Trying out the bitumen on the Velodrome.
Those of us who were unfortunate enough to have witnessed Ross' pathetic Poowong dummy spit a few months ago could have been excused for thinking that history had repeated itself. How could we ever forget how a few drops of rain kept him locked in his car all afternoon, stubbornly refusing to take his place in the proud peloton?
As we waited and waited in the car park of the Yarra Bend Reserve, there was still no sign of him. This would not have been so bad if this ride had not been organised by Ross himself! His instructions clearly said "meet at 12.45 pm for a 1 pm start", but at 1.10 pm the man still had not appeared. Not only was he the organiser of this ride but he also lived much closer than anyone else to the starting point. Those braver souls who had not been daunted by the dark overhanging clouds had driven for what seemed like hours to make sure they would not be late, only to freeze while waiting for a start.
When I finally managed to speak to him on the mobile he said he "was only a few minutes away". I hung up in disgust and instructed the waiting peloton to wait no longer. "Let the sluggard catch up to us", I instructed the (already) mutinous mob. After all, we already had the directions for the ride, so we could probably do it faster without Ross' intervention anyway.
Although we had Hooters and Spanner, as well as Richard and Stephen Billson, it was again a little disappointing that Crasher Lewis had not made an appearance. I am beginning to suspect that he has gone into some sort of Winter hibernation. And this is from a guy who tries the preach to us about the virtues of suffering pain! At the first hint of rain, wind or cold he immediately goes back to bed.
Once we actually started moving, the low temperature was not so much of a problem. Not unless you count the inconvenience of a continually dripping nose a problem. I was certainly glad that I had worn my cycling gloves (aka "cyclists' handkerchiefs").
It is always amazing how different Melbourne looks from the vantage point of a bike path. Roads and locations that are so familiar from the seat of a car look completely alien and out of place. It certainly would be easy to get lost without a map or clear directions. Fortunately the Ghost Riders have incredibly sharp senses of direction and quickly decided that we did not need Ross' printed instructions (although they could come in handy later in the afternoon if our gloves became too saturated).
About 20 minutes after we started, Ross finally managed to catch up with us. He appeared rather disheveled and dirty and kept mumbling something about getting caught crossing a swollen river. I suspect he must have gone to sleep the previous night watching an old Indiana Jones movie and was still having trouble separating fact from fiction.
The chosen route offered a wide range of scenery and surfaces and a even a couple of short (but steep) hills. Although it could probably have been done on a road bike, all of us had chosen to bring out our mountain bikes for the day. I was finding it difficult to remember what my Norco was like because I had not ridden it for the best part of a year. It's certainly more comfortable than my road bike, although the extra weight proved costly on the hills.
In order to add a little extra interest to the ride I started to think of ways that we could irritate the locals. As we passed a local homeowner outside his expensively renovated house in one of Melbourne's prestige areas I spoke loudly to John "That's a great place for a house". Then I added "but you would need to knock down that old place and build something nice". I suspected that the look on the owner's face would have been priceless.
The warm feeling I got inside encouraged me to think of other ways to make us popular. As we approached a middle aged jogger lumbering along the path ahead I yelled "Be careful of the walker up ahead". That felt really good.
John, as usual, found his own way of making himself obnoxious. Whenever we came within 200 metres of any other moving object (human or animal) he would hold his finger on his tooter. A couple of young girls were so traumatised they will probably need counseling until middle age. Apparently they had thought that Plucka Duck liked kids, but now they know he doesn't. (Later in the afternoon we tried to confiscate his battery but discovered that he had taped it to his bike with about 50 m of electrical tape).
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Trying out the bitumen on the Velodrome. |
One of the highlights of the ride was our arrival at the velodrome. We took the opportunity to do a few fast laps, but felt out of place with all the others on their road bikes. I really regretted not having my precious Cannondale. Then the Warbies could have demonstrated our cycling power. Maybe we should come back here in the future....
After the velodrome we experienced the fun of riding along the suspended cycle path under the Monash Freeway, before trying some very pretty riding along the banks of the Yarra.
By the time we arrived at the Studley Park Boat House we were all ready for our coffee and cakes. It was so good to be able to solve most of the world's problems within the space of 2o minutes or so, before getting back on the bikes for the final leg of the ride.
Another steep climb saw some of the peloton starting to get a little ragged. Warren decided that it was better to walk than wobble, but soon joined the rest of us at the summit. The weather was actually starting to improve and, occasionally, we were blessed with short sunny breaks.
The remaining short ride back to the car park passed quickly and by 4.30 we were loading up the cars and discussing next week's ride around Toolangi. I think we all agreed that it had been a pleasant afternoon's ride with something it in for everyone (apart from those who stayed at home). Let's hope for a full peloton next week.
P.S. We later heard that Ross suffered a massive and spectacular blow out on his way back to his house, rupturing both tube and tyre. The poor guy had to walk his bike the last 5 km. Isn't that a shame ? (Although some would call it karma)