Post #612
14/8 The fog factor.
There'd be a few fronting Sanctuary Drive in the fog....otherwise the urge to stay in bed would have been overwhelming. I could justify riding in this soup-like stuff blaming the madness of others, or fall back to that old faithful excuse of Rule #9. The Couldabeen's commissioners had decreed that this Saturday was the resumption of two separate teams, the combined crew had grown to unmanageable proportions (the shop boys couldn't manage the slower speed?) so who was I to let the Sanctuary society down? Greg, PistolPete, Bo, Joe (not Tony), Kreeky and The Godfather had found their way through the five degree fog to the roundabout, the faster faction would start three k's behind and six a.m. would set the squads swiftly and separately south. Race day had returned! (even the Wouldabeens had called muster, but few fronted ; fearing fog!)
Seven left Sanctuary forming a file Indian style behind PistolPete's captaincy (of course), concerns about position in the procession now nil with wattage more evenly matched. It seemed strangely silent single file following the chatty two row formation when the clans combined, but this wasn't time for idle banter, the shop boys would be five minutes behind (and closing) to fend off! (There's a reputation to uphold here!) Bo dialed up the pace carefully east to Central Kialla, Joe (not Tony) inheriting the two k leg north to River Rd. so I had a kind introduction to my first shift, two k's to the bridge.
There were doubts on bureau's statement that there was a westerly breeze at the backside, it felt like a headwind to me! (A sensation of carrying an extra five kilos worth of the fog's damp was probably my handbrake) Doing the distance wasn't a problem, I couldn't see the bridge to aim for! (relief came when it appeared through the fog with just fifty metres to go) Greg took charge while I did the asthmatic impression at the back. It must have been a push through that soup at the front, Greg resigned from duty at the dip. Kreeky contributed to the cause to the white fence where The Godfather guided a (wandering) path to rooster corner.
With the first round of shifts done, PistolPete started round two in Coach Rd. While most had burned quite a few reserves on their first turn, Pistol seemed to get stronger! (All the way to the highway if you don't mind) That must have baited Bo, he did the distance to Old Dookie and that's what half cooked Joe (not Tony) hanging on at second wheel. His elbow showed me the drivers seat just over Old Dookie's bridge. That most minor of downhill's toward the pork palace was just the ticket for my tempo to turn reasonable and manage the distance to the Toaster. Greg's enthusiasm headed to the church opened up big holes in the procession, warranting a holler of "Easy!", but the ease was exaggerated and rapidly ruined the rhythm (it seemingly takes more time and energy to get back into the swing of speed again) Hopes heightened taking a peek rearward, no signs of those shop boys.....yet! The long eighteen k drag west back to town was spirited by Pistol and Bo's donation to blurring the scenery (already fuzzied by fog), those epic elevations over a couple of bridges (700 millimetres in height at least) the only reprieve from the drab arrow-like stretch of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.
Joe (not Tony) led us into Ford Rd but his tank was running low a k later (slow cooked by Pistol and Bo prior?) so gave me the shift to reach Grahamvale Rd. A hint of daylight only thickened the fog factor and it now felt like ten kilos of ballast slowing progress. Thick winter gloves and arm warmers were saturated. The Butter Factory's brew would be particularly savored today! That westerly breeze had evaporated to put an extra few k's to the velocity and endorphins flooded the head along Wanganui with no sight of the faster faction behind. Pace along the Boulevard was kept keen to put the icing on that cake. Breakfast with the pedestrian peloton (including the injured Emil) chatted Joe (not Tony's) moniker and Couldabeens history.
16/8 Wind worn.
Like a cabbage only diet, I can't seem to avoid the wind! Monday turned on a west northwester to keep us happy heading out but hurting heading home. But why should we get it easy? You need something to complain about facing winter's weather at stupid o'clock! Clans had gathered again (for want of weekday numbers?), Rocket, Wozza, Bruce, Lenny, Emil, Bo, Kreeky, Kel and Grumpy circling the Sanctuary streets while PistolPete idled in the number one grid spot. 5:40 set the squad south to welcome The Godfather's tardy appearance. Maximum draft at the back was short-lived as two rows formed, the social sentences started (for those who could spare the oxygen) drowning out the hum of twenty six wheels rolling the tarmac to Mitchell Rd. Soon into the advance line with Kel ahead and Grumpy behind, my task of providing pace at the front would come quickly with just five in the line ahead. Bo and Kel paired for the introduction to River Rd, from there I had the standard of Kel's smoothness to match to somewhere near the dip.
