BurbleChaz

I went to the Christmas Project Lunch today. It was pleasantly hot - around 30C - and the sun was flinging photons with the usual alacrity (and celerity). We were sitting outside a rather good restauramnt in Docklands, and enjoying the food and ambiance. I had been watching the clouds building in the south west for some time, when suddenly, a gust of wind hammered across the plaza and the temperature dropped ten degrees. The whole thing took less than a minute. This is the first time I've been outside during Melbourne's famous cool change. It is absolutely astonishing. How the temperature can plummet that fast without violent precipitation is a mystery. There was moisture in the air, so the thermodynamics is a bit of a puzzle. Further research is indicated.

I haven't had my bike out since the near-catastrophe on Sunday. After the cool change, the sky was looking threatening, and the temperature was below 20 and dropping. Just like England. I dragged myself out, still heavily fuelled from lunch, and hurtled towards Westgate Park. 'Hurtle' may be an exaggeration here. Average speed to the park was below 15mph, due to the ususal vicious headwind. There was a race starting on the trails, so I pottered gently on and headed down towards Port Melbourne. Rather than turning left along the beach I took a right and explored a path to the mouth of the Yarra. It's a lovely, desolate place. Waves were breaking on the riprap, and gulls were flogging hard to windward. There were a lot of dessicated starfish on the path. I imagine they were washed ashore in one of the frequent storms.

Dessicated Echinoderm

Lots more dead starfish

Flogging hard to windward on a dark grey day

Proof that I can take arty pictures with my mobile

I headed on down towards St. Kilda. For the first time in recorded history, there was no headwind. I was lazing along at about 17mph, marvelling at this unusual event when two seriously keen types strolled past me. "Right, you buggers" I think. Down goes the hammer. The pace rises, the vision blurs, the commonsense departs and I bridge the gap. I slot neatly onto the last wheel, and the paceline is formed. The three of us take turns pulling as we blister the tarmac on the path to St. Kilda. We were happily trolling along at around 25mph, flattenning little old ladies and their verminous pooches in equal number. Nobody really expects a group of three cyclists on a shared path to be going so damned fast. Fun. After about three miles, I dropped off, headed down to the pier and turned round.

The area behind St. Kilda pier is used by kiteboarders. This looks like entirely too much work.

Zoom! Splosh!

From St. Kilda, I pottered gently back to the city. In the last couple of kilometers, strange wet globules started falling from the sky. I'd forgotten what rain felt like. That's the first precipitation we've had in December. At the end of a ride, it feels great.

20 miles, 90 minutes including stopping to look at the scenery. Beer well earned. Perhaps that's why I never lose weight.

A dull, grey evening.