Week 13 : Hardening up for the ups.

Post #492
23/3  A west coast workout.

A northeast exit of Strahan pointed me toward Zeehan, flatter than my northwest course chosen Friday (toward Queenstown) but wind made sure the ride wasn't going to be cruisy.  The road twisted through scrubland and soon speared through the forest, gentle rises accompanied by a head wind of course!  Hometown speeds are proving impossible in these parts, so I've come to ignore the speed and measure effort by a high heart rate and legs hollering for mercy.  Saturday and solo seemed so foreign (none of that bunch babble to soak up, only myself to listen to!) but the luxury of a lap should be taken at any opportunity, especially when rain looms on the radar.  My aim was to reach the Henty river, so was somewhat chuffed to get there with time to spare, onward said the competitive side of the cranium but the long Mt Dundas reserve climb lay in wait to give me something to grizzle about.

2k's uphill at 8% had a 20km/h headwind as a brutal bonus, a big slice of banana walnut and date toast (as a promised finishing trophy back in town) my only motivation to reach the top. The little ring was put to work (and there weren't a lot of sprockets left to help), a huff, a puff and curse (or three) finding the crest to U-turn for town.  The effort up felt ordinary till my descent showed 58 km/h, but gusts of wind whipping sideways at the wheels and a few roadside wallabies (live ones!) prompted a slow for survival.  22k's of tarmac back had only a few forest tracks intersecting, the few moderate rises on the return weakened by the wind behind me. Light on the horizon helped the confidence but my mind on that finishing trophy drove a decent pace back to Strahan.  Few were stirring in town (missing an inspiring sunrise) but I found the Coffee Shack open with a blissful brew and my trophy toast tasty!

27/3  Tassie's testing temperature.

Rain restricted riding for a few days in Van Diemen's Land, Rule #9 even ignored with Strahan winds of 60-90 km/h!  South in Huonville and Wednesday's weather was dry, though Tassie's temperature tested me at 2 degrees.  Three days off the bike and the craving to crank was at a peak, so I was off toward Cygnet on the B68 with knee warmers and gloves with fingers to get some sought after cycle satisfaction.  The now familiar ups ad downs of the tarmac put the chain up the cassette and laboured lungs, the narrow strip of road snaking the shoreline of the Huon river and climbed steadily to Woodstock.  That pungency of expired wallaby and brush-tailed possum at the roadside kept the velocity up, the only traffic to contend with oncoming.

Through Woodstock and on toward Cradoc, the road turned inland, a little sharper now on the ascents had hopes pinned on decent descents.  The little ring was employed again, prior grizzles about temperature now a distant memory...…...till the downhills!  Moments at 50 km/h relived those winter woes but it inflated the ego after the prior pedestrian progress.  Into Cygnet as the town slept, I pressed on to Lymington for want of a few extra k's, first light illuminating the massed mooring of boats.  With time and the tarmac due to run out, I u-turned head back to Cygnet, throwing a revision via the C369 to Glazier's Bay.  Elevation is a mystery when planning a course on a 2D map, and so as luck would have it, the road took me on a hill to huff & puff on.  A couple of k's at 8-10% wrung out the enthusiasm, a labour of loss to the top to find a sharper, rougher and narrower descent the other side to put the squeeze on the brakes. The shoreline road back to Cradoc was almost as flat as home soil, a hint of a headwind brewing as I rejoined the B68 back to Huonville.  This road had barely a 200 mm edge to use, no hassles mixing it with the 8am car commuters however, each were courteously compliant.  I'd fluked rounding off 50k to finish, the rising sun now warming winter worn bones.

28/3  The Huon hurry-up.

Huonville's other southerly exit was on Thursday's to do list, the weather a whisker more co-operative at 4 degrees. That lack of temperature tempted tempo to warm up with wheels humming toward Franklin, passing rustic apple sheds one side and moored boats on the Huon the other.  I was the sole southerly traffic as earlybird commuters made their way north to work, having my own company to deal with as I rode bunch-less through Castle Forbes Bay (heaven forbid if I start singing to myself!)  It's been a big adjustment to stay satisfied with a slower speed for the past two weeks, no chance to hide in the draft of others and recover, just harden up for the ups and adjust the expectations accordingly.  Through Port Huon and further south, I'd made it to Geeveston (not a soul stirring) so pushed on to Cairns Bay, and of course an unknown long and laborious uphill awaited (just to make sure I earned breakfast)   First light beckoned in the distance to reach the peak, eventually at the top I was deprived of the scenic sunrise I'd hoped would reward me.  The good bit was the descent, despite the chill of the morning now cooler with the sun up.  Through Geeveston at a perkier pace than before, I'd missed the next wave of commuting cars so relished the hint of a draft when one or two passed me.  A nasal nirvana of cooking bacon wafted from the Port Huon Trading Post but I stoically steered onward, my target set on the date and walnut toast temptation awaiting back in Huonville.  Fog lay between the hills as I reached Franklin, oddly having a brewing northerly handbraking my pace.  Familiar landmarks now made the finish line effort measurable, the push back to town earning a DS coffee and toast treat.

29/3  Swansea serenity.

The Tassie east coast turned on tamer temperatures by Friday, Swansea's almost tropical at 16 degrees made a 45k ride a temperate treat.  I aimed at 9 mile beach (14.481 km beach doesn't have the same ring to it) in the early hours, hello darkness my old friend again where the Cat-Eye don't shine.  I'd missed the turn to Dolphin Sands and wound up on a dead-end drive (Swan River Rd) but I'd bagged a 7th overall as a bonus (yep, even in the boondocks folks are setting Strava segments)   Back tracking I found the road to Dolphin Sands, a thin and rough ribbon of tarmac between the dunes alongside 9 mile beach (though set back from the coast half a k)

Deafened by the serenity (apart from distant waves smacking the shores) in this beachside bliss, the struggling sun painting the sky to light the peaks of  Mt  Amos and The Hazards in Freycinet National Park.  Time regrettably u-turned me back, on wary wallaby watch along the Roubaix-like road that cuts through Dolphin Sands, the dead critter chicanes made easily avoidable with the sun now risen. A northerly was working me over till I reached the comfort of the A3's tailwind, propelling me back to Swansea to finish a somewhat shortened week.

