Emma Flukes knew that cycling 1,796 kilometres across Tasmania would be difficult, but an earlier immune disorder diagnosis and losing control of her neck halfway through made it near impossible.
Using roadside rubbish and travel items for neck support, Ms Flukes navigated river crossings, flood damaged dirt tracks and remote terrain over eight days to place first among 22 other cyclists on the route.
Known as the Tassie Gift, the route was created by Ms Flukes in 2019 and often sees a group of cyclists head off together while carrying their own food, water and overnight gear.
Ms Flukes described it as a "scenic trip to hell" because of the gruelling nature of the track, which passes through beautiful and diverse Tasmanian landscapes.
Of the 22 cyclists who joined her on the Tassie Gift this month, 10 completed the full course.
A love letter to Tasmania
Cycling became an obsession for Ms Flukes after she completed the Race to the Rock event in 2018.
In 18 days, she cycled 3,602 kilometres from Cockle Creek in Tasmania to Uluru in the Northern Territory.
"I hadn't done any multi-day, self-sufficient riding ever, but it seemed like a cool adventure," Ms Flukes said.
"I learned so much and got the taste for the idea that you can go anywhere, as long as you have a route to follow."
Her growing interest in all terrain, self-supported cycling, and her love of Tasmania, led to the creation of her own circuit, the Tassie Gift.
"I was spending a lot of time on the west coast and in all sorts of weird and wonderful places," Ms Flukes said.
"It baffled me that no one else was going out there and seeing these places, so I pieced together a route."
A daunting diagnosis
But getting diagnosed this year with Graves' disease presented Ms Flukes with the daunting prospect of abandoning cycling altogether.
Graves' disease is an autoimmune disorder where the body's immune system attacks the thyroid gland in the throat.
Signs and symptoms can be wideranging, but for Ms Flukes it means a constant feeling of flight or fight.
"Your heart rate is through the roof, you have trouble sleeping, get tremors," she said.
"It's been difficult to be active because I'm jittery all the time.
"The bike is a mental health machine for me. Being able to take off and escape and lose myself in the wilderness is such an important part of keeping me sane and happy."
It usually takes between six to 18 months for the disorder to stabilise, but a short cycling trip gave Ms Flukes hope.
"I did a trip out to the west coast of Tassie in October and saw that it was possible to dial things back and ride day-after-day," she said.
Struck by Shermer's neck
Ms Flukes describes cycling the Tassie Gift as a "comedy of errors" after she lost control of her neck and needed to scrounge for objects to support it.
"I hit a rough 4WD track and I started losing strength in my neck," she said.
"I recognised immediately I had a thing called Shermer's neck."
Ms Flukes says Shermer's neck — when neck muscles fail from fatigue and can no longer support the head — is a "very rare condition that only affects ultra-endurance cyclists".
Using string, she devised a pulley system by tying it to her sports bra and through the back of her helmet. She would then pull on the string to try and hold the weight of her head.
"I was trying everything," Ms Flukes said.
"I picked up a plastic bottle and some rubber from a tyre that was by the side of the road and was curling that up and trying to create a chock under my chin."
With the finish line looming, Ms Flukes persevered for another 500 to 600 kilometres to place first in the group.
"I was getting these little bits of improvement and I thought, 'We can nurse this. We can get this done'."
Lessons learned on the road
Completing the Tassie Gift was reassuring for Ms Flukes, who learnt what her body was capable of in trying conditions.
Ms Flukes said she applied a risk matrix to cycling and, although incredibly painful, her neck condition was not life threatening and resolved with rest.
The bigger lesson for Ms Flukes was long-distance cycling with Graves' disease.
"The fact that my body was still able to do what it was told, I'm very proud of it," she said.
"Not proud of myself, proud of the rest of my body.
"It gives me a lot of confidence that whatever is thrown at me, I can work it out."
