Post # 477
8/12 Beach Rd & Baum buddies.
The squawk of seagulls started Saturday's spin, I was in Melbourne's metropolis for the weekend so Beach Rd beckoned. Headed north from the usual Mordialloc start, a north northeaster niggled at my progress, though the sea breeze up the nostrils invigorated the drive to pass plenty (and only be passed by a few), the rise and fall of the smooth hotmix almost a pleasure to deal with. I'd steadily made ground on a pair swapping turns through Black Rock, joining in the load sharing as we spun toward Sandringham. I did a turn of duty up Col de Cerberus, flicked an elbow, but on the peek back found nobody there (the pair half a k back) so pressed on.
Pelotons aplenty were now plying south, my thoughts on the downhills drove me up the uphills while lithe ladies in lycra jogging the beachside paths supplied the stimulus for speed. Into Brighton and bunches were forming in the side streets, traffic steadily increasing as the threatening sky exited eastward. 'Go Go Juice', 'The paperboy's St.Kilda sprint' and 'Chewing the bar tape on Beachy Rd' segments slipped by,
passing by Luna Park and along the wide way of Beaconsfield parade, bikes and joggers were now invading the streets and paths, but I'd reached Port Melbourne so U-turned to make my way back to Mordialloc. All sorts were out now, the café racers, the serious , others testing lycra's limits, international travellers and hipsters on fixies struggling with real speed. Certainly entertaining! Bunches fast and slow southward made a solo spin the preferred choice, but soon enough a half dozen had attached to my wheel for a free tow. Traffic lights became a burden through Brighton, and now caught up in a big bunch, I was tiring of it's tame tempo.
Planning to break away from the boredom while stopped at Hampton's Bridge St lights, a voice beside me called "nice bike", to find a Baum buddy beside me.
Easily enticed to bury the breakaway and chat Corretto's, I succumbed to being drawn along in the bunch draft, the yarn with Ian made social satisfaction while a few young ones provided the tow. Rides ridden, peloton preferences and Baum's bliss drew many comparisons on our travels through the segments of 'Ohhh Boy!', 'Love to Silvia' and 'Questionable Architectural Taste', but soon enough time forced an adieu and halted me at the Tour de Café on Mordialloc's pier, 27 Strava trophies and a long black was savoured, but Couldabeens comradery craved.
10/12 Smooth's the secret.
Relative humidity at 99% made a steamy start to Week 50, finding Rocket, The Godfather, Cate, Bruce, Travis, Pistol Pete and Liam lining up for the 5:45 foray. The Ford Rd fix continues so the Raftery-Mitchell-River-Boundary-Old Dookie circuit sufficed, first berth for me made me captain to steer the squad out of town. A hint of a southerly had me pressing the accelerator hard, Rocket relieving me of that rigor as we turned south onto Melbourne Rd, then down Raftery to eye-ball the rising sun. Turns rolled smooth in the high 30's to Mitchell Rd, the atmosphere as thick as a brick stirring a sweat and steaming specs. It's a relief to relieve thoughts from the calamity of Christmas and focus on the ride, oh, and preventing a coronary keeping pace with Liam in River Rd. Bruce and Rocket did the distance to Boundary Rd, a terminated turtle and a flattened fox our chicanes on the north drive to Old Dookie Rd (Coggo seen providing the tow to a peace train of five at the Broken bridges). Pistol Pete and Travis donated the draft to the highway, the peace prized as The Godfather diverted his energies from tongue to tempo on the front. The way west on Old Dookie Rd was smooth in speed , I was still sandwiched between Rocket and Liam but the effort was made manageable by the regular rhythm. Pace was still plentiful reaching the city limits (a caffeine incentive?) but time turned me homeward at SPC.
11/12 The toil train.
Col was captain again for the first shift of the Tuesday thrash, a light southerly the only constraint to the train of toil. Participants for pain were plentiful (Cate, Bo, Pelly, Kel, Grumpy, BamBam, Whispering Jack, Temple, Nick, Killkenny Paul and MyRideTrev) which tells me the 5:45 formula finds favour (a few ex Hares now happier to hurt a little less in division two).
I took leg 2 to Orrvale Rd finding high 30's manageable (a bonus to have orchards shielding the breeze), the long line passing as I eased to join the tail (but KillkennyPaul held a caveat on the caboose) Whispering Jack won the headwind on Central Ave, Pelly, BamBam, Cate and MyRideTrev driving and dividing the Channel Rd chores (in varying velocities). Kel hurried into the headwind to the Broken Bridges, Bo and Nick getting us to River Rd and out of the breeze. Grumpy hit the turbo reaching the front at the quarter horse stud (vexed by variation?), Col steadfastly sticking to the prior rhythm saved several from an early exit. Col's smoothness to the bridge prepared me well for my next shift, Bo's bitches last week on my "short" turn inspiring a drive to reach River's end. I'd chanced missing the headwind en-route to Mitchell (Pelly's performance pacy), the Hares hurry closing in on us at Dave's dip. Traffic caused us to pause at the highway where the Hares pounced, the 5:45 team content to stay collected and battle out the bragging rights together. Temple dragged the long line to Galbraith's gate where Col drove long and strong to Conrod straight. There'd be podium pickings for me at second wheel with a kilometre to go, so with Col still captain at the first dip, I wound up to empty the tank and make work for Bo behind me. Surprised I'd lasted to the 250 mark, Bo and Pelly bolted by in a battle for the chocolates (Pelly pouncing for prime position) to finish a quick circuit with all but KillkennyPaul in sight.
