After hours, days and weeks of doing bugger-all I escaped the clutches of the lounge seeking adventure. If Scott Zamek from Ohio can survive;
bike theft in Italy, an aggressive mid-night arrest in Syria (?) and detention in Jordan, then surely I could ride 20 of 30 k of cycleway! My little red folding bike was ready: tyres pumped, pannier packed, all spic and span and lubed up ... as was I.
I shut "Fred" up and lifted him into the back of my daughter's tiny hatch. Well, that was easy. And of we went heading east for the coast. I figured, if I'm going to test myself and the bike out, it might as well be done somewhere scenic. We got showers and the sky was mostly overcast on the way out, which i was really happy about because where I was headed is a tourism hotspot and rain will keep people away.
The spot for take of was near to a dedicated cycleway on the south side of a protected waterway. The plan was to head east then south along the coast and back, then out i had a need for more I could keep heading west along the waters edge.
The immediate section was on a fairly busy road with a market shoulder for cyclists and walkers. There was a bit off traffic on road and shoulder and the only problem was that I created for myself; riding along adjusting and checking my gear distracted me enough to do a swerve in front of a following car. This was partly an age problem, while I'm not an old crony, my reactions are not as sharp as they once were. But anyway, we survived without drama thanks to a new law in the state that requirrequiring cats to give cyclists a wide berth.
Entering the of road cycleway was bliss by comparison with the road; smoother, quieter, shady and right by the water. It was also more social and slower placed. Ahh. I pulled a low great and cruised along negotiating around puddles that sent grey sand and bark mulch flicking up over me and the gears. But essentially it was totally engaging, a dreamlike good.
I had a few more sections of shared roadway cycling which is bloody dangerous and decidedly un-peaceful. At the furthest out point Fingal Bay, I had a refreshing swim by the southern headland. There was a strange mix out water users, frog men in full snorkling suits through to woman in bikinis. A lifesavers carnival was going on along the beach and the crowd was massive. Post Covid enthusiasms I guess?
As I was showering off it started raining, a little grey cloud that snuck up behind the headland ambushed everyone. I scuttled along and found a sheltered picnic table to stay dry and change into dry clothes. But as I Got ready to go the rain got serious and there was a whiteout for a while. I ate my cold pizza bread and drank water, kind of craving a coffee but enjoying the moment. As the rain broke, shafts of light highlighted the scene, grey blue surf, gold sand, black skies beyond and in the foreground eucalypts all shiny and sparkling rain drops on leaves. Why don't I do this more often?!
Into the ride back I had numbness in my hands and, well my dick. The seat is pretty small and my arse is, well not that big but it suffers the weight of my fat guts bearing down on it. My hands often go tingly but respond quickly to a bit of a shake. But these were minor annoyances and offset a day that went ballistic on the Good Time Register..
I clocked up just under 25k on my first serious outing, and apart from the need to rest my numb bum I felt capable of another few ks. I think the weird squirming of Folding Fred mean that he's best restricted to commuter riding though.
The only element I need to take caution over are state authorities. Our Premier, in a bid to further increase std a are revenue and oppress the working class had an army of law enforcement officers policing ever mow draconian regulations. But i am determined that i should not be controlled by fear inducing government. On on.
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