Week 26 : Hitting the Strava straps

Post 402
24/6  The bay bait.
Back in the big smoke, the bay baited another ride, overnight rain and a wintery westerly (19-26 km/h) thinning riding ranks down to the desperate and defiant.  Heading north on an empty Beach Rd lacked the usual Saturday Couldabeens company, the mental meanderings soon focussing on Rule #6 rather than dwell on delirium. Salt air and the white capped surf flavored the wind whipping at the wheels, so I enjoyed a bit of shelter from the beachside bushes but then was punished on the exposed road at Black Rock.  Throw in a gradual rise here and there and the mood swung to angry, off the Fizik to flog Half Moon Hill and the Cerberus Lung Buster, praying for the downhill recovery to follow (but the wind had funneled head-on scrubbing off speed)

The skyline sparkle at St.Kilda Marina

I hammered through Hampton, salvation finally coming in the shelter of Brightons bayside mansions, bunches now amassing with an eye on the (dry?) sky.  Bikes ahead lay a chase bait to St.Kilda's marina, surprising to see so many minus lights (or lacking in lumens) with the sun well short of arrival.  I about faced at Kerferd Rd to relish the wind at my back and to pluck off the ones, twos and threes on my mission south back through Hampton, Sandringham and beyond.  Big bunches were as rare as a BeerMat appearance, the WSW'er somehow assisting my passage to start an assault on the Strava segments south.

Tour de Cafe's complimentary
library and pump for those
pit-stopping (nice touch)

The tarmac was now almost dry save for the odd puddle chicane, most I passed had no reply to a "G'day", the one or two trying a sneaky tow I disposed of pronto.  By Beaumaris I'd hit my Strava straps, 19 nods in a row as my big dip to the finish became obsessive compulsive. Through the "Death Star Canyon", "Love to Sylvia" and "Yeah, Another Useless Beach Rd Segment" segments, Mike (Cube) and Luke (Focus) tucked in behind as I'd passed Parkdale, the Mordialloc finish at Tour de Cafe a chance to chat and chew over raisin toast, k's per week and the regular ride route south (some mental mapping for Sunday)

Olivers' demon descent

25/6  Morning Mornington
There was a ten minute wrestle with lethargy at 4:55 Sunday morning, needing to win this one or regret would ruin my day.  Mapped by mind the night before, my Mordailloc start steered south for the sake of changes' sake. A few spots from the heavens didn't deter determination but a tailwind to Mornington meant a Rule #5 return into a 26-32 km/h NNW'er.  It was smooth sailing on Sir Evan Nepean's highway through Chelsea, Carrum and Seaford, h.r. ticking over at an aerobic 139 with a Cosmic chorus as background music. There were just two bikes northbound in the 8 degree first light, me solitary south, sea air the olfactory bonus instead of carbon monoxide.

Frankston soon appeared with a few bike bunches setting off citybound, I was against the grain of the majority, aimed at Oliver's hill (many moons since I last tackled this one).  The steady climb (100 metres) over 3600 metres rises sharp in the last 400, Rule #90 (always in the big ring) applying despite the 42 rpm cadence burning the legs.  There's restitution seeing the crest and recovery soon after on the downhill, but the rolling ups and downs to Mt.Martha were out to fix flatlander Foss.  A more nimble Pinarello pilot was wheel sucking me at Eel Race Rd and slipped by, Rule #38 resonated till he cooked on the next crest.  A few rises and falls came and went till Mornington appeared, twas time to u-turn and face the headwind home.

I averted Garmin gazing (the slower speed sure to erode the ego) preferring to pace the breathing and savour Olivers' downhill (a short stop for a souvenir snap), but it was a cautious descent with big wind gusts savaging the steering.  Back onto the flat and with chin almost on the headstem, I still felt as aerodynamic as a house brick into the 30 clicks of headwind, thankfully the bit of seaside scrub sometimes offered shelter.  Bunches were now swanning southward as I dug the depths of determination to catch a bike ahead, Colnago Russell being a timely tow till decency drove me to return the favor (Rule #67).  Edithvale and Aspendale counted down the suburbs as the k's to Mordy shrunk, Russ and I swapped the shifts rounding up a few, legs and lungs now longing for a Tour de Cafe toast trophy at the finish.

26/6    A slog in the fog

A loop around the golf course circuit was a foggy foray to the Goat train of peace on Monday.  Jen, Belly, AvantiAndy, Phil, Sandy, Coggo, Hommy and Principal Skinner turned up rugged up like antarctic explorers, temperature (0.4 degrees) taking over the talk in the minutes before 6 (cold the consensus whether its 4, 1 or minus 2)  A billion airborne water drops floated in the headlights beam as we pointed east to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, kits served a soaking and eyeballs frozen (for those minus specs).  Principal Skinner took a back seat, attempting to re aquaint himself the fine art of bicycle propulsion, while two rows slogged through the fog in search of Boundary Rd.   I'd convinced myself the co-efficient of drag was two fold in the 99% humidity, berthed between the tall timber of Coggo and Belly who were in for long turns (or were others shortening shifts to minimise exposure to the chill?)  Coggo and I drove the first 2 of River Rd's 6 k's but rotations had gone nearly full circle by it's end. Time for my escape via the truck route, with all faith in the trusty tail-light to mark my presence (just one truck which gave a wide berth), a soggy slog carrying the fog's damp with me home.

27/6  Hare tonic
With the guage resting at zero and a fog descending, I thanked my lucky stars there were a few crazy compatriots (Temple, Cate, HBK, KillkennyPaul and CatCol) turn up for a 5:45 Tuesday thrash.  Six spelled single file to hold off the Hares (5 minutes behind) and maximise our average , the masochist in me chosing to take on the first (and longest) shift to Doyles Rd.  Finding my goal to aim at (the Feiglin Rd street light) in the fog was fairly fickle, tricky to pace your performance without an end in sight. Temple took over leg 2 and CatCol (fresh from holidays warmed by the Spanish sun and Scottish single malt) did a determined drive to the Kinder.  KillkennyPaul's speed steadily strengthens, Cate drove to the cypress trees (despite labored legs from a coastal crucifixion) then HBK dished out the distress to the S bend for my turn to finish off Channel Rd.  Was there a tail-wind in Boundary Rd or did Temple turn up the tempo?  CatCol followed with another good turn, Cate towed us into River Rd, KillkennyPaul shortened his shift and HBK bumped up the huff & puff to the kennels.  Relaxed into a rhythm, I settled into the high 30's with the aim of reaching the bridge, the Garmin numbers steadily peaking as the goal drew near, then relief handing the reigns to Temple and catch that last wheel, encouraging words dissolving some of the pain.  And so the turns turned for Central Kialla and Mitchell Rd, signs of wear and tear appearing as we made a clean cross of Melbourne Rd for the rip into Raftery's.  Hare headlights were homing in, my prediction (almost to the meter) I'd score the front into Conrod straight, and sure enough, HBK's elbow showed the way at the kink for the 1300 meter finale.  There wasn't much more than 40 in the Foss fuel tank, a bonus that our six pack finished wheel to wheel at Steptoe's with the Hares still behind us.

