stats. Today 0.0km Trip 0.0km Seems strange having a day or two holiday before I go away on a bike trip. Usually I’ve finished work one day, gone home, packed up, got to whatever transport is required, got to the start and got on my way… it all seems very relaxed this time!
Tried — and eventually succeeded — in getting Telstra to change over the phone numbers from my old SIM to my new one.
Interesting discussions going on in <aus.bicycle> at the moment, even though I don’t really have access to a news server to follow it. Seems that police turned out in large numbers for last Saturday’s “Hell Ride” and some of their behaviour bordered on harrassment and entrapment. Multiple police cars and motorbikes followed beside and behind the ride, officers leaning out of car windows taking photos of any and every rider who crossed into the middle lane, motorcycle cops shooting off ahead to push the pedestrian walk button at each set of lights, then trying to catch riders ignoring the red light!
Another day out riding, another stupid driver goes screaming around me and turns left, missing my elbow by fractions of an inch and screeching around the corner to get in ahead of the traffic coming off the lights on Waverley road. Guilty-looking woman in a 4WD, (Victorian registration, ######), I guess at least she looked back in the rear mirror to see if she’d killed anyone…
Which reminds me that Mr Policeman didn’t ever call me back to follow up on the road-rage that I reported.
Yesterday’s events must have shaken me a little more than I realised. Couldn’t get to sleep until well after 2 am, being chased by a nutter in a car kept replaying over and over in my head.
But so far so good… One successful pass along Cole crescent this morning without running into yesterday’s road rager. I still can’t make up my mind whether to try and pursue it with the police.
Today was going so well until I turned right from the bike path into Drummond street in Chadstone, a 50km/hr zone, and was riding towards my normal left-turn into Cole crescent. As I got to the corner, Mr agressive petrol-head in a white ford falcon station wagon (Victorian registration ###-###), came flying over the speed hump behind me, half overtook me then attempted to go screaming around the left turn into Cole crescent.
Ouch — another head-on on the bike path this morning, but thankfully it wasn’t me. One of the guys that I see fairly frequently in the mornings heading the other way, today he wasn’t heading anywhere, just lying on the ground while two other cyclists phoned for an ambulance. Same stretch of narrow bridge with steel railings under the freeway where I’ve had a few close calls and one elbow to the head…
Further in the Bicycle NSW saga — I finally received a response to my enquiries, but it seems that Bicycle NSW have no idea of the reality of attempting to travel by public transport with a bike in Sydney. “Just catch a station wagon taxi from the airport.” I politely pointed out that the combination of the LPG tank and the steel luggage safety mesh prevents a bike from fitting into the station wagons, gave up on their transport entirely, and booked a seat on the train direct to Gloucester!
Attempting to find out some more details on Bicycle NSW’s Big Ride; details like when the bus transport from Sydney to the start leaves, where it leaves from, and how on earth someone from interstate is meant to get themselves, their bike and their baggage to this place. They haven’t answered email enquiries so I rang. Fun and games — the bus leaves at 06:00 in the morning — so a night’s accommodation is required — and from somewhere that has no public transport access!
The costs of the bike collision keep creeping up… Investigating why my seat was still wobbling, I found that the bolts aren’t loose — the whole top of the seatpost has cracked, and only about 10% of the metal was holding it together! I’ve lost track of when I bought it, but I think it was sometime in late 2002. So much for the Sonic brand seatpost.
Initially I thought there was no damage to the bike, unfortunately there’s a lot of things to check, and shock doesn’t help.
I think my bicycle has ears — or something. Half way to work this morning I met a girl walking along, pushing her bike. It was a scruffy old town bike, one of the pedals had sheered off at the crank, so she was walking home. I mentioned that there was an old-style bike shop in Oakleigh, the kind of place where the owner was likely to have a box of old pedals and could make a cheap repair.
One less bike in the house — the “Colnago” from the other day has gone to a new home at the Salvation Army’s recycling centre. To be sold for $20 or so and make someone happy, I hope… On the way I dropped in to Ray’s shop to show him the find — he was especially impressed by the paint-job over the top of the brake cables.
Riding up the street it occurred to me that the bike would make an ideal pub bike, if only we had a shed to keep it in, but sadly, it had to go to clear up the front room.
Just like the last big storm, after yesterday, today the bike track was ankle deep in slimy mud and washed-away mulch from the gardens — and the council had only just finished replacing the last lot!
