How Not To Be A Serious Cyclist

Oh Well.

All these years I've been riding a bicycle and trying to preserve the illusion that I am a Very Serious Cyclist: tracking my kilometers, always aiming to beat my PB (personal best, but Serious Cyclists use acronyms) and racing to be KOM (King of the Mountain, because acronyms).

Well, that illusion has been shattered now. Today I lost my Serious Cyclist credentials for good.

Today I went cycling carrying a full sized thermos, two insulated coffee mugs, and the required accoutrements including chilled milk. Sadly I forgot a spoon, which meant that although disqualified as a Serious Cyclist I did not quite qualify as a Mad Picnicking Cyclist either.

I blame Myponie Road for my fall in cycling status. I had such a lovely time cycling along there a week ago that I wanted Roger to enjoy it too. I even had an answer when he expressed a certain reluctance to cycle into a fresh southerly breeze. "I'll drive up to the other end and cycle into the wind! Then you can drive home." And I uttered the fateful words that forever banished me from the Serious Cyclist ranks: "I'll bring the thermos. We can have a picnic when we cross paths."

And so we did.

I waved Roger off and drove to the top end of Black Rock Road, parking the car beside a paddock which a week ago was wheat, and was now stubble to the horizon.

A bandanna, in addition to being a statement of cycling style, also doubles as sun protection and a vital fly barrier for people who (again) forgot to bring their fly net.

I enjoyed a brief tailwind along Black Rock Road to the sea, dodging tumbleweed roadblocks along the way.

Myponie Road wasn't quite as stunning as last week: a stiff crosswind forced me to concentrate on the road and scattered whitecaps across the water of the bay, and the sun flickered in and out behind racing clouds. The coves and shallows were empty of fishermen, the shacks were shuttered, and all the kayaks had been packed away. It was still a pretty ride, just quite different in character from what I'd spruiked to Roger all morning.

I met Roger at the halfway point where we debated our coffee choices: sheltered with flies, or windy without flies. That was a no-brainer, really. We chose wind.

It was almost 1100 on remembrance day and fittingly an Australian flag flapped in the breeze at our isolated and not particularly special headland. We drank coffee and thought remembrance day thoughts.

Hmm, maybe I should bring a table and chairs next time?

It is an immutable law of picnicking in remote areas that someone will always pop up out of the blue and Myponie Road was no exception to this rule. As we drank our coffee along came a jogger, jogging purposefully while furiously swatting flies with both hands.

We gave up on fighting flies ourselves, finished our coffee, and went our opposite ways: me with much lighter panniers now the thermos was empty. No sooner had I pedaled on my way than I met the second half of the matched pair of joggers. We tag teamed along the cliffs, leap frogging each other as we stopped to take photos of flowers and one of us kept exploring little tracks down to the sea and having to push her bicycle up slippery slopes to get back to the road.

I left the sea (and the joggers- they had stashed a car there) at Riley Point, within sight of Wallaroo and ready for my dose of headwind, sand, and corrugations for the last four kilometers before home.

Back at home there was nothing left to do but unpack my thermos and contemplate my tragic demotion in the worldwide cycling snobbery stakes. The cats didn't care about my tragedy though. The cats had more important things to do, like reminding me that I existed to serve them and carrying coffee on bicycles did not count as cat service.

I have to go now. A cat needs me.

Heart

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Today's ride: 20 km (12 miles)
Total: 968 km (601 miles)

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