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Daylight savings has ended — finally I can wake up early enough to have a chance of getting to work early — even when work is a course that starts an hour before my normal start time!

Off to Wonga Park this morning to speak with Ivan — no, not Ivan the terrible — Ivan the chef. Final discussions on what we'll feed the horde in two weeks time. He was quick to put us at our ease, and offered all kinds of helpful suggestions and hints, our preliminary choices only needed a little refining for everyone to be happy, then it was off to wander around the gardens to get a rough idea of where everything would be — and to look at the colours of the autumn vines.

Later this afternoon I did battle with the internal combustion engine. After much grunting and muttering and endless cranking and cranking, the bike finally burst — or limped — into life. Immense clouds of black smoke billowed from the exaust, as five months worth of seeping oil burnt out of the cylinders, then I headed off for a quick run up the freeway and back to charge the completely flat battery. I think that money will need to be spent this winter to revitalise a rather unwell engine, but at least it's now in a state where I can get to and from the course for next week....

Urgent task of the day was to arrange garments for the wedding. I've had a catalogue for the past ten days, but the range is terrifying to a non-suit-wearing person like myself. Deferring to superior authorities, Jo and her mum made a few suggestions, then Evan and I carried them out. A relatively painless experience — all over in under an hour!

Dinner with a bunch of friends up in North Fitzroy at Konstantino's. What a place! Completely over-the-top decor, with plaster columns, grecian heads, and false flares burning over the bar. Quite a surprise too, when I walked in and the first person I saw was Karen from the NSW bike ride two weeks ago! She was visiting friends in Melbourne, friends she'd met on the ride in Tasmania in January, friends that I know. Once again it seems that the cycling community is quite a small one!

A strange meal really — a large greek restaurant full of large greek groups of large greek people — definitely an authentic experience... The waitress was one of the most unhappy-looking I think I've ever seen, not helped by the way her boss kept picking on her unmercifully. The boss didn't seem in a much better mood, towards the end of the evening he basically handed us the group bill and packed us up, serving coffee was too hard, he just seemed to want the money! As with most large group meals, the mathematics of bill-splitting became horrendous, minor arguments ensued, but eventually everyone paid and left. Good food, but an overall bad taste....

First day back at work. Everything has quietened down — but nobody seems to have done anything in the last week....

Am I meant to be at work today or not? Stupid me can't remember... Jo and I both think I had said that Monday was in my leave. I guess that since Monash's HR department has decided to ban access to the staff “eServices” from outside the campus I'll just have to trust to memory and stay home. Being able to check your pay and leave balance would be useful when absent, so it's been disabled for security reasons — obvious really....

Toddled off on the bike this afternoon to visit a friend in Fitzroy and plot some future events — wouldn't you believe it, after 600km of eventless cycle touring over the last nine days, some idiot drove straight through a give-way sign and nearly hit me on the way home.

Back home past the concrete monstrosity — oh wow, a massive new shopping mall — just what Richmond needs... I guess we'll soon see the Yarra fill up with shopping trolleys and plastic bags, like the creek near Chadstone. It's a worry what it might do the traffic short-cutting through our street — I guess speed-hump number two will sort them out....

  Today: 24.88km
  Total: 599km

Typical last-day bike ride foolishness. Bicycle NSW want everyone to ride into the final town in one big mass. Nearly everyone has the feeling that the ride ended last night, and most of the riders just want to get it over with and head home. There's the usual bunching up on the roads, and then being herded into a holding area on the outskirts of Cootamundra to wait in the sun and get gradually more and more annoyed. The ride is re-organized with all the odd bikes at the front — the tandems, recumbents and unicycles — followed by the colourfully dressed teams, then the rest of the rabble. Once all this is complete, the actual ride of the last two kilometres is a mixture of highly-stressed low-speed riding while attempt to avoid running into others or being run into, and the amusement of being cheered by people lining the streets as though we'd just completed some marathon event, and not just finished a week-long holiday.

Once in Cootamundra and at the finish point, everything quickly degenerates into a mad scramble to pack bikes, find bags, farewell friends, change clothes and get onto busses. It's always depressing in a way, mostly because of the way it just all seems to fall apart….

At least on this ride I had my own transport. It made a big difference being able to pack at my own pace and get leisurely into the car. I'd offered a lift to Melbourne to a number of people, but too late in the week so nobody took me up on the offer. Half an hour before I was about to leave, Charlie Farren came and asked me if I'd be able to give her a lift to Wagga Wagga — she had intended to go by train but it would mean a three hour delay. A quick check of the maps showed that it wasn't much of a detour, probably the same distance overall, just down the Olympic way rather than the Hume highway.

