The lights went out on the roll to Saturdays lap, volts went missing between battery and lamp to cause concern in the 5.45am dark, no amount of wriggling leads and plug cured the blackness. A cautious roll along the best lit streets till ChrisA happened along to shed light (and comfort) for my commute. Safety in numbers at the start with Temple, Nick, Cougar, Shane, Trav and Shorty, a few regulars missing with the evening's Criterium and the Round the Bay ahead. FeltMat was cruising west as we departed east, twice the work for us to do with just half the usual attendees. Two years of Saturdays spent with these villans now, only 7 fronted on the inaugural lap with a 10% slower average so perseverance pays. The same familiar sights, sounds and smells on the same track, a chance to digest and dish out some social intercourse not usually possible in the huff and puff of the weekday thrash. We were almost to Central Ave when Rocket and FeltMat came into view on a cruise, preserving the legs for bigger things. Itchy for tempo at DECA, slingshot Shane bolted for an assault on Wanganui hill inciting Temple to pursue, Shorty left high and dry at the bunch front. Sympathy beckoned me to donate tow truck duties to the single filed remainder, soon catching Temple on the ascent and Shane throttling off in Rudd Rd. Sprinting steam vapourised to socially slow through town, a traditional topping of tall talk at the Lemontree.
A border weekend prompted a Titaniums' tour on Sunday, weather worth a lap anywhere really. Plenty assembled at the Mookarii and Brepbir corner (no, not downtown Kiev, but g'day to the 16 usual Ukrainian readers) in an ideal 13 degrees, Steve, John, Giff, Sandra, Howie, The Mullet and Arfa arriving to fill the ranks to 20. Eight bells chimed the start, crossing the border (and not seeking assylum) on a very thin bike lane with a roadside Echidna send off. A two row bunch formed on Barooga's exit, a timekeeper calling five minute turns at the front, with a peculiar peel off to the right for the two leaders to rejoin at the back, exposing the next two for duty. Oh well, when in Rome...... Five minutes out of town it was my turn at the pointy end with The Mullet, gradually measuring me up to 38 clicks against a 15k northeaster for 3 k's. This treatment must be their immigration policy? The timekeeper took no pity, the five minute call seemed an eternity. Much relief when it did come, strange that the cruising speed settled back to 31 after. A mixed bag of riders and bikes were sorted into a pecking order on the Spud Hill climb, a sharp little rise on a remote sandhill, I was delighted to be midfield at the peak (on the big ring of course!) and not O.T.A. Nudging 50 on the descent spread the pack like Brown's cows, at least there was a courteous slow on the Back Barooga Rd to re-unite with those who went missing in action. The NNE blew us along for the 6k's to the Mulwala Rd, then bearing west to town and winding up the knots to climb "have a dip" hill. A sprint to finish is standard fare for most bunches, a thrash on Buchanan's Rd climb scored me an 8th overall to earn a post ride calorie and caffine injection, the roll back to town saddened with the echidna now a speed hump.
Rigged up a temporary light for a short lap Monday, enough to shed some lumens a few metres ahead but barely registering on the confidence meter. A stiff southerly (28-35 km/h) had all the effort stops pulled out to reach Channel Rd, a distant tail light ahead becoming an unreachable bait. Pistol Pete was seen at the S bend on his trek west, I was making no inroads on the bike ahead so relaxed the internal target, enjoying the helping hand breeze on the route north. The red l.e.d. lure had vanished as I reached the fig farm, a decision for pure variation to take New Dookie Rd home to satisfy change for the sake of it. Concerns of being seen subsided with the sun risen, quite a push home with the southerly shoving the wheels about. New Dookie's coarse surface felt like the handbrake on, plenty of potholes to pound the posterior too (no forgiveness from an alloy bike) . With little traffic to fight, I was home early, a Strava download revealing I'd unwittingly stalked Wozza just a few minutes in arrears on an identical lap!
No reply from the manufacturer on parts for the temperamental headlamp (with seperate battery pack and dodgy lead) so it's gone OTA for a nifty new self contained 110g Cygolight, piercing Tuesday mornings darkness with 500 lumens, an enlightened ride to the Couldabeens start with Wozz, Whispering Jack on the grid attempting to get his speedo to function. (clearing copious cobwebs?) A rush of entries in the final minutes (BigMat, Rocket, Cougar, PistolPete, Nick, Temple, Kenworth, AvantiTrev, Trav and Chops) put Wozz and I in charge of first turn, FeltMat (well wearied from Sunday's 250k round the Bay) joining in at Kensington. Barely a puff of ENE managed to shorten breath at the front, pleased that a good sized bunch gave a chance of recovery before duty called again. Sosso was caught and passed just over the Boundary Rd bridges, I became the meat in a South African sandwich between Temple's tenacious tempo and Wozza's wicked warp drive. Mitchell Rd appeared an eternity away from River Rd, 2k of train driving with Wozz with the fuse rapidly shortening and hoping I'd reach the target roll-over before the explosion. Made the change point just shy of meltdown, then hung on grimly for a tow to compose the heart rate before the next turn came. A truck emerged suddenly in Central Kialla Rd catching me off guard, a brake lock up and veer stage left avoided becoming a Bedford bumperbar. FeltMat and WhisperingJack had gone awol when I snuck a look back at Mt Nicolaci (the tiny three metre dip and rise in Mitchell Rd for the Seven creeks bridge), the remainder all congealling on the slow wind-up to speed once over the highway. Rotations had turned short and serious after Roubaix, Trav bravely venturing forward to the front with Rocket (where others feared to tread) at the entry to Conrod. All the contenders had single filed behind going into the dip, playing a waiting game with the finish line still a spec on the horizon. Rocket retook the lead to Trav's relief, but launched his sprint with 500 to go, Kenworth kaboomed, Wozza wilted and Pistol popped to leave me for a "do or die" push for the crumbs of second place, contributing a tow to the retirees. A respectful regroup at the little bridge for a team plod through town, recovering breath, discussing what-ifs and tactics and estimating averages.