28/6  Hung out to dry (in the 4 degree heat) on the Couldabeens clothesline.

Almost tropical at 4 degrees on Wednesday and suddenly the car park is popular and populated! (Mel, Kenworth, Trav, Cate, Rocket, Troy, Grumpy, Boof, Bo, Pistol, Kel and CatCol)    Rocket and Boof got the bunch rolling, Shorty joining in at Kialla Lakes.

The usual drivers moved forward as many hung tentatively back waiting for a kind wheel to pair with.  Kel and Bo are back from Europe, delighted I'm sure with Paris at 40 one day then Archer Rd at 4 degrees the next.  The pace was on to Mitchell Rd as the rubber band effect affected the tailenders, some part-time pedallers finding standard length turns about three times too long (but at least they're out in it having a go BeerMat, WhisperingJack, Tucks, Softa, SuperMario, AvantiTrev, Nath, TrekTrev et al !)  We rode the River Rd ripple strips as string of leds swung in from Boundary, up to Channel then west to work up a sweat for the ChaCha.   Almost half the field were now sitting on as we approached the Kinder, my ideal spot (4th wheel in the down line) suddenly became 2nd wheel in the up line (behind PistolPete) on pace to Hopeful corner.  As he rolled across I needed all reserves to reach him, digging deeper to get around found me partnerless at the pointy end (hung out to dry in the 4 degree heat!). On and on to Prentice Rd and beyond, legs burning and lungs about to do a Nagasaki, the skull turned out to be the weakest link calling it quits. Instructed by my elbow, Pistol resumed the lead as almost the entire bunch now found interest in the finish line, I'd been relegated to second last in an instant.

29/6  Had a Hare ball
There was traffic light interval training on Thursday, a run of green lights one day and a string of red lights the next. (turned out to be good Hare tonic for the Thursday thrash) Wozza, Cate, Trav, Bruce, Pistol, Rocket, CatCol, Kel, Bo and HBK congregated at the carpark pondering the participation of the professor of pace (Troy) and the pain he'd pour on.  Berthed first meant braving the first shift, Wozza the agreeable ally till my short turn (I'm just an Alto amongst the Aventadors) made sense at the Kensington roundabout.  Feelings of inadequacy eased seeing shorter shifts were on the Hares menu.  I reckon  I'll have another crack at that (finding Trav my team-mate from Hanlon Rd to the S bends), but the following 600 meters with Wozz crushed the cockiness, the respiratory reality was the kink was now my performance peak.   It was now "sit back and enjoy the show" as I took on the role of gatekeeper, Kel, Cate and CatCol cosy in the caboose.  HBK and Trav had one more dip at the flagellation front before rear retirement, Grumpy appearing from the west (but no note from home) to join the jamboree in River Rd.  There was syncronised harmony between Bruce, Pistol, Bo, Rocket, Wozza, Troy and Grumpy as they swapped the suffering along River Rd, Central Kialla and Mitchell road, and we fluked a break in Melbourne Rd's traffic to barnstorm Raftery Rd for the flurried finish.  Turn by turn some of the drivers were now calling it quits, my position advancing in the up line to be third wheel as the speed got serious. Rocket, Troy, Wozz and Pistol poured on the power and turned the bunch anorexic, with 300 to go, Troy just stood up and bolted away.

30/6  Sparrows' fart for stocktake
An early call to the coal mine for e.o.f.y. stocktake couldn't constrict the obsession, just start at sparrows' fart and squeeze in the k's before the 6:30 clock-on.  Escaping east from town on New Dookie Rd with the wind up my willows (WSW'er @ 11-17 km/h) put confidence into the cadence but there'd be a hindering headwind to head homeward.  Boundary Rd southbound sent the heart rate on a climb just to hold the low 30's, a few weeks of calm conditions has softened me to the battles of the breeze.  Thoughts of an early escape via Old Dookie Rd were flattened by Rule #5, down to Channel Rd before time turned to enemy for me.  Thoughts of Darth Vaders' incisors chewing on my ankle drove the extra effort past Sellmans, the wind funneling head-on through the orchards was warming the rectus femorus rather well.  Keeping pace above 30 became the mission for the 9k back to town, pleased to tick that box and soak up the Strava smugness for the weeks' swansong.

Week 26            290km                YTD 6,597km  

Week 25 : The heat in the chill

Post 402
17/6 City slick'n

I'm getting used to this metro lifestyle, particularly the balmy 6 degree start and the billiard table tarmac.  Saturday brings out plenty prepared to pedal, the variety of bikes, blokes and belles interesting to say the least! I'm pretty pleased with the old engine rounding up a few northbound from Mordialloc, (most being fairly aerodynamic and newer models), some southbound packs of 40 plus chuffed and chatty with the wind up their tail-lights.  Almost climatised to the climbs of the "Beauy bumps" and "Col de Charman", the slight twists and turns, rises and falls of Beach Rd is the polar opposite of Bells-Armstrong Rd!

The now familiar landmarks of the Mentone Hotel and the Sandy Yacht Club, even the abandoned R32 Skyline have become markers for the next out-of-the-saddle effort to maintain some sort of reasonable progress, gradually gathering in a few distant leds ahead kept the pace percolating.  A young Cannondale captain cranking past me was a tow of temptation till rule #38 (don't play leapfrog) burned into the brain.  Brighton again was the melting pot of pelotons, bunches of bike bling assembling for action in the affluent avenues.  CBD lights were the bait for todays u-turn, up Kerferd and Ferrars to find Southbank a ghost town at 7.  Back to Beach Rd, packs were still forming at St.Kilda's esplanade, the roads now infested with two wheeled demons, dreamers and dipsticks.  Sun lit the bay as the head went down and the tail went up for the express to the espresso.  Through Brighton I found a tempo team-mate Steve on my wheel, and a suburb later we had Martin join in taking turns.  Whether it's the sense of common comradery or competition, more effort is found than you'd get going solo, soon into the high 30's gobbling up groups of fours, fives and more in our pursuit for world domination!

My big heave-ho on "Polkadot Hill" (457 W) and "Coles canal" cooked the calves but scored 6 segment trophies in a row and satisfied Rule #67 (do your turns), the handover to Martin my chance to pull the heart-rate down from 170.  Stocky Steve (a draft like Kenworth) took over the captaincy at Black Rock to push on to Parkdale, a chance only now to do the Rule #19 of introducing myself to these metro machines.