Today was the Audax Alpine Classic, a very long day on the bike! Probably the longest, hardest ride that I can remember ever doing. Two hundred kilometres of alpine Victoria, starting in Bright, over Towonga gap, up to Falls Creek, back down and over Towonga Gap again, back to Bright, then up Mount Buffalo and back!
With far too little training I was in a woeful state by the time I got to climb Towonga Gap for the second time — after starting in the cool of the morning, the heat and flies were driving me crazy, and I was climbing the hill at a miserable 9km/hr.
Damn, it happened again! After having to avoid almost an idiot a week on the bike path, finally one managed to ram head-on into me. I flew spinning off the bike, landed flat on my back onto the path, landing on one shoulder and feel it pop out then back in, then rolled onto the other, dislocating it as well. Managed to grab my shoulder and pull as I sat up, so it went thump back into place — painfully.
An old Colnago road bike? Dumped at the side of the road? Maybe, maybe not… It was covered in dirt, the tyres were old and cracked and flat, ancient Suntour ten-speed derailleur. Obviously stolen and dumped… but maybe stolen a long time ago! On closer inspection the mystery deepens; firstly, the Colnago stickers don’t look quite right, they’ve faded and aren’t square on the frame, it also seems to weigh a ton.
Out of bed early for another bike ride — seven o’clock start from Evan’s house for a loop out to Kinglake and back. Somewhere on the road to Bundoora I ran over a large metal staple on the road — the kind that holds cardboard boxes together — and punctured my rear tyre.
There seemed to be a lot of cyclists out on the roads, Evan and I wondered how many of them were training for the Alpine Classic.
stats. Odometer 14608km Distance 33.9km Late in the afternoon I headed out for a little ride to stretch my legs, thinking I’d have a bit of a spin up the Dean’s Marsh road and try to beat a time of 30 minutes for the climb to Benwerrin. Coasting down from the house the turn-off is hardly a warm-up, but better than nothing I guess. Stood up almost the whole way, trying to pace myself, but ride quickly.
stats. Distance 197.5km Odometer 14574 Riding time 7hr 42’ Richmond to Lorne; all day on the bike. 08:40 left home; 09:40 at Mordialloc — courtesy of a group ride with Hilton, Chris, Frank, Joe, a few other Deadly Treadly people and two Ironmen/Triathlon guys out for a spin. 10:40 arrive at Mornington, lots of people everywhere, a ten minute break and a chocolate croissant for elevenses.
Back on the bike and along the coast with increasing traffic.
stats. Distance 68.31km Last chance for a bike ride for the year — “Let’s go for an easy ride down to Mordialloc,” says Evan. Yeah, right. He’s been up at 6 am every day for the past three months, clocking up 300km a week and getting faster and faster… I’ve just been sitting around or riding to work! A hot and tiring 68.3km by the time I got home, that would be, um, err… 8,520km for the 2003 calendar year, not counting rides when I didn’t have my odometer with me, or was on another bike, or it just wasn’t working.
Up and out of bed early today — well, early for me! After a few too many weekends where I’ve managed to justify staying at home, or sleeping in, or not going riding, I think it’s finally time that I really did get out on my bike and train for the Alpine Classic! Relying on native ability just isn’t going to work for 200km of mountain climbs!
The Duke/Myers family barbecue at Shoreham provided the impetus, all I needed to do was ride down there and join them for lunch.
An early start to the day — finally I’ve been convinced that I really do need to train for the Alpine Classic — that day-to-day rides to and from work just aren’t likely to be enough preparation! Six o’clock wake up, breakfast and wait… and wait… and wait some more. The phone rings; Kelvin has had another puncture — of course — and so they’ll be a little late to pick me up. I sat around outside watching and listening to the morning’s bird-life, spotting a butcher bird that I’d never seen before on the neighbour’s roof.
The creek is back down, the heron was back on his rock this morning — I wonder where he went during the flood? The river is still turgid, brown and full of drifting objects. Driftwood everywhere, the stink of mud in the air.