Week 13      192km                  YTD: 3,549km
     

Week 12 : Fuelling a faster fire

Post #491
16/3 Swift Saturday.

A Saturday squad of Boof, Manny, Cate, TatMat, Shorty, Kel, MyRideTrev, TatPaul, Lance, Superman, Bo, TrekTrev, Tina, The Godfather and Lenny assembled in the carpark for the ritual ride at 6, Boof at the helm of course, steering south into a cool but still morning.  Cautious Kel contained herself in the caboose (understandably considering the horizontal hiccup in Rabbit Row), the remnants of the early edition (Wozza  and Rocket) attached en-route to Mitchell Rd, BigLen and MeridaAndy (now labelled GiantAndy ; new name with a new bike. Suits the stature) joining in Central Kialla. My sense of a southerly was scotched by the bureau, calm it said but I felt a breeze at the up-line on River Rd. Nath arrived at One Tree Dam, that pacy pairing of Rocket and Wozza at the front even noticed mid field as the tempo touched the 40's.

Lance backed away from a shift at the business end of the bunch putting me into the dream draft of BigLen's wheel, making my debut in the drivers seat at the channel bridge.  BigLen paired considerately to the fig farm, Manny not so compliant with a wheel ahead to Old Dookie Rd (but that'll be someone else's fault I suppose!)  Boof headed the pack with The Godfather toward the Toaster, Nath (in usual form) surging the speed to give grief to The Godfather (and cooking the caboose) but that'll be someone else's fault too.  A red horizon guided us to the Big Ring, smooth and steady with MyRideTrev at the helm setting a 2013 speed but spicy when today's tempo resumed on the next roll.  We crossed paths with a populated pack of Pussycats, the Rocket and Wozza combo again hurrying the huffs and puffs toward Ford Rd. 

Seems I'd escape the toil of a Wanganui workout as my shift came up in Ford's final k, a few in the up-line ducking for cover as the bunch thinned to Indian file at Wanganui's water treatment plant. Nath turned up the torture as I became a joining link between the few left driving and those surviving at the test track.  Boof mounted a launch at the line (with Manny as his shadow) for honours at the hill, the pack drawn long to Rudd Rd but merging together again when we halted at the roundabout to respect right of way (well, most of us did!)  Rocket wound up the velocity on the Boulevard to make us earn breakfast, legs being asked to labour longer and harder while I pondered what a handbrake the head is when a hurry up happens.  Back to base camp we joined the foot faction of Kate, Sim, Jen and PistolPete (on a slow recovery),  chat on the flats vs hills, kids and conflict and the multiple layers autumn demands filling the Lemontree breakfast table. Alas, holidays beckon me, I'm going to miss this crazy collection of Couldabeens.

17/3  Beach Road bliss.

An almost mild 15 degrees in Melbourne begged a Beach Rd blast on the Baum, an almost deserted billiard table tarmac was just too good to pass up.  With sea air soothing the nostrils and Michelin's mmmm'ing on the asphalt, I slowly stoked the boiler toward Beaumaris with barely a bike about at silly o'clock.  I kept a couple of bikes behind me as the road rose and fell through Parkdale, just one ahead to chase nearing Black Rock.   Two's and three's of varied aerodynamics and velocities spun south with the breeze at their bums, my nose northward doing ok.

By Sandringham bikes were outnumbering cars by two to one, bayside lights outlining the bay as the Strava segments "Smackie straights", "Flat stick" and "Cerberus lung buster" slipped by.  I tapped a good time on the Head St to Fitzroy St segment (chasing a red led ahead helps the hurry) but I'd passed a bloke who was none too pleased to be rounded up by an old dinosaur, sitting in my draft to St.Kilda.  Of course, this only fuels a faster fire, so the "BP to café racer", "Beaconsfield merge or die" and "Chewing bar tape on Beachy parade" were PB's as I took the devilish delight of riding the lad off my wheel.  Up to the Port Melbourne dock, I u-turned to soak up a tail breeze back, bunches now commonplace either spinning south or forming in the side streets.

I'd tagged onto the ARC team (minus ol' mat Trav B) for a sedate spin to Sandy, but 29 with the breeze behind was a little lame, so set off ahead for faster fellowship. A big orange sun hauled itself off the horizon, worthy of a pause to picture, restarting to be absorbed by a bunch punching out the 40's.  Chat on the final (?) weeks of worthy weather and finding a fellow Baum in the bunch (a 3 week old Orbis), the final two suburbs quickly slipped by, Mordialloc soon appearing for the fitting finish of coffee at Tour de Café.






19/3  Burnie & back.

Overseas (?) on the Van Diemen's Land coast offered new expiditions, base camp being Ulverstone and a battle to Burnie and back begged.  The Bass highway (the state's number one) was bliss despite the 5:45 darkness, hotmix as smooth as PistolPete's kit pampered the posterior, even the inclines were gentle as I headed west.  Traffic was sparse and a three metre wide emergency lane was mine, the casual 2k climb toward Penguin rewarding with a longer decline the other side.

Small wallabies are the standard road kill in these parts, not the speed hump you need on a 50 km/h downhill, so the Cat Eye's lumens were a lifesaver.  With each descent comes the downside of an uphill after, though Transport Tas has smoothed the inclines to a minimum (favoured by this flat-lander)    Pre-dawn light painted a hilly horizon, highway one hugging the coastline and revealing Burnie's lights in the distance.  A red led ahead was a surprise sight and challenged a chase, passing a young Pinarello pilot backpacked for work.  Into the timber town time u-turned me to follow the coastline back, a lot more light on the scenery now as the sun struggled above the horizon.  I steered a course through Sulphur Creek and Preservation Bay, a thin strip of tarmac following the coast to Penguin (famous for,  you guessed it!)   There was a short climb above the rocky coast, 9k's twisting and turning with the rail line alongside, past a rather rugged Goat Island and back into Ulverstone to polish  off 54k, warranting  a fine brew of beans from thirtythree cups.

20/3 Ulverstone uphills and Devonport downhills.

