Fearless or fairweather?

Post #543
19/4  Bell's Rd boredom.

Throwing the doona off was the hard part.  Breakfast and kitting up to roll out some k's was the easy bit, but the warmth in bed when it was 6 outside made that first step a struggle.  Move it Foss, the regret not riding will ruin your day!  Opening the front door chilled the bones in an instant, cadence would have to be the heater as I'd defiantly dressed in short knicks (no sense, no feel?)  The suggestion of a westerly breeze behind satisfied the speed standards early, my path out New Dookie Rd totally deserted, the silence slightly scary.  Almost a post-apocalyptic atmosphere? I wasn't breaking any records but the landmarks appeared sooner than expected, beyond the Pine Lodge church the sun showing it's colour to start Sunday (and provide a psychological warmth).   I forked off (to coin a phrase) on Kellows Rd headed for the camel farm, up close and personal to Mt. Major before steering south onto Cosgrove-Caniambo Rd.

The sun threw long shadows west to paint light across the paddocks, the hint of an incline at Dookie College Rd taking the slack out of my legs (unaccustomed as I am to hills), the slackening of enthusiasm yet to come.  Over the highway and to the fringe of Caniambo, I turned west onto that long thin goat track called Bells / Armstrong Rd, stretching into the distant horizon.

Like brussels sprouts amongst the roast dinner, you've got to endure the hard stuff to reach the desert. In the hapless hunt for H2O, the roadside gum trees had reached their roots under the coarse tarmac, replicating a Roubaix-like roughness, to the delight of my derriere!  That grey ribbon of road went on and on, and with a southwester fighting my pace, maintaining low 30's was crushing confidence for 12 cruel k's.  The suffering subsided as the roughness relented nearing the main eastern channel, so Coach Rd's billiard table smoothness was just bliss.  
The option of which way west was won by Channel Rd, it's few orchards left hoped to shelter me from the bracing breeze back toward town.  Tempo turned trance-like closer to civilisation, focus fixed on coffee and the Lemontree menu to get me to the end. (how different the mindset is to manage more than the usual 45 k's)  Back to base camp, the surroundings were silent and sparse (but at least familiar), so I imagined the bunch babble and camaraderie sitting solo and let breakfast reward my effort

21/4  Being bait.
A local lap was likely to lay eyes on another lad (or lass) on a bike, this confinement (courtesy of Covid 19) has me cookoo with cabin fever already!  Bare arms and mild mornings have been hurled into the history books, another 6 degree start to the day smells like winter is about to strike (that'll divide riders into the fearless and the fairweathers!) How many will become extinct this year?

Into the darkness of Raftery Rd, I set sights on an anti-clockwise tour around town, a breezeless morning (well, so far) allowing a pleasing pace.  Down to Mitchell Rd and through Dave's dip, the road was all mine with not a light in sight.  Surprisingly, Archer Rd was empty too.  Speed still satisfied through Central Kialla though legs began to labour facing River Rd.  That 6th sense of wind direction (it's finely honed not long after we take up this bicycle business) detected a southwester trying it's best to shatter the self esteem, digging the depth of determination just to keep 30's on the Garmin.  Motivation came to the fore when bike lights were spotted a distance behind, the competition compartment in the cranium lit up, stirring up the speed.  I'd become the bait.  Pace perked up with the breeze behind in Coach Rd but those lights loomed larger behind (two against one ain't fair Mum!)  I had a fair idea it'd be Couldabeens chasing each others tail-lights and sure enough, over the highway, PistolPete and Boof hollered their hello's and passed with pace.  That wasn't too demoralising, they weren't specs on the horizon in an instant.  Barely a k passed under the wheels when another pair of lights zoomed in, Bruce and The Godfather delivering greetings on their mission to catch the others.  Joining in was appealing though the distancing thing played on my conscience, so  I set a course to New Dookie Rd to deliver me from temptation.  9 k's back to town had a little help from the southwester, surfaces ranging from coarse stone to heavenly hot mix varying velocity back to home.

22/4  Lappin' local.
Different sights and sounds on a course contrary to regular routes was the inspiration to face Wednesday, yet another solo spin needed something to stimulate the senses in this Corona confinement.  Well, that was the plan.   That bane to bicyclists, the bindii delayed my launch with a flat front tyre, and with many minutes now missing, I chose to lap local on a familiar track to keep sweet with the employer's clock.

