Roused untimely (well, around tennish actually) from my slumbers, I felt a fraction on the fragile side. Steeling myself for duty, I boiled the last remaining egg for Other People. Unable to construct a dayplan myself (owing to lethargy, lassitude and a throbbing pain in the temples), a plan was presented, fully formed and perfect.
Since The Crash, I haven't even mentioned trails to The Injured Party. Consideration itself, I have been. Proving, once again, that I am the most fortunate person alive, the plan involved trails. Lysterfield trails.
We stuffed my bike in the back of the Toorak Tractor, leaving The Other Cyclist's machine safely garaged, and drove to Lysterfield. I
soothed my troubled brow geeked with my GPS while the actual driving was done. Beer fumes, you understand.
On arrival, I reassembled the velocipede and pointed the front end at the nearest hill, while The Photographer went for a stroll around the lake.
My GPS can measure altitude to an accuracy of about ten metres (it claims). I started at 76m, and went up. The start of the competition track is at 135m. I was feeling a lot better by then. The best cure for a hangover is water and violent exercise. I am told.
The competition track is six kilometres of varied single track - wild swooping descents, switchback climbs, sections of elevated boardwalk and rocky traverses. It's wonderful.
This is the first time I've ridden the whole thing. I stopped three times - twice to take photographs, and once because, um, well....
OK, I was riding a technical ascent. Very technical. Honest. Not totally trivial at all. The final bit was a short climb after a turn, hopping up onto a granite outcrop. Ah Ha! I say, my tyres will stick to that like glue. Point, power on, sloooow...crunch goes my copious arse, as it hits the rock. Whoops.
The descent from the top (216m) was astounding. The climbs were wonderful. Every trail I find at Lysterfield makes me a better, faster, more bruised rider.
Before you blow your bandwidth budget on my piss-poor pictures, see what The Talented Photographer did today.
A trail through the woods
The lake's there somewhere.
It's still there. Honest.
Altitude: 216m. Plan: Plummeting descent. Guts/Brain Ratio: High.