Bothwell had to offer.

Hot chips and Sour Patch Kids.

It was a bit of a slog from here. Not much to report other than the fact that we slowly toddled our way into Hobart on legs that had definitely had enough, on minds and bodies that were ready to hang the bike up for at least a day.

We were greeted with Gab’s ever enthusiastic parents. And that was it.

Our trip from Derby to Hobart done.

A three day catch up where I feel like we somehow, we talked about very little, yet don’t think there were many moments of silence.

In fact, Gab’s father informed us he could hear us coming from a block away…

That’s a wrap. Thanks for coming on our journey! 

Sofia Tsamassiros 3.07.24

NZ Bikepacking Reflections 2024

After a big few years in our little corner of the world, my partner, Ben, and I spent two weeks in Aotearoa/New Zealand exploring the beautiful country of the long white cloud. Naturally, our mode of transport was via bike, making Ben’s first ever bikepacking trip.

Fittingly, it was also the first holiday I had taken since my previous bikepacking trip to New Zealand in 2018… although, this trip was to be very intentionally different to my previous solo adventure. In 2018, I averaged 170-200km each day. Having both learnt from that trip and wanting to (a) take in more experiences and (b) ensure Ben survives our trip (he doesn’t ride nearly as much as I do), I designed the trip to move more slowly and thoughtfully.

I came into this trip with a very different eye compared to my 2018 adventure. Some of that was intentional, but mostly it was simply due to age, experience and wanting to actively learn how New Zealand does tourism and what I can take away from that experience to bring into Eudaimonia.

This blog post is about my reflections, learnings and thoughts toward tourism.

It is not an answer to our consumer driven world, simply a thought process that I hope to have some impact on either someone else’s life, or at the very least, my own and how these thoughts impact the way in which I approach Eudaimonia.

When I first chose to start Eudaimonia, the consumerist nature of tourism was my biggest mental and moral battle within myself to reason. lutruwita/Tasmania is undoubtably a beautiful, unique and mostly, untouched island. 48% of our land is National Park, of which, almost 20% is World Heritage listed. In case those numbers don’t mean much to you, that means that almost half of our footprint is untouched or at least uninhabited by humans. In a world where the human race is quite literally destroying our planet, I think those numbers in themselves illustrate just how significant and impactful the Tasmanian natural habitat is. But with the intention of trying to show the beauty of our great state, often those intentions are coupled with destroying the very land in which we seek to preserve.

There are so many aspects of Aotearoa/New Zealand, particularly the South Island, that are similar to Tasmania, from the geography, to the agricultural driven past, the small towns and the untouched land.

Similar to Tasmania, New Zealand is known for its geographically diverse landscape which led to its growth in tourism in the 90’s. For sake of building a story and a reference point, that means tourism has been growing in New Zealand for approximately 30 years.

In comparison, MONA is generally considered the marker for our tourism growth in Tasmania, which officially opened in 2011. So we have approximately 10 years of growth behind us.

I think this comparison is important, for us, as Tasmanians to reflect on the things that are positive and the things that are potentially detrimental within NZ tourism.

Because who are we, if we are not learning beings? 

As a tourist, it is amazing how easy it is to travel around NZ. There are buses running that can get you almost anywhere, albeit with limited departure times. There are tourism businesses galore running every kind of niche and experience imaginable. Whether you want to sit in the comfort of a private plane, or keen to get your heart racing in an adventure sport, New Zealand seems to have every option. But there are also detriments to this accessibility…

The most noticeable and really quite sad, was walking into one of the glaciers at Franz Joseph. You walk in toward the glacier to a viewing platform to see the glacier a few kilometers inland from a platform which used to be almost touching it.

I had heard stories of how much the glacier has receded over the years, but actually being there, seeing where the glacier used to be just a short time ago, compared to where it is now, is so stark, so distressing. You really can’t describe it or appreciate its significance, until you’re standing there in front of it.

On top of that, instead of the serene sound of standing in a national park listening to the birds, you hear helicopters over head taking people into the glacier. Because we can no longer see it up close by foot, due to the rapid melting, we use one of the most environmentally impactful modes of transport, a plane or helicopter, to be able to touch it.

Because we’re human. And we believe that is our right.