That well worn path of Old Dookie Rd, Boundary and River Rd's would satisfy the craving for k's even though it had all the appeal of parliament's question time (without a bunch).  There was nobody to speak to (but the silence was golden), no pressure on the length of the turn (there was one big shift at the front though) and no pressure on pace (just one's self to satisfy).  A distant tail-light in Boundary Rd said I wasn't the only crazy one out, the slow rise of the sun throwing light on the familiar features ;  The Pine Lodge Pub (that still isn't a pub), River Rd's rooster hollering it's hello to Wednesday and bindii are still rampant at the roadside.   Couldabeens presented as a disjointed string of headlights in River Rd as I pressed on westward, the hum of the wheels and purr of the chain my motivational music to the bridge.  I crossed solo paths with Snow in the last k of River Rd, and took a Central Kialla course to Mitchel Rd where time told me the Archer Rd exit would get me back to base on time.

23/4  The Tat lap
There's a great sense of freedom with an empty, open road in the headlight's beam, freedom too spinning solo in self propulsion as the world's worries are erased from your head.  But there's that sense of what the hell are you doing? while most sane people are tucked up in bed at 5:30am!

A sense of urgency drove me south on Toolamba Rd, the distance of this different course (the one I'd planned but abandoned yesterday) was vague and my mortal enemy time was ticking.  That'll push me out of my comfort zone.  6 degrees was a bit below that zone too and it kept the cadence keen toward Toolamba.  Over the railway line and turning west, the Rushworth-Toolamba Rd offered up it's coarse course toward Dhurringile, the channel bridges (mini mountains to me!) marking the efforts and ease to keep a steady speed.  Hardly interval training though.  Far from suburbia, the all enveloping darkness made aim at the intersection a bit blind, thankfully the distant glow of Tat's town lights made my bearings believable.   
Speed seemed strangely sublime, or was a breeze in my favour and about to punish my progress northbound?   The turn into Dhurringile Rd would tell all.  Have a little faith Foss!  A slow return to rhythm resumed the prior pace and kept a cap on the heart-rate (coping with the acceleration in a post lockdown bunch will take some getting used to!)   The k's back to Tat was better to be ignored, focus fixed on the few metres ahead instead of kilometres.  To keep a positive on progress, don't count the k's, count telephone poles instead an old Sun Tour winner once told me (you'll know you're cooked when you start counting fence posts!)

Tatura turned up ahead of expectation, the front wheel pointed east along Ferguson Rd confirmed a wind-less day.  Relish it Foss, there's all that bone chilling southerly stuff in the months to come! Traffic was flowing with 7am starters so I escaped up Craven Rd (the thinning Ferguson Rd minus the comfort of an emergency lane), the scent of apples and pears to enjoy rather than eau de carbon monoxide.  A diversion via Simpson and Downer Rd joined me to the A300 for the 8k back to town with the exclusive use of the stopping lane, the occasional snap crackle and pop of loose gravel as an acoustic accompaniment.  I chanced upon Kreeky commencing a Toaster lap, so the 1 social minute (suitably distanced) made up for the prior peaceful 90.

24/4  Ay Kaarimba!

Blessed with a day off work and a mild morning (14 degrees) I could feed the hunger for a different circuit without the constraint of time.  A 17km stretch on the Shepp-Barmah Rd had some subtle undulations (rare in this neck of the woods) and a north western breeze to battle, but I was counting on help homeward.  Traffic was sparse in the wee small hours (don't you love it when the oncoming vehicle flicks back to high beam the moment they realise it's only a bike facing them!), Bunbartha seemingly a world away in the dark, but the less you think about distance the sooner it arrives.  I was on the search for Walsh's Bridge Rd when a truck behind and a car ahead threatened to squeeze me thin so the truck courteously slowing to spare me some pace showed a ton of professionalism.  There was a 7k hunt northbound for Kaarimba (more of an intersection than a place) on unchartered ground, a few more undulations mocking my hopes of holding a steady speed.  The sun struggled to pierce the clouds and I nearly missed the east turn into Kaarimba Rd.

Thinner than thought (barely 3 metres wide)  but surprisingly smooth, the asphalt stretched in 10k's of emptiness to Wunghnu, that breeze almost behind lifting the mood and lowering the heart rate so up went the speed and down went the effort.  What luck to feel the wind slowly shift to a northerly, my plan to weave the way back via Zeerust was dropped for a straight spin via the highway.  The #stayathome workers lightened the load of commuting traffic, a wide and smooth stopping lane just for me making life easy yet a glance at the Garmin showed I was well into Zone 4.  Tell me it's a competitive spirit and not some manic masochism! Gust from the oncoming vehicles were countered by the draft from ones passing, back into hometown a dreary overcast day had begun and a decent ride had finished, covering territory rarely ridden.


This week  268km    YTD 2,654