Of Ice and Icing
Morning in Uralla was a nice hot breadth of -6 degree air. After two nights in Tamworth, I'd gotten in the habit of looking out the window before stepping outside to see if there was frost on the ground, then gauging the time it took me to get out of bed accordingly. Today though, there was enough frost on the window that I couldn't even see the bloody frost on the ground. A 70 mile uphill slog was sounding right now about as good an idea as a hole in the head.
The pub, as most pubs that provide accomodation in Australia do, provided breakfast that morning and so after fetching together my gear, I wandered down to sniff out some corn flakes and tea. To up my spirits, I wandered across the street, consciously avoiding a look at the hazy peaks in the distance, and found a bakery open where I bought a cupcake with some jolly pink icing on it, a cup of coffee, and a newspaper. "The Armidale Express" reported little very exciting (keen as I was, cupcake in hand, for the school bake sale that happened to be that Saturday) but did make a mention of the latest Tour news, which psyched me up enough to down the last dregs of coffee and head across the street to get sorted for the road.
I got rolling around 10am, just as the sun began to burn some of the frost off. The day actually warmed to about 13C by midday, and I made good time to Armidale, the next town up. Armidale had, amongst other things, a bike shop where I replaced my used spare and bought a bit of advice about the upcoming section to Dorrigo.
"How's the road up there?" I asked the 20-something behind the counter.
"It's good road mate, lots of switchbacks, the club uses it for training quite a bit."
"Oh?" I asked, trying to sound casual while processing the idea of doing the remaining 60k's on somebody's else's favorite hill ride.
"Yeah, it's a good road. Mostly rolling from here out, but then switchbacks up to Ebor. Where are you staying?"
"Dorrigo."
"Well, it's a bit rolling after Ebor."
I assured him how pysched I'd be to see what he meant by his frequent use of the word "rolling."
At this lattitude, sunset comes around 5pm. Leaving Armidale at 2:30 would thus give me about two-and-a-half hours to get to Dorrigo, so I didn't linger any further.
The road to Dorrigo was indeed rolling, in other words more of the now-familiar huge gear or tiny gear that had characterized the trek to Uralla. By the time I reached the 20k to go mark to Ebor, the chronic up and down had taken a toll and I was starting to run behind schedule. I made plans to stay in Ebor instead of Dorrigo to avoid riding at night.
The pub, as most pubs that provide accomodation in Australia do, provided breakfast that morning and so after fetching together my gear, I wandered down to sniff out some corn flakes and tea. To up my spirits, I wandered across the street, consciously avoiding a look at the hazy peaks in the distance, and found a bakery open where I bought a cupcake with some jolly pink icing on it, a cup of coffee, and a newspaper. "The Armidale Express" reported little very exciting (keen as I was, cupcake in hand, for the school bake sale that happened to be that Saturday) but did make a mention of the latest Tour news, which psyched me up enough to down the last dregs of coffee and head across the street to get sorted for the road.
I got rolling around 10am, just as the sun began to burn some of the frost off. The day actually warmed to about 13C by midday, and I made good time to Armidale, the next town up. Armidale had, amongst other things, a bike shop where I replaced my used spare and bought a bit of advice about the upcoming section to Dorrigo.
"How's the road up there?" I asked the 20-something behind the counter.
"It's good road mate, lots of switchbacks, the club uses it for training quite a bit."
"Oh?" I asked, trying to sound casual while processing the idea of doing the remaining 60k's on somebody's else's favorite hill ride.
"Yeah, it's a good road. Mostly rolling from here out, but then switchbacks up to Ebor. Where are you staying?"
"Dorrigo."
"Well, it's a bit rolling after Ebor."
I assured him how pysched I'd be to see what he meant by his frequent use of the word "rolling."
At this lattitude, sunset comes around 5pm. Leaving Armidale at 2:30 would thus give me about two-and-a-half hours to get to Dorrigo, so I didn't linger any further.
The road to Dorrigo was indeed rolling, in other words more of the now-familiar huge gear or tiny gear that had characterized the trek to Uralla. By the time I reached the 20k to go mark to Ebor, the chronic up and down had taken a toll and I was starting to run behind schedule. I made plans to stay in Ebor instead of Dorrigo to avoid riding at night.
I had dinner there. Actually I had two dinners, taking full advantage of the Ebor pub's ample kitchen, and went to sleep.
posted by eric at
4:55 AM
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