The wrong bike?

A couple of nights ago, we went window shopping on the internet for bikes … just for fun! A bike I would like to buy if I needed a new bike … of course … has an aero frame. I declared that I wanted an aero framed bike. What for? Just because! If I’d buy a new bike I’d like it to be different from my current bike.

An aero bike would be the wrong bike for you!

Wrong bike? Why wrong bike? And is there such a thing like a wrong bike?

You don't need an aero bike. You’d be that girl! Which girl? You know! I’ve got no idea what you are talking about. You know ... these people who have the top of the range bikes and never win anything, who have all the gear but no idea how to ride a bike … the ones everybody makes fun of at the coffee shop…

Oh, that girl!

And with that I decided to sell my Corima wheels. I’ve ridden them once in the past 12 months, and let’s face it: I don’t need them! I won’t be racing again anytime soon.

But! Should I ever get back to some sort of race fitness … I will buy that top of the range aero dream of mine … which, by the way, comes with carbon racing wheels.

I ♥ Brisbane!

Notably more cyclists flocked to the dry roads of Brisbane on Friday. Mt Nebo road was closed, but the city council worker waived at Petrina and I when we were torn between respecting or ignoring the sign, and so we went ahead, not the only cyclists up the mountain. The landslides had been cleared, at least all the way to McAfee's lookout where we turned around.

Kurilpa Bridge was open yesterday so I crossed over to the southern side of the river. The pylons of William Jolly bridge showed marks how far the water had come up. Although, back in its river bed, the water still reached up to the bike path, much higher than I had ever seen, a fast flowing muddy soup. The bike path, already cleaned with only a few neatly piled stacks of rubble left, looked ready to be re-opened soon.

Under the William Jolly Bridge the paintings were undamaged. Over four years ago I used to join a Riverloop group that rode through this part of town and there were always Aboriginal people sleeping on mouldy mattresses under this bridge. Awkward best describes how I felt about riding through their "bedroom". Kurilpa is the Aboriginal word for the South Brisbane and West End area. It means place for water rats. I remember vividly how I was told over coffee how well the indigenous owners of this area know the river and that they move inland to higher grounds when the river is about to flood. It was beyond my imagination back then that this mild-mannered river could ever break its banks.

West End with Go Between bridge in the background - before the clean up!

Southbank boardwalk - gone!

Riverside Expressway - the ferry ramp washed away, the bike path underneath the road still submerged

Three days of sunshine had turned slick covered roads into dust pists. The Gallery of Modern Art's basement still full of water, being pumped out by city council workers, two men in high visibility vests and gum boots leaning over the back of their ute, having a chat and a smoke, the guy at the diary factory, the truck driver with a load of rubble, as I was riding through all those familiar streets, shocked and sad at first, I started to notice people's faces - smiling faces. Broad, open and honest Australian smiles everywhere, full of optimism, the type of smile when you know you've done a marvelous job, deeply satisfied with the progress of a tough task at hand.

A dinghy tied to a tree in the Botanical Garden

And the day's hard work was visible everywhere. People are getting on with cleaning up to get on with their lives, in true Australian fashion.

I ♥ Brisbane!

Hard work and optimism alone won't get Brisbane back to it's former glory. A lot of money will be needed, too, so here you can find out how to help or donate.

Make hay (or ride your bike) while the sun shines

The last two posts were headed by proverbs so I thought I might continue with another ...

It was very quiet when I woke up this morning. I thought it strange but didn't immediately figure out what was different. You would expect it to be quiet at five thirty in the morning.

Then I opened the curtains and there it was … I was blinded by the brightness of the day and couldn’t believe my eyes. After days of grey soggy misery I had missed the constant drum of the rain on the roof. I had started to believe the sun and blue skies were fabled things no human had actually ever seen, right up there with mermaids and unicorns.

There was no need to rush to get to work, even though it was Wednesday, a regular working day. And that was not because of the floods. Our office is far enough away from the CBD or other suburbs along the Brisbane River that got evacuated yesterday. I had already requested the day off sometime last week, way before anyone anticipated the devastation that nature and brown muddy water brought.

They say there is more to come and I hope for all that it won't be as bad as 1974 or worse. But for now the sun's out and Alberto's coming home today.

I put the coffee on and then the anticipated phone call came, half good and half bad news. Alberto had landed in Australia but not in Brisbane and he would now be on the next domestic flight in a few hours time.

With unexpected hours to spare, the roads drying, the sun out and the Peacemaker begging to be ridden, I sent a text message to John so we met at 8:30! Got to make hay (or ride a bike) while the sun’s shining … even if some of the roads and bike paths are flooded.

In moments like this there is a real advantage of having two sets of shoes and helmets. My black ensemble still wet from Saturday's adventure ... Mt Nebo Rd is now covered by mudslides ... it had to be the white combo. Maybe not ideal for a day like today but I would have gotten my best Sunday dress muddy for all I cared.

Alberto just called, from Brisbane now. I'm off to the airport ... how exciting!

There is no such thing like bad weather ...

... for that you have your oldest bibs and jerseys.

When I was riding along in the drizzle yesterday, full of road grime, I actually didn't mind the weather. There was a refreshing cool cleanness in the air and not the oppressing mugginess typical for this time of year.

But then, ten to five this morning, I was just about to leave the house in knicks circa 2007 to meet some friends, the heavens opened. And it wasn't a drizzle, nor a light rain, the amount of water contained in each and every drop clearly passed my wet threshold and I went back to bed.

I'm starting to consider to sell my bikes and purchase something more appropriate for our current road conditions. Or do you remember our discussion on bikes for every occasion? Well, right now there is the need for something like this:

Or this:

Or maybe we should consider an entire new discipline: Cyclocross, Individual Time Trials, Fixie, BMX, Mountainbiking, Track and ... Waterbiking? Or what would you call this?

Ride safe ... if you do venture out today! I know I'll stay in.

Send 'er down Hughie

Someone must've said it one too many times because Hughie's sending 'er down alright. How often have I woken up to the concert of dripping drops on the roof this summer? How many ways are there to describe the same thing over and over again? Drizzle, downpour, squall ... I mean, come on, this is starting to become a real literary challenge, not just a mental one.

It stopped drizzling mid-morning and heavy showers started instead. With my planned New Year's Ride completely washed out, I made the most of the first day of the year and sorted through six years of accumulated cycling magazines.

I forgot to take a "before" photo but these are the "work in progress" and "after" shots

The second day of the year didn't start much better. I had planned to join Alberto's team mates again for a 120km ride. Again? The last ride of the year on New Year's Eve (a sunny morning for a change) had been a leisurely Riverloop. It's nice of them to have me along even without Alberto.

120 km (and with the ride home from the coffee shop 130 km) - was this the cycling equivalent of "the eyes being bigger than the stomach" - pedalling gluttony? I wanted to ride, lots. But the last time I rode a century was last year, and I'm not talking two days ago here. I feared that in my current state of unfitness I had "taken a bigger bite than I could chew". Maybe a more sensible approach would have been wiser, working my k's slowly back up into triple digits. Sure I can finish a huge plate of pasta but was it good for my body? And then there was this all too familiar drum on the roof when I woke up in the middle of the night and it was still there when the alarm went off in the morning. Hughie had decided for me.

An hour later the skies cleared. After coffee and breakfast the roads had dried up. I took my sensible approach with me to Mt Coot-tha for two reasonable loops and two hours later I rolled back home, happy and to my surprise still dry.

Got Fat? Go vegan! Life coaching where you would expect great names of cycling

New Year - new glass in bike lanes!