 The adrenelin of achievement flowed and was shared, I'd finished my 54 k's at Mordialloc where Martin and Steve u-turned CBD bound.  Scoring 66 Strava trophies I awarded myself a prize of coffee and fruit toast at the piers' Tour de Cafe, a pit stop for many as the rising sun warmed the bones.

19/6  Bye beach
One last belt at Beach Rd before heading home, the bike population now thinned dramatically (by Mondayitis?) The city's consistent light northerly and +6 degree temperature will be missed, two smooth lanes and sniffing sea air will be the stuff of fantasy for a while.

I wasn't expecting any record times today, Mondays tending to be at a peaceful pace following my sabbath cease cycle Sunday.  A couple of uphill efforts (to avoid the embarrassment of a snail paced climb) and the downhill thrill that followed soon fired the Foss spririt, the odd led ahead acting as carrots for competition. (a g'day passing received silence as the stern reply)  The sparkle of the CBD distracted me at Sandringham pier, a pause for another souvenir snap to remember the ride by.  There were a few turtle shelled with backpacks on workplace commutes grabbing a draft in Brighton, I'd scored 3 at Head St to tow to St.Kilda's marina, car traffic building for the working weeks' start.  My u-turn was at the "Espy" to head back to base, bikes now much fewer but the wind behind was a favored friend. "Drop the Wheel", "500 meters of sprint pleasure" and "Oooh boy!" segments blurred by as the sun struggled to light the overcast bay, barely a bike northbound amongst the sea of city bound cars as I reached Mordialloc with a cache of 23 of Strava's silverware.

20/6  Fresh, fast and foggy
Nice to be back on home soil Tuesday but the chill came out to greet my return ( minus 1.5)  In search of  a team title (Turtles now extinct) Cate, Temple, Killkenny Paul, Softa and HBK appeared from the fog, FDC's Grumpy, Ralphy and BamBam welcomed additions for the 5:45 start.  Two rows ploughed into the fresh and foggy depths of Channel Rd as I re-educated myself on bunch riding (4 days solo has me as rusty as Whispering Jacks chain!)  Turns short and long depended on determination, I wondered how long two rows would last before Indian file found favor, Grumpy and Ralphy already keen to go single. KillkennyPaul and Softa braved the elements at the frosty front, Cate copping a half wheeling from the master HBK.  There was some hope of recovery with the added presence of FDC's though Temple had already opted for the caboose in Boundary Rd.  Tempo and temperature tolled on Softa then KillkennyPaul in River Rd with their contributions curtailed, by the dip single file had won with HBK driving to the channel bridge, Grumpy's short burst then Ralphy polishing off River Rd.  I felt good at the helm for the Central Kialla leg though the vastus lateralis wasn't happy reaching the primary school.  BamBam steered us into Mitchell Rd where all resumed driving duty, hats off to those wringing out all their wattage with 6k still to toil.  The first four idled easy toward Roubaix corner as the rear ranks (split by highway traffic) caught on, Ralphy winding up the speed to the buckin' bronco bend where my huff and puff commenced.  It took some soul searching to reach Galbraiths for the handover, surprised there was just BamBam, Cate, Grumpy and Ralphy left, the others gone OTA.  Weapon appeared at Arcadia Downs as Ralphy drove us hard to Conrod, I'd just inherited the helm as the Hares drove dervishly past.  Digging deep into the ditch of determination I just caught their draft, the body language of Trav trying to stay in touch spoke sufferingly of speed.  Three cheers for those spent but hanging on to the bitter end, Troy, Bruce, Wozza, Rocket, Pistol and Merida-not-AvantiJohn in another league.

21/6 The hump day hardcore (celebrating solstice)
The frost bit hard in the wee small hours of Wednesday, only the hardcore heroes left in this temperature
(minus 1), and some of them are only appearing on a dare or a bet!  Wozza, Cate, Rocket, Boof, Pistol, Trav, Weapon and Merida-not-AvantiJohn assembled for the pagan ritual of the winter solstice, days lengthening from now but I reckon most would trade light for heat.  I hardened up the headspace taking the first shift out of town (hoping my pace didn't either hinder or hurt), Wozza graciously leveling with me at Kialla Lakes for the long haul to the roundabout.  There were no yawns or yells so I guess the speed was satisfactory, or were mouths shut to keep in the heat?  The street light of salvation shone at Sanctuary Gardens, the draft from Wozza heavensent as he and Rocket dragged us to the truck route.  Sentences were scarce as the eight probably questioned what the hell were we doing exposed to the elements, my number coming up again beside Boof to River Rd's channel then with Wozz to the dip, the road totally empty of other bikes.  Not long ago it was full of Cat / 51 packs and their derivatives (I guess they're all tucked up in their cosy little Zwift environments totally ignoring Rule #9)  .  Kudos to the goat train of pain slogging out a fast and frosty frolic clockwise, our exertion north seemed easy in the Boof and Pistol wake, but facing the front in Channel Rd was a whole new world of work cutting through the cold.  My second wind arrived allowing me to see out the shift with Wozz to the cypress trees, Cate and Weapon sitting this ChaCha out.  Pistol charged at Prentice Rd narrowing the field behind, Merida-not-AvantiJohn pouncing with 150 to go, but most had become disinterested with the wind chill factor of the mid forties, the regroup and natter on a cool cruise homeward far more important.

22/6  In the Hares harem
A blending of bunches (5:45's and Hares) makes more sense as winter trims the numbers to the tough nuts (Grumpy, Temple, BamBam, Pistol, Bruce, Wozza, Rocket, Cate, Troy and Trav).   I paid the price of early arrival with the first shift in Channel Rd, wondering where the power would come from to reach Doyles Rd.  Grumpy answered by calling an early roll just beyond Kensington's roundabout, my vision fogged in his and BamBam's tow, then another changing of the guard as Bruce then Pistol worked their wattage to Orrvale Rd.  The order shuffled as some sought comfort in the caboose and others skipped a shift to score more oxygen. 37-38 km/h seemed to be the speed standard till Troy turned up the toil in Boundary Rd, just that k or two torturing my turns to shorter shifts, others feeling the heat in the chill too as the caboose population swelled. Out of my driving depths, I sat in the back berths to observe the engines of Pistol, Bruce, Wozza, Rocket and Troy dish out the duress seemingly with ease, the heart rate slowly settling in Mitchell Rd readying for Raftery's rapidity and Conrod's culmination.  A few of the engines expired as Conrod's mid forties taxed the limits, Rocket hurtling to the horizon and victory, a regroup in the remains of Raftery for some old fashioned back slapping.