Don’t get me wrong, I think the accessibility of the natural environment is something truly beautiful. I think the desire to get closer to what is natural, to trees that have been growing for thousands of years, to glaciers that were formed millions of years ago and to explore the things that we don’t fully understand. To step away from concrete buildings and streets, from our everyday 9-5 societal norms. As a species, as a society, I think all of that is so important. But at what point do we cross the threshold of our own importance and ruin these environments that are so much more significant than the human race itself?

At what point should we be taking ownership, as individuals, as tour operators, as consumers?

I don’t have an answer to any of this. And I am as much of the issue as anyone else.

We literally took a flight from Wanaka to Milford Sound during our trip, which was probably the most spectacular and unforgettable experiences of our lives. But the entire time I was also ridden with guilt, for entering an area known for its pristine environment and rugged beauty, via one of the most environmentally impactful modes of transport.

I asked the pilot how many flights enter Milford each day. 100 seperate planes fly into Milford every day, with visitor attraction exceeding 1 million people per year. Can you imagine the fossil fuel impact of that alone?

Again, I can only think of the conundrum of our human impact on significant environments such as Milford. Are we seeing visitation numbers this high so everyone can get their social media photo? Do we have too many people trying to make money from natural attractions? Do we just have too many humans on earth? The answer is probably ‘yes’ to all of those questions.

But what can we do to change the trajectory we’re on?

Like I said at the beginning, I don’t hold the answers. But I do hope to provoke thought. To ensure we continue to question the things we do as individuals, as consumers and as businesses.

I believe actively seeking to purchase things that are made locally is important. If that is not possible, then seeking to purchase from a business that is owned locally. One where you can see where your money is going and even who it is going to.

This may not be possible in all scenarios, however, I think having an understanding of the ‘food chain’, knowing where products have come from, who is getting paid along the way and a workplace where employees are looked after. That last one, to me, always such an important consideration. If the only person I see in the food chain (ie. the service industry) is not happy within their workplace, how am I to trust that the people further down that food chain (ie. the producers) are being looked after?

Creating small economies like this is not how our society thrives, it is not how consumerism thrives, however I believe it is the best way we as individuals and consumers can make an impact of the direction our society is taking and everything that follows in its wake. To have connection to local land, to local people, to know who we are talking to and our impact on the world around us.

So what am I doing within Eudaimonia that makes a difference, and more importantly, what do I need to change?

We will continue to buy things locally and seek to find local alternatives. While I don’t think I advertise it very well, almost every thing we provide on tour is locally made. From the coffee we purchase (Villino), the milk we buy (Ashgrove) to the electrolyte mixes we use (Bulk Nutrients). I think there are still things within this realm we can do better. If we’re organised we provide fruit and veg either from my garden or direct from the farmer, however sometimes we get complacent, particularly on longer tours, purchasing from the supermarket instead of local.

We will learn about each business we support. To me, this has always been a cornerstone to our difference as a company. Every accommodation service, every winery or food stop we have used from the beginning has been owned by a Tasmanian. It is so important for me to know where our money is going and who it is supporting, and to have a face, a name and an understanding of what the business is striving to achieve. Again, I don’t think we really advertise or promote this enough. I think as a business we could also be ensuring our own consumers are learning about this. Whether that is meeting the owner, or simply explaining why we have chosen this location.

We will learn more about ethical sourcing and where our products are made. With consumerism driving so many industries, the clothing industry has certainly had its fair share of the spotlight in its unethical sourcing and production in pursuit of the cheapest and fastest clothing. While our clothing is purchased through a local clothing and design company, I don’t know much more about the production line of a lot of our custom gear. I believe that is something I can do better at.

Continue to support community. Community has always been a key aspect to our drive and our success. We will continue to support our community, to foster a better environment for new and developing riders, a space that is inclusive and welcoming to all. We will continue to question our practices and those around us to ensure we are continuing to grow and benefit that community.

I am here hoping that the choices I make, have an impact and you too think about your own choices. With where you put your money and who you are supporting. Our choices don’t need to be perfect, they just have to be made with thought and intent and not driven by social media and the consumerist drive for more.

Maybe the world is fucked.

But maybe there are still small steps we can take as individuals to have an impact.

As I reflect on my writing, I hope this post is not too depressing. I do not wish to put pressure on us as consumers, when realistically the big companies are the ones who make the biggest impact. But I do hope that lots of individual choices can one day culminate into a big shift somewhere within our ever expanding society.

Sofia Tsamassiros

South Island NZ

A solo bikepacking adventure around the land of the long white cloud