Amy Gillett Bikeway

We were lying in bed reading in the morning and the house went Bang!

"What was that?" We said, and blamed the cat, trucks, or a freight train. Then Roger's phone dinged and told him we'd just felt an earthquake. Apparently they happen regularly (as in once every 5ish years) in the Adelaide Hills and we were quite excited to have experienced the best (ie one that doesn't cause any damage) kind of earthquake to have.

Leaving aside considerations of the shaking earth, the Adelaide Fringe Festival is on with multiple events happening until the 20th, and so far we've gone to 3D swings (boring, don't waste your money) and a concert at the Norwood Town Hall (worth it) where we discovered that we are getting old because we thought that 2pm was absolutely the best time time of day to go to a concert.

Fusion Pops Orchestra, in case you're wondering.  In the grand entry foyer of the Norton Town Hall.  Note the beautiful pressed tin ceiling,

and the patterned skylights.

 

Norwood is an upper crust part of Adelaide so after our concert we wandered up and down the main Street, which had an abundance of big trees and expensive shops.   Then we went home where the cat greeted us with disdain, as she does when we have not given her the attention she feels she is owed.

The next day we packed our bikes onto the top of the car and headed out for a Fringe bike ride; a tour up the Amy Gillett bikeway and back again, with stops for entertainment along the way.  We  drove all the way up the winding narrow road beside Belair NP.

"Did I remember everything?" Roger asked himself. "Gloves, bike, handlebar bag, helmet... Yep."

"Oops!" said numpty me.

We drove all the way back down the narrow winding road beside Belair NP, collected the helmet, and set off again. This caused us to be late but that didn't matter because in South Australia nothing happens until the afternoon anyway.  We were Queensland 'late' at 1100, and things were barely getting started when we parked the car and hopped on our bikes.  We were 300m from the start of the trail but we both agreed it wasn't necessary to start from the absolute beginning and neither of us was compulsive particular enough that we absolutely had to ride the whole trail from beginning to end, and a spare 300m or so wouldn't matter.

We ignored the pesky first 300m and off we went up the bikeway.

 

There were roadside art installations, struggling to stay up in the stiff wind.

A cold wind blew us firmly up the hill to Mount Torrens. Along the way we stopped at the Woodside Foodland for snacks, and then we stopped 200m further at the Woodside BMX park where the party (and the porta potties) were. We wandered through the party, bought a sausage in bread from the Lions van, and wandered off again.

"My name is Barbara and I'm a volunteer with the event.  I'm in charge of rubbish bins.  The yellow lid is for recycling and the green lid is for garden waste.  There's a blue lid for rubbish.  The orange lid is for event waste.  I've got no idea what goes in the orange bin so I'm using that as my table."  I didn't tell her about the stickers on the orange lid.

 

There was a party in every town on the length of the Bikeway. We pedaled through pastoral paddocks, past gamboling calves and grand old gum trees, dodging speedy geriatrics on electric bikes, wobbly children on trainer wheels, and parents chasing said wobbly children who exhibited a surprising turn of speed when it was least expected. 

Never underestimate the power of a well-played ukelele.

The vineyards were still green, even if the wind was whispering of winter.

The wind may have whispered of winter but the country still smelt of summer: dry grass and hot eucalyptus.

I stopped to watch a baby starting to explore the world.

I am a member of the Tree Appreciation Society.

We stopped at all the parties and bought a sausage in bread from the Lions vans and by the time we got to Mount Torrens we were very tired of sausages and bought a coffee/iced chocolate instead.  

In Charleston we met a woman riding an emu,

and Roger was persuaded to say hello and pose for a photo.

Fuelled by iced coffee/chocolate we turned around and rode back down the hill, which was like riding on the flat because the head wind and gravity cancelled each other out.

Down we go then.

 

The parties were still going and a fresh clutch of children were wobbling up the hill. The morning's batch were on their way down again, tired tantrums starting to bubble to the surface and frazzled parents doing a great job of keeping everything rolling. The Lions vans were going strong but we didn't buy any more sausages. We stopped at the RAA van instead, where a very nice man pumped up our tyres. This made a great difference to our riding speed and was probably something we should have done at the beginning of the day rather than the end, but I never said we weren't numpties, did I?

Back at the car we kept right on pedaling because how is it possible to ride an entire Bikeway and not complete the last/first 300m? 

We went right to the end and back again.

I can't help it.  I have to go all the way to the end.

 

Well that was an anticlimax.

 

The cat met us at the door and made her displeasure at having been alone all day felt. Then she ignored us for the rest of the evening.

That's what cats do.

We ignored her right back, and went to bed.