Week 8 : My holiday'd head

Post 436
17/2  Bunched in Ballarat.

Bunchless for a week was taking its toll (listening to myself was a dangerous disposition!) so an invite from SpecialisedStu to join the Ballarat Thinking Mans Bunch was a cycling saviour. A civilised start at 8am from Lake Wendouree had about 17 starters (PK, Greg, Alan, CanyonDave, Dean, H'Man, Jay, SpecialisedStu, Pete, Ray, Rob and Simon), course options settling on a 65k crank to the northwest of the shire.  In a break from their usual "split 'n roll through the middle", anti-clockwise turns were on the trial menu (suits me), sneaking through the city streets to set sights on Miners Rest.  Signals and calls were ship shape (messages get passed on too!) to put a newcomer at ease, steady in the low 30's making life comfortable too (if I were to keep up in the rolling hills)  

We worked toward Windermere and Weatherboard, a dozen giant wind turbines standing sentry on the hill.  Up to Addington and across to Coghills Creek, I was feeling the inability on the inclines, the locals chatting away undeterred while I was taking all the oxygen I could get.  A light breeze was being lapped up by the bunch normally blown to kingdom come, how appropriate as we whistled through Blowhard on the southern leg home. 

CanyonDave's classy on a matte mettalic green machine, Greg on a classic Cannondale (Saeco) and Simon (Wangaratta) almost my neighbour.  There was a pause at Miners Rest while a few tended to a puncture but back to the 'Rat was flat chat along Howe St, the tradition to fight for town lines alive and well here too. There was a little peloton policing on those straying into traffic space, but nearly all bunches are guilty of that.  Back via Wendouree's foreshore to Racers for caffiene and toast, amicable chat on rough and ripper roads, how turns roll and unwelcomed intriders rounded off a raptuous ride .   A minor mechanical annoyance (squeal from the freewheel hub bearing) was magnificently mended by Matt at CycleScape, merci mon ami!

18/2   Cirque du Creswick.

I was questioning sanity (again!) at 5:50 Sunday, slogging solitary on an unknown road to Clunes, the long and gradual descent from Crewsick almost the only thing keeping me from a u-turn.  Past Glendonald while it slept,  I arrived into historic Clunes surrounded by darkness, to face an uphill battle toward Turello (It's been hard to let go of the expectations of average speeds while I plug away at these inclines, but an added headwind shifted the goalposts) There was a picturesque panorama to picture at Ascot, the sun peeking above the bump of Forrest Hill on the eastern horizon while dodging a drenching from the broadacre sprinklers that kept the spuds hydrated. 

18k's on a gradual rise whittled down my average but at last Learmonth-Sulky Rd turned up to ease me eastbound. 
A left into Gillies Rd and an immediate right into Jubilee, the pinchy little rise making me friendly with ol'mate 38 ring. Rabbits ran riot crossing Boundary Rd where Jubilee ran out of tarmac, well compacted fine sand was bearable though the corrugated corners were cruel, only a kilometer to weave under the railway line to be back onto the terra firma of the Midland highway.  One more uphill to Cabbage Tree then a short reward of the descent to Creswick, 55k deserving a cafeine reward at the Bean & Barrow.  The ears didn't deserve the "gravel gremlins"  [cyclocrossers] blinguistics at the cafe table though!

19/2  The Great Ocean Ride.

A battle between pessimist and optimist raged as Anglesea's crashing waves and a 30 km/h south southeaster put up an arguement for the negative, but the affirmative of the Great Ocean Road lay just meters away, so seize the day I say!  Rule #9 ricochetted round the skull as I saddled up westward on this national heritage listed strip of black stuff, a couple of k's climbing out of Anglesea heated up the engine, the ocean's roar drowning out the Mavic music working toward Airey's Inlet.  There's a delicious little downhill then a short rise up to Fairhaven with barely a car about on a costal commute.
 
Past the extravagent holiday houses perched atop the cliffs and down to the fairly flat of Eastern View, wind whipping at the wheels to suggest I'd been trained by WobblyTrev.  The lazy level stuff soon changed to a challenge, Big Hill loomed to generate the gearchanges.  It's a testament to the returned WW1 soldiers that pick and shovelled a smooth course through the coastline almost 100 years ago, a 2000's super slick tarmac sweetening the significantly scenic experience.

Descending over the crest, I crossed paths with an ascending fellow cyclust, so reassuring it wasn't just me pedalling possessed at this hour!  Down the hill and within a few k's I was under Lorne's twinkling street lights, a pause for a pic at the swingbridge then about face for the 28k back.

