Riders are an eclectic lot. They learn how to improvise. And they have their own way of doing things.

In a youth hostel in Halls Gap a German cyclist showed me how to dry my socks in the microwave.

“You just need two and a half minutes on medium high,” he said. “They come out nice and toasty, yah.”

Many riders make changes to their bikes. They adapt them to make them faster or more comfortable.

Reclining bikes that sit low to the ground are popular.

One rider I saw had yanked off the pedals of what appeared to be a normal bike and stuck them up under the handlebars. With every rotation it looked like he was about to do a serious knee injury.

Sharon, 35, from Spotswood, is trying to do the whole Great Victorian Bike Ride without using the ride toilets.

“They’re not really for me,” she says. “At every stop I try to find a local and ask them if there’s somewhere else.

“At Chatsworth the kindergarten was running a stall. I asked them about toilets and they said I could use theirs. I gave them a donation.”

Several couples are doing the event on tandem bikes, including Robyn and Andrew. I know their names because they have a little sign on the back of their bike saying “Rob and Andrew”.

“Hi Rob and Andrew,” yells Sharon, and Rob and Andrew wave back.

“I’m a big girl,” Sharon adds, possibly unnecessarily. “I used to be a lot bigger before I started riding.”

Another rider has a sign hanging off her seat that says: “Less emissions and smaller bums.”

But probably Barry Clearwater, the unicyclist I spoke to before the ride, has the best insight into the mind of the event rider.

Because just about nobody can pass him without making a comment, or asking a question.

“I’ve heard everything,” he says while walking his bike up a hill. “People ask me where my handlebars are, or what am I up to, or why am I doing it, or what charity am I riding for?

“Why do I have to do it for a charity? If you want to help a charity then you should go work for one.

“One rider even said to another, ‘I’d like to push that bloke over.’ He said it in front of me to his mate like I wasn’t even there.”

Like you were disabled?

Barry nodded. “What I’m doing is just a bit of madness, that’s all. And the world needs a little madness.”

Tomorrow is the longest leg: Lake Bolac to Beaufort, 106km.