After a pleasant drive and interesting conversation, I dropped Charlie and her bike off in Wagga just as the people she was meeting arrived for their Sunday social ride. I then managed to get lost leaving Wagga, detoured around a few times before getting back onto the highay. Two in the afternoon and I was on the road and heading back towards Melbourne….

Home around seven-thirty to a disappointingly empty house — after nine days away I'd just have to wait a little longer to see Jo.

Tiredness was overcome by laughter as I ventured into the kitchen and saw the sink— Wednesday evening's SMS had said:

When are you coming home? The sink is getting full.

…but at the time I had thought she was joking…

She has been busy though, either that or the vacuum-cleaner fairy dropped in for a visit. I got stuck into the mighty mound of washing-up while listening to the Go-Betweens Bright Yellow Bright Orange — a recent arrival that must have appeared in the last week.

  Today: 80.07km
  Total: 552km

A cold morning again today — but Yass is renowned for being cold and windy! I left with thermals on under my jersey, but after the first nine kilometres of dirt roads had to stop to remove them, sweat was pouring off me!

A day of rolling hills and green paddocks, sheep and windmills. The wind had finally dropped, and once the early chill wore off it was a beautiful day of riding.

Harden closed off the main street from about four PM until midnight. This must have come as a great surprise to the locals who had spent the entire afternoon doing laps of the town, not game to actually park their cars and come and say hello or have a beer. Brown ute, gold commodore ute, laser with P-plates. Over and over again they drove up and down the street...

Also parading up and down the street were the Australian Light Horse regiment. This was formed here in Harden-Murrumburrah, and they've taken pride in the fact and kept a museum going to celebrate it. Half a dozen mounted men in soldiers' uniforms, and a gun — or amunition — carriage went up and down the street to cheers and shouts.

The final-night party was in the street, at last we had a band that played something different — no more Brown-Eyed Girl! An original Blues band, I can't remember their name, they just fit in perfectly with the surroundings and the mood, a great change from mindless, bland, middle-of-the-road American pop.

The party ended all too soon, on the stroke of midnight the council cleaners started pushing through the crowd to empty bins and sweep the streets, and the local copper started trying to move people along. He'd been looking nervous all night, probably not sure what to expect, but definitely looked to be enjoying himself once he could tell everyone to go home and stop drinking in public. At least half the riders attempted to go back to the pubs — the pubs that had advertised that they would be open until two AM. Unfortunately the pubs had pulled a swifty — although they were still open, they weren't letting anyone in the doors after midnight! The mood quickly degenerated when this became apparent, and most people gave up in disgust and headed home.

Where?

Yass, Harden.

  Today: 101.79km
  Total: 472km

I was expecting a very cold morning, thick fog, maybe even a frost.... It was cold, but not that cold. Even so, it didn't stop the whinges and moans from the people from the coast! The temperature seemed to drop between waking up and leaving, maybe it was as the wind increased.

Heading west from Bungendore on a bike is a rude shock. There's only around 3km of almost level riding to warm you up before you're presented with the climb up Smith's Gap. Mum and Dad, together with Boris and Scarlet, were standing at the end of Lake Road waving to the riders as we passed, they seemed to be laughing at the thought of us having to ride up the hill....

In about a kilometre and a half of road we climbed up nearly two hundred metres, many getting off and walking, others zig-zagging madly back and forth across the road and getting in each others' way. There were many red faces and panting voices by the time we hit the top.

From Bungendore to Murrumbateman the obvious route would have been to head straight along the road that joins the two in almost a straight line — it's a quiet country road with very little traffic even on a weekday morning. Unfortunately it would have involved a crossing of the Federal Highway, and that's anathema to Bicycle NSW, so we had to detour half-way around the country and add on an extra 20km of riding in the headwinds in order to avoid the major road. Their insistence on treating everyone like pre-school children gets a little wearisome at times...

The route used Norton's Lane and other roads that in the past ten years I have never ridden or driven along, then came out onto the Sutton road before heading out to Gundaroo and rejoining the route we would have been on if we could be trusted to look both ways and cross a main road. Unfortunately, with the increasing headwind, and after such a long, hard day as yesterday, the added distance meant that many people were so exhausted that they couldn't complete the day's riding.

Lunch was taken while sheltering beside or behind a CFA shed in a windy paddock, while a curious highland cow looked on from the adjoining paddock. It had obviously been hand fed, and was tame enough that it kept trying to lick various bikes or people that got near enough to the fence.

