Week 24 : On the brink of boom!

Post 401

10/6 A ride up routed
Throwing the doona off is the toughest winter workout, it gets easier with warm fuel in the engine and kitting up in umpteen layers for a ride, but opening the door to zero degrees is a cardio killer!  But the Saturday drawcard of bikes, banter and breakfast with buddies negates the numbing cold. The tempered team of

TatPaul, BassoDan, HBK, Jase, Wozza, Boof, Avanti-not-MeridaJohn, AvantiTrev, Trav, Cougar, Shorty, PistolPete, Grumpy, Car+Mel, Temple, Cate and Softa assembled at 6, a mystical drive through the moonlit patchy fog on Archer made a different start to Saturdays lap.  We're almost on the hump of winters solstice, the days can only get longer! A berth beside Jase bumped up the Garmin graph in Mitchell, the 2.2k Central Kialla turn to River Rd was seemingly endless (and breathless) beside Shorty.  Relief was so sweet in the draft at second wheel as Shorty and Temple drove to the bridge, effort easing as 86.7% of the crew cranked a contribution at the fresh front.  This uprooted route felt foreign for Saturday, a chance for a few extra k's with the Old Dookie and Cosgrove North Rd bridges on a rebuild. It was time for another turn as we swung west into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the main eastern channel bridge was my target with Jase (ironically about to call the same limit too) then to the distant Lemnos North Rd cooked me pairing with Shorty.  Full of beans into Wanganui Rd, 8th wheel, 130 bpm, 72rpm and just rolling the 56/14 gear put my sprint confidence to new highs.  I got around Jase at DECA, but the pack went Indian file behind, how quickly the wattage waned and heartrate hurtled at the fresh front!  Boof, Wozza, Grumpy and Avanti-not-MeridaJohn built a head of steam to the sprint train as my drive died, flat chat to Wanganui hill demoting me instantly midfield, and by Rudd Rd I was second last. Oh well, there's no trophies!  Old ancestry, carbon's fragility and porridge perfection made up the breakfast blab at the post ride parliament

12/6  Cold, Caniambo, Camels & Couldabeens

For the sake of variety and a few extra k's, I called a camel farm loop for the Monday holiday which drew Shorty, Wozza, Rocket, Boof, Pistol, BamBam and Softa to the carpark.  With the mercury at zero and fog aplenty, we cranked the familiar Archer Rd trajectory but continued east for the length of Mitchell Rd.  Wozza, Rocket, Pistol and Boof must have fuelled on Kellogs Kadence,  plenty of pace putting some in the "at risk" category.  The old stretch of Mitchell brought back memories, the length of Bells & Armstrong Rd triggering Pavlov's dogs responses, 12k's of narrowing and roughening road to smack the resolve senseless.

Sharing the burden was some sort of bonus though Softa was feeling the pinch of a small bunch and a bigger distance than he was acustomed too.  At the front, Shorty, BamBam and I lowered the speed a touch in the interest of self survival (no doubt earning praise from Softa),  Cosgrove-Caniambo Rd finally appearing through the atmospheric soup as an occular oasis.  Over the Midland highway and into the shadow of Mt.Major, kangaroos bounded away as we prepared for the assault on the Col du Caniambo, a category two climb of three meters over a 450 meter distance (felt like the Tormalet after 38 k's of pancake pavement).  West on Kellows Rd, camels chewed the cud complacently at us cranking toward Cosgrove, my turn beside BamBam began to wear away the wattage but he called the roll as I drew breath to do the same. Nearing New Dookie Rd alongside Boof, I'd just hit my limit as he called a change too.  What timing!

Shorty (did well considering two rides in a week) had taken up residence in the caboose with Softa, BamBam now showing the strain as Wozza, Rocket and Pistol seemed immune.  The length of Lemnos-Cosgrove eventually turned to Ford, turns at the front now so frequent were fueling my fatigue.  BamBam bid bye bye breaking off to Verney Rd, by Wanganui Rd thoughts of a warm breakfast so near was all that encouraged effort.  By DECA, any advance was out of the question, my drafting essential to scale the heights of Mt.Wanganui (3.6 metres).   My guess at 58 k's was wrong (70 really) but the Lemontree e.t.a. was just a minute off, a sweltering 1.8 degrees at the dismount.  Breakfast was bliss, exotic cars, drugs and AFL the babble, before facing the fresh ride home to thaw in the shower (looking like a lobster)

13/6 The awesome foursome
Tuesday tryers are now almost extinct, only Temple, Cate and I at the grid.  Thankfully, HBK had arrived at the third stroke of 5:45 to make a quadrella, a little single filed train escaping east out of town.  Me, HBK, Temple and Cate were the order of the day, just a 3k rest before duty called again needed mental preparation.  Temple and Cate did the legwork in Boundary Rd, a light headwind being the blunt end of the stick.  Engines run better on motivation, so encouraging words were offered around....though they were used sparingly on HBK so his helmet didn't tighten.  Back in the drivers seat as we turned into River Rd, I squeezed the accelerator gently up to speed sensing some were on the brink of boom.  My mission was a long haul to distribute some respite for all to survive, the target distance clouded by fog.  The first k hurt till the smooth surface of the 2nd k handed me a 2nd wind, on past the kennels slicing through the soup, aiming for handover at the next white post became the one after, and another, oh to hell with it!, another one to the dip. Compliments of "animal" and "machine" helped me to catch the last wheel as HBK took over an equally energised effort to finish off River Rd.  Temple tore into the Central Kialla leg, but Hares were homing in.  Cate cranked a great turn to Archer, I got the helm as Hares drew by, so dug a bit deeper to catch their draft.  8 slicing the atmosphere was a big help but the tempo taxed, up to the highway traffic had halted our hurry, the huff and puff helping our heart rates.  Up and away headed for Raftery, the bolt to get back on the tail was testing a few, around Roubaix 3 had been cast off, so I eased back to assist their finish.  HBK, Temple and Cate sat in the wake till I'd reached Conrod's dip for a solid finish of solidarity.

