Time:                   Sunday night. I’m totally stuffed.    Feeling mellow after a tub and a vino."

Widget's look-back at Sat 14 July, Bike North's Four Bridges ride – 45km

Never let it be said footpaths & cycle paths are for wimps.  You have no idea how aggressive some of these pedestrians are.  They wander around, Willy Nilly, with no thought for safety of passing cyclists to say nothing of the delays they cause when Prudent Pushies mow 'em over.  It’s bad enough having to de-grease one’s bike prior to next ride, without extra messy scraping bloodied patches of skin off one’s tyres.  “Keep pedestrians off footpaths I say!”

This is a day when too many bridges are barely enough!  We ride Gladesville Bridge, Iron Cove Bridge, ANZAC Bridge and the Harbour Bridge.  Truly scenic and everything sparkling (especially all the broken glass scattered around).  Many more hazards to face but we’re all up-to-the-task and make it in one piece to first coffee stop at Cammeray – alfresco dining at it’s grandest.  Great fun stampeding through city (safety in numbers) and feeling part of either a Critical Mass or an impromptu RTA Big Ride.

Last coffee stop at Concord - one of best I’ve ever had privilege of parking my pushie ‘n pigging out.  11/10 for patisserie, coffee and happy hospitable vendors, Mario & Grace.

A girlie rap-up of Sunday 15 July – “Patonga Ferry Boat – Pearl Beach lunch – Iron Horse to Brooklyn” – 99.8km

Whew! 1^st hill of day a real killer.  Why do others make it look so easy – especially that Bloke Brian - seemingly still in overdrive from injecting left-overs that Team Festina had to jettison super-fast from that ill-fated Tour.

Nice surprise seeing all the gang already at the Brooklyn Marina, especially the girls, Helga, Annie Oakley and Jo.  (Yes! Yes! Yes! to Girl Power).  Coffees are a bit slow and Johnston is having a panic attack, ‘cos the ferry is due to go soon.

Papa Bear is persuaded to come along for the boat ride despite his stertorous protestations about having to get home to mow the weeds.  We skull our drinks and make our way over to dockside.  Pacific Pete has lost his sunnies so goes back to look for them.  No joy.  

Blonde Bombshell accepts challenge to negotiate/broker a cut off official $10 ferry fare for our sea-crossing to Patonga which Helga does admirably (‘scuse the pun).  This was no easy task seeing as how The FerryMan figures he has a captive audience, what with 12 cyclists lined-up adjacent to his ferry, knowing that it’s a long ride to Patonga via road.  It could have been put-up ($10) or shut up.  But Helga wore him down and we all saved two bucks.

On ferry Pete’s lost Sunnies are found when Brian discovers he is wearing two pairs.  At least he owned up (after Pete proclaimed them as ‘cheap ’n nasties’ found on the road one day).

Great mad dash up hill from Patonga Beach.  Jo and ToothFairy passing me easily (bitches!).  Everyone else out front also.  It’s very hard.  Now on the descent to Pearl Beach, fantastic - that hill climb really wasn’t so bad after all.  “Looking forward to lunch…..” 

Alas, me hears that it’s just been decided that the ones who started from Turra’ should forego lunch, otherwise they’ll miss PJ's scheduled first train back from Woy Woy and then would have to ride home in dark.  Not fair…. but I pop around to corner store and buy more food and hot chips.  Stand outside restaurant feeding chums through open window – actually a break in the lattice fence.  Reminds me of feeding time at zoo.  Other patrons find it amusing, must think us uncouth. 

More sculling of coffee before ToothFairy, Arrogant Bastard, NoPlay, Jo, myself & Whippet say our cheerio’s (Andrew not caring two hoots about missing train as long as he doesn’t miss lunch.  Even muttering stuff about cracking a few vinos and settling in.)  Me muses that our Andy will fit in well on Muggaccinos’ long w’end sorties where Muggs train for months in preparation for arduous restauranting the nights away in between day rides.  Big mad dash to get to Woy Woy to catch Iron Horse in time, but in true Muggs fashion decide (thanks to ToothFairy) to do back-street sightseeing of Pearl Beach first.  Who missed the Dead End sign at the start of that "going nowhere" street?  Thank goodness someone eventually knows the right route.  Another stinker of a hill and there goes Jo on her heavy clunker and ToothFairy again!  “Those bitches really are bitches!”

Find out Jo teaches indoor spin classes and goes mountain biking with her hubby in her spare time – no wonder she’s so fit.  Could also account for those scars on her left knee.  Remembered that I did a couple of those spin classes once and recollect them being bloody dangerous - rather take my chances on the highway any day!

