Sombre post

It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to... Well, today marks my second illness in six weeks, or three years, depending on how you look at it. However, there are a couple of issues that I'd like to get off my chest this evening. The first one's been in the news for some time (and even longer for those of us who have transcended the largely uninformative Australian news sources). The latest is that courts in the US are considering a last-minute appeal to re-connect the feeding tube for Terri Schiavo, who has been slowly passing away in a hospital in Florida without any kind of nourishment for well over a week.

Admittedly, this is a difficult issue. On the one hand, I'd hate to have to live on the way she's had to for the last 15 years -- brain damaged, basically unable to care for herself and with pretty much no existence beyond the walls of a hospital ward. On the other hand, depending on just how much mental capacity she actually has, it's quite possible that she's come to terms with her new life, and given that she's unable to express a preference to either live or die in this case (and in the abscence of a legal will), I for one, have problems simply allowing someone to die if they haven't expressed that particular wish.

It's clear that the legislators here may feel the same way, that feeding tube has been disconnected for several days on end on numerous occasions since 1998. Now this is where I have the real problem (and it's an issue that's been largely ignored), how inhumane is it to make someone endure a lack of food and water -- effectively allowing them to almost starve -- several times over? I hope for her sake that she's unable to feel any pain, because being allowed to waste away to a slow and painful death must be a terrible way to die, and to effectively have it happen several times is almost unimaginable.

So my message to the powers that be (in the unlikely event that they ever read this), is to make a decision. If you're going to debate the issue time and again, at least leave the feeding tube in place while that happens, and if she is to be allowed to die, wouldn't a simple injection that can do the job in three seconds be a much more humane way to do it? I'm aware that some may refer to it as "murder", but the simple fact is that the alternative seems to be torture -- and I think I know which I'd prefer to endure.

I touched on the second at the weekend, the passing of Paul Hester, the drummer from Crowded House and Split Enz. I heard one (unconfirmed) report that his death had been suicide, in which case it's even sadder. Crowded House were one of my favourite bands of all time, and Paul was one of those people who made a contribution but perhaps didn't get the credit they deserved. They must have been the only band in the world who set up a mic for their drummer to make his special wisecracks that came out from time to time, but there was much more to him than that. I guess we all hoped that there might one day be a reunion of sorts, but now this won't happen, and in the saddest possible circumstances.

Paul Hester

I've just heard that Paul Hester, formerly of Crowded House, has passed away. More when I get time to write it. Very sad.

An Easter Escape!

I would have liked a full cycle-tour over Easter, but I was just far too busy with other things (very few of which I actually managed to get done). However, I did manage to get a day clear to do some exploring, so it was up early, on the train to Ipswich and simply riding west. The immediate scenery is a little uninspiring out here, being largely flat and cleared, but a couple of hills between Grandchester and Laidley provided the only excitement between Ipswich and Helidon.



There was one other concern, a couple of bushfires to the north which had somehow gone unnoticed by the rest of the world.



From Helidon (where I got a big wave from an old lady whom I've never even met before) it's the dirt of Seventeen Mile Road. This is actually a problem because it's as sandy as buggery. A couple of times I had lift the bike out of where it had been bogged, and there was a brilliant save at high-speed about 20km into it. In more important terms, the road climbs gradually at first, then kicks up steeply into the mountains toward the end.





Actually, many of the views here are blocked by the vegetation. The road ends at Ravensbourne National Park, which was a slight disappointment. The information in the lead up spoke of rainforest, but it's not exactly a Springbrook or Urliup. Maybe there are just different standards out here. Consequently, I didn't linger long, I headed eastward, toward Esk, which I reached after a 6km descent. The town of Esk is surprisingly pretty, with granite outcrops backing the main street, but for some unaccountable reason, I failed to take a picture (this may be just as well, as I've reached my photobucket limit for free accounts).