23/6 Faarctic Friday
A tsunami of adrenaline overpowered the logic to keep warm on the first few k's of Fridays minus 2.4  (Keep pushing Foss, you'll climatise to this chill!)   The questionable sanity is eventually condoned at the carpark finding Pistol, Boof, Shorty, Bruce, Cate. Trav and AvantiTrev in a similar state of crazy resolution.  Grumpy blended in at the bridge on our escape from town, feeling fairly flat I stayed in the downline, happy to watch Bruce and Pistol tap out the tempo through the fog.  There's a distinct difference between Pistol's calm metronomic motion and Bruce's slog at the shoulders, but both dish out a delicious draft.  If a sit spoke a story, Trav told a tale of toil, Boof said "Let's just get this over with" and Cate stated "I relish the ride".  One car back in Central Kialla and one car up in River Rd constituted the total commuters for Friday, a bike bunch of 8 then 6 in Boundary Rd meant bikes ruled the roads.  AvantiTrev sat in silence at the rear, I thought 2 degrees was his limit (must have missed the minus)  Grumpy was waving like he was drowning, promoting circulation to the fingers for fear they'd snap off!  Shorty's keeping the engine in tune with a few laps a week, I need to find cruisier company 'cause 6 days training is barely enough to keep up!  Chilly Channel Rd had me at the front again approaching the Kinder but temperature tamed the sprint to barely break the forties.  A post ride coffee infusion with Cate (most heading straight home for much needed warmth) came across P&W history, Kylie, Princess, Meags, Fi and the Fox sensibly in civvies.  How long till winters' end?

Week 25     254km             YTD  6,307km

Week 24 : On the brink of boom!

Post 401

10/6 A ride up routed
Throwing the doona off is the toughest winter workout, it gets easier with warm fuel in the engine and kitting up in umpteen layers for a ride, but opening the door to zero degrees is a cardio killer!  But the Saturday drawcard of bikes, banter and breakfast with buddies negates the numbing cold. The tempered team of

TatPaul, BassoDan, HBK, Jase, Wozza, Boof, Avanti-not-MeridaJohn, AvantiTrev, Trav, Cougar, Shorty, PistolPete, Grumpy, Car+Mel, Temple, Cate and Softa assembled at 6, a mystical drive through the moonlit patchy fog on Archer made a different start to Saturdays lap.  We're almost on the hump of winters solstice, the days can only get longer! A berth beside Jase bumped up the Garmin graph in Mitchell, the 2.2k Central Kialla turn to River Rd was seemingly endless (and breathless) beside Shorty.  Relief was so sweet in the draft at second wheel as Shorty and Temple drove to the bridge, effort easing as 86.7% of the crew cranked a contribution at the fresh front.  This uprooted route felt foreign for Saturday, a chance for a few extra k's with the Old Dookie and Cosgrove North Rd bridges on a rebuild. It was time for another turn as we swung west into Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the main eastern channel bridge was my target with Jase (ironically about to call the same limit too) then to the distant Lemnos North Rd cooked me pairing with Shorty.  Full of beans into Wanganui Rd, 8th wheel, 130 bpm, 72rpm and just rolling the 56/14 gear put my sprint confidence to new highs.  I got around Jase at DECA, but the pack went Indian file behind, how quickly the wattage waned and heartrate hurtled at the fresh front!  Boof, Wozza, Grumpy and Avanti-not-MeridaJohn built a head of steam to the sprint train as my drive died, flat chat to Wanganui hill demoting me instantly midfield, and by Rudd Rd I was second last. Oh well, there's no trophies!  Old ancestry, carbon's fragility and porridge perfection made up the breakfast blab at the post ride parliament

12/6  Cold, Caniambo, Camels & Couldabeens

For the sake of variety and a few extra k's, I called a camel farm loop for the Monday holiday which drew Shorty, Wozza, Rocket, Boof, Pistol, BamBam and Softa to the carpark.  With the mercury at zero and fog aplenty, we cranked the familiar Archer Rd trajectory but continued east for the length of Mitchell Rd.  Wozza, Rocket, Pistol and Boof must have fuelled on Kellogs Kadence,  plenty of pace putting some in the "at risk" category.  The old stretch of Mitchell brought back memories, the length of Bells & Armstrong Rd triggering Pavlov's dogs responses, 12k's of narrowing and roughening road to smack the resolve senseless.

Sharing the burden was some sort of bonus though Softa was feeling the pinch of a small bunch and a bigger distance than he was acustomed too.  At the front, Shorty, BamBam and I lowered the speed a touch in the interest of self survival (no doubt earning praise from Softa),  Cosgrove-Caniambo Rd finally appearing through the atmospheric soup as an occular oasis.  Over the Midland highway and into the shadow of Mt.Major, kangaroos bounded away as we prepared for the assault on the Col du Caniambo, a category two climb of three meters over a 450 meter distance (felt like the Tormalet after 38 k's of pancake pavement).  West on Kellows Rd, camels chewed the cud complacently at us cranking toward Cosgrove, my turn beside BamBam began to wear away the wattage but he called the roll as I drew breath to do the same. Nearing New Dookie Rd alongside Boof, I'd just hit my limit as he called a change too.  What timing!

Shorty (did well considering two rides in a week) had taken up residence in the caboose with Softa, BamBam now showing the strain as Wozza, Rocket and Pistol seemed immune.  The length of Lemnos-Cosgrove eventually turned to Ford, turns at the front now so frequent were fueling my fatigue.  BamBam bid bye bye breaking off to Verney Rd, by Wanganui Rd thoughts of a warm breakfast so near was all that encouraged effort.  By DECA, any advance was out of the question, my drafting essential to scale the heights of Mt.Wanganui (3.6 metres).   My guess at 58 k's was wrong (70 really) but the Lemontree e.t.a. was just a minute off, a sweltering 1.8 degrees at the dismount.  Breakfast was bliss, exotic cars, drugs and AFL the babble, before facing the fresh ride home to thaw in the shower (looking like a lobster)

13/6 The awesome foursome
Tuesday tryers are now almost extinct, only Temple, Cate and I at the grid.  Thankfully, HBK had arrived at the third stroke of 5:45 to make a quadrella, a little single filed train escaping east out of town.  Me, HBK, Temple and Cate were the order of the day, just a 3k rest before duty called again needed mental preparation.  Temple and Cate did the legwork in Boundary Rd, a light headwind being the blunt end of the stick.  Engines run better on motivation, so encouraging words were offered around....though they were used sparingly on HBK so his helmet didn't tighten.  Back in the drivers seat as we turned into River Rd, I squeezed the accelerator gently up to speed sensing some were on the brink of boom.  My mission was a long haul to distribute some respite for all to survive, the target distance clouded by fog.  The first k hurt till the smooth surface of the 2nd k handed me a 2nd wind, on past the kennels slicing through the soup, aiming for handover at the next white post became the one after, and another, oh to hell with it!, another one to the dip. Compliments of "animal" and "machine" helped me to catch the last wheel as HBK took over an equally energised effort to finish off River Rd.  Temple tore into the Central Kialla leg, but Hares were homing in.  Cate cranked a great turn to Archer, I got the helm as Hares drew by, so dug a bit deeper to catch their draft.  8 slicing the atmosphere was a big help but the tempo taxed, up to the highway traffic had halted our hurry, the huff and puff helping our heart rates.  Up and away headed for Raftery, the bolt to get back on the tail was testing a few, around Roubaix 3 had been cast off, so I eased back to assist their finish.  HBK, Temple and Cate sat in the wake till I'd reached Conrod's dip for a solid finish of solidarity.