A mob of motorhomes motored my way (a little alarming to see roadsigns recommending driving on the left in Australia!), the sun streaking through the clouds to set the sea scenic.  There's something a bit beneficial about the sea air up the nostrils and a head in holiday mode, up and over Big Hill and along the windswept ( SE @19-34 km/h)  coast, progress pleasantly pacy with the bait of Tony's short black at Anglesea's Laneway 73.


20/2  Torquing-up Torquay.
A longer, steeper climb east of Anglesea questioned my motivation toward Torquay Tuesday, the Virgo virtue hard to vanquish when the mind's made up. 

A nasty easterly (19-38 km/h) did it's best to blow me back down the hill but Baum and brawn eventually got me to the top at Forrest Rd for an almost level crank toward Bells Beach.  The rather generous bike lane was strewn with sticks and small branches to dodge, the Chocolaterie tugging at the handlebars too (just as well it wasn't open!).   Steering right into Bells Boulevard (more like Rollercoaster Rd!) downward in the fiftes and upward in single figures made it murder on the muscles.   Onto Bones then Bells Beach Rd, more ups and downs rattled the ratios but this is the medicine needed for 3Peaks only weeks away.   I'd gone full circle on the Bells roller coaster, onto the Great Ocean Rd again and back on track to torque up to Torquay, a dawning sun lighting the townships' target.  The surf coast was a good spot to about face (and pose a pic for posterity) with a slightly easier task to return (a big breeze from behind).   Several bike devotees were now out and about but my course was set to be solo, traffic building for those on a workday.   The long and steady slope upward finally finished at Eumeralla Camp, lapping up the decent descent into Anglesea to habitually halt for Tony's long black as a ride reward.

21/2  The coast with the most.

A chance to crank the coast with ex-pat Goats Spartacus and Cindy got me working west on Wednesday, that climb from Anglesea now familiar enough to tempt a trim of time. (Damn Strava and it's trophies!).  The drop to the small ring is getting practice perfect, keeping the rpm regular my only hope of getting to the crest.  The 13k's to Fairhaven was heaven with the wind weak as water, red led's ahead found to be Cindy and Spartacus. With Lorne as a target we three set sail filed single, one of those epic sunrises brewing behind. Through Eastern View and upward to Big Hill found Foss unfazed, familiarity a bonus knowing what's ahead.   Billiard table hot mix helped the haul up to Cinema Point, once unfamiliar cadence in the 80's now de rigeur to ride the rises.  Lorne's coastline spread out before us at Hendy Rd to tempt the tempo, head down and heartrate up into town, but a dazzler daybreak stopped me to snap this one.

Appeasing the (possibly pedantic) pier pic for Spartacus, we turned for home, feeling like a different day now that sun lit the landscape.  It was going to be hard to drag my holiday'd head from these vistas and face the flatlands of home, but the bunch dynamics have been sorely missed.  We berthed back at Onda in Fairhaven for espresso and a ramble on ratios and mastering mountains before I resumed my crank back to Anglesea, the harsh reality of the holiday's end starting to sink in.


23/2  Back to the flatlands family.
It felt odd to saddle up with the horizon as flat as the crap carters' hat but it was great to reunite with the Couldabeens crew back on home soil.  It was a warm grid (23 degrees) and a warm reception as TrekTrev, MyRideTrev, Nev, Kel, Bo, Shorty, KillkennyPaul, Car+Mel, Softa, Jen, PistolPete, CatCol, AvantiAndy, Tina, NewAvantiJohn, Bruce, Cate, Sean and Kenworth rolled in.  The six o'clock salvo struck and I'd landed the job of cutting the virgin air toward the Sanctuary roundabout, that 3k stretch seemed to have lengthened since I was away.  Longer lappers Trav, Rocket, The Godfather, Pelly, BamBam, Grumpy and Ralphy filled the ranks to 27, an easterly to push into made my earlier turn at the front seem circumspect.  Demoted gradually to the rear beame my social update with the clan, great to have KillkennyPaul returned from injury, many are on the improve but some still stagnate, The Godfather still handy with the verbal hammer, Ralphy holding up the Machines mantle but Jen was minus the lumens to roll through.  The bunch almost hit neutral half way along River Rd, someone keen to curtail the cruising speed already set?   Two long lines reached Rivers' end and belted into Boundary Rd, I'd almost forgotten the whiplash effect till 45 was needed to catch the tail.  Tommygun had u-turned and jumped onto our train, the light easterly set to build a bit of pace in Channel Rd.  My position was preparing for a toasting as Cate and I swung left at the Kinder, Bruce bolting by as I rolled across at Hopeful corner.  I was struggling to keep in Bruce's draft by Prentice Rd, though a glance behind found a lot of space behind us.  With perfect timing, Rocket wound up his wattage to claim the chocolates, I'd been rapidly relegated to the rear as most of the bunch breezed by.

Week 8          311km                 YTD  2,316km