After leaving Esk, the chase was on. I wanted to make it back to Ipswich in time for the 7.10pm train to avoid hanging around that place for another hour waiting for the next one. I started slowly as there is a bit of a climb out of Esk and I was re-warming up after the food stop, however, I soon found a rhythm, and powered through the rolling hills southward.



22km from Esk, I calculated that I had 41km left to Ipswich, should be a snack -- except that a sign on the road told me it was actually 46km. That was a psychological blow, as I began to wonder if it was really possible after 200-odd km in the saddle. Then on Cormorant Bay, the wind started blowing against me like crazy. I think it just funnels viciously here, but it was hard to sustain 21km/h.



After getting out of the exposed area, it was time for a climb, I hammered it for no reason other than to make a statement. Then there was a descent into the village of Fernvale. Here I grabbed more water, just in case (it was still quite warm). The sign now said "Ipswich 27", maybe it was on after all. I accelerated again out of the town. 20km to go to Ipswich, I had 57 minutes -- very doable, but I need time in the bank just in case I get a run of red lights.

A sign proclaimed the Ironbark Range (illuminated by my E6 by now). Funny, I hadn't felt any climb. Then I felt it, the road kicked upwards, I attacked it. Stalemate. The hill blinked first, and I was rewarded by a screaming descent back to the Warrego Highway. Here the wind tried again, but by now I had plenty of time. I took the exit, and the descent into Ipswich (totally expected because Ipswich is such a hole).

I'd made it to Ipswich in plenty of time, but there was another problem -- where are the signs telling anybody where the railway station is? I rode around and around the CBD, eventually finding a dead end street that ended at the railway line. Mechanical methods needed, I looked up and down the railway line, saw the station, found a dimly lit pathway (that is, dimly lit for anyone without an E6), and found the station. I had made it.

I nearly fell asleep on the train home, and again on the ride home from Nerang Station. That was weird, I felt sleepy, but for some reason my reaction times (both physical and mental) were exceptionally fast, and they needed to be when playing a bout of 9.45pm "spot the rat-runner". Still it wasn't a problem at all. It was a memorable day over all. One thing I forgot to mention was the guy on the trailbike about 20km into Seventeen Mile Road -- "I've been following your tracks since Helidon, I thought 'Gee that guy must be going' ". If only he knew how far I'd really ridden!

Back to the Tweed

No updates for a while, a lot of things I wanted to write about, but I just haven't had the time. Consequently, it was up to today's ride to provide some entertainment. It all started with a nice sunrise out of the ocean. I don't see too many sunrises near the ocean these days -- largely due to time constriants, but this was worth the effort.



As always, the Tweed Valley turned on another series of beautiful vistas, such as this near Tyalgum.



Perhaps a difference is the number of wildflowers that appeared, I guess it's that time of year.



And of course, the secrets of the rainforests.





The thing notable about this excursion was the fact that I had a headwind in both directions. A southerly in the morning, and a northerly after turning around and riding North from Terragon, south of Uki. It was quite strong at times, but nothing I couldn't handle (even if I did have to make an extra water stop at Urliup). In a grim kind of way I enjoyed it, pushing into a headwind is quite a liberating feeling, because the wind itself becomes the objective.

I like the liberating feeling of the wind becoming the objective, rather than the ride itself. When it's just me vs the wind, it feels like a medieval joust, a game of cat and mouse. The other bit I like is when I'm getting close to the finish, and the wind knows (as I do) that it's losing badly, this is when I take the opportunity to hand out some stick of my own - posing, gloating, launching totally irrational attacks that serve no purpose at all other than feeding my own oversized ego.

In the end I managed to turn it aside, and hand out some stick myself. The only question is how I'll pull up after the ride. Messing around with some stretches after the ride, I realised that I can actually bend over and touch my toes. I couldn't do that when I was a kid, this means that I'm more flexible now than I was then!