A little overnight damp hoisted humidity for Wednesday morning, the odd puddle to dodge on the Ulverston exit toward Forth.  The gentle ups and downs loosened the rust from holiday legs, unchartered territory being lit by the Cat Eye into the little village of Forth to find a sharp uphill to huff at (category 4 is sharp for me!)  Up to the top I steered south onto Forthside Rd, the rise and fall somewhat gentler now.  It was surprising to cross paths with a bunch of a dozen  (so I'm not the only silly one riding at stupid o'clock!), continuing south delighting in the descents and cursing the climbs to Melrose, a hint of pre dawn light showing yet another climb to crucify me.  A quick grab for the little ring as I faced the Melrose fire station climb, down to 12 km/h for the 12% masochism to the top.

Northeast onto Buster Rd took me on a delicious downhill to Aberdeen, though flattened wallabies and a little loose gravel kept the brakes warm.  I reached Spreyton and turned northwest onto a wide and heavenly hot-mixed Sheffield Rd, a bit of downhill making mid 40's most manageable.  I could take plenty of this!  Of course there was a payback, a sharp rise to Stoney Rise (the outer fringes of Devonport) then west to Don.  The highway home had speed simmering in the forties  (redemption for all that slow motion nonsense of going up hills earlier) sailing along with the sun warming my back and the speedo inflating my ego till the next rise brought reality.



21/3  The grind to (and from) Gunns Plains.

Twas a misty morning Thursday and heaps of humidity made a ride like pushing through porridge, a southerly exit of Ulverstone followed the B17 and aimed me at Gawler.  Darkness made the course mysterious, rises and falls to North Motton a surprise till the headlight lit the white posts rising.  The Preston Road tarmac rose to put me into labor, any elevation above my usual channel bridge ascent is a challenge!  The little ring was employed more today than it has been all year, the head heated, the mist thickened and the specs were pocketed, maybe I was in the clouds en-route to Gunns Plains Rd?  The aroma of expired wallaby motivated a push to crest the hill, a very long descent to enjoy as it snaked through the tall timbers of the state reserve (though the road kill and loose gravel kept senses sharp and brakes warm).  Gunns Plains levelled out, I set my target south, happily tapping a relatively flat and winding South Riana Rd till 'rounding a bend put me straight into a sharp 3k climb.

8% was nearly tolerable but short bursts of 16% has to be against the Geneva Convention!  That growling bear was heard as the 38/25 combination barely coped at 9 km/h, all the while cursing my course of cruelty (don't anyone say it builds character!)  After many minutes of masochism the road dropped, a sigh of relief as legs relaxed but another sneaky peak of 15% laid in wait.  Switching to angry mode got me over the last crest to relish a long gradual drop to South Riana, speeding me to Pine Rd to point to Penguin.  Through the mist of dairy and potato territory I finally found Penguin township and opted for the Bass highway back to base, that hotmix heaven of a downhill made 40's easy for the 12k return to Ulverstone.  62 k's had an ordinary average of 25.5, but the surprise of 1000 metres of climbing jacked up a suffer score to 325.

22/3  The Strahan strain.

There's two ways out of Strahan (Tasmania's central west coast) so choice was limited to northwest or northeast, the tarmac to Queenstown selected as Friday's lap for lax legs.  Again, the darkness made a mystery of elevation and sure enough the road rose gently (then gruelling of course) through a tall forest with ferns at it's feet.  Stubborness stays on the big ring when the chain reaches it's 25 sprocket limit, but eventually the reality of the rise soon gives the little ring employment.  Silence was broken by the purr of the chain then shattered by big breaths as I got down to the business of uphill, the (eventual) downhill bringing auditory overload with the wind whistling between the ears.  Only logging tracks branch from the bitumen in this sparsely populated section of the state, so the plan was to ride 50 minutes then double back in search of coffee. When 6:50 struck at the top of a climb I turned tail to at least start the return with a downhill.  3 cars passing constituted peak hour, motorist most respectful of riders in these parts (or maybe they're just on a wary wildlife watch)   A few previously noted landmarks arrived earlier than expected which told me it was mostly downhill back to town, an upside down wombat at the roadside causing caution to the gathering pace on the sharper descents.  The wheels rolled on back through that forest then arrived back into town, nostrils now seeking a caffeine fix (but the bakery's brew was basic).

Week 12        307km             YTD 3,301km          
     

Week 11 : Caressing confidence.

Post #490
9/3 Cruis'n Creswick.

Straight into the deep end on Saturday, a category 4 climb out of Creswick was a heart-starter for this flat-lander.  Holidays had taken me to new lands and a solo spin was out of Saturday character, hardly the exploration of Burke and Wills but I'd mapped a clockwise course to take in new territory.  The few k's uphill to Sawmill Rd was taxing, but the land soon flattened at Springmount and put a little comfort into the 5k drive to Newlyn.  A narrow strip of tarmac curved gradually south toward Dean (and into a headwind to make me work), rises and falls through the spud growing country adding to the toil.  Just 50 meters of road was visible through the 6am darkness, so there was mystery to Dean before finding the C292.   The turn toward Pootilla had a little pre dawn light but it showed a longer climb to Clarkes Hill ahead. After a bit of huff and puff, the city lights of Ballarat showed at the crest, the few k's of long descent the bonus but 13 degrees was fresh at 50 (minus base layer and arm-warmers in the hope of riding faster to warm up!)  I took a moment at the roundabout to consult Google on my position, then steered west onto Bungaree-Creswick Rd, a gradual uphill (but the breeze from behind) to Wattle Flat.  Expired 'roos and wombats scented a long downhill to the Creswick state forest, 5k's nudging 50 with a keen eye for wildlife as the sun filtered through the trees made a fitting finish to a fresh forty k's, but back into town, Creswick killed me with not a café open to quaff caffeine.

11/3  Bike + Ballarat = beaut!