Lunch to Murrumbatemen, then via Dog-Trap road to Yass were just a continuation of the slog into the wind. Probably the lowest point was having to ride past the municipal tip at Murrumbatemen, being pelted with gravel from passing trucks and assaulted by the stench from the garbage.

At Yass sportsground the local primary school students were busy offering to help carry bags and put up tents in order to raise money for their Year 6 farewell. There's always the trade-off between wanting to help them with their fund-raising, and not wanting to injure anyone who tries to pick up 20kg of baggage! It can also be frustrating — if slightly amusing — watching others try to find your bag or put up a tent — and it's nearly always quicker and easier to do it yourself. It took three girls to carry Ron's bag, but luckily it's distinctive enough that at least they could find it!

After snacking on a steak sandwich, putting up the tent, and having a quick shower, I decided to head into town for a look around and to try and call Liz to see if we could catch up this evening. The countryside around Yass was much greener than it has been for the past few days, the view north and south along Yass river looked especially inviting. Walking back into town after setting up my tent I had to clamber over railings and run across the road to take the Southerly-facing photo without including the passing traffic. I loved the look of the old rail bridge that's parallel to the road.

Colin, Liz and the girls drove into town to meet me in the evening — no mean feat with the amount of baby-support equipment they all seem to need! We decided to head to the Yass RSL for a drink and a chat, as it seemed to be the only place likely to be open and suitable. Unfortunately they seemed to go out of their way to make us unwelcome, and made it painfully obvious that small children, or even any children, were not wanted.

One of the funnier aspects of the club is that immediately on entering the foyer, there is a flight of stairs to climb into the club proper. This is not easy to navigate with a baby stroller, and probably equally difficult for any of the disabled Returned Servicemen, for whom the club was built! Once inside we were forbidden from entering various bars and rooms, but that wasn't labelled anywhere — the only way to find out was to walk into them and then be told “you can't bring children in here. Colin remembered that the last time he'd been here, about six months ago, they had been similarly unhelpful to him and his mates.

As a final example of their customer focus, we got to overhear a conversation between a group of about a dozen bike riders and one of the staff. The riders were asking if one of the many TVs could be tuned to a particular football game, since all of them were showing one channel. The staff member claimed that he had to show what the boss had specified, but that the boss was at home and couldn't be interrupted, and that nobody in the club had the authority to change channels. Not surprisingly, the group of riders all left for another pub, where they could watch what they wanted!

Even with all of this, it was great to catch up with them all. I got to find out what a circus-like event it can be to just go anywhere with the twins — people just stop and point or interrupt and ask questions. Sammy was happy to see me, and unlike previous visits, no where near as shy as she used to be. Casey and Zoe just lay in their respective seats, sleeping quietly and periodically asking to be fed. I've no idea how Liz and Colin manage to tell them apart, even Liz says she sometimes has trouble, and they're not even identical!

Eventually it was past everyone's bed time, so they bundled themselves back into the car and headed home, while headed up the street to see if anyone I knew was out and about in the pubs. It was quiet out, the two long days in a row seemed to have taken their toll on the partying.

A one man band was playing in the pub, with around twenty people dancing and sitting about. His voice was so out of tune that a number of people had thought that it was a karaoke event, Stu even asked where to sign up to sing, this didn't impress the entertainer at all! Luckily he was also playing a saxophone, and unlike his singing, it was greatly enjoyed by all. I wonder if he ever got suspicious of why so many people asked for more sax solos?

The pub also had one of the more amusing signs that I've seen for a while, I couldn't resist and just had to take a photo of it. Attached to the hotplate of the barbecue was a sign that clearly read: “DANGER: BBQ HOT!” Obviously they've had advice from their lawyers... or maybe the barbecue is made for the American market and these signs are required over there....

Where?

Bungendore, Yass.

  Today: 99.76km
  Total: 370km

A very windy day — and an even windier night last night! A storm passed through just after midnight, howling winds, lightning and thunder, and a few drops of rain — but mostly just the wind! Bicycle NSW were so concerned about the reports and warnings that they received that they turned all the floodlights on and were attempting to take down some of the marquees. Reports of 80km/hr winds were being forecast. Apparently when it arrived the gusts were to only about half of that, and only the tea and coffee tent was damaged.

The wind wasn't the only interruption during the night — Goulburn is a major rail yard and we were right next door to it. Trains kept a large number of people awake for the rest of the night — I didn't even notice, but still had trouble dragging myself awake and out to face the day.