A partial restoration

This one happened on my ride home from work -- not a ride that I particularly enjoy (relatively speaking), but one that I persist with because of it's utility value. This was on the approach to a roundabout (read: traffic circle) at Broadbeach. I'd seen another cyclist enter the roundabout from another approach, but at the time I hadn't really given it a second thought. Partially because he had a clearer run through it than I did, meaning he'd be long gone by the time I got through, but moreso because I had another situation to deal with.

Some idiot in a car behind me decided that, although he was yet to actually figure out which direction he was going, he just had to pass under any circumstances -- even though he still had to decide what he was going to do next. This is a move I've seen plenty of times, so I was neither threatened nor impressed by it, and I saw it coming long before the idiot had even made up his tiny mind to attempt it.

However, after dealing with the situation and getting through the roundabout (in front of the idiot I might add), I saw the other cyclist waiting at the other side. We shared a quick joke about Gold Coast drivers, then went our separate ways. It was only three hours later that it dawned on me what had happened here. It appears as though this guy recognised the situation I was in and waited around to make sure I was OK. This was something he didn't need to do, least of all for a total stranger, but he did it anyway.

In the last twelve months, my faith in human nature has suffered a little, largely due to being physically assaulted while cycling on no fewer than four occasions during that time (although that's counting the ones that missed). Now somebody has gone some way toward restoring that faith a little. My only regret is that I didn't recognise this gesture in time to thank him for it. On the other hand, perhaps the best way of thanking him might be simply to follow his lead.

Wanna go potty?

I was going to say "only in Queensland", but this one was in New South Wales.



Notice the restaurant advertised at the bottom? I'm not sure I want to eat there anytime soon. There are so many things to say about that sign it's not funny.

As far as the rest of today's ride goes, let's see. Coastal vistas:



Mountains:



And the bubbling Tweed River for a big section.



The Mt Jerusalem century is always a great one. The cruise down the Tweed Coast, once you get south of Cabarita is pleasant, the scenery across through North Arm and up to Mt Jerusalem is stunning, and after the beautiful lunch in Uki, the trip back to Murwillumbah alongside the Tweed River is always pleasant. The rainforest in Urliup was stunning once again, and today I managed to finish pretty strongly through suburbia (it's always good to get that one over with).

About the only thing I need to be concerned about, is this propensity of mine to always pick the flat sections to ride against the wind, and the hills when I have the tailwind. I think I need to fix that.

Nowhere else in the world!

Excuse the poor quality of these photos, but this morning I was fortunate enough to see something that I would see nowhere else in the world. The Albert Lyrebird's only known habitat is the Gold Coast Hinterland. Early this morning, one of them decided to pick at the grass beside the road en route to Austinville.





Austinville was, of course, stunning as usual, on a surprisingly cool and pleasant morning (12 degrees C).



However, the story of the morning belonged to another detour that I took on the way back. I was looking for a 70km ride, so I headed a little further out after coming out of Austinville Valley, and headed for Little Nerang Dam. This is actually nowhere near Little Nerang Road (which doesn't actually go anywhere near Nerang -- who names these roads?). This particular road runs through a pleasant gorge above, yes, Little Nerang Creek, eventually culminating in some very nice views from the Dam itself.





It's almost a case of mixed feelings here. On the one hand, it's always good to find a new place to ride. On the other hand, this is a side-trip that's been literally right under my nose for 10 years, it's almost disappointing to take so long to find it, given that I've passed it by en route to or from Springbrook hundreds of times.

The moment

No updates this week, just the usual business that's also kept me a little short of sleep this time. However, today's ride home from work was slightly pleasant. After picking my way through the usual gridlock (mainly caused by hoons who were actually naive enough to think they could outpace the traffic), I found a clear view over the deep blue South Pacific, in the distance, a magical rainbow (the weather had been a little variable out there today), and near-perfect temperatures, with that splendid cool freshness that the air tends to have shortly after rain has fallen.