Strava mate Stu got me a berth into Monday's Thinking Man's Bunch while  I holidayed in Ballarat, Crusty, Greg, Simon and Ash the few to front Racers café at Lake Wendouree for a public holiday spin.  Setting off at a civilised 8am, a westward course to Windermere was work into the wind, the turn north to Weatherboard not much better with a few gradual rises making muscles complain (at least I was in considerate company)  Ash had returned to town (criterium calling) so Crusty (Cervelo) Simon (Opera) and Greg (Swift) made the trio to tap toward Addington.  Low cloud swept over the wind turbines atop the hill but I was assured it wasn't rain (only Ballarat mist), a long gradual rise to the top of the hill finding a Dorset ram roadside, unimpressed with our climb.

A few decent descents to Ascot paid us back for prior pain, chat on why we ride finding a common thread ;  fitness, freedom and the free endorphins (and it feels good when you stop!). The ups and downs to Bald Hills built some bravado particularly with the breeze at our backs, Greg and Simon stoked up some strong shifts speeding toward Sulky, Crusty a little second-hand in speed at this stage.  Of course Rule #79 had to be observed, a squirt to the 60 sign before crossing the M8 to return to Racers for the obligatory caffeine and conversation.

12/3  Where the f#%& is Moorookyle Tuki ?

Uphill out of Creswick, northwest into the 6am darkness and into a northwester made me a glutton for punishment I guess.  I'd recalled a gradual downhill toward Glendonald from holidays here two years back, so there was some incentive on the incline to get there.  Eau du dead 'roo kept up my cadence to the top, the long slight descent caressing the confidence on the 16k crank toward Clunes.  I took the north course out of Clunes with sights set on Ullina, a few gentle ups and downs discovered by the rise and fall of reflectors on the white posts ahead.  A little pre dawn light lit nothing but a broken windmill at Ullina, the tarmac toward Kooroocheang on a diet at just 3 metres wide till it turned to dust at Newstead-Creswick Rd.  So this was Moorookyle Tuki, marked by nothing but a hill and a letterbox.

Steering south I felt the force of the westerly that had been a friend for the last 25 minutes, now a foe for the 5k to Smeaton.  I've learned to accept the 20's on the uphills and get over the sub-standard speed (see how riding the flat-lands gives you performance anxiety?!), there's nearly always a downhill to pick up the average after.  A scenic sunrise was worth the diversion via Kingston, along the avenue of honour to the Midland highway to steer west through Springmount and relish the downhill into Creswick, even though the westerly handbraked the speed to the mid 50's.  Creswick cursed me again with closed cafe's so instant sufficed as a sub-standard substitute.

13/3  Preventing Poppa's podium.

Traditions were set in stone back home on the flat-lands, Boof leading Kenworth, BamBam, SuperMario, MyRideTrev, Col, The Godfather, Cate, Shorty, Tina, Laura, Kreeky and Nick out of town into the southerly, with only Kreeky prepared to form the up-line.  With no takers by Adams Rd, I moved up for some punishment, Rocket and Wozza the embers left of the early edition  joining us for leg 3 as I paired with The Godfather to muscle some motion to Mitchell Rd.  Breaths were spare for social sentences by Central Kialla, congrats to Wozza for his 9:42 thrash of 3 peaks, condolences on Laura's Ironman training schedule, understanding for Tina's tenderness from "a little bit more" in the hills yesterday, and concern on Col's continuing cough-cough.

Just three occupied the Hurtlocker train, Doc's cruisers curtailing (Cats continue a constructive collection) and the Goat train of pain cancelled due to lack of commitment. Weather is wearing away the workforce, soon the Zwift heroics will begin I suppose!   The breeze blew us up Boundary and I was already back in the up-line and being promoted forward, there'd be more than the one-turn tango today!
I did my bit with Kreeky at the cypress trees and up to Central Ave, then paired with The Godfather to the Kinder where Nick, Shorty and Tina hurled themselves toward Hopeful corner.  SuperMario's luck put him in the drivers seat and the body language spoke of  hard labour by Prentice Rd.   The caboose filled quickly and I'd been called across to the up-line again, scoring the dream draft behind Kenworth, so sucked up the oxygen and waited for the moment.  With a responsibility to keep The Godfather out of the placings (we'd never her the end of it!) I gave it full throttle with 150 remaining and got that rare taste of ChaCha chocolates for breakfast  (thanks to the serious sprinters sitting this one out)


14/3  Thrash therapy.
It's only just Autumn and already sloth and despondency has struck the once fearless few who'd front for the 5:45 thrash therapy. (not counting the FDC's who's resolve is as rigid as rice-paper!)  What happened to the 10 to 12 we used to get?  Soften and suffer the Spring come-back I say.  True grit turned up in the form  of TrekTrev and Cate, and weren't we lucky to add Col as a contributor as we departed the car park.  Effort from the engine room was needed on my glance at the Garmin, pace was pedestrian for the role of captain for leg one.  Calves were cooking by the truck route so I was pleased to pass the baton to TrekTrev to drive leg 2 and take a tow.  Cate continued TrekTrev's tempo through the ChaCha and on to the Kinder, Col's contribution a cracker, cranking to Channel Rd's end though it set me slightly second-hand sitting second wheel for the distance.  The pure pleasure of pushing into the south southwester was all mine, one tree dam my target if I was to catch the tail without a coronary.

TrekTrev hauled us to River Rd and beyond, Col (on call) calling it quits when work pleaded his presence.  There's a move in the mindset when 25% of the workforce clocks off, so slicing a k or two off the cruise control would see us all survive.  My turn again at the Angora farm and I pressed on to the bridge, just enough jellybeans in the jar to catch the tail as TrekTrev turned it up to top off River Rd.  Cate was lacking lumens for the leg to Mitchell Rd but battled on in true fast form, my turn up again to work west with legs lacking in labour by PistolPete's.  TrekTrev was tiring too, mind you the west southwest wind was working us all over.  Across the highway and on to Roubaix, lights from the Hares drew closer, though they handbraked their hurry to respectfully pass when the course was clear.  Five sped into the distance but we'd gained Kreeky in the caboose (wrung out from labouring on Liam's wheel), TrekTrev our tow truck catching a hint of the Hares draft and keeping us speechless to the end of Conrod.

15/3 Friday frivolity.