14/6  The polar peloton
I thought we were early to an empty carpark but the dying minutes to 6am saw Boof, Pistol, AvantiTrev, The Godfather and SuperMario join Wozz Car+Mel, Cate and I for a 0.8 degree flagfall.   BamBam, Pelly and Grumpy jumped aboard as Wozz captained the crew south, I felt it my bunch duty to pair at the pointy end (how many times does he take the first shift while many draft for an easy warm up?).  It was a good idea at the time till 400 metres later the labor pains started ; lungs full of iced air, legs protesting the pace and the heart rate on an escalator, and there was 1000 meters till the Sanctuary roundabout!  Like a grenade without a pin I'd just got around Wozza to glance at my next partner in pace.....Pistol!  (this was going to hurt)  Blurred at the edges, the truck route finally came into view, the delight of a draft as legs went to jelly catching Pistol's wake.  One word replies to BamBam and Grumpy's greetings as oxygen became a precious comodity, two unspoken minutes was enough to restore myself from a gasping stupor.  SuperMario and AvantiTrev advanced to the front and suppressed the speed, but a once-a-week-ride and a skewed MTB bias maketh a muscle massacre on a road bike as the temperature zeroed.  SuperMario pleaded for a peace on pace as Wozz and I returned to the drivers seat, it lasted about 3.7 nanoseconds till we turned up the wick.  Onward the bunch of 13 sliced through the arctic atmosphere, up Boundary to Channel and west toward town, the peloton promotion to the pointy end was hastening at the cypress trees. It was a struggle to reach the Kinder matching Wozz at the front, tougher repeating the process with Pistol to Hopeful corner.



15/6  Bay by bike.
Ten degrees felt foreign, well worth soaking up on the bike mecca of Port Phillip Bay whilst in the big smoke. Mounting up in Mordialloc, the rise and fall of the track to Black Rock tested this flatlander Foss, but the super smooth tarmac was a gift to the gluteus maximus.

Past rows of bayside architectual monstrosities of concrete and glass, at least the grand old Edgy and the Mentone Hotel eased the eye.  Uphill losses always have a downhill profit, progress was generally good on this bike utopia, onward to Sandringham passing a few twos and threes of various shapes and sizes, only being passed by one pack of six. Soon sharing the road with an R8 an M6 and a GT3 told me I'd reached Brighton, several bike bunches now forming in the side streets readying to ride. Lots of jogging eye candy pounded the St.Kilda beach paths (eyes ahead Foss!), pelotons aplenty now steaming south lapping up a tailwind, northbound traffic helping me against the headwind (9-14 km/h) with momentary drafts.  "Woody's wheel", the "Cerberus lung buster" and "Gone in sixty seconds" were among the dozens of Strava segments en-route, scoring 71 trophies certainly soothing the soul.  Up to Port Melbourne's pier (an obligatory souvenir snap with the tub to Tassie) then about face to soldier on solo southbound. There were plenty of bunches berthed at the coffee pitstops of St.Kilda but that pleasure I postponed till the finish (too hard to get started again!), a promised espresso trophy at the Mordailloc finish.

16/6  Meandering MelBaum
Still in the state's capital (and still a mild 8 degrees), variety pointed me south from "Mordy", a few that were Carrum bound were a guide to stay on the track most traveled (this metropolis not the place to ride uncharted territory).  I worked turns with Paul and Marcus via Aspendale, Chelsea and Bon Beach to Carrum, u-turning at Patterson Lakes when the bike lanes evaporated.

Northbound into the breeze (9-11 km/h) back to Mordialloc then Beach Rd bound back on familiar ground.  The sea air in the nostrils and thousands of  lights edging Port Phillip's pond makes for a different scenery, not so many bikes citybound today and half the packs of yesterday southbound.  Those slight uphills buckled the brow but the downhills massaged the ego.  How do these local councils make manhole covers sit so smoothly in the hotmix? Barely a bump!  A scenic city skyline tempted a pit stop, a technicolor row of 1860's Brighton's bathing boxes enticing a photo for the alBaum.  Enough of the tourist trumpery, time to tap back to the pier, and curse you Strava tempting tempo for PB's en route!  The feint tailwind was my pace partner for segments like "The Bursty Bit", "Half Moon Hill" and "BB Attack", two wheeled heroes were thinning as commuting cars invaded the roads, but mutual respect was shown on this two wheeled nirvana.

Week 24      300k      YTD 6,053 km         

Week 23 : A sandpaper orchestra

Post 400

Winters warriors wheeled in to the cold carpark Saturday, whittled down to the hardcore heroes (or is that the deliriously desensitised?) to face the task of propelling oneself into the darkness at minus one. Temple, AvantiAndy, Rocket, Wozza, Jen, The Godfather, TatPaul, Jase, TatMat, KillkennyPaul, Boof, Bruce, Popgun, Softa, PistolPete and MeridaJohn were the tough to tap a lap, though the peloton personality had altered with a few regulars missing.  My careful berth at the grid escaped the early effort at the front, a chance to warm up (ha ha!) before a push at the pointy end.  Unseen at the start, Trav and Weapon were surprise appearances in the rotation, a chasing headlight at the cypress trees appeared as Nev, somewhat speechless from the pursuit.  Bridgeworks have shaved 6k off the Saturday course, at least all were on the same navigational page today. Slotting in between the sultan of smooth (Nev) and the Raj of reliability (Temple) was peloton position perfect, how rattled is the mindset when placed behind the ramshackled rider with the willy wagtail wheel!  Captivated in its comfort, the new helmet (a 319 gram Giro Savant) has some auditory aerodynamics, wind whistles when the skull is skewed (or is that the hum from an empty vessel?)  Frost has fickled felines to a few, our fat pack crossing paths with just 3 Cats eastbound on Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.    Well into the forties at DECA, our bunch thinned to single file, Nev (my saviour) rolling across to donate a draft just as I readied an elbow.  Team Tat (TatMat and TatPaul) launched an early effort that was hard to hold, I was just on top of the 14 cog and surviving when Rocket's Zipps sang "catch me if you can" as he powered past, a symphony of carbon under duress (Wozza, Boof, The Godfather etc) following to hammer the hill.  Spread and fragmented 300 metres behind, the bunch eventually reformed for the Rudd Rd rehab, a chat along the Boulevard but a special stage in Mason St to sprint for the warmest seats at the Lemontree.  Recycling, Greyhounds and sporting meltdowns captured the confab over breakfast huddled under the heaters, ScottMatt (previously punctured) and Tina (about to jet off to ride the Dolomites) joining the noise. Turtle time revisions went on the agenda as we mustered the motivation to ride homeward, thoughts were with just two Goats (Coggo and Principal Skinner) departing into the frost from Friars.