The natural reaction is to reach for the camera, but today I didn't have it with me (don't always take it commuting). However, this is not a major source of irritation. Sometimes it's important to just relax and enjoy the moment, and it's still something one can savour, even if there's not a picture to go along with it.

The serenity of arrogance

If anybody here can remember my posts from the old bicycleforum.com site, or some of my earlier ramblings over at bikeforums.net, they would probably point out that I used to be quite volatile, something of a "loose cannon", looking for the slightest provocation over which I could lose my temper at the world generally. In recent years, however, I have tried to "turn over a new leaf" so to speak, and in a major shock to the universe, it may actually be working.

Today's incident happened somewhere around 128km into the ride in North Burleigh. Some idiot pedestrian decided to step out onto the road right in front of me without looking. This isn't exactly a rare occurrence on the Gold Coast these days, and I had anticipated it pretty well, so I was able to avoid a collision. However, this moron then decided to abuse me because I was supposedly riding too fast (about 30km/h below the speed limit here). In the past I probably would have responded with a flurry of expletives of my own. However, today it didn't bother me a great deal. There was a mild irritation for a few moments, before the arrogance that I have worked so hard to cultivate kicked in.

I began to realise that I have absolutely no cause for concern that this moron should blame me for his own inability to watch where he was going. After all, I'd been prepared for the eventuality, I'd avoided a collision, nobody was hurt, and I'd even earned an apology from his wife (who was actually smart enough to look before stepping out onto the road). But what really gladdened my heart, was the knowledge that if this guy is in a habit of blaming others for his own inability to watch where he is going, it's just a matter of time before he steps out in front of someone who will be either unable or unwilling to take the evasive action necessary. As a consequence, it probably won't be very long before he removes himself from the human gene pool altogether.

I am at peace with the world, perhaps moreso now than ever before. Unlike the other guy at the intersection about 3km later who wanted to shout abuse by yelling from his car across four lanes of moving traffic. Yeah right, pal. What obligation do I have to prove anything to someone that cowardly?

Oh yeah, as far as the ride itself was concerned, Numinbah Valley turned on the beauty once more, and the changeable weather conditions -- from this...



to this...



to this...



and finally to this:



Interesting thing here -- it only seemed to rain on the descents, never on the climbs. I'm not sure how this works, but it just does. It played havoc with my average speed, but that's life sometimes. It's still better than doing the whole ride in dry weather.

Another Stunner!

That's probably the only way to describe what happened out at Tallebudgera Valley this morning -- simply stunning. Shortly after cresting the murderous Trees Road climb (22% and long, and I did it all without getting out of the saddle), and the twisting descent of Ducats Road, the vistas started opening up spectacularly.



What followed can only be described by the pictures presented. Needless to say, it was simply stunning.









Ultimately I started to feel like the whole valley was taunting me. Almost tempting me to take more pictures, to stay there longer (would have done had I not needed to hit that CPA study session), or perhaps gloating because I would have to return to suburbia. Eventually I did that, but the difference between suburbia and the valley was even more surprising. The coast was a full 10 degrees C warmer, just an hour later! The occasional glance over my shoulder indicated that the valley was still offering the misty vistas and the beautiful showers that had only added to the ambience of my outing.

Why can't everyday be like this?

Ponderings

It's interesting the things that can come to one's mind at times. Tonight after cresting the hill leading to Hinze Dam, I paused to take in the spectacular sight of the southern sky with no moonlight to interfere with it. Among those billions of stars, was there somebody else out there, somewhere, who was appreciating the beauty of the night -- a night when the beauty of seemingly the entire universe was on display? I hope so.

The Verve

It's probably about time I updated my music selections on the left of this page. I have a few new CD's that might rate a mention. One in particular is a "greatest hits" compilation from The Verve (I bought it for the five or six tracks that I didn't already have). The thing that struck me on listening to this CD is that it's hard to believe they were only together for around six years. They have a back-catalogue that would shame bands that were together for twice that long. It just seemed that every song they did was quality.