A stiff southerly spelt the same old scenario for Friday, Boof leading a line of 'let-the-horsepower-do-the-work-while-I-lament-the-lack-of-it' out of town.  MyRideTrev, Kenworth, Tina, Shorty, Superman and Nick were steadfastly single filed behind, TrekTrev the only instigator of an advance line till Hooper's Rd when Superman got the guilts and moved up.  His shift was short matching TrekTrev's torque (the super socks sapping speed?), Nick and I left to labour leg three as the early edition (Pelly, Rocket, BamBam, Bruce, Wozza and Kreeky) arrived.

It was happy days headed north through Kialla Central, the call of an approaching car at the bend (double white lines) got complicated as a car bolted by from behind (on a schedule that was more important than our lives apparently)   Cardiac convulsions had calmed by River Rd's bridge, so most settled into the social intercourse as The Godfather blurted his greeting from the Cat collection working west.  The pain train was missing (minus motivation) as we drove into the darkness of Boundary Rd toward the bridges.  The west in the south southwester stifled speed in Channel Rd, we'd almost made it through rabbit row when three bunnies bolted across the tarmac in the final meters.  I was between calmer company with Superman ahead and Nick behind as we cranked past the cypress trees, but Bruce calling a calm for the ChaCha took the pressure off those labouring at the limit.  That only excited BamBam with thoughts of a podium but Boof, Wozza and Rocket put that pipedream out to pasture.

Week 11        284km                     YTD  2,994km

Week 10 : The tail-wind treat of tempo

Post #489

2/3 Sloppy Saturday

Fair weather would pump up the peloton population for Saturday's social spin, and sure enough  MyRideTrev, Lenny, MeridaAndy, Shorty, Tina, Liam, TatMat. Cate, Superman, Determined Dan, The Godfather, Ayto, Manny, Temple and TatPaul had assembled for the weekend's whip around.  (I wonder what winter will do to the population?)
A touch of east northeaster tempted Superman to the front for the first leg, so I paired fair to Sanctuary's roundabout, rolling the turn to have MeridaAndy put a half wheel ahead to the truck route (some just don't get it)   But the big fella's draft was delightful down to Mitchell Rd, The Godfather creeping ahead to set off a tit-for-tat turn-up of tempo.   Not-so-newAvantiJohn, Wozza, Rocket and Boof arrived from the early edition, the turn into the breeze calming the pace to Kialla Central where the traditional tattle bounced between the lines.  River Rd was relaxed for me being drawn along in the wake of the weekend warriors moving forward for a flogging at the front.

Nath had arrived from the north (properly attired with a road bike) and blended into the bunch at One Tree Dam, heads lowered and chat changed to big breaths as the formidable force of Wozza, Rocket and Liam lined up in sequence to drive the train into the forties (the wind of little consequence of course!) Turns by the fairer forces rolled rapidly from the Fig Farm, finding myself at the front with Superman to take the turn into Old Dookie (and not a call of 'clear' to be heard)  Into the breeze, MeridaAndy and I set a mid thirties tap to the Toaster but Manny, into the drivers seat at the Pork Palace, went off the leash to 42 for reasons known only to him (or Nath?).
Suddenly back in the mid thirties heading north (with the tail end in the gutter) said something about the drivers concentration on teamwork,  thankfully The Godfather fixed the formation and created a little more comfort for the crew, up to the Big Ring to lean left onto Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd bound for breakfast.

Volts had vanished from my Garmin battery (maybe tired from 8 years of recharging), but it was almost a bonus being deprived of the data of distress as a tail wind turned up the velocity to town.  I maybe going grumpy and geriatric 'cause the few that can't hold a line, the odd freewheeler and those that wreck the rhythm or can't pass on a call, niggle at the nerves and crank up the caution as twenty odd tear along the tarmac a few centimetres apart.  Recent crashes refocus the senses on safety I suppose.  The tempo trifecta of Wozz, Rocket and Liam drove a smooth and swift shift in Ford Rd, the caboose filling quickly with retirees as work loomed in Wanganui Rd, lucky I'd scored a turn between Tina and The Godfather just before the bolt at DECA. Lenny and TatMat had the pace percolating by the test track but Liam led out a superior squad into the Mt Wanganui distance to redefine what us fairer folk call fast.  A belonging to the bunch was boosted by a back-off in Rudd Rd, steadily back up to cruising speed on the Boulevard got us all collectively to the Lemontree long table (do we really need to switch venues?), bunch discipline, the Ottways Classic and new bikes part of the breakfast babble.

4/3 Sprint-less (?) Monday.

It was the chicken or the egg argument, not-so-newAvantiJohn tore into Monday's first shift and I was only trying to keep up (or was my presence alongside urging him to go faster?) but we'd inadvertently set Cobbles a task of tempo to catch the bunch (Sherls, BigBen, Rocket, Cate, The Godfather and Col) into Channel Rd.  I wanted to call an early roll but all oxygen was reserved for work instead of words, happy I stuck it out for the whole shift to the truck route even though my legs hated me.

Acknowledgement of an "energetic" start was a reward for effort but my next k was spent almost silent in recovery.  BigBen, Sherls, The Godfather and Cobbles forged forward to donate to the cause, darkness consuming all that the headlights didn't reach.  Bunnies stuck inquisitive noses from the undergrowth (but wisely no further)as we worked toward the S bend, that northeaster blowing just enough to hamper the hurry in Boundary Rd.  To the bridge beside Cate and alongside not-so-newAvantiJohn to the Fig Farm completed my turn two, a little more climatized to the speed this time.  Sherls and The Godfather did the long drive of Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd, the breeze at the backside a boost to the tempo to town.  Col surprised with a swift shift in Ford Rd, kudos considering a week he'd been crook, Rocket spinning the legs with ease as always.  Wanagnui Rd whipped up some 40+ enthusiasm to the test track, not-so-newAvantiJohn unable to contain himself when he reached the front to bolt up the hill.  So much for the sprint-less Monday. Thankfully speed settled in Rudd Rd to collate the crew, a day off allowing me the post pedal pleasure of caffeine and chat at the Lemontree.

5/3  Fed and all kitted up in the early Tuesday hours for the therapeutic thrash , out the door and onto the verandah to be greeted by a downpour.  It was damp way beyond rule #9 for comfort so regrettably sleep substituted for the ride routine.