Today was “teams day” and so most of the people I knew were off riding together in their teams. As a result of this, all the groups were limited to the speed of their slowest. I didn't manage to meet up with any of the groups prior to departure, so decided to head off by myself, hoping to meet others along the way.

After about 9km of warm-up spinning, a gentle down-hill run, and a pleasant tail-wind, I found myself riding along at an absurd pace for a solo ride of almost a hundred kilometres. It was loads of fun, pushing myself just that bit too hard until I flew past the morning tea stop — 39km at an average speed of 32km/hr. There was then a right-angle turn into the wind and I found out why the first stretch had been so much fun — the headwind almost stopped me dead! Windellama to the lunch stop at Tarago was just one long slog, the average speed dropped to 28km/hr, and it was only in the last few kilometres that I found anyone to ride with.

Lunch at Tarago would have been pleasant, except the icy south-westerly wind made sitting in the sun too uncomfortable. A quick coffee and we were all back on the bikes for the last third of the days ride — almost straight south along Lake George between Tarago and Bungendore. The more southerly direction meant that there was less of a headwind, but the gusts from the side kept threatening to send me off into the ditch. By the time I reached Bungendore, average speed for the day was down to 26km/hr.

Bungendore made a real effort to welcome the ride, even without my parents living there it would have been a great place to visit. The main street was closed off, there were free bands in both pubs and activities elsewhere. I relaxed at mum and dad's, showering and lazing on the couch for a few hours before we had to head back into Bungendore so that I could get my dinner and mum could help out at the CWA stall.

Where?

Goulburn, Bungendore.

  Today: 0km
  Total: 270km

Rest days on tour when camping are a problem — I tried to sleep in past seven but the sun on the tent and beer in the bladder forced me up and out. Breakfast was a subdued affair, hangovers all around me from those out partying late, and grumpy comments from those who had come home early and then been woken by those out partying late.

No visit to Goulburn would be complete without a meal at the ??? Café, so I headed up there with most of the members of the Rusty Cranks. Too many options to choose from, I opted for an avocado and cheese croissant The food on the rides is generally pretty good, but its always nice to buy something that I want.

Then spent the rest of the day wandering around Goulburn, looking at the buildings and chatting to people — sitting in the park or looking in shops. Overall I was still feeling down, going away on a holiday while Jo has to work just doesn't seem to work out, no matter how much I needed the break!

Later in the afternoon I finally managed to call my sister and we arranged to meet for dinner at the Workers Club — apparently renowned throughout NSW for its food. When Kathy and Cec turned up, she was worried that I'd had to spend the day alone in a strange town, it hadn't quite clicked that there were a thousand people on the ride, and just how busy we tended to be!

Dinner at the Workers club lived up to its reputation, good cheap bistro food, but tastily prepared. Kathy and I both had lamb cutlets, while Cec opted for a Chicken Kiev that wasn't quite a Chicken Kiev, some minor variation perhaps...

After dinner, another drink, and a long conversation, Kathy and Cec drove me back to the showground before heading home, and I walked back through the tents as this evening's two-piece cover band launched into yet-another version of Brown-Eyed Girl...

Where?

Goulburn.

  Today: 79.81km
  Total: 270km

Dark at 05:45, we are woken by Debbie's loud hailer again. The stars are still out and there are bats flying around the floodlights catching the insects. I'm convinced that we really don't need to be woken so early...

At least today's breakfast was better than yesterday's — pikelets go down a lot easier than the greasy, cheap, sausages did.

Once again I rode out with Jeff and Alan, and again we headed out at around eight AM. It doesn't really seem to matter when I get up, all the packing and eating seems to be adjusted so that we're leaving at the same time each day. The riding today was fantastic, with magnificent scenery and a fun section where we got the breakdown lane of the Hume highway for a couple of kilometres. It was quite a fast run at times, but much the same average speed as yesterday. The last twenty kilometres down into Goulburn were an absolute hoot. We picked the pace up to the mid-thirties, then high-thirties, before suddenly having to back down when we came across a large herd of cattle on the road. Hitting half a tonne of cow with a ten kilogram bicyle would not have been a good idea! Since tomorrow is the rest day, tonight is traditionally the night of the big party — unfortunately a message from a depressed Jo sitting at home put rather a damper on my enjoyment of the events.