12/12 The SpinDoctor's swansong.
A tropical Wednesday (21 degrees and a 20 km/h northeaster) drew a crowd at the Couldabeens carpark, Tina, MexicanAnt, The Godfather, KillkennyPaul, Shorty, Nick, Softa, SpinDoctor, Cate, Travis, Laura, Kenworth, MyRideTrev, and Nev setting sail southward at six. It was SpinDoctor's last lap before the Dutchy deserts, so it was fitting he lead the crew south to Sanctuary's roundabout. I'd jumped at the chance to be at the front (nothing to do with the aid of a tail wind!) and had The Godfather as partner in pace to the truck route. The enlarged early edition of Col, Kreeky, PistolPete, Rocket, Wozza, not-so-newAvantiJohn, BamBam, Boof, Bo and Kel had just joined in for leg 3 when MyRideTrev punctured, a welcome intermission for Softa to overdose on oxygen after his 4k effort to keep in touch. The obligatory reshuffle on the restart placed me between Boof and not-so-newAvantiJohn, labour looking likely at the front into the wind.
Weapon joined from the west, the pack stacked across the tarmac hiding from the northeaster.
Hesitating at the horsepower you're paired with is a wasted worry, many are considerate in matching your speed and most don't bite! Maybe it's dealing with your own shortcomings relenting to a shorter shift that hurts? The last k of River Rd with Boof and the first bit of Boundary beside not-so-newAvantiJohn went better than my niggling negatives had expected, I'd survived the speed and no blood was spilt (though legs weren't pleased with the pace). Half a k later the bunch banter had erased all that effort, many in lesser form than I advanced to do their long or short bit for the bunch, the turn into Channel Rd favouring fortunes with the wind behind us. Laura was in a lather, and some now shuffled into the down-line predicting energy left didn't equal speed needed. Mid 40's silenced the bunch babble, thankfully two rows became one before I'd arrived at the front for further duty. A 60 metre long line of howling wheels speared toward the ChaCha, Travis launching the lead-out a little before Prentice Rd with Boof and not-so-newAvantiJohn in his wake. Into the 50's, my focus narrowed in close Couldabeens quarters, a brief peek eyeing Boof taking the trophy.
14/12 A post precipitation pedal.
Boof was quickly tending to a sliced tyre at Friday's grid as Tina, Pelly, Kel, Bo, Cate, Liam and The Godfather rolled in for duty. A piece of canvas outclassed a $5 note for a makeshift repair but a dud CO2 inflator meant our flight would be further delayed. Launching 6 minutes late, I'd scored the job of pilot out of town, Kel pairing at the city limits urged some shove into my shift to Sanctuary's roundabout. Bruce, Kreeky, Pistol Pete and Rocket turned up from the early edition to make a baker's dozen, the tarmac now almost dried from Thursday's 16mm soaking. There was the odd puddle to dodge on our eastward drive, finding Cruisers ambling west in River Rd (Mr. Magnet, as aero as a basketball, already thoroughly o.t.a.) with Pussycats in pursuit behind, Goats fielding a foursome on the train of pain at the Angora farm.
Our bunch numbers made for smooth sailing (no rubber band syndrome at the back with just a dozen ahead) and a decent workout (more than the usual two turns). It was time for my contribution to the Couldabeens cause again at the front, a drive up Boundary Rd beside Cate then rolling across at the Broken bridges to have Kel co-pilot beside me. I may have (inadvertently) added a tad of tempo on the bridge descent that could have been construed as a surge, in an instant I was in Struggle Street keeping up to Kel's pumped-up pace (even though I'd held a respectful half wheel back, Kel was apparently similarly stressed by speed) Funny how conformity creates competition? Liqourice legs laboured to catch the wheel as we turned into Channel Rd, but into the draft the effort eased to begin a comeback to composure. PistolPete's performance towed us beyond the S bend, a consensus concluded to avoid the ChaCha's channels of water and divert via Poplar Ave to town. Inattentive drivers and cars minus the luxury (and sensibility) of lights were on the keep clear list, tapping through the city's streets to home pondering another year almost spent.
Week 50 220km YTD 13,400 km.
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