On the Bikeway.

The Adelaide Fringe Festival, the second biggest arts festival in the world, was just about to finish up. We only got to two Fringe concerts this year: the Adelaide Wind Orchestra in a swanky private school auditorium with perfect acoustics, 

and the Fusion Pops Orchestra in the Norwood Concert hall which was a beautiful old hall with terrible acoustics.

We finished off our Fringe involvement by taking part in a bike ride along the Amu Gillett Bikeway with a few token art installations along the way to qualify it as a Fringe event.  The bikeway was built to honour the memory of Amy Gillett, a member of the Australian women’s cycling team who was killed whilst training in Germany in July 2005.  There are plans to extend the bikeway further but for the purposes of our ride we started a shade south of Woodside and rode 15km uphill to Mount Torrens and then turned around and rode back again.  None of it was new to us, having done the same Fringe ride last year.

We learnt our lesson last year though, and this time we didn't turn up at the crack of dawn, having learned that no one gets going before 1000 in South Australia.  In no time at all we were tootling off  along the pathway through dappled shade and sunshine, a gentle breeze at our backs and the smell of eucalyptus, cow manure, and grape vines in our nostrils. 

The very underwhelming start.

 No one starts at the start.  Everyone started 100m up the road, where there was parking and a very convenient and brand new bike repair station.  Not that I was smart enough to pump my tyres up at the bike repair station, choosing instead to pedal on flat tyres for 20km before I gave in and pumped them up.

Tree tunnels and shaded riding.

 

Grape vines marched over the hills, some still to be harvested and others showing just a touch of Autumn colours.  A lonely cabbage patch wilted between the vines and the dairy farms.

The trail was full of an eclectic mixture of cyclists and bicycles. The Lycra Lads were already returning to the start, having gotten out early so as not to be held up by kiddies on walking bikes and families with strollers.  Mums and Dads struggling to rein in the 10 yr olds who zoomed ahead while 3 year olds rattling gamely along on training wheels. A glorious variety of every type of bike rolled along; recumbents, tricycles, and various modes of electric propulsion which may have inspired me to jealous mutterings as I puffed up the gentle railway gradients.