5/6. Fog stomp

Umpteen layers of kit as insulation takes some time to ready for a ride, all hopes were pinned on others being tough enough to turn up Monday, minus Celsius was hardly the feature attraction! Most inspiring to find AvantiAndy, Jen, Coggo, Cate, Hommy and Sandy front in the fog to Verney's misty roundabout.  Turns rolled a bit sooner with just six facing the frosty front, Sandy suffering from Queensland one day, caboose the next.  Most landmarks were camouflaged in fog, another navigational challenge to find Boundary Rd in the soup. Back on the front again picked up the heartrate, specs needing a wipe every 500 metres and oncoming cars blowing a bitter breeze through the layers. I was delighted to relinquish the lead for the cosy confines of second and third wheel, at least 0.0002 degrees warmer away from the -0.6 front. There was little chat (preservation of bodily warmth?) en route to Central Kialla, the repetitious roll from the frozen front to a brief recovery in the bunch continued to the highway.  Hommy hid in the rear ranks as speed built from Galbraiths gate, hopes of a steady roll home evaporating.  Coggo drove the lions share of Conrod straight as six thinned down to Indian file behind, I took over the drivers seat in sympathy when volunteers vanished.

My wattage waned at the icy end so Coggo captured the chocolates, fingers ached numb at Mandy's for a post ride coffee thaw.  A week off work allowed another 40k solo (to satisfy Rule #5), preparation for a glacier get-away if one appears on my to-do list. South on Archer and east on Mitchell, the sun was but a 40 watt globe in the fog, so why do black cars plough through it minus lights?


Gloves iced over but the scenic surrounds spurred on the speed, tapping out a pleasing tempo in view of the conditions.  Ears out at the intersections 'cause the view went no further than 100 metres, across the Midland and New Dookie before a cautious steer west on Lemnos-Cosgrove for home, mentally consumed with sensations that hot toast and coffee bring.






6/6 Hare splitting

5:40 Tuesday Turtles were extinct, but Temple, HBK, KillkennyPaul and Softa had assembled for a 5:45 flog (hunted by Hares starting 5 minutes behind).   Weapon was a welcome addition as we steered into Channel Rd, HBK taking the lead role to Doyle's Rd.  7 degrees felt almost tropical compared to the week just past, a WSW'er (13-20 km/h) making east easy and west a workout.

KillkennyPaul labored leg 2 (a sleep in, then a sprint to the grid pickled his preparation), Temple taking the turn to the Kinder.  It was my drive donation to the cypress trees, but then Softa led all the way to Boundary, a tax to torture him later.  Weapon crescendo'ed the TT Avanti's disc wheel on Boundary's damp for a big 2k turn of tenacity, HBK a k of River Rd for Temple to take over to the kennels. Primed, per se in the drivers seat, I put the head down and urged up the tempo 2km/h, the almost head wind inciting effort to the dip and beyond, but Softa popped at the pace (a brief slow kept the crew connected)   Hares were homing in behind as HBK took the train south to Mitchell, 8 reverently passing at Kialla Central.  Weapon jumped ship to leave Temple, HBK and I to tow KillkennyPaul and Softa to town, a relief to round Roubaix and get the breeze up the bum from Galbraiths gate.  Temple towed us to Conrod straight leaving me my compulsory crank to the finish, wheel sucker HBK pouncing at the 150 mark for the honors.   Post ride latte's and dialog on bicognition and tenuous Turtle times was the bi-partisan banter at Kiala lakes cafe with Weapon and the Hares. 

7/6. Wednesday whiparound

Volunteers for the first shift would be as rare as a BeerMat, WhisperingJack AND Hollywood arrival,  a head-on south southwester would set a stiff standard for the first leg of Wednesday's lap.  Wozz, Mel, Cate and I cruised into the carpark, Boof, Rocket, Jase, Pelly, AvantiTrev and Weapon arrived as Pistol berthed with news of a puncture at Kialla Lakes.

A slow roll south had Grumpy join the fold, finding Trav south of the bridge finishing repairs to Cougar's Continental.  In two shakes of a new tube we were all aboard the southern express as Pistol and Wozz towed the train to the roundabout, but the bunch was split in disarray on speed or slow, Cougar u-turning for a recovery roll.   An overtaking Toyota Impatient charged by as we approached the truck route, braking hard for the forgotten traffic island that blocked his manoeuvre (all that instead of a 2 second wait?). Frazzled and fractured, the bunch finally reconvened for leg 3 to Mitchell Rd, Rocket and Trav unperturbed with 17 k's worth of breeze on the brow, but wait! a car on Mitchell suddenly stopped (despite having right of way). Welcome to wacky Wednesday!  The bunch tail grew long and thin as some hung on to a simmering speed, though there was a chance for many to draw breath with the tail wind to River Rd.  Boof turned up the heater as I paired with him to the channel bridge wearing at Weapons wattage behind me (relinquished for rear recovery),  Mel stepped up for a turn at the dip but it was Trav , Pistol and Rocket who took the train all the way to Boundary, just as the Goat express turned west.

Buoyed by the breeze behind, the pack powered toward Channel Rd, sentences being swapped for silence as oxygen intake took precedence. The first k of Channel was carpeted with grass mounds, someone keen mowing the roadside didn't have a catcher (a job for Wozza's broom?)  It seemed I'd be challenged with Boof at the Cha Cha till a few ducked for cover in the down-line, beside Boof to the Kinder was kinder but it forced my early roll.  Hanging onto the draft as the big engines fired got me on Trav's wheel, but his fuse fizzled at Prentice Rd (so it was dig deep to grab Pistol's tow).  It was a peloton in pieces as we rolled recovering to the school, Pistol and I pausing to gather the remains for the roll back to town.