After all that racing we arrive in time only to discover our train is running ten mins late.  Drat!

Before we know it we’re back at the Hawkesbury, but where is ToothFairy?  Turns out hubby ‘phoned telling her to Hi Tail it home, ‘cause it was party-time at the Collins zoo.  Jo also said her farewells, leaving four of us to climb Brooklyn to the pie shop.  Whippet excelled himself even more on that ascent by staying in third gear entire time, steadfastly refusing to be passed by fresh-faced lad who literally freaked past rest of us, as though we were standing still.

Thank goodness, no rush - we don’t have to skull our coffee, our quaff our pies, but we do anyway, ‘cos what with missing out on vitals at Pearl Beach, we’s was starving.

Peter eats his apple pie first, then the meat one.  “Shouldn’t it be other way round?”  No, he said, has read that if eat apple first before meat, fat will be dissolved.  Not sure about involvement of pastry though, but a positive spin nonetheless.

Time to go, but Johnston not happy Whingeing ‘n Whining that at 3:30pm we had a third of our ride still to get done.  Johnston ain’t one to contend that “the glass is half full or half empty”, rather that “the glass wasn’t big enough.”  But when it comes to rides, we apparently “all dally too much” and get behind his grueling time schedule.  Who gives a hoot?  We’re only trying to have a bit of fun on a lazy Sunday!

Rolling out of PitS, I notice upon a Wobbly Wheel, darn there's a flat under my front fork.  Bank Teller thinks I am nuisance.  Brian takes over, and by gum, has tube in and out (or is it other way around?) before you could say Jack Flash.

We say goodbye to Yamaha who, with the sun's warmth rapidly expiring, had finally succumbed to putting on a second layer when the rest of us had been snug all day.  It’s "All Ahead Full" for the last leg of the day.  Albeit a long one and another hill out of BH, but we make it.

Have realised that I’m only girl to have gone all the way.  (Heard said that only ugly girls do that – huh, just silly sexist remark).

No guesses for who gets KOM on 5 out of 5 hills with an ave of 24.8km p/h.  And what does Whippet get for his troubles, apart from dubious glory?  To ride home with No ticket to Ryde in the encroaching dark.

Another excitement-filled day all done.  Where else could one have so much fun on two wheels?

The Second Wave – scribbled by Annie Get Your Gun!

Not all of last Sunday’s contingent high-tailed it to Woy Woy in pursuit of a scheduled Old Rattler.  Some of us were taken by the friendly surrounds and waft of delectable meals on the adjoining tables in the Sit 'n Chat Café and passed on the "quick vamoose" option, to scarper off for a train when there were lots more of ‘em.  Hence, a party of serious epicureans (Papa Bear, Dieter, Helga, Annie, Pacific Pete and NewChum, Andrew) acquiesced to Andy's suggestion and settled in for a proper luncheon with all the trimmings, daring the adorning sun not to go down.  We ate in style, sampling an array of fine fare and live sax, and were well-rewarded.  Top marks went to Eric’s Spaghetti Marinara, with three pumpkin soups a close second.

Alas, as the afternoon unfurled we eventually tore ourselves away from the good-life to pedal an arduous nine km up a precipitous hill to our scheduled Iron Horse at Woy Woy.  Upon arrival consensus had it that we “hang the train”, whereupon Dieter and Helga escorted us to another great café, where we sat under a marquee and enjoyed the sunshine, river view, and more stimulating conversation (which had tapered-off going up "that hill" from Pearl Beach).

The further train was scheduled for 2.27pm, and we made sure we arrived at the station in ample time.  Alas, it wasn’t meant to be an early finish to our day, as we heard an announcement that the train was running 15 minutes late.  All was not lost as we sat in more sunshine overlooking the Hawkesbury, which truly sparkled on a pleasant Winter arvo.

The Iron Horse finally arrived, and Peter demonstrated "bike hanging acumen" or was it "hooking skills".  Upon which we enjoyed a short sortie to Hawkesbury River station where we kicked-around the pros ‘n cons of whether to get off there (for the benefit of the sordid craniums, make that “disembark”), or to continue on to Hornsby.  After all the deliberations and argy bargy vis-a-vis staying on/getting off, it was a grand sight when all six crew, one-for-all and all-for-one, opted to de-train at Brooklyn and put in a few extra uphill yards.  But still unsure whether we were all conchie, or just afraid to be the first to pike-out from a challenge.