Of course, their sound evolved over the course of the years. The earlier material from their self-titled CD had an almost eerie feel to it at times, almost as if it could transport the listener to another place (or perhaps it was that long walk I took in Springbrook National Park shortly after hearing it for the first time), A Northern Soul was louder, a little rough around the edges, but really seemed to capture a different kind of spirit, I stand accused, just like you, for being born without a silver spoon. It's often how I've felt at times in the past. Urban Hymns was probably their most polished release, and quite possibly the greatest CD of the 1990's.

Like a lot of indie bands, their greatest strength seemed to be the fact that they were real people, writing songs about real things. A lot of bands fall down because they churn out crappy love songs constantly. I think it was Frank Zappa who pointed out that listening to love songs can be bad for your health because they create unrealistic expectations which life can never meet. Perhaps, however, he didn't hear Sonnet: "yes, there's love if you want it, don't sound like no sonnet."

Listening to that CD the other night brought back a flood of memories from a not-quite-so distant past. It's strange how listening to a back-catalogue played in a random order can do that sometimes. Perhaps this is due in part to the factors I mentioned in the previous paragraph. There is one thing for sure, however. As good as Richard Ashcroft's solo offerings have been, The Verve is definitely a band that split up way too soon.

Great John!

Oh my God, are obesity levels really this ridiculous?

http://greatjohn.com/grjodi.html

Makes you wonder sometimes. Makes me even gladder to be a cyclist.

Incidentally, turns out my light issues last night were due to a bulb being worn out. I'm a little surprised this happened so quickly. It's possible it may have been jolted loose by Stony Chute Road. Still, this is easily overcome, and the double century will not elude me for much longer.

Repentence...

There comes a time, every so often, where Martin and I have informal bets about who can ride the furthest in a 24-hour period. There also comes a time when I need to escape to a completely different world for a while. This ride does this. It all began with a nice jaunt through the John Hogan Rainforest. I really love coming down here, especially as it always seems to be a little cooler than the coast.



Of course, next came even more climbing. I was, however, surprised to see a warning sign of a 20% gradient on one of the descents, I know from having climbed it that it's simply not the case. The scenery down here is of a consistently high level, rolling and green. The other noteworthy thing was finding 666 metres of climbing after cresting the Burringbar Range south of Murwillumbah.

After this I decided on a short detour to Ocean Shores. This was actually quite pleasant, even if it was a little further than I expected to get to the ocean. There is actually quite a pleasant view at the top of a steep climb on the way out of town. I expect this view will be built out before much longer, so perhaps this picture should be framed for now.



Of course, it wasn't long before the real reason for the ride, onto the Coolamon Road, through Mullumbimby, then entering the different world past the Crystal Castle, through Repentence Creek, Dunoon and The Channon. This area, with it's stunning forests and sweeping views is just magnificent. Of course, the climbing was accumulating, but I didn't really care at this point. It's worth it in this sort of scenery.



What did bother me a little was the heat, 36 degrees C in The Channon, 38 Degrees C in Nimbin (after yet another climb). Nimbin is often described as "nearly normal". It has quite a history with the hippie culture, as can be seen in the town's centre.



It has, however, been taken over by drug-dealers to a large extent these days, so much so that many of the hippies have moved out of the town into the surrounding hills. As a consequence, I pass straight through, bound for Stony Chute, and perhaps the roughest and most corrugated dirt road in Australia. At this point my speed ranged from 8km/h climbing to 11km/h descending. Not what I'd call fun. Still, the view at the top of the pass was quite rewarding.



I was taking in a lot of fluids now, I got some more at Wadeville before crossing the range into a steaming hot and gusting north-easterly wind. The descent into the Tweed Valley followed, more views of The Sphinx and Mt Burrell here, and finally some cooler temperatures.