8/6  Goatless wonder
"What's App" pinged a few early withdrawals from Goat Thursday, temperature testing the resolve of even the hardcore now. The wait at the roundabout was in vein, only Cate & I tough enough to take on minus 2. And so it was a 40k tap for two,  if only to honor Rule #9 and earn bunch brag points. Funny how progress seems slow slogging through the soup (count the telephone poles to put a value on distance covered....or fence posts if that's not enough progress!)  Again, the landmarks are easily missed in the mist, there's a sense of being lost in the wilderness till 'ol mate Boundary Rd sign appears.  Spec swiping saved the sight south, ice formed on the fingers and (without thought) a casual nose rub drew blood.  Low 30's was plenty 'o pace sucking in iced air, without the benefit of a bunch draft spelled proportional effort to me.  The odd passing car gave a few seconds reprieve in their wake, it's the bone chiller gusts from the oncoming ones that you grit teeth over.  Along Boundary and River Rd's length predawn light showed the fog thickening, a chuckle or six about what crazy urge drives us to do this kept spirits up. Fingertip sensations were lost to make gear changes a challenge, Raftery Rd soon appearing to trigger the auto impulse of pace.  Legs, head and heart said more but the lungs held the handbrake in Conrod straight to the finish, it took several minutes to unclip the helmet and untie the shoes when home while fingers unfroze, the complete thaw happened about 10am I reckon.

9/6 The Friday friendly (and an Adams addition)
A damp road put bike cleaning on the agenda (yet again!), but it was the Friday friendly that overpowered that chore.  BamBam, Trav, AvantiTrev, Jen, Boof, Troy, Cate, Avanti-not-MeridaJohn, Car+Mel, Rocket, Bruce, Pistol, Pelly, Nev and Jase formed two rows in the carpark, almost tropical at 5 degrees with no fog! Troy and Avanti-not-MeridaJohn were the rare few to form the up-line as we speared south, a string of pace ponderers behind when we were half way to the roundabout encouraging me to join the queue for a shift at the breezy end.  We were working east on Mitchell by the time I'd got to the front, wind at the starboard stern making life a little easier to pair with Avanti-not-MeridaJohn then stay somewhere near Rocket.  The workload was shared north and east, puddles making a mess of kit and bike (though some bikes looked like some love was well overdue!), all relishing the gift of celcius in positive figures as the customary trains of Cats and Goats pounding the clockwise course.  A sandpaper orchestra played as 34 calipers gripped gritty wheels to slow for the turn onto Boundary Rd, a scenic moonset to the west on our course north.

The breeze had cleared the grassy knolls on Channel Rd so it was full steam to the cypress trees, passing a pussycat punctured.  Four Cats backtracked as Avanti-not-MeridaJohn and I swung into Central Ave, a short burst to the Kinder then with Nev to Hopeful corner, the spray from puddles splattering the view as Boof, Bruce, Jase, Cate and Mel cranked to the front.  Ranks thinned into the roaring forties for me to rejoin the up line, a finish fifth not so bad for a old bloke in young company.  Time off from the salt mines allowed coffee with the ladies of the peloton, a smooth brew at the new Brother Pablo enjoyed with Jen, Cate, Car+Mel to top off part one.
A k craving put me on a solo southern roll to Raftery, a loop down to Mitchell Rd for an Adams family addition, finding Norm, Jimbo, Hoffy, Barnsey, 'ol Col, The Trotter and Wobbly Trev, pensively plugging south on Archer.  There was a juggle with pace as Norm, Barnsey, Wobbly Trev and I drove the eastern leg of Mitchell, four just hanging on in the rear ranks. A new Cervelo steers straighter than WobblyTrev's old Felt, Norm still the standard for smooth and Barnsey still with the trademark knee knock on the downstroke. (How many moons ago did I ride with the Saturday OC's?) The southerly's (15-24 km/h) salvation came in Boundary Rd as Jimbo, Hoffy and The Trotter (going great for 82) came to the fore, 'ol Col off song, opting for a casual cruise home.  With 80 k's clocked, I bid my adieu's to exit stage left (Old Dookie Rd), the portside wind playing havoc with the trajectory back to town (or was that a WobblyTrev infection?).

Week 23     327km                YTD 5,753

Post number 400 is a bit scary, bike and blog obsessions getting too much? Let's know.  Leave a comment.

    

Week 22 : The warriors of winter

Post 399

27/5. The routine ramshackled.

I felt spoilt having 8 degrees and a dry road to commute to Saturdays spin of sociology, great to have Wozza back aboard after a labouring lung layoff, Mel and Cate joining in the roll to assemble with the regulars and rarities, the Saturday soloists and distance demons, amongst the committed Couldabeens.   AvantiAndy, Boof, SuperMario, TatMat, TatPaul, Jen, BassoDan, Temple, The Godfather, PistolPete, HBK, Popgun, Trav, Cougar, Shorty, Nev, KillkennyPaul, Jase, Tina, BigLen, MeridaAndy, MeridaJohn, Bruce and AvantiTrev making up the motley mass.

28 toured into Channel Rd, the body language fascinating, from the perfectly poised and predictable to those ramshackled and wrecked....and it was only the first kilometre!  MeridaJohns puncture pitstopped the peloton just beyond the cypress trees, AvantiTrev in prime position to crew the repair, the team halt-and -help ethic appreciated.  It takes some time to get the train rolling smoothly again, with 28 seperate reactions just centimetres apart, the rear rubberband syndrome was obvious. (Seems some don't realise the slightest ripple causes tsunami's at the rear). There was a diversion from the Old Dookie Rd course, previously advised bridgeworks and a less than subtle electronic roadworks sign still caught some turning ones out! (another try at train tempo all over again!)  The rumble strips on our Boundary Rd shortcut were enough to rank as roads of Roubaix, a light northeaster of nil nuisance to Nev and Cate driving us to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd.  I finally faced the front for work at the main eastern channel, partnered with BassoDan, swift and strong from the Rule #5 ritual of suffering solo slogs (what a difference from his pickled performance just 3 weeks ago).

Turns short and long followed in Ford Rd as the sprint finish drew closer, a few veering via Verney for an early breakfast berth.  I was almost back to the caboose as we worked into Wanganui Rd, delivered the delicious duty of having Mel, Tina and Cate in tow as the warriors of wattage wound up the tempo at the front passing the transfer station. Mid fourties at the test track was popping a few OTA, our up-line still in the tow as we neared Wanganui hill to drag us into a top ten position, but breathless.  Chillies, weight loss and kangaroos kept the noise levels up at the Lemontree long table for the social stimuli that's almost as important as the ride.

29/5  Faarctic 
You'd have to ask a therapist why you'd dress in just 4mm of clothing and propel yourself into 1 degree at 35 km/h.  Do we do it for the brag factor or a frosty flagellation fantasy? Maybe because others do it?