Grumpy drew alongside when Kel ushered me across to the left line, respectfully leveled with my wheel while I distracted thoughts on how far this old engine would go before miss-firing. That tail-wind (fifteen k's per hour) was some consolation. So it was pleasing to see the white fence of the quarter horse stud (the usual and expected point of change-over) when watts went to a trickle. Recovery in the slipstream was sweet. The wind wore away at the port-side on Coach Rd while Rocket and Wozza delivered their horsepower to the highway.
I'd smugly said to Kel we'd positioned well to be towed back to town, but hadn't calculated how quickly the turns would roll heading home. Ever closer to the front in Old Dookie Rd said another turn of toil would come due. Bo's half wheeling of The Godfather beyond School Rd drew the appropriate vitriol. Crossing Central Ave, we couldn't shirk the shift, Kel called a short turn nearing Dobson's bridge which suited me just fine, that's all my muscles could muster. I ran the old engine at the red-line with Grumpy to Redbyrne Crt and had no shame in calling my term toasted, I'd detonate if left in the drivers seat, so took delight in a draft to SPC.
17/8 We can be heroes...just for one way!
I'd entertained the idea of going back to bed when the observatory recorded Tuesday morning's wind (20 k's worth of westerly) but another session of suffering was sure to do me good wasn't it? It's either that or go soft! Emil and Kim had taken the squirrel option of Channel Rd, Boundary and Lemnos-Cosgrove but Rule #5 echoed in my head to slog it out with the Sanctuary squad. Rocket, Bruce, Wozza, Boof, Kel, Kreeky, The Machine and BamBam were found rolling the southern streets till 5:39 called assembly at the roundabout, PistolPete ready and waiting at the front of the grid. A two row formation meant choosing your partner carefully, but for dawdlers at the back (like me) there's often no choice.
Kreeky reluctantly followed Rocket into the advance line (but I know Rocket doesn't bite!) I'd slipped in behind Kreeky with The Godfather on my wheel, a pleasant position but not so peaceful! So 'round we go again on this familiar circuit with the familiar faces (for consistency's sake?), worlds away from those clockwise days of being bait for Cats and running the Raftery gauntlet, kangaroos and Conrod straight (I wouldn't mind one day a week with different scenery though, if only to prevent going giddy!)
With one a little off line, another who's view only gets one wheel ahead, the guy doing the shoulder thing, the other with a right knee six degrees toe-out and we all know the one who can't read the wind! Ah, we're a varied lot! (thank heavens) and just as well we've grown acustomed to it! I got the turn from the dip beside Kreeky and our pace was just shy of sensational, that westerly amplifying abilities to the point of needing an XXXL helmet! Like David Bowie (almost) sang, "We can be heroes, just for one way!" (Those ego's would cop a hiding with the headwind home) The Godfather sided with me for part two, well, half a bike ahead anyway. Rule #86 says it's a great intimidation technique and it normally has no effect on me, but today the negatives worked, and how quickly the head rules the legs to give up. (Better just to call him over and soak up the draft than flog the veritable dead horse to stay alongside)
At full throttle the decision to brave one less layer felt right, but backed off the gas a little in the slipstream and the cold crept in. It's that want for warmer mornings to come, then those Antarctic rated base layers can take a long holiday. Yesterday's lesson on counting your chickens came quickly back to me, estimating the turns would roll rapidly into Old Dookie's wind. (Even those with wattage would have a limit, wouldn't they?) There was comfort pairing with Kreeky at Central Ave (Rocket had softened him up prior) so I could conserve a little labor for part two's pairing with The Godfather, he'd be sure to have his bravado boots on with the sledges being served behind. My shorter shift fixed that problem. BamBam stepped up for an impressive drive (given his aerodynamic short-comings) into the wind to the truck route at an inspiring pace. The competition of commuting cars and traffic lights needs a considered captaincy to get the crew carefully to coffee, so it was satisfying to take a calm course to the Butter Factory base camp.
19/8 Thus three.
Kel and Bo were a no-show, Joe (not Tony) was on home duties and Tina's ruptured a.c.l. was a fairly valid excuse not to ride, thus three squirrels became the sum total to tap the Channel, Boundary, Lemnos-Cosgrove circuit as Thursday's therapy. Half the horsepower, double the workload.