The theme of the party was lilac — for Goulburn, the Lilac City — so most people dressed up somehow. A startlingly large number of guys just seemed to take it as an opportunity to wear women's clothing — there were some fairly diabolical sights to be seen. A quick trip to Dimmey's saw Ron armed with a shirt and tie of appropriate hue, and me with a small, purple, stuffed dinosaur. I had intended to just wear a purple tee-shirt, but the dinosaur was just to good to resist, so it was pinned to my shoulder — parrot fashion.

The dinosaur proved a big hit, for some reason it was quickly named Lillian by a number of the girls, then seemed to invoke any number of pats and comments on how cute it was — seems that wearing a stuffed purple dinosaur works wonders for meeting women! Unfortunately the cover band was yet another drab country-town two-piece cover band, playing yet-another cover of Brown-Eyed Girl and Copperhead Road, and they quickly managed to get under my skin and up my nose. Eventually I gave up, left my last beer untouched on the table, and headed back to my tent around eleven. Others in a more festive mood kicked on until 3am.

Where?

Bundanoon, Goulburn.

  Today: 71.84km
  Total: 190km

A quarter to six in the morning and Debbie's melifluous tones bellowing out woke us all. There is a distinct difference of opinion between various groups as to whether these are necessary or not — some people seem incapable of waking and organizing themselves and need to be woken while it is still dark, others quite happily get up later, then pack and eat with no outside assistance. The first group seem to need alarm clocks set for four-thirty AM and megaphones, and will complain most vigourously when woken by people returning from the pub at midnight, but think nothing of chatting jovially and rustling bags well before the sun is up.

Ron and I ignored the noises for as long as possible, then stuck our heads out of our respective tents at around seven. It was still dark, the stars were still out, but all around us people had packed, and the queue for breakfast stretched all the way from the marquees back to our tents — the opposite end of the football oval! The obvious solution was to go back to bed for another twenty minutes.

Revenge, however, was sweet. As we sat and ate our breakfast, all the people who had rushed to pack up and be the first on the road were held up for half an hour as the police decided not to open the route while there was still thick fog.

The ride zig-zagged around the Southern Highlands, calling in at Robertson for morning tea and Fitzroy Falls for lunch. Unlike the last time that we were here, however, the sun was out and neither of these places was under water! Dr Alan, Jeff and myself rode together for most of the day, sometimes being joined for a kilometer or so by others.

Later in the ride we were joined by a rather terrifying individual. He didn't say anything, he couldn't seem to ride in a straight line nor keep a constant pace, and all the time that he had his hands on the tri-bars I kept thinking of Evan's crash in January when someone he didn't know managed to fall off straight in front of him in a pack. The guy's riding style got more and more annoying, and downright dangerous at times, so for the last 15km into Bundanoon we all just refused to ride near him, either speeding well up or slowing right down to get away. He still wouldn't say anything though, not even in response to a direct question...

Bundanoon seemed the opposite of Bowral though, the pub was warm and friendly, as was the rest of the town. The only unfortunate aspect was that the town swimming pool — advertised by Bicycle NSW in the ride guide as being on the campground. It is on the campground, unfortunately it had been emptied by the council, apparently because they always empty it at this time of year — the arrival of a thousand cyclists couldn't convince them to keep it open for an extra week!

Where?

Bowral, Bundanoon,

  Today: 84.43km
  Total: 118km

Dr Alan, Jeff, Ron, Jim and I rolled out at 8:15, fueled up on porridge and in good spirits. The pace was a little high and Ron left us to ride at a more comfortable one. Jeff and I moved to the front on the first of many short sharpish climbs.

Alan and Jim weren't as quick on the way up the hills, but they more than made up for it on the decents, we ended up riding in two pairs to the morning tea point. Jeff and I stopped to adjust his seat, then looked up to see the other two flash past with a shout and a wave.

Many jokes were made today about the Aussie battler doing it hard — everywhere we looked we seemed to see yet another —bush retreat or enormous house in the forest. Hardly typical of a rural area though, most of it being expensive getaways from Sydney. The bush was a mixture of freshly burnt trees and stunningly bright green regrowth after the bushfires earlier this year.

From five kilometres before the lunch stop at Bargo Sportsground until almost afternoon tea, the road headed up almost constantly, climbing around 300metres. There was a brief respite in the descent to afternoon tea, then the killer climb of the day, the last two kilometres before a screaming drop into Bowral. I had just reached the top, sweating heavily, when a few large drops of rain landed. No sooner had I thought how refreshing that was when the heavens opened and visibility dropped to around 4m! Some riders leapt off their bikes to struggle into spray-jackets — a rather hopeless gesture — the rest of us just squinted into it and descended as carefully as possible into Bowral. By the time I reached the bottom, the rain had stopped and everything was steaming in the sunshine! This set the tone for the rest of the afternoon, with a number of rapid, short showers, followed by steamy sunlit periods.