6/3  Clash of the titan-iums.

A smattering of spits from the sky wasn't going to deter Wednesday's ride, denied the delight yesterday, the craving to crank a lap was strong.  The Godfather, Laura, Superman, Nick, TrekTrev, cough-cough-Col, Tina, Cate, Kenworth, Boof, Grumpy and Shorty were keen too, so 13 thrust into Archer Rd's headwind (17-30 km/h) at six.  Good grief, gosh and gee willikers, Boof and TrekTrev drove the first leg with a heap hiding behind!  Even if I'd only manage a short shift, I formed a line of duty behind TrekTrev (only The Godfather and Cate following suit), seems most shy away from any toil till a tailwind treats 'em to tempo.  The (still inspired) early edition (not-so-newAvantiJohn, Rocket, Wozza, BamBam and Bruce) jumped aboard, movement on Mitchell Rd less stressed with the wind almost up the Kyber.  Through Central Kialla while it slept, our paths crossed with 5 in the Hurtlocker hurrying south (more commitment in a week than FDC's in a year!)   Tommygun and Weapon intercepted our eastbound trajectory in River Rd, the up-line bearing the brunt of the southwester while the down-line lapped up the shelter.

The wheels still copped a shove from the side in Boundary Rd as I faced the front, TrekTrev called it quits just beyond One Tree Dam and The Godfather partnered for the drive to Channel Rd, though the speed sank over the last 200.   The turn to town challenged a few who didn't account for the whiplash effect and dropped from the wheel ahead, facing that headwind without the safety net of a draft was disaster as the pack powered toward the ChaCha.  Brief moments where orchards made work windless were rare and here's me in the advance line drawing closer to the effort end.  Boof and TrekTrev steered us into Kinder corner (with caution as a B double from the west waited) and faced the work into the wind to Prentice Rd.  TrekTrev's shoulders dropped and the bear growled, his drive was done and it was time for me to get busy and make the most of the 400 metres remaining.  That hand-of-God moment when wheels got working into the 40's helped the hurt, a split second peek under the arm showed I had half a chance, but Bruce's brute force charged from the right lane in the dying metres and pipped me by half a wheel in a Baum vs Bosi clash of the titanium's for top spot.

7/3  The thrash therapy.
A single figure temperature was a wake-up that winter's just weeks away (and there begins the rise of the badass and the demise of the soft-centred!).

Only the devoted (TrekTrev, Cate, cough-cough-Col and MyRideTrev) rolled into the carpark for the 5:45 festivities.  Assuming the lead role into Channel Rd as a courtesy to Col's cough cough, the 3k shift was treated tentatively if I was to endure the effort.  Cough-cough-Col took over at the truck route and drove a double shift to the Kinder (so much for my empathy!) for Cate to crank to the cypress trees.  TrekTrev had the troubled track of rabbit row to tow us through, one rampant rabbit causing a slow so we'd all remain vertical in velocity.  Cough-cough-Col's courage had rubbed off on TrekTrev's turn, toughing it out to Channel Rd's end (but that gave MyRideTrev the toil of Boundary Rd's breeze to battle)   Happy to sit in MyRideTrev's tow and let him do his slightly slower thing (thou shalt not upset your bike mechanic!), his elbow flapping at One Tree Dam for me to drive to River Rd, gently on the uptake so he'd stay aboard.

I got the guilts in River Rd as cough-cough-Col put in a long drive to the dip, but then everyone's contribution, long or short, is valued when you're sitting in the draft.  Cate donated her drive to the bridge and TrekTrev dragged us to Central Kialla Rd, MyRideTrev left with that southerly again to suffer to Mitchell Rd.  (an elephant stamp for effort, I'll bet he blessed the passing car for it's wind assist!)  With epic turns de rigeur, I set my sights on Dave's dip to peel off the front, but reaching that spot I still had a bit left, so reset the target to the highway. Karma came with a clear cross, Col driving into Raftery Rd with no hassle from the Hares (still to be sighted) behind.  Red leds ahead were the lure, Col then Cate carrying the can to Arcadia Downs for TrekTrev to commence the Conrod rush.  Lungs and legs protest at pushing through the atmospheric soup of a cool morning, TrekTrev's body language speaking hard labour with 500 to go. I moved to the front to cut the soup for the quartet (and to round up the red leds of Ralphy and BamBam on an early FDC fling), happy to finish the lap well ahead of the Hares (apparently hindered by a trifecta of punctures)

8/3  Friday freshness.
9 degrees made freshness formidable for Friday, armwarmers and base layers at the ready again to crank to the carpark.  Boof, Kenworth, Nick, Shorty, Laura, TrekTrev, Cate, Grumpy, Tina, Liam, Travis, Superman, cough-cough-Col, and The Godfather assembled and of course Boof's mandatory sentence at the front led us out of town.

Good to have Kel and Bo join on the city limits as I took pity on Boof's task to pair with him to the roundabout, no surprise to have TrekTrev partner me to the truck route as the dodgers drafted behind.  Cate and The Godfather drove leg 3 as the early edition of Rocket, Wozza, not-so-newAvantiJohn, Bruce, Pelly and Kreeky joined in, the inevitable advances in Mitchell Rd forcing those in the tow to step up for their tour of duty.  The predictable pelotons of Hurtlocker, Doc's cruisers, '51 and the Cats plied their way west, The Godfather unusually quiet, Superman still sporting the special sock, Kel confining herself to the caboose (understandably), Laura determined to hold the wheel ahead and Wozza was contemplating the climbs of 3 Peaks.

An almost crimson horizon greeted us at River Rd's end, the Goats "gentlemanly" train of pain a little behind schedule still in Boundary Rd.   I was almost caught napping on the whiplash at the rear as the pack powered north toward the Broken bridges, all still aboard as we turned into Channel Rd for the work west to town.  A long line of volunteers ahead of me would hopefully deliver me to the finish line, but shifts shortened to place me closer to the pointy end as the bunch bored into Central Ave.  I'd pinned hopes on Boof (ahead) doing the brawn business to the ChaCha, the front slowed into Kinder corner and Boof bolted out of Hopeful corner.  I stayed glued to his wheel as the pack thinned to single file, but Boof's elbow handed me the work at Prentice Rd.  Legs were lacking 100 meters later and TrekTrev drew into the distance for the ChaCha chocolates.

