Friday was followed by a Saturday of rushing around being domestic at one house, in preparation for the trip to t’other house, for more domestic duties later in the day = no ride Mr Legs and I have subverted the classic DINKs to DIDMs : dual income, dual mortgage (diddums cos the likes of us miss out on tax breaks – no kids for receiving new to school allowances, health care costs, baby bonuses, family allowances etc). Such is the way of the blended nuclear Gen X couple these days. Fortunately all this busyness allowed me some much needed recovery from the previous night. Sunday was a different story, and not long after we headed out into the Strzleckis, the wind picked up. And pick up it did – at one point coming down the Foster Rd hill (think 1: 20 but more open with drop offs either side, and steeper, in places) I was blown 1 metre into the middle of the road, and felt the wheels begin to ever so slightly lift from the bitumen – shades of the Flying Nun. I turned the front wheel back into the side wind, and rode directly into it, back to the left hand side of the road, and then pottered the remaining 4 or so km down the hill where we headed into the Morwell River valley for some shelter to finish off the ride. The wind knocked us both around so much that the proposed 100km turned into 70. The highlight of the ride was seeing a very newborn Angus calf – the herd was sheltering in a hollow on the hillside close to the road – still wet and not yet on its legs.
Monday was calmer, and we took a more sedate route after warming up along