In the evening Bowral turned out to be quite a disapointment. It's a snooty kind of town, all antique shops and ye-olde tea-rooms, having a thousand bike riders in town with money to spend didn't seem to matter, so everywhere it was business as usual. The shops all shut early, so nobody could get any chips or snacks, and the pubs all shut at 10:30, the one we were in refusing to serve anyone after about 10! They made it abundantly clear that we weren't really welcome, and I think most of the riders will repay it in kind, by avoiding the town in future!

Where?

Camden, Bowral.

  Today: 33.9km
  Total: 34km

By the time I arrived in Warragamba I'd catalogued a few more minuses to sitting in the back seat of the bus — the seat won't recline, and it was right next to the toilet, luckily the latter just stank in a chemical, rather than biological, manner.

Disembarking at around eight it was a typical start to the ride. Hundreds of people milling around, bags over there, bikes over here, friends over there, queue here, do this, do that....

As usual I'm feeling tired and sore, the bus trips and travelling to the rides always seem to do more damage than the rides themselves.

There aren't so many of the piggies on the ride this year, in fact the overall numbers look down as well. Ron, Bushy, Lenny, Stu and Janelle are here, and Kevin is riding to Camden for the day — everyone else seems to have better things to do with their lives. Kevin and Ron were wearing dark glasses and drinking Red Bull to try and avoid their hangovers from a big night at the Walacia hotel last night. Luckily the Red-Bull promotion girls arrived at just the right time....

First coincidence of the ride was me discovering that Ron had bought a new helmet two weeks ago — exactly the same model and colour scheme as the one I bought yesterday.

I'd forgotton just how little cycling a lot of the participants here seem to do — my daily commute isn't far, but at least half the people seem to have no idea on how to ride in straight line and not wobble out in front of anything and everything that passes. The closest call I had was with one of the police motorcyclists though! He passed down the wrong side of the road, then slowed and did a u-turn, unfortunately swinging into my path as I approached at around 50km/hr! Kevin was behind me, and amazed that I managed to swerve around the BMW, I think I was amazed too, none of it was planned, it was just the automatic reaction when 280kg of police bike appeared in front of me!

At Camden we set up camp for the first night as it started to drizzle, then the drizzle turned to rain while I crawled inside and slept for an hour or two to recover from the overnight coach.

A couple of hours sleep and I felt refreshed enough to face the first meal from Tom & Ben's catering. Tonight it was a tasty lasagna, the only problem being keeping the rain off it to stop it diluting away! Then it was off to the bowling club for a beer and a brief hello to some friends, then up the street to the nearest pub for a few more beers and a few more hellos. Being a Saturday night in the pub, there was a strange mix of people, with Camden residents in their Saturday-night best on the one hand, and bike riders — some still in nicks — on the other.

Where?

Cootamundra, Warragamba, Camden.

  Today: 0km
  Total: 0km

The start of another RTA Big Ride... It was 1PM when I left Melbourne in Joey's car, brand new helmet in hand, all the usual accoutrements stuffed into duffel, and Norky bike laid across the top.

A relatively event-free drive to the Victorian border, with far less traffic than I usually encounter when we drive this way at night. From Albury to Gundagi there was a huge thunderstorm visible to the east, dark and foreboding, not a good sign for a week's camping! It faded away at the turn off, then another appeared ahead as I neared Cootamundra — Coota to it's inhabitants. The rain arrived at the same time I did, big, fat, heavy thunderstorm rain, so I parked the car and retired to the nearest pub to consider my options — what to do between seven PM and three AM in Cootamundra on a Friday night...

The first beer wasn't a good start, a chipped glass cut my lip and the barman's look at the glass seemed to indicate that it had a good week or two of life left.... I left and walked up the street to the next, for a counter tea of bangers and mash, and another beer or two.

The showground wasn't supposed to be accessible before midnight, but I decided to drive around at 9PM to scope the place out, partly because map provided by Bicycle NSW was so poor and I didn't want to get lost! Not only was it open, but people were unpacking bags and bikes, and some even had a tent up and were having a few hours sleep. I decided to join them, parked the car and curled up in the passenger seat for three very uncomfortable hours of sleeping in an Astra.

