BurbleChaz

Sydney is not a bicycle-friendly city. Busy traffic, Australian driving standards, a complete lack of cycle lanes and the beaches all conspire to prevent all but the most suicidal from the pleasures of cycling. Why beaches, I hear you ask: how can a beach be anti-cycling? Simple, dear reader. Why would you risk death and dismemberment upon the diesel-slicked, potholed roads, populated with collosal gas-guzzlers piloted by psychotics, when you could go surfing instead? Surfing has been my excuse, anyway.

Regular readers may recall that I own a bicycle. Possibly the finest bicycle ever constructed. We went through a huge amount of hassle to send it around the world in a container. Twice. And I have ridden it once. See previous paragraph for excuses. Anyway. Yesterday, bright, sunny, and very, very cold. Maybe 15 degrees. No surf forecast. Not getting wet, then. Major excuse gone. So, I evict the local fauna from residence in my camelback and get the bike. A couple of months of neglect seem to have done little harm, so I poke the front end in the general direction of 'up'. Sydney has a lot of up. Also, a lot of down. On average, it's flat. Over towards Mosman. The first climb went quite well. Legs feeling OK. It seems that paddling uses the same major muscle set as pedalling. Along Spit Road. Down the hill. Sensibly. I didn't exceed the speed limit. Which is 60kph. Remembered just how scary high speeds in traffic are. Managed to stop before piling in to the traffic stopped at the bottom. Another reason to love disc brakes. By pure coincidence, I had arrived just as the bridge was opening.

An excuse for a short break

As the bridge opened, I took a few moments to consider my plans. Onwards and upwards, or backwards and upwards? From sea level, the 'downwards' options for a cyclist are somewhat limited. Backwards, I decided. I took a picture of Middle Harbour, in case any skeptics challenged my strty later:

It's a long way to the top of the hill from here

As I started the climb, the joy of the sport all came back to me. The effort, the pain, the realisation of sheer futility. The unreasoning refusal to get off and catch the bus. Five minutes, it took. I was taking it easy. Not wanting to overexert. Climbing may suck, but 'to have climbed' feels so good.

Today, I decided to go surfing instead. Nothing to do with a feeling of dread terror when contemplating the saddle again. Honest.