To the driver and passenger of the electrician’s white van, Victorian registration QXC-557, just what is it that makes you want to yell abuse at cyclists as you pass on the road? Is it the feeling of power and invulnerability as you speed past, anonymous, except for the foot-high letters advertising your employer’s company? Is it the knowledge that you can outrun the abused/intimidated cyclist, or is it some mistaken belief that if I can’t retaliate at the time, that I won’t be able to record your details, your company name, your phone number, your registration number, and retaliate later…
A minor crisis in the bicycle storage facility — the new toy arrives at its new home… Half of it is my birthday present from Jo, half her birthday present from me. A brand-new second-hand Trek T-50 tandem. Three or four weeks since we first saw it, about a fortnight since we decided to buy it, but only this weekend have we finally had time to get down to Peter’s shop in Brighton and pick it up — after a little nagging, mostly because they want the shop space back!
Someone has decided to start trying to log the mobile-phone users and send an email direct to the top — Andre — or Police Minister Andre Haermeyer, if you want to give him his official title.
Andre has a mobile phone driver reporting page. You can find it at http://www.ratbagitinerant.com/cm/phones.html
Reg says: Dob in a drongo driver!
Just the one? As the sign says “Wipe off five". This evening’s mild entertainment came from:
stats. Today 91.5km Trip 257.0km Final day of the ride, best weather so far! Sticking my head out of the tent at around 6.30 am there was not a breath of wind, the sun was rising and the bay was as flat as a mirror. We left Rye around 10 am, in bright sunshine, but with a chill still in the air.
It always amazes me how much traffic there is on the stretch of road between Sorrento and Mornington, I guess to my subconscious the road doesn’t seem to go anywhere, it just ends at the heads, so where do all the cars come from?
More fun and games with Norky bike today. Off I went to deliver the spare wheel to the bike shop so that Jo’s dud wheel can be replaced with a spare — the infamous evil replacement wheel from hell (or Devizes in the UK). Casually mentioning that my gears aren’t quite working properly, investigation reveals that old bottom bracket and the new cranks don’t quite agree with each other, and a narrow bottom bracket is required… The shop is then turned upside down and many a box is emptied trying to find appropriate sized parts, and a quarter-hour quick visit turns into a leisurely hour and a half.
A long climb up from lake Idro. We passed through the charmingly named village of Crone, then gained about 600m in altitude over ten or so kilometres. One “longish, darkish tunnel” that was luckily straight-ish as well — for it was indeed both very long and very dark! Roughly half-way up the climb the road levelled out to cross a bridge, then turned sharply into a climb complete with 14% warning signs. I left Jo to continue on my own, passing endless signs warning of “2 Tornante” — a quick zigzag and up some more.
Sometime around five in the morning it started to rain — quietly at first, then a solid downpour that sounded as if it would last for days. My temporary patch on the pinhole in the tent’s roof held, but other parts leaked where the walls touched the floor, or where the tent is just too old and worn. There was no point in staying inside and getting gradually wetter, so even though it was supposed to be a short day’s ride, Jo and I got up early and sat around in the marquee.
stats. Today 0km Trip ??km Germans, Germans, Germans… Every car we see, every person we pass, every conversation we overhear. As soon as we enter a shop and the shop-keeper realises that we aren’t Italian, they start talking German to us. All very polite of the Italians to the German tourists who are their main source of income, but it’s starting to get a little annoying since we don’t speak German, and would have more chance of understanding a little Italian!
Vanity site? Technology experiment? Learning tool? Blog? Journal? Diary? Photo album? I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you…
I experiment. I play. I write and I take pictures. Some of the site is organised around topics, other parts are organized by date, then there’s always the cross-references between them.
Its all been here a fairly long time. Like the papers on my desk, or the books on the bedside table, the pile just grew… and it all grew without much plan or structure. I try not to break URLs, so historical oddities abound.
Long ago it started as a learning experiment with a few static HTML pages, then I added a bit of server-side includes and some very ugly PHP. A hand-built journal/blog on top of that PHP, then a few experiments in moving to various static publishing systems. I’ve never wanted a database-based blogging engine, so over the years I’ve tried PHP, nanoblogger, emacs-muse, silkpage and docbook before settling on Emacs Org mode for writing and jekyll for publishing. But the itch remained… I never really liked jekyll and the ruby underneath always seemed so much black magic. So now the latest incarnation is Org mode and hugo.
![Journal for [2004-03-02 Tue]](https://ajft.org/img/default4.jpg)
![Journal for [2003-12-07 Sun]](https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52444982144_4f50f0e95e_c.jpg)