Around half-past midnight I woke and stiffly got out of the car, then did what little packing I needed before wandering around and wasting time until the coaches arrived at three. Foolishly, I got into the first coach — this is always the one that they fill completely, but has the advantage that it might leave a few minutes ahead of the others. I ended up with the back seat to myself; above the motor is noisy, above the rear wheels it bounces, but two seats to myself and I found the pillow hidden behind the seats that the driver keeps for when he has a sleep in the back. Somehow I managed to sleep most of the way to Warragamba, apart from the forced stop at 6AM at a BP diner on the freeway at Marulan. It must have been one of the worst prepared places I've ever visited, some people were still queueing to try and get food while the rest of us where being usherred outside and back into the coaches! Shocking service, ridiculous prices, lousy food — standard roadside diner.

Where?

Cootamundra.

A shorter day than yesterday — but far more manic. A state of national emergency — or similar — was declared this morning, so ridiculous amounts of caffeine and adrenalin were expended in performing nerd-like miracles while stupid people stood around and asked stupid questions.

Wide-eyed, staring, shaking slightly and jumping at loud noises, I dragged myself away at a little after seven-thirty to ride home and attempt to unwind.

A stupidly long day — started at 0930, didn't get to leave until 2330 — the last four hours were spent sitting around babysitting a phone while Novell support engineers from the US and Europe tried to put back the pieces of a rather broken NDS.

A SMIDSY... my first for the year. Straight through the stop sign in front of me, I hit the brakes, I slide to a stop, he smiles, waves apologetically and calls it out.

The weekend's over, petrol price is back down. Obviously the threat of war is receding, as it does at the end of every weekend....

Blissfully empty paths on the ride to work this morning — all the rest of Victoria is on holiday, only us poor university workers on Federal awards have to go to work....

Sunday, pancakes for breakfast, housework for the rest of the day. Not so interesting, but necessary.

The Melbourne Gran Prix is on today, for the last three days we've been able to hear the cars down at Albert Park, about eight kilometres away. They sound like a swarm of demented bumble-bees. Jo's been watching it on TV, so I'm getting the sound in stereo — one channel from the TV, a slightly delayed one from reality....

I've spent half the afternoon performing site maintenance on wyvern. Too many half-installed packages, strange snippets of downloaded code, weird files that don't mean anything anymore. Time for a little organization....

One such snippet, a little something I found while looking at online weather information...

Breakfasted up on Bridge Road after visiting the markets, then hurried home to change and ride down to Port Melbourne to join Evan and Kyllie for a bit of a bike ride. We weren't sure where we all wanted to go, the only thing we agreed on was avoiding Albert Park and the congestion around the Grand Prix.

Getting to Port Melbourne was a challenge — every road seemed to be bumper to bumper with cars, stationary and fuming — both drivers and cars. Squeezing through the gaps wasn't too hard, but some motorists were grumpy enough to deliberately try to squeeze us into the gutter and prevent us passing.

We met up a little late, decided to head for Williamstown via the punt. Neither of the other two had ever ridden along the bike paths or caught the punt — the differences between people who cycle for “training rides” and those that do it for “social rides” can be amusing — and vast — as again are the differences from those who just ride a bike for transport.

The ride through the park under the Westgate bridge is surreal, a well landscaped bushland park, but with a concrete freeway arching up way overhead. The punt's jetty has moved about a kilometre up the river, and apparently did so over a year ago, so it must be a while since I last rode along there. The price hasn't changed though, $5 still gets a day return over the river.

After a surprsingly cheap coffee in Williamstown we headed on around the bay, just as the clouds turned to rain. Now that we were here we all wanted to contine, so two of four put on their spray jackets, the other two of us just turned up our collars... Down to the time-ball tower and the Southerly wind was strong enough to blow the rain away, and to lend a very unfriendly look to the waves on the bay.

There's a path from here around the bay and beaches, completely different to the bayside bikepath on the Eastern side of the bay. This part of Melbourne feels more like a coastal town, isolated from the rest of the city. We rode along past wetlands, between industrial sites and drains, around a local cricket ground and past the Kororoit Creek fishing club. Pelicans, cormorants and other waterbirds were everywhere.

After a lap of Cherry Lake in Altona, we decided it was time to start heading homewards — the afternoon of slowly meandering around on the bikes had lead us a surprisingly long way. First retracing our steps to Williamstown, then catching the punt back over the river. Rather than ride back around the bay we headed up along the river through Port Melbourne's industrial area, nearly everything dead at the weekend. This almost meets up with the bike track through the city, which ends at the Casino, but there's a block between the casino and the harbour developments containing nothing but the exhibition centre and a major road, today even more crowded with visitors to the motor show. We made it through, pausing to chuckle at the 4WD demonstration where eagre mums and dads can check their off-road prowess over hills and through creeks. Hopefully the memories will stay with them next week as they struggle through the city traffic with their daily commute or school-taxi duties.