14/6  The polar peloton
I thought we were early to an empty carpark but the dying minutes to 6am saw Boof, Pistol, AvantiTrev, The Godfather and SuperMario join Wozz Car+Mel, Cate and I for a 0.8 degree flagfall.   BamBam, Pelly and Grumpy jumped aboard as Wozz captained the crew south, I felt it my bunch duty to pair at the pointy end (how many times does he take the first shift while many draft for an easy warm up?).  It was a good idea at the time till 400 metres later the labor pains started ; lungs full of iced air, legs protesting the pace and the heart rate on an escalator, and there was 1000 meters till the Sanctuary roundabout!  Like a grenade without a pin I'd just got around Wozza to glance at my next partner in pace.....Pistol!  (this was going to hurt)  Blurred at the edges, the truck route finally came into view, the delight of a draft as legs went to jelly catching Pistol's wake.  One word replies to BamBam and Grumpy's greetings as oxygen became a precious comodity, two unspoken minutes was enough to restore myself from a gasping stupor.  SuperMario and AvantiTrev advanced to the front and suppressed the speed, but a once-a-week-ride and a skewed MTB bias maketh a muscle massacre on a road bike as the temperature zeroed.  SuperMario pleaded for a peace on pace as Wozz and I returned to the drivers seat, it lasted about 3.7 nanoseconds till we turned up the wick.  Onward the bunch of 13 sliced through the arctic atmosphere, up Boundary to Channel and west toward town, the peloton promotion to the pointy end was hastening at the cypress trees. It was a struggle to reach the Kinder matching Wozz at the front, tougher repeating the process with Pistol to Hopeful corner.



15/6  Bay by bike.
Ten degrees felt foreign, well worth soaking up on the bike mecca of Port Phillip Bay whilst in the big smoke. Mounting up in Mordialloc, the rise and fall of the track to Black Rock tested this flatlander Foss, but the super smooth tarmac was a gift to the gluteus maximus.

Past rows of bayside architectual monstrosities of concrete and glass, at least the grand old Edgy and the Mentone Hotel eased the eye.  Uphill losses always have a downhill profit, progress was generally good on this bike utopia, onward to Sandringham passing a few twos and threes of various shapes and sizes, only being passed by one pack of six. Soon sharing the road with an R8 an M6 and a GT3 told me I'd reached Brighton, several bike bunches now forming in the side streets readying to ride. Lots of jogging eye candy pounded the St.Kilda beach paths (eyes ahead Foss!), pelotons aplenty now steaming south lapping up a tailwind, northbound traffic helping me against the headwind (9-14 km/h) with momentary drafts.  "Woody's wheel", the "Cerberus lung buster" and "Gone in sixty seconds" were among the dozens of Strava segments en-route, scoring 71 trophies certainly soothing the soul.  Up to Port Melbourne's pier (an obligatory souvenir snap with the tub to Tassie) then about face to soldier on solo southbound. There were plenty of bunches berthed at the coffee pitstops of St.Kilda but that pleasure I postponed till the finish (too hard to get started again!), a promised espresso trophy at the Mordailloc finish.

16/6  Meandering MelBaum
Still in the state's capital (and still a mild 8 degrees), variety pointed me south from "Mordy", a few that were Carrum bound were a guide to stay on the track most traveled (this metropolis not the place to ride uncharted territory).  I worked turns with Paul and Marcus via Aspendale, Chelsea and Bon Beach to Carrum, u-turning at Patterson Lakes when the bike lanes evaporated.

Northbound into the breeze (9-11 km/h) back to Mordialloc then Beach Rd bound back on familiar ground.  The sea air in the nostrils and thousands of  lights edging Port Phillip's pond makes for a different scenery, not so many bikes citybound today and half the packs of yesterday southbound.  Those slight uphills buckled the brow but the downhills massaged the ego.  How do these local councils make manhole covers sit so smoothly in the hotmix? Barely a bump!  A scenic city skyline tempted a pit stop, a technicolor row of 1860's Brighton's bathing boxes enticing a photo for the alBaum.  Enough of the tourist trumpery, time to tap back to the pier, and curse you Strava tempting tempo for PB's en route!  The feint tailwind was my pace partner for segments like "The Bursty Bit", "Half Moon Hill" and "BB Attack", two wheeled heroes were thinning as commuting cars invaded the roads, but mutual respect was shown on this two wheeled nirvana.

Week 24      300k      YTD 6,053 km