Week 10    216km                YTD 2,710km    

Week 9 : Respecting the rhythm

Post #488
23/2  A lake lap.

A change of velo venue for Saturday to tackle the Lake Hume Granya Challenge at Wodonga, just to tick it off my list. Surprised there were 200+ entries (everything from thoroughbreds to the stuff for glue factories, camelbacks, suitcase sized saddlebags and Hawaiian shirts, and WTF!, the Strava spy in attendance).  Flagged off at 7 in perfect conditions (14 degrees with a hint of a southerly) for the 128k loop of Lake Hume, the rubber band effect was at maximum as 200 odd found tempo, a ripple at the front tsunami'd through the long ranks behind (but you expect that on such events)

Setting 'em off in waves may have minimised the mayhem?  The pecking order soon got sorted on the few rises and falls headed to Huon, my Garmin finally getting a grip on the satellites 14k in.  A long bunch steadily thinned as buggered bits busted off the back, just sneak peeks of the super scenery taken 'cause most focus was on the umpteen wheels ahead for the next sudden slow.  Through Bullioh and over the Tallangatta bridge, a few more rises and falls kept me at the back, saving my jellybeans for the 400 meter ascent of Mt Granya.

The turn onto Granya Rd was time to let go of hopes and goals and settle into the groove of what's reality, onto the little ring but with four cogs still left for the 5-8% climb. Right into a 154 bpm and 70 rpm rhythm satisfyingly kept in touch with several and dropped a few others, tap tap for 6k's without blowing a head gasket and soon enough I'd crested the hill to delight in the downhill to Granya township for a very brief and well catered rider-reviver halt.  
Leaving a mob of forty still refuelling, I got back into a steady spin for the slight ups and downs to Talgarno, all focus on pacing myself to finish the next 60k, so dropping off a quick bunch of 8 wasn't a heart breaker.  Lapping up the landscape, gentle on the ups and quick on the downs put comfort in the cranium, far more relaxed without that rubber band business and pleased I was only passed by two as I arrived at Wirlinga.  I'd dodged a prickly puncture giving an ambling echidna plenty of space, then crossed the big blue of Lake Hume, only at 29% of it's 3 million megalitre capacity.  One bloke was playing leapfrog on the k's toward Bonegilla so there was a certain satisfaction to turn up the wick at Killara and drop him.  Pacing myself an hour before paid off with a few watts left for the finish, a good head of steam through Bandiana passed a few more before arriving back into Wodonga to finish pleased in 3:46

24/2 Sunday's six o with eight o.

A ride to rid the rust of Saturday's stretch was in order for Sunday, less I lock up in the leg department.  Ayto was keen to clock a Toaster lap, so we cruised a clockwise crank of a long familiar circuit (how many times I don't want to remember!)  Spoilt by superb weather but a bit of an easterly put some effort into the long k's out to the Big Ring, another of the season's super sunrises made me wonder why you'd sleep in. The turn to the church wasn't the relief I'd hoped for, but the turn from the Toaster was a treat.  Soloists started to appear in Boundary Rd and beyond, the long length of River Rd spent tapping the torment out of yesterday's legs.  Mitchell Rd found a few Cats had risen to ride anti-clockwise, by Raftery Rd there was just a morsel of motivation left to turn the wheels over the finish line, the Lemontree's long black and berry muesli my post ride prescription.


25/2  Bunny baulk'n.
I had a tap of trepidation to Monday's start line, among fast friends would be a flogging following a few days at a sedate speed.   Cobbles, Rocket, Wozza, Sherls, Cate Kreeky and Bruce turned up, an extra few turns on the agenda with numbers lower than usual.  Doing the first shift with Wozza was jumping in the deep end, so rather than ruin the rhythm, I called an early roll at Kensington Gardens, only to then have Rocket as co-pilot to the truck route. ( though he paired fairly it's like like having a Ferrari at idle beside you!)

 I'd hoped Cobbles wasn't keen for conversation alongside as the turn rolled for leg 2, I was saving all the oxygen I could get a hold of in the next k rather than chat.  Bruce and Cate held the helm as we neared rabbit row, sure enough three little bunnies scurried out of the undergrowth to rattle our nerves (already sandpapered from Friday's prang)   Hats off to Bruce and Cate keeping cool when bunny #3 bolted into our path. (they're masters of Rule #59)  It was time for my toil again in Boundary Rd, effort eased a little with the breeze at the right shoulder.  I survived the drive to the pub with Wozza and the head wanted to reach the bridge beside Rocket but the legs called it quits at Hosie Rd.  The tow to Lemnos-Cosgrove Rd had me almost human again, Rocket was relishing a relaxed roll but then he's about five rungs up the rapid ladder!  Ford Rd looked to be my last turn of duty, half of it done before memories of Saturday's 128 k's begged me back into a draft.  A well behaved spin along Wanganui Rd and a diversion via Canterbury Drive (to avoid the stones of a freshly sealed stretch beside the cemetery) got us back to town as the sun struggled to rise from the horizon.

26/2  The lure of red leds ahead.
It was sweet to start forth wheel for Tuesday's thrash, TrekTrev with the torque to tow Jase, Nick, BamBam, me and Cate to the truck route.  Jase had made a rare visit and turned on a strong turn two, Nick however was taxed in tempo from rarity in rides (though doing better than sidekick Whispering Jack!)  BamBam poured on the power to the cypress trees and I got the leg to the S bend, steering through rabbit row got eyes wide open!  I handed the helm to Cate to finish off Channel Rd, Hurtlocker's Minno, The Fox and BigRed heads down southward in Boundary Rd as we approached. 