Emil took the first shift to the truck route (of course) so with low to mid thirties as an aide memoire, my drive to Orrvale seemed a little shy. I set the Kinder in my sights but was keen to keep the speed at the status quo. Kim must have consumed the Kellogg's Smoothies for breakfast taking us to McFadyens corner ; each week a little longer, each week a little stronger! Isn't it a pleasure to be towed along with consistency rather than that staccato shift some do. (Aren't we blessed to have weeded out those from the team!)
Today was one of those rare rides where wind wasn't wearing us down one way or another and focus could be fixed on smoothing speed. Emil took a long turn to Boundary Rd for the swing north, though there a sense of a breeze could be felt from the northeast. That sat me up the road a bit 'cause putting people in the gutter doesn't win many friends. It's a great way to deal with an unwelcomed one in the caboose though! (A hemorrhoid cream that's easy to apply!) Well into the groove of a long drive, I'd aimed at Old Dookie's intersection before flicking an elbow to Kim, five degrees (and feels like two) of little consequence 'cause I'd layered appropriately for the conditions today. Emil did duty to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd and I didn't see a signal to take over but took the drivers seat anyway ; a three k shift to Lemnos North Rd wasn't too greedy was it? With no complaints lodged, I handed the reigns to Kim at Ford Rd and settled back into the rear seat for a tow to town. Emil couldn't help himself doing that long leadership thing to drag us into town, though a reversing garbage truck rattled nerves when it seemed it wasn't stopping.
20/8 A frenzied Friday.
Was it me feeling more ancient or was it open throttle from the get-go? Eleven had quickly tucked into an Indian filed line behind PistolPete to Mitchell Rd and JJ kept the speed stoked to Central Kialla. This wasn't a social spin! The slightest deviation from the wheel ahead felt an easterly fair in the face. Boof headed the hurry through Central Kialla while I tried not to be pessimistic ; Bruce, Rocket and Wozza were next in line to serve speed. (Kreeky and I were thinking we'd mistakenly joined the Tuesday shop squad!) Forties had become the norm in River Rd ; velocity had gone viral!
I'll always give credit where credit is due, but delivering kudos to Bruce, then Rocket, then Wozza as they peeled off the front felt like I'd be just pouring petrol on a bonfire! My silliest mistake was seeing 178 bpm glaring from the Garmin.....and I was still five wheels away from the front. The Godfather calmed down the cruelty when he was put in charge at the white fence and Greg had tamed his tempo a little more when finishing his shift at Rooster corner. Emil confirmed my perception of that easterly riding the centre-line of Coach Rd, I just hoped that enthusiasm didn't get the better of him. Scenery started to come back into focus in the high thirties, Kreeky given the task to take us to the highway at the Broken bridges ; now to get my head around the hurt to come on the front. Greg was the sensible one taking Channel Rd home, Kreeky doing well to reach the pub without detonation, so my quiet start into Boundary Rd allowed him to catch the tail (well, that's my excuse for a slow start and I'm sticking to it!)
I'd stoked the old engine up to a speed something like respectable (by divine intervention?) and put the head down to see how far it would last. The bridge was about the limit, so the legs and lungs told me. But showing an elbow to Grumpy opened the floodgates. Suddenly nine shot past in a heartbeat and I barely caught Kreeky's wheel, now five metres off the back. (That's funny, I hadn't sledged a schoolteacher in days!) Overdosing on oxygen for two hundred metres (sorry about those guttural gasps Kreeky!), duty soon begged me to return the favor, so loaned my wheel to Kreeky while the bunch eased (considerately two k's an hour slower). Back aboard in Old Dookie Rd (bite your tongue Foss!) PistolPete got the pace perfect (watch and learn Grumpy!) so the line could at least look united. Thoughts of the effort headed east made the westbound work a little easier (the bureau reckoned it was calm but I know a dozen who'd argue the point) JJ took the reigns for the shift from School Rd to Central Ave and Boof did the Dobson's shift into suburbia. The red leds of Vince and the Rabbit ahead must have been a fixation for Rocket and Wozza to speed the streets in pursuit (so strike out the last sentence on Tuesdays prophecy!)
This week 243 km YTD 8,654 km
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