Four in the afternoon, back in Richmond, and time for a late lunch. A fun ride, it had taken a lot longer than we'd anticipated, but had also taken me to parts of the map that I'd never known existed!

Bleearrrggh! Late to work because I wasn't eager to be the first one to see that the servers hadn't mysteriously fixed themselves. I ended up working on them all day, finally left at 9PM after a ten-minute lunch break. Way too long to remain focused, or to have any real idea of what we were looking for. I have a very real suspicion that the old servers are now hopelessly outclassed by the sheer quantity of network clients in the University, and that any interruption or outage is enough to push the whole thing into a non-linear failure. Maybe the power outage on the weekend disconnected enough clients that when they came back, they all tried to reconnect at once and killed it all...

Lessons learned from this morning's cycle to work:

Keep Left (sign on bike path)

To the majority of pedestrians on the shared paths, this means walk three abreast, use the entire path, then step randomly to the left or right when a cyclist approaches.

Control Your Dog (sign on bike path):: To the majority of dog owners on the shared path, this means “hold a lead coiled up in your hand, and ensure that your dog remains somewhere within eyesight.”

Red Traffic Light

To the driver of the Ford station wagon, rego. Vic ROX-364, a red light means plant your foot and drive through the crossing after the pedestrian/cyclist lights have changed to green and the cyclist has started across in front of you.

The spelling abilities of University students never ceases to amaze me. It's either that or the “English Capability” test for overseas students, their English score seems to be proportional to the ability to pay full fees... Straight from the walls of one of our labs:

  LOOKING ROOM FOR RENT
  SINGLE MAIL
  CALL ANY TIME
  OPTUS MOBIL 04xxxxxx

First day of semester and it all seemed remarkably restrained at Monash. The traffic had built up to its normal chaos at the gates, but that's never much more than an amusement when on the bike....

Sunday at home, nothing to do, no urgent jobs to chase up — bliss.

We finally got to see Lord of the Rings: the Two Towers this evening. Been putting it off for weeks in order to try and use the two “Gold Pass” tickets that Joey scored from work, the only sessions that they seem to have available are 9:30PM during the week — hardly viable for a more than three hour movie! Down to the Jam Factory to see it in an ordinary session at an ordinary time — but with an extraordinary amount of rubbish on the floors. It appears that they've given up on cleaning the cinemas between shows — we were ankle deep in half-chewed pop-corn, drink cups and plastic wrappers....

What can I say about the movie that hasn't already been said in reviews? I enjoyed it, found Gollum to be memorable, found the Ents to be a little disappointing ... Lots of chasing, lots of battles, lots of swords and armour, and the ubiquitous Hollywood necessity of the light-hearted character — provided by Gimli and the non-stop dwarf in-jokes and “short” references.

Is this the last of the urgent pre-wedding tasks? Not quite. Rings have been bought, one has been collected. I think all that remains is clothes for me. As the sign on the ski-slopes at Mt Baw Baw stated quite clearly: “Grooming Incomplete.”

A CD launch for Mick Thomas and the Sure Thing's The Horses' Prayer this evening at the Atheneum in the city. Tickets were a bit steep, but its a grand old theatre and a great place to see a folksy kind of show. Assorted songs old and new, some of the new ones I'd not heard before, others I had — their cover of the Stone Roses' Made of Stone still makes me laugh... Between the sets the fill-in tape was full of horse-related songs, I suddenly realised this as Jo said something about “needs more horses,” during a western/cowboy number — it had started with “Red Pony,” but I didn't know the names of any of the others. I wonder how many other people noticed?

All over by 11:30, being used to pub shows we had thought it would be a late start and hadn't got there until after nine, by which time they were already playing. At least it meant we could catch the tram home, rather than be extorted by a taxi.

Trams home have other advantages too, there's always the entertainment value of the other people.... Tonight it was three fifteen year old girls hurrying home after seeing “the bestest movie ever.” Speaking in 100 decibel voices and phoning all their friends, we couldn't help but overhear that this cinematic treasure was “Jackass — the movie,” an hour and half of fart jokes and public humiliation gags that has reviews of one or one and half stars in all the papers...