Tantamount to treason.

Post #552
21/6 Bay by Baum.

A fickle forecast didn't help.  What promised to be a saturated Saturday set me a sleep-in...…..but the day frustratingly brought sunshine (and other tasks beckoned by 8am).  There'd be a soaking Sunday too said the forecast,  but that verdict was repealed in the early hours.  The effort of packing the bike, a kit, helmet, shoes, gloves etc on a Melbourne visit had finally paid off.   Mordialloc's morning had barely bettered 5 degrees, only packing a thin base layer motivated plenty of spin to warm up on Beach Rd.  The pro's of a billiard table tarmac had the con's of gradual uphills toward Beaumaris, barely a bike or car to compete with as the clock clicked to 6.

That snort of sea air spiked my speed to crest the rise at Mentone's Edgy hotel (sadly still no closer to restoration), a few bikes now spinning south but just one ahead of me to be bait.  A few downhills lifted the speed and self-worth, plenty of k's between traffic lights keeping the wheels turning while the city skyline sparkled in the distance.  An east northeaster stifled the speed but that red led ahead was steadily drawing closer by Black Rock's roundabout.

The 100's of Strava segments along this well worn route always amuse, Eau De Wet Dog, Questionable Architectural Taste, Love to Sylvia, and Peter Poo Fingers' Memorial Ride among the many of questionable distance or value (but there's always a few trophies to score to massage the ego)  A bit of shelter among the Brighton mansions soon gave way to the exposed straights in St.Kilda, passing two or three others keeping the pace primed.  Past Luna Park and onto Beaconsfield Parade, I set sights for Kerferd Rd to use Albert Park's 5.3 k Grand Prix circuit as a turn-around.  I was well off it's 1:21:64 lap record and a bit shy of the 292 km/h back straight speed but found the corners and lengths of straight interesting (new found respect for those daredevils who strap themselves in carbon fibre misslies for 58 laps in around 80 minutes)   The breeze was behind for my return trip, many now swinging a leg over two wheels from a variety of start lines to start their Sunday.  Care was taken not to become the un-invited interloper or worse, defy Rule #38 and play leapfrog, so I stayed back from those pedalling my pace and kept my social distance passing the slower.

But as dozens joined this Melbourne mecca I'd unfortunately inherited a haemorrhoid, one who just had to hang on the back and irritate.  Insisting on sprinting up the inclines but tucked in for the tow on the flats, Mr Specialized presence was a pestilence after a few k's.  I'd banked a few breaths by Black Rock saving a surge for the Cerberus lung buster.  He'd done his uphill antics then waited for my return so full gas on the downhill shook him from my wheel. Who needs haemorrhoid cream?!  I kept the momentum cooking for a k to the lung's lament and didn't risk a peek behind till legs buckled at Beaumaris.  Only wide open spaces behind.  Gently on the throttle to Charman Rd then a 2k blast to Mordialloc pier earned my banana bread and a long black reward at the Tour De Café.  Worth the 393 Strava suffers.

23/6  #9.

Numbers on a phone screen meant nothing, Tuesday's wet was better judged for real at the end of the driveway.  Melbourne's Monday showers had kept me indoors and hungry to tap a lap when back on home soil.  The reality of the damp was dismal, but being kitted-up and ready to roll meant turning back was tantamount to treason.  Rule #9 Foss, Rule #9.  The bike was grubby anyway.  What's App pinged the Goat withdrawals at the traffic lights so I set a solo spin with a course of my choosing.  Ford, Boundary, River and Archer would do.   With plenty of puddles to avoid, I set speed east, clouds rolling across the flatlands (stirred by a north northwester) almost low enough to touch.  Spits from the sky now begged "how bad-ass are you?"  Boundary Rd was better with the breeze, that soft part of the skull entertaining thoughts of a Channel Rd shortcut home for the warmth of coffee.  Harden up Foss! Time wasn't an enemy today.  Darkness consumed all but the CatEye's beam, even the stars were having a sleep-in, River Rd deserted but for the damp.  The north northwester wasn't as taxing as previously predicted on the way west, going ok past the quarter horse stud and on to the dip.  A change in the wheel's tone was guessed to be tyres on a damp track (I hoped) and not a loss of pressure, but fears were realised a k later when steering softened.  Mist descended and everything damp made a misery of the fix by the light of the headlight's beam.  A wet tyre covered in grit needed touch to find what holed the tube (nothing found) and now feeling the cold, another tube was quickly fitted. Fingers crossed. At pace on the truck route barely 2 k's later, pressure slowly vanished from tube two. Damn!  There wasn't another and there'd be no hope patching either on this dark and wet stop, so a wonderful wife came to the rescue.

