Stay Dry While Riding 14/08/22

"I've got a party in Camperdown," said BD.

"I've got an old friend in Warrnambool!" exclaimed Roger.

"Let's go for a road trip!" they harmonised, and off they went without a backward glance, leaving me on my ownsome to do dog duty.

I woke the dogs up early for a quick walk, and then I packed my bike and caught the train to Caulfield and the start of the Djeering Trail.  The Djeering Trail followed the train line all the way to Yarraman Station, with minor hiccups where it abruptly changed sides and names just to stop me from going to sleep.

Let's go!

 

The riding was of a civilised nature: flat and congenial with regular collections of convenient coffee shops and elevated railways which provided shelter from the rain.

I pedaled through graffiti gullies,

and past the rusty remnants of industry.

Rain started to fall. My raincoat kept me dry on the outside and hot and sweaty on the inside, so I took it off and rode in the rain which was very comfortable until I stopped and discovered how cold it was. I solved the problem by stuffing my raincoat in my pannier and keeping moving.

I zoomed along congratulating myself on my awesome cycling speed until I came to the end of the Djeering trail, turned right along Mile Creek, and discovered that my awesome speed was really due to an awesome tailwind which had just become a definitely not quite so awesome side/head wind.  I had also left my comfortable suburban cycling behind and was in faux countryside, pedaling through a bubble of greenery squashed between the creek and the M3. There was not a coffee shop in sight.

Wishful thinking.

I'm in the country now...

kinda,

sorta... in the country(ish).

 

Before long the path swung into the wind to follow Dandenong Creek and the protective trees impolitely disappeared, as did the nice hard surface. I rode on squashy gravel past exciting things like water treatment plants, and found lots of reasons for photos (aka rest breaks) which had nothing to do with the not awesome at all wind.

I found an ibis rookery,

squelched along on soggy gravel,

and took an interesting bridge over a channel of dubious origin, but very close to the water treatment works.

The open reaches of Dandenong Creek gave no protection from the wind.

 The appearance of marinas and fancy canal estates alerted me to the sea, where I finally turned my back on the wind and about time too because my legs were tired and it was raining harder and I was cold.

Marina to the left, creek to the right, sea straight ahead.

Dandenong Creek mouth,

with the city far away.

 

I could have jumped on a train there and then, but I was only three stops from the end of the Frankston line so I put my soggy head down and squelched to the end.  Except it wasn't really the end, but that is a tale for later telling. The bike path finished with a complicated Georgian knot involving a ramp, a subway, a flight of stairs and a lift which eventually spat me out on the correct platform in time to board my train.  Here I discovered that I was wetter than originally thought, and there was nowhere in the train that could escape the breeze of the air conditioning.  Using physical exertion to stay warm was not an option on the train so I froze all the way home.

It was still raining outside.

 

The dogs had been deprived of human company while I was out, and their little pea brains had totally forgotten their morning walk.  They spent the evening watching me closely, leaping up in paroxysms of excitement whenever I moved, and casting themselves against the door in anticipation of an outing which was never going to happen. Instead I tortured them by sitting on the couch to eat my well earned dinner while they slavered and told me pathetic and very untrue tales of canine starvation until I turned out the lights and went to bed.