Their red leds ahead were a lure for TrekTrev to chase as we forged onward to River Rd, though he wasn't too talkative when we got there.  With 3 of the Hurtlocker in tow, long turns by Jase, Nick and BamBam dragged me to Laws Drive, so I paid the favour to take the train to Rivers' end, cadence in the mid 80's keeping a lid on my muscle masochism.  Nine Hares had homed in from behind to pass us at Kialla Central, there was a moment when we thought of jumping aboard but their mid 40's pace was in a different universe to ours.   TrekTrev put in ten tenths to the highway, Jase headed the hurry to Roubaix corner, Nick and Cate got us to Galbraith's gate and BamBam still had the urge to reach the horse stud. I clicked the CatEye to 1200 lumens as I was handed the drivers seat, seeing Skippy was paramount in this neck of the woods.  Thankfully, we were clear of kangaroos, so cranked Conrod to the finish, TrekTrev's tempo taking the line honours.

27/2 'cause it feels good when you stop!

Rubber stamp the Wednesday train out of town, there's Boof on the front into the wind, with a long line hiding from the hard labour in his draft behind!  Kenworth, SuperMario, Goose, Whispering Jack, MyRideTrev, Nick, Shorty, Tina, Bo, Superman and Laura sat silent in the wake, so I started an advance line, at least Vince, Cate, Liam and The Godfather backed me up to contribute for the hard yards south.  BamBam blended in en-route to the truck route, the early edition (Rocket, Wozza, not-so-newAvantiJohn and Kreeky) not so early having been delayed by puncture. Out of the headwind in Mitchell Rd and with help from the southerly, all the kids came out to play as two long lines made their way to River Rd.  There were pelotons aplenty today working west, though many had bits breaking off the back.

Some in our pack did short shifts, others diverting to the down-line, some already in permanent residence at the rear promoted the ride more draft less ethos. The Wednesday / Friday turn-up-for-two-turns routine seems to be set in stone for many!  The Godfather's steadily improving (judging by sledge volume), PistolPete and Kel's absence leaves a void and I suppose the attendance of Goose and WhisperingJack is twice as much as Beer Matt's. Into Boundary Rd I was already guesstimating my next visit to the front, but predictability wasn't possible with this mixed bag of bods.  The southerly blew between the orchards on Channel Rd as pace perked up for the ChaCha, I'd lucked a turn with Boof to the cypress trees then with Vince to Central Ave to get my duty done before all hell broke loose at Hopeful corner.  Liam set heart rates to Hiroshima levels hurrying into Kinder corner, SuperMario with the titanic task to get around him, thereafter a flurry of punters bolting past with a podium in their sights.  With a packed caboose on the back, I was back into the up-line before I knew it, and with many in meltdown at the front from the fifties, found myself taking third spot on the line.

28/2  Four-titude.

And so the ranks of the determined dwindle, the days of a dozen to drive the 5:45 train are for the history books when only three turn up for the Thursday thrash.  TrekTrev, Cate and MyRideTrev had the hurt of a northeaster to bear out Channel Rd (ChrisA joining us for a leg one warm-up), but the trophy of a tailwind for a good deal of the circuits remainder.  My duty was due from the truck route to Orrvale Rd, pumped and pacy to start with but I'd set the bar a bit high and laboured the last 100 metres.  Cate wasn't casual cranking to the Kinder but MyRideTrev tamed the tempo a touch to reward us a respite.  TrekTrev turned up the speed from the cypress trees, elbowing me to the front at the S bend, perfectly timed to take the maximum gusts of the northeaster (well, it felt like it!)  I soaked up a bit of rehab at the rear while Cate and MyRideTrev dealt with the drive to River Rd, the Baum purring from it's 50,000k service (so any clicks and clunks now will be engine wear!)   Boosted by the breeze up the back passage, TrekTrev thrashed out three k's of River Rd, smoothness the secret to the survival of all (liking the theory so much I thrashed three too)  Hares were still yet to catch us, inspiring Cate's speed to Mitchell Rd, MyRideTrev starting to show the signs of wear pointed to PistolPete's.  TrekTrev was in charge of the charge again at Archer Rd where the Hares bolted by, Liam the taskmaster keeping their squad swift and silent.  I'd found a second wind when given the lead role over the highway, to Roubaix corner and half way to Galbraith's before the gastrochnemius groaned for rest.  We'd gained a soloists now sitting in the caboose, respectfully leaving a gap so I'd slip back into the sequence of things.  Cate and MyRideTrev kept up the pace to Arcadia Downs then promoted TrekTrev to the task of Conrod captain (and into that northeaster again)  I took pity on his torment with 500 meters left, taking the task to the finish line for a credible 37.5 average, not so shabby for a foursome.

1/3  I'm givin' her all she's got Capt'n!
It was a predictably populated peloton (SuperMario, MyRideTrev, TrekTrev, Boof, Liam, Superman, Laura, Kenworth, Cate, Travis, Bo, Tina, Shorty and Temple) forming for Friday's friendly, and surprise surprise, Boof led the long line out of town, the usual hardcore forming the advance while  the rank and file followed. (The exception was SuperMario, head down and tail up heading to Mitchell Rd as my partner in pace)

Rocket, Wozza, Bruce and Pelly made up a dwindling early edition joining in for the last southern k, where I had Travis to pair with headed to Kialla Central (respectfully levelling with me as I dug the depths of determination to get the end without imploding) The ensuing calm in the draft helped to turn human again, Tommygun joining us to take the total to twenty while five in the Hurtlocker hurtled south.  Smoothness stayed with us east on River Rd as those wanting in wattage cut their contribution short to respect the rhythm, The Godfather's sledge today coming from the Cats as we crossed paths at the dip.

It doesn't get much better than wind-less with 19 degrees, though the dark closes in a little more each day as we arrive into Autumn.  Winter woes are but weeks away.  Bruce and Rocket towed us all up to Channel Rd, I'd reached the rear at Beckham's bend which was perfect positioning as speed simmered for the sprint.  Two lines leaned left and right through Channel Rd's twists and turns toward the Kinder, a few headed for the hurt at the front deciding hiding in the downline was a better idea.  Gaps opened as the toil of mid forties took it's toll, Boof opened the throttle at Prentice Rd and drew into the distance.   I was on the limit making no headway (other than providing SuperMario a tow), Cate had cogs clattering and several seemed to be closing in behind but second spot (what seemed days behind Boof) satisfied for a big week working the wheels.

Week 9   378km                     YTD  2,494km