I'll go for Rule #5 to justify my actions (and use the "never took me to the circus when I was a kid" argument)  It's reassuring to find like minded masochists arriving at Verney Rd's peace train station on Monday morning,  Hommy, Tina, Belly, Sandy, Coggo, Phil, Heady, Cate, Jen and AvantiAndy were enough to justify the habit.  Heady and I found ourselves captaining the crew to Grahamvale Rd, adrenalin driving cold legs to go faster and warm up, counterproductive to the wind chill factor.  It felt psychologically warmer being off the front and gradually demoted down to the caboose, or was the hot air of weekend chat acting as a heater? Hommy and Sandy were somewhat silent, adjusting to tropical Bali one day and frosty Grahamvale the next.   One of motorings' brains trust bolted by in Boundary Rd then immediately braked to turn right, so glad he'd saved 2.7 nanoseconds of his journey to get around us!  I had a bit of mental preparation to face the OMG factor at the front in River Rd though Cate and Coggo were kind with their wattage.  Are we down to the hardcore at 1 degree or is there some still to drop off and succumb to their doona ?  (or soften to Zwift?!) Belly seems to think we've reached critical minimum.  A day off allowed a rare ride of the full circuit and and be socially inclusive, 2 k's south to Mitchell Rd then 4 k's to Raftery for the Conrod crescendo. It was peak hour at Roubaix corner with a car up and one back, position predictions placing me near the pointy end in the last k again.  I'd just rolled across Heady to take the lead out of Conrod's dip, squeezing the accelerator gently so I didn't break the bunch, my long lead-out favoring Coggo and Belly to pounce for the honours with 200 left.  There was a relaxed roll back to town with the rare treat of a weekday post ride coffee and chat.

31/5. The hypothermic hardcore

It's down to the hardcore now with a bureau "feels like -0.8 degrees", Kenworth, Jase, Wozza, AvantiTrev, Boof, Rocket, Cate, Shorty, Car+Mel, MeridaJohn, and ScottMatt turning up at the carpark for Wednesday's workout.  Trav joined the frosty force at Kialla Lakes, Wozz and Rocket diligently driving to Sanctuary's roundabout then Boof and Pistol equally energetic to Mitchell Rd.  Double white lines meant nothing to the inpatient passing prat as we slowed to bear east into River Rd, the tempo tamed to tranquil at the channel bridge, AvantiTrev (muscles murdered by MTB) putting a damper on the drive till Car+Mel and Cate wound up the wick again. It was a treat to have Kenworth tow me to my first shift at the kennels, pace now in the high 30's (a K.P.I. for the next turn with Wozza).  The icy WSW'er  helped me to Boundary Rd, then to dig a bit deeper to hold onto Wozz, Rocket, Boof and Pistols' pace as they set sail to Channel Rd. (I'm sure they're working hard, it's just that they make it look so easy!)  A bit of a headwind and lungs protest at consuming iced atmosphere trimmed the tempo headed west in Channel Rd, I'd lucked the turn from McFadyens Rd to the Kinder with Wozz, giving me a few seconds  to ready lungs and legs for the ChaCha.  The turns shortened, four were sitting this one out, so I found myself quickly back in the up-line at Prentice Rd with just 7 ahead.  Wozz and Boof had stitched this one up a treat, I'd managed promotion to 3rd as several popped off the front, tested by tempo & temperature.

1/6  Winters' wistful welcome

Here we go again on a frosty flagellation, maybe because we'll feel better when we stop?! Winter welcomed us with 1 degree, gutsy Goats Heady, Coggo, Jen, Phil, AvantiAndy Belly, Cate and Tina turned up, MeridaJohn and Burlsy (the only Cats to brave the bbrrrrrrrr) joining the herd as they were feline free.   Deja vu, Heady and I headed the crew to Grahamvale Rd, MeridaJohn pairing with me to Lemnos North Rd at a more spiced speed.  It's inspiring to see AvantiAndy and Jen on a diet of concrete cranking in the cold conditions, gives credence to the diehards Coggo, Belly, Tina and Cate to continue .  I'd sniffed all the way back to the caboose before an olfactory offload, surprising just how soon we'd reached Boundary Rd to frigidly face the southwester. The patient motorist (as rare as rocking horse poo) was given the thumbs up hanging back till oncoming cars cleared at Boundary's bacon barn, down to the pub, a momentary wait for peak hour traffic (2 trucks and a car) to clear before cranking back up to cruising speed toward River Rd.  Nice to turn out of the breeze (albeit a meagre 4-7 km/h) but the chill factor was high, onto the smooth-as-TatMat tarmac of River Rd, forcing myself to ease beside Heady (respecting Rule #86) who's just under the staying-in-tune radar. (More of the bike in your work/bike balance Heady!)   Today was another opportunity to lap up a full lap, a thin carpet of fog under the willows making scenic the sun-up swing into Central Kialla.  And around the turns rolled to Mitchell and beyond, Heady now cosy in the caboose as the speed built for Raftery Rd. The urge became urgent pointed into Conrod's long 1200 metre strip of bitumen, mid forties my limit at the front as lungs restricted from iced air. Coggo and Phil had the prime real estate to hit the front fresh, Cate with the cadence for 3rd. A roll back through town somewhat chuffed as conquerors of the cold, a draft from a passing truck inspiring a lake sprint.

2/6. F...f....f....frigid Friday

-0.8 degrees gripped the lungs and legs to half capacity Friday, and we've only got about twelve more weeks of this to endure! (and the joy of a windy spring afterward!)  Boof, Pistol, Bruce, Cate, Kenworth, Shorty and Nev were the silly/stubborn/super (strike out that which doesn't apply) souls to assemble at the carpark, time for me to harden up and take the first shift to Sanctuary's roundabout, a 3k turn of torture particularly with a PistolPete pairing for the 2nd half.  It was a test of temperature, eventually into the tow I was speechless till the truck route, real recovery taking till Mitchell Rd before a sentence could be properly produced. And so we scythed our way through the soup of a foggy, frosty morning, passing the bustling metropolis of Kialla Central (a dozen dwellings) then east on 6 k's of River Rd, the slightest suggestion of an orange horizon all we could aim at (other than trying to keep pace with Pistol)  Kudos to the well attended Goat train slogging south on their quick quest, my thoughts of turning lobster-like under a post ride shower and quaffing caffiene was the hope homeward, wondering if the sprint would be cancelled due to lack of interest (and inspiration) till Pistol fired the sprint shot at Channel Rd's kinder. Temperature tied the tempo to mid forties for the ChaCha, the sense of overcoming winters worst (?) carrying us homeward.

Week 22  196 km       YTD 5,426 km