24/6  Wednesday, wanting wattage.

I'd found myself in the ranks of the rapid again as a dozen sorted the single filed order into Archer Rd.  Bruce was in charge with Rocket then Wozza next to take the reigns for the Wednesday workout, me at 4th wheel right among the wattage and wanting some!  At least my shift in Mitchell Rd had a westerly to help.  The turn started with a passion for pace but soon sank to a struggle as what the head wanted and the legs would deliver were on opposing sides.   2k's seemed an eternity with the intersection sign just a spot in the dark distance.  The Godfather, Grumpy, Col, Kel, Bo, Boof, Joe (not Tony),  Tina and Kreeky were lined up behind so that set an expectation to live up to.   I'd made it to Kialla Central Rd where The Godfather took over, kindly keeping the speed steady so catching the tail wasn't taxing.  Already pondering the next shift at the front, the defeatist inside expecting it'd be into that wind, instead of enjoying the tow that Grumpy, Col and Kel provided in River Rd.  Pace picked up as Kel peeled off from the front, a peek to the pointy end finding Bo being the boisterous one.

Boof kept wheels humming north, that wind now making it's presence felt at the portside to fan the bunch's tail to the centre line.  A greeting was extracted from the few Cats spinning south as we crossed the highway, time now for Joe (not Tony), Tina and Kreeky to do their time of torment, reckoning they'd be chuffed to have avoided the headwind home (till Kreeky stayed on for the hurt into Old Dookie Rd)  Bruce set his spin for a turn to the rumble strips, Rocket ramping up the velocity to Dobson's bridge,'cause he can (wind won't weaken).  Holding Wozza's wheel as Rocket retired was a workout, how you drive at 40 into 15k's worth of westerly I don't know. (matchstick aerodynamics, youth and horsepower probably help!)  There was comfort in the speed's smoothness, greater comfort when the throttle eased 2k's later into town, the dozen driving to coffee while time turned me to home.

26/6  A crowded caboose.

In the depths of discussion with Slingshot Steve and Tina at the grid, somebody called "tick tock", discovering it was me elected to the first effort into Archer Rd.  Diving straight into the deep end was made easier without brooding about it beforehand.  Of course, the first shift is the longest, isn't it! (any wonder nobody turns up early)    Going easy on the gas for the first half k kept a little wattage to spend reaching Sanctuary's roundabout, Slingshot Steve taking turn 2.  Great! There'd be respite while 9 others contributed to the cause. Make that 8, Tina was sitting on.  Steve stretched his shift a little longer toward Mitchell Rd, Wozza likewise to tow us to Kialla Central, perking up the pace into the bargain.  Rocket's go to River Rd kept heads down (but more importantly, The Godfather silent), Steve now taking up permanent residence in the caboose as Bruce steered us into River Rd.  Dealing with variable velocities on Joe (not Tony)'s wheel was a touch taxing, I'd guess in time he'll smooth the speed when confidence lets him pick the pace a few more wheels ahead. Kreeky and Boof did the honours of hauling us to River Rd's end where Joe (not Tony)'s turn became brief.

I was back at the business end again (though this time there was little of the prior pace), speed slowly slipping away to barely breech the Broken bridges before beckoning Wozz to do the job beyond.  Joe (not Tony) called me into line as I retreated rearward, preferring to confine himself to the caboose.  (maybe in preparation for Wozz then Rocket's standards?)  Silence almost overwhelmed the speed as Rocket led us toward Old Dookie Rd, the few blurts of "big shot" from The Godfather only digging a deeper determination.  The call of "easy!" into Old Dookie Rd allowed Joe (not Tony) to get back aboard, Boof, Bruce and The Godfather ahead of me helped hopes of being towed to town.  A second wind had come to me so holding on as Bruce bolted wasn't so taxing.  Traffic lights calmed the rush into town and calmed my concerns at dealing with traffic at speed, most drivers are awake at this hour, it's the one's that aren't that alarm.

This week 181km  YTD 4,763km