Another food stop at Uki (I'd had one at Dunoon), and then the trek across to Stokers Siding to take the long way back to Murwillumbah. After handling the climb here better than I had expected, I decided to press on and attempt a double-century (322km/200 miles). The wind in the canefields of Murwillumbah blew like crazy, but I handled that, and the climb to Urliup comfortably enough, and with a muesli bar still in my pocket. Urliup was beautiful as usual, but now light was fading, largely as a consequence of the sun disappearing in the west.



No problem, I'd reach for my E6 headlight and navigate it. Problem: no light came on! I still had a back-up, but that would be useless out here. I sped through was was left of Urliup (a little faster that I perhaps would have liked), then slaughtered the climb of Bilambil. Now I was back in suburbia. Back among the morons, projectiles were thrown from several cars, and one idiot who just threw his ute (good job I still had the reflexes of a cat after 277km). There was also a decent headwind, but that was negotiated eventually. Interesting to note I did all the hilly parts with a tailwind, and all the flat parts with a headwind. I'm sure it would have been easier the other way around.

In the end it was 291km and 3,403 metres of climbing for the day. That's a lot, but such is life.

Why don't they get professionals for this?

This is a serious question about traffic "controllers" on the Gold Coast. This morning I'm happily riding to work when I get one of these ditch diggers holding up the stop sign. Of course, I stop and wait obediently, but there's quite a queue building up behind me, largely because this is happening during one of the peak commuting times. Well, eventually they finish whatever it was they were doing to the road (which was probably nothing, given the state of it hasn't changed in ten years), and our friend with the lollipop waves the traffic through.

Well, all the traffic except me. He actually expects me to stop and wait for everyone else, even though my place in the queue was at the front. The only problem is, I'm having none of it. I take off and go when my turn comes regardless. Of course, the lollipop guy is still there shouting expletives, but by now I don't care. Of course, I was through the "site" before the rest of the traffic had moved, and before the bigot's curses had finished, but this has never stopped the whiners before. I am offering no apology for this. I arrived first, I was at the front of the queue, in any other walk of life that means I go first. This was no different. I was not about to make myself late for work just to allow some small-minded moron to throw their prejudices into sharp relief.

To put it bluntly, I don't care if there are half a million people living here, the Gold Coast cannot call itself a "city" if it allows such small-minded bigots to hold positions of responsibility. That's right, responsibility. Directing traffic through or around a construction site is a job for professionals -- not whichever ditch digger happens to draw the shortest straw. If Main roads, GCCC or whomever is responsible intends to continue digging up the same roads week in week out (and the evidence here is that they do), they need to realise this.

For my part, I think I'll make the switch to Bundall Road a permanent one. It's the better option -- although the downside is that I don't get to ride alongside the ocean anymore -- but it's pretty uninspiring in Surfers, surrouned by high-rises as it is. It's interesting to note just how much more orderly Bundall Road is compared to Surfers, considering that it carries probably 4-5 times the traffic volume. It also appears to require a lot less "maintenance" too -- despite the greater traffic volume. Funny that.

Creating the future with tunnel vision

That was the slogan on a billboard used to promote some theatre production in Southport recently. Of course, a few miles north in Brisbane, it's coming true in a literal way. For a long time they've tried to solve the traffic problems by simply building more roads. Of course, this doesn't work because everything else has to be built further apart to make space for them, hence increasing the amount of moving around people have to do. It does, however, win a few votes in the short term, so it's usually the option chosen.

Well, in the centre of Brisbane they're running out of space to do this, so the option is now to try and build tunnels under the city. Now what are they going to do when these become gridlocked (which should take about two years if we're conservative about it)? Better yet, let's build a new road, but charge a toll to dissuade anyone from using it. So now we'll have everyone using the other roads to try and avoid the toll, and wondering why they're still gridlocked, in view of the fact that there's now a very expensive tunnel -- even though nobody wants to pay the toll.

Makes me even gladder to be a cyclist. Forget about the self-righteous attitudes about "contributing to the problem" or whatever, I'm just glad I'm still immune to traffic jams. Now headwinds on the other hand...