Some days are diamonds, some days
are stone
Some days the hard times won't leave me alone
Some days the cold winds blow a chill in your bones
Some days are diamonds, some days are stone
Is it possible that the person who wrote the words to the famous John Denver song may have been a bike rider ? From the tone of the song, it sounds pretty likely.
Was it really only three days ago that we were enjoying 29C temperatures as we luxuriated in a late Indian Summer? As I looked out my front windows early on Sunday morning at the leaden sky and incessant drizzling rain I couldn't help but feel frustrated. After all, we had already postponed our Poowong ride that was originally planned for Saturday 24th because of nonstop rain. I really did NOT want to cancel it altogether. On the other hand I did not really relish the thought of pushing my bike around the challenging Poowong Hills in a freezing downpour.
I decided to check the state of the Weather radar on the Bureau of Meteorology web site. To my amazement the screen was completely clear, without a single blue dot anywhere in sight. Did this mean that the rain I was seeing out my window was really some sort of optical illusion? If the radar shows clear skies I guess that should be good enough for the Warbies, so I made the (brave) decision to go ahead and run the ride regardless of the visual evidence.
As the time drew nearer to our planned starting time, the weather seemed to take on an even more ominous aspect. With the hills shrouded in a dense cloud and the fine rain still descending, I tried to will myself into believing that maybe it was clear everywhere else. We might even be riding in full sunshine! (Probably we would have a greater chance of being abducted by aliens, intent on doing indepth scientific analysis of our bikes.)
Since Peter had kindly offered to give me a lift to Lang Lang I spent the time in his van trying to lift his flagging spirits. "Libby said it was sunny at Philip Island", I said. The only thing I did not add was WHEN she said it was actually sunny at Philip Island - certainly not today! As we both studied the rain running down the windscreen and the inky black clouds blanketing the horizon, I suspect we both felt that maybe this ride was doomed from the start.
Fortunately the drive to Lang Lang is not a long one and by 1 pm, Peter and I joined Richard, who had arrived a few minutes earlier. By 1.15pm Daryl had also pulled in and the rain had abated to a steady downpour. It was beginning to look somewhat more hopeful. A quick call to Ross revealed that he was only a few minutes away, however he was quick to add his own personal weather observation - "It's pouring down where I am". I thanked him for stating the bleeding obvious.
While waiting for Ross I had a call from Mal to say that he would not be coming (therefore scoring his 100th DNS rating and entering the Guiness Book of Records). I still had not heard from Bob, although I was confident that he would be present to climb some of his favourite hills. As our elder statesman and reigning King, we look to him for guidance at times like this (heaven help us).
When Ross finally arrived, brightly decked out in shiny black leggings and proudly sporting his Ghost Riders Jersey, he announced that he had also decided not to ride after all. Apparently he did not want to run the risk of getting his bike dirty, and would be therefore watching proceedings from the warmth and dryness of his car. At first we thought he was joking. Could this really be the same guy who had faced awesome challenges with us in the past, or was he just a pale shadow of the rider he used to be?
The rain had obviously disoriented Ross in other ways also. We watched in amazement as he made his way to the nearby public toilets and went straight in the LADIES entry. Although he was wearing pantyhose I had not realised that he had taken an even bigger change in his lifestyle. We tried to warn him of his error but he disappeared into the sacred sanctum of the feminine gender and (presumably) did what nature demanded. When he appeared a few minutes later he seemed oblivious to his blunder. (Sad what age does to a person).
As the pale shadow retreated back to his car the remaining four (braver and stronger) souls saddled up and headed off into the impending darkness. Although it was cold, the rain was not really much more than a fine drizzle and, once we got moving, it was not so bad after all. The biggest problem was the drops of water on my sunglasses made it difficult to see the road ahead.
We were not only united in our fight against the elements and the imposing hills in our path, but also in our scathing comments about our erstwhile riding companion. "I can't believe how weak Ross is", someone would say. "Did he get his mum to make his play lunch?" someone else would wonder. "I hope he gets a ladder in his lycra leggings", "It would be good if he got a flat tyre in his car", "I hope he has a miserable afternoon". This sort of conversation does wonders to get your mind off the actual riding conditions and the km soon began to pass.
By the time we reached Nyora, Peter had opened a substantial lead and Richard was again learning that mountain bikes with knobby tyres are not so well suited to hill climbing on smooth bitumen. I am sure that we will soon see him seduced into getting a road bike before the year is out.
The road starts to climb more seriously between Nyora and Poowong and we were able to see at first hand the damage done by the recent bushfires. As we pushed upward in the cool and wet, it was hard to picture that the area had been ablaze only a couple of weeks earlier.
About half way to the summit we noticed a familiar face looking at us from behind the security of his car windscreen. Although he was probably warm and dry, I could not help but feeling that we were actually having much more fun than he was. With a brave smile on my face I waved as I passed (while uttering a few choice oaths under my breath). "Ross Bury, you are a real WOOS", echoed loudly around the Poowong foothills.
On a clear day the views from this road are spectacular, and, even on a wet day like Sunday, we could see enough of the views to distract us somewhat. With an ample collection of false crests before the final descent to the Poowong township, this ride can be a little daunting for first timers, but I am pleased to say that the entire peloton made it safely to the top.
Ross was already there, enjoyng the play lunch his mother had made for him. We wasted no time in telling him just how much fun the climb had been. "We hardly got wet at all", Peter lied. "I was doing over 35 kph up the hill", Richard hallucinated."I don't feel well", Daryl lamented. "I got to the top first", I accurately reported.
It was at about this time that we realised that Bob had still not turned up. Feeling concerned for his welfare I rang him on my mobile, only to find that he was snoozing in his favourite arm chair, under the cover of a warm blanket. As I spoke I could hear the distinctive commentary on his TV in the background. I had caught him watching the Senior Womens Lawn Bowls Championship. And this was the guy we used to hold in such high esteem ?
The two minutes he had spent outside his car had obviously proved a challenge for Ross and soon he was waving goodbye, no doubt with his car heater turned to the max. Poowong doesn't actually rate a bakery or coffee shop, but it does have a shop. And the shop does have some rather sad looking chocolates and cakes. And they do offer to make cups of coffee. So the afternoon wasn't really all bad.
After we had finished our coffee, the day was well advanced and it was decided that we had better take the shorter route back to Lang Lang. None of us really wanted to be out after dark in this weather. We also knew that most of the ride would be downhill and that's always enough to raise a cyclist's spirits.
Normally high speed descents are exhilerating, but with the slippery state of the roads, I don't think any of us really wanted a spectacular crash. Richard took the chance of demonstrating that mountain bike knobby tyres might actually have better grip under such conditions and revelled in the steepest sections.
Although the riding was easier the rain started to get a little heavier. For a couple of minutes I experienced a new sensation. When you are travelling fast on a bike through heavy rain, the drops actually feel like sharp little needles as they hit your face. It was not painful, but not something that I had noticed before.
We all arrived back at the car park by about 4 pm and were able to share a long chat about bikes and all the fun we had just had. All agreed that it would have been a shame if we had just abandoned the ride (as one of our members had done). Richard took the opportunity to have a test ride on Peter's Avanti and was amazed at how much easier it is to ride than his Gargantuan Special.
Maybe John Denver's song could be sung with some new words (same tune)
When the Warbies went to Poowong,
Bob stayed at home
Ross spat his dummy, staying dry as a bone
Four went a riding, and felt the chill in their bones
They knew that warm fires were waiting at home.
Life's rich tapestry is woven out of our personal experiences and we all knew that this day would be remembered for a long time.