Colluded with Wozz to head out on the Toaster lap Tuesday arvo a little before the hospital bunch, to judge their tempo (and our ability to stay aboard) when they caught us. Perfect mid twenties weather allowed a quick kit-up, none of the multiple layers needed to survive the past months. A north northeast wind furrowed the brow on the long stretch east, crossing the Verney roundabout 6 minutes ahead of the hospital hit squad. Nath then Deano were seen heading west to intercept, hinting the horsepower following. The long drag of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd was boiling the determination along with the heart rate, only a car or two to offer a few seconds of draft as relief. Collective sighs at the Emu to have the breeze at our left shoulder, fair caution at the long grass lined intersections for traffic (in light of the mornings' close call). Going was good in Old Dookie Rd but better in Boundary, a peer rearward had no sign of the pursuing peleton. A Channel Rd escape was off the list, slogging out River Rd's 6 k's was on, with an eye behind for the inquisition, plenty of airbourne protein active with dusk inviting a million insects to party. Spring's first snake (a deceased Brown) was at Rivers' end, a little urgency in the pace built with the hospital bunch still not sighted. Legs had jellied by Mitchell Rd (particularly when asked to ascend Mt Nicolaci), Wozz and I scheming to go single file after Roubaix in an effort to maintain the pace for the headwind home. Swapping turns till the last 500 got us to the line spent but satisfied, the expected bunch (brimming with potent wattage) suddenly appearing hot on our case just 300 metres behind. A little overwhelmed playing pace car through town for the Formula One's behind.
Limp legs Wednesday morning, a slow start down the main street toward a Couldabeens start was helped with an assisting northeaster, Wozz similarly worn but we were both happy to take the first grid positions for the tailwinded southbound leg of Archer. AvantiChris, WhisperingJack, PistolPete, Cougar, Rocket, Shorty, Nick, Coggo and Shane all relished the mild 13 degrees but the east and northbound sections promised work to be done. We crossed paths with the hurt lockerette (2) in Central Kialla, peak hour traffic in River Rd with the licorice allsorts colours of the Mexicans, a Cat train bigger than Ben Hur, 51 at warp speed, the Breakaways soaking up speed, Fitzy and other assorted soloist, capped of with the P&W's greet near Rivers' end. Shane and Pistol fought out the headwind and the who-has-the-wheel-ahead honours in Boundary Rd, Shorty at second wheel praying they's see it out to Channel Rd. My legs had come good by the s bends, timely with Jack's attack to the Kinder then the Wozz and Trav strike force for the Channel Rd Cha Cha, steaming along to Orrvale Rd scoring me a second fastest Cha Cha and a third for the Devils lane dash. So much for recovery Wednesdays.
Summer had arrived early Thursday, balmy temperatures drawing out Goats from all corners, baring legs and arms not seen for many months. Nearly twenty congregated at Friars for Coggo's limber-up session and Hommy's humour but at 6am it was down to business, Coggo and I in the pilots seats to taxi the train out of town, Cat tail-lights ahead acting as our runway. The rotating sequence began beyond the truck route, Bickers Snr, LegalAndy, Bazza, Dipper, AvantiLeigh, Kate and Tum rolled by, Sandy, Comet, Tina and Deb made the femme fatale foursome line astern, Heady, Leon, Hommy, Wazza, Sootie, Liam and back to Coggo, then repeat as neccessary. It was a track turn apprenticeship for Wozza but great was the smoothness out Old Dookie Rd, Area 51 from the east entering Boundary Rd just ahead of us, Cats in their scope. A hint of southerly breeze was felt on the route to River Rd, 51's tail-lights steadily drawing away into the distance on their moggy mission. Only a few Goats retired to sit on, the westward run to Central Kialla impressively driven with most of the girls still contributing pace aplenty. A good call for an approaching truck at River's end halted proceedings briefly, our train soon got all its wheels turning again, humming down to Mitchell then across to the highway for the serious steaming to commence. Into the final k of Raftery Rd with improving odds of a podium sitting on Coggo's wheel, I was hopeful at 3rd wheel with 200 metres left. Sprint junkie Hommy detached from my wheel and suprisingly snuck inside and under Coggo, victory vapours flaring in his nostrils. It was launch or lose for me with just a 100 metres left, off the seat to amplify the Cosmics, 190bpm and 53 clicks just enough to score the chocolates.
Succumbed to the sloth of a sleep-in Friday, enough k's for the week, tempting though to Stravaspy on others Freaky Friday escapades.
Week 43: 305km YTD 11,908 km
Word of the Week
"Sprinterloper" (noun) a rider who fails to contribute to the teamwork,
yet intrudes into the contention for final victory.
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