Muggaccinos Pedlars Sunday Cyclists - The Bullsheet

Sunday, 15 July, Ferry Boat to Patonga, Pearl Beach lunch & Iron Horse from Woy Woy -  between 46 & 102km

Ride Leaders:

*    Phil J.            9498.3684 hm or 9312.3319 wk

*    Brian Willis    9807.6439 hm

Hardcopy these instructions and bring on Sunday

Due to 11am ferry, we depart 1st cycle leg -

(i)              from Turramurra [42km] car park [N/E side of station in Rohini St] at 8:40am; or

(ii)            Hornsby station car-park [100 metres nth of Railway Hotel in Jersey St] [27km] at 9:25am,

to arrive at Red Herring, Brooklyn Pier by 10:30am for 1st Nosh Stop (30min) to catch 11am ferry to Patonga (ride + bike $10 - they let us on for $8 last time.)

After 35 min crossing the delightful/majestic/blue Brooklyn Waters at 11:40am we commence 2nd cycle leg [9km] scaling Patonga Rd, then descending Pearl Beach Drive for our 2nd Nosh Stop (40min) “luncheoning with the toffs” at splendid Pearl Beach.

At 12:50am we begin 3rd cycle leg [9km], climbing out of Pearl Beach and throw a R into Mt Ettalong Rd and descending for a glorious view of southern end of Umina Beach before proceeding to Ettalong, thence Woy Woy train station [$3 fare] at 1.27pm {or 2.27pm}.  We arrive Hawkesbury River station at 1:41pm {or 2.41pm} where we begin 4th cycle leg [8km], pedaling 4km out of Brooklyn and climbing another four clicks for 3rd Nosh Stop (20min) at Pie in the Sky from 2:15pm {or 3:15pm}.

Around 2:35pm {or 3:35pm} we commence 5th and final cycle leg [34km], a further:

a.              19km to Hornsby - ETR 3:15pm {4:15pm if we miss 1:27pm from Woy Woy}; or

b.              34km to Turra’, via Bobbin Head - ETR 4pm {5pm if miss 1:27pm from Woy Woy}.

If you commenced at Hornsby and take the train from Woy Woy back to Hornsby the ride is 46km “in toto”.

Following Sunday, 22 July, Quatre Montagnes

8:30am from Turra’ or 9:15pm from Hornsby with extra lumps along Somerville, Crosslands and Wylds Rd – 88km

Widget’s travails of Sunday, 8 July “Heatless ‘n Hapless in Hornsby” - Subtitled “Not Sleepless in Seattle”

On a morn' cold enough to freeze the nuts off a grey squirrel’s fruit platter, a lean, diehard contingent of riders mustered at Hornsby.  But where was everyone and more importantly where was our Fearful Ride Leader?

Concede ‘twas cold, real cold, with afternoon showers a possibility and there’d been a motza of sport on the box all w’end for the Norms ‘n Couch Spuds.  Some crew even attest to having a social life, but still no excuse to put in a No Show on a U2 inspired It's a Beautiful Day – albeit perhaps resembling Belfast in January.  Rumour had it that Johnston had attended a Spiffy Ball with BackPacker Bruce the evening before at one of the last bastions of toffsville, and being AWOL conjecture was abound that PJ might 've ‘got lucky’.

But Whippet (who had arrived courtesy of State Rail and grumbling about paying an increase of 10 cents on his $1 fare) had carted P.J’s heavy, circa 1950’s Sunbeam electric fry-pan, which being an old Sparkie he’d fixed.  Brian must've been a Chimney Sweep too, as with an Oxy Torch and Nitric Acid, he'd also cleaned off 30 years of PJ's grime.  And Whining Whippet didn’t relish lugging the Sunbeam back home on the Old Rattler.  Also, Widget’s trusty Volvo held an array of ladies underwear, which P.J. had importuned her to purchase for him "for Winter needs".

New Pedal Pal, Peter on his mountain bike, David aka "The Dart" (but more of that later) from Berowra, Tony McD aka The Publican, Widget and Whippet could Ponder no Longer, 'cos there were places to visit, people to see, whereupon, a blistering pace was soon set – (no) thanks to Brian, The Dart and Peter!

Passing The Pie Shop around 9:20am we were privileged with Pacific Pete's presence, having more trouble than ever with leaving his cozy bed these days.  Does he sleep thru his alarm or is he just adapting to his recent employer-induced status of Gentleman of Leisure and Lay-ins?

Pacific soon struck-up a good pace with the ride leaders and after tackling that Cruel Climb from the Hawkesbury, we were all reunited at our designated 1st Nosh Stop – the popular Pucker Tuckery at Mount White.  The sun had also put in a No Show with even the Bikies in their (much coveted) heavy leathers Shivering ‘n Quivering.  So how do you think that made us feel in our flimsy Lycra's?

Over hot drinks, Whippet bemused his buddies by divulging an old Willis family secret.  As Brian described, one of his ancestors had Royal Connections having rec'd Assisted Passage to Oz after she’d borrowed a few bob from poor old King George.  As we gleaned, Brian had recently written to The Palace asking for further details, but they'd fervently denied any connection to his allegation.  Seems archival dispatches relied upon by the Royal Henchman when responding to the Whippet's concerns, suggest the victim wasn’t King George, but some blighter called George King!  Brian wasn't convinced, but almost 200 years later, there ain't a lot Whippet can do about The Empire Writes Back version of events.

Heaven forbid, a 2nd Agenda Item.  Should we -

(a)             take the anti-clockwise route to Somersby as suggested by our absent Ride Leader, 

(b)             head-off for Soup of the Day at cozy Yarramalong Manor and catch the Old Rattler from Wyong; or

(c)              sneak home and report back that "we'd clocked up the miles".  

However, some of us already had long enough noses and there was always the chance that Arrogant Bastard might check on us, so we plumped for Brian's initial option to cycle the 52km loop backwards, back to where we were.  Looking back it doesn't make a lot of sense, but we were too numb to contemplate matters requiring logic, so we all followed Whippet like lemmings on the 52km loop, 'cause he appeared to know what he was talking about.

Another blistering pace was set and going anti-clockwise was fine up ‘till a point.  Point being the road looked different in reverse, whereupon we got confused.  Widget took the lead and the lads were happy to follow, confident in her inabilities to lead them astray.  Little did they know that once upon a time she’d unwittingly almost drove into the black township of Soweto at a circa when it was not politically or anyway correct.

Fortunately after the roller-coaster thru Mooney Mooney bridge, a left at Gizzaroll, another left twds Somersby Downs, we found our way to familiar surroundings at MidCoast Petroleum Peat’s Ridge where we fuelled-up on more tucker.  It was still “Chillsville” so we didn’t Linger Long, despite some of us (Widget and Tony M) gesturing for a Bigger Breather.  Apart from general concurrence that cycle paths are the way to go, we were soon Hot on the Trail!

Returning back to Mount White at 1:15pm, which was quickly turning into ‘Snow White’ as the degrees continued to plummet, we encountered Arrogant Bastard, shooting the breeze with another Bike Norther, Michael, who Hails from Woy Woy.  Apparently Bank Teller had been "scientific", deploying the cycle spreadsheet to some use by timing his ride from Hornsby to coincide with our return leg.  I knew we should have gone for “soup and damper” at Yarramalong!

With the taste of The Village Store's mediocre excuse for coffee still on our buds from last visit, we opted for a Sag Stop, thence continued twds PitS for fine Segafredo and Meat Pies with real meat, enjoyed at the apex of Brooklyn.  What a corker it turned out to be!  The sun came out in all its glory (perhaps an exaggeration as it glimmered thru the cloud) for the ride up the hill and the coffee/cake ChatFest in the alfresco setting was delightful - after two earlier frigid experiences, any improvement was welcomed.  'Twas the best part of the day and a pity to have to remount our chargers for the 4th and final time, but at least our batteries were re-charged for the final sortie back to our comfy motors.

On schedule approaching four bells, back at the Jalopies with the afternoon sun still shining, PJ regaled us with unfabricated tales of proceedings at the previous evening’s Ball of allegedly materially bereft, well-endowed young women that he encountered on the dance floor – reputedly “good sorts” with visibly pleasing assets (some of the more alluring bits even popping out as Ball Goers raged to a plethora of Latin Dance tunes).  Seems like the Old Fogy had a good time.

Q.          What do you call an Old Bloke with a penchant for admiring nubile young women?

A.         A paedoPhile.

We also learnt that ambidextrous Dirty Cheat has secured a berth in the 500 throng choir singing in British Lions' jerseys at next Sat's 3rd Rugby Test at Stadium Oz.  Fortunately having a voice wasn't a prerequisite for his admission and the Choirmaster provides the words to Land of Hope and Glory, Molly Malone, Skye Boat Song and Bread of Heaven, "but you got to hold the text where they can't be seen by the estimated 20 million viewing audience" back in the Old Dart”.  With Free Frosties and Gratis Grits, The Scribe warned he might again be a late starter - a blessing, 'cause congenial Whippet don't upset the apple cart and we still get there.

With The Dart having left the Peloton at Berowra, after comparing computers, Freshman Pete and Whippet shared the Yellow Jersey with an incredulous 24.8km ave, although consensus had it that The Dart would have bettered that by at least a km per hour.  Yours truly was pucker over my 23.1km over the arduous circuit.  However, alas it paled by comparison.  Tony, The Publican, mumbled some twaddle about looking in Bike North's cycle calendar for a 20km ride on flat ground for next Sunday, but we know he'll be back, 'cos he's a another masochist at heart.  After all, where also could a person have so much fun on a cold winter's day.

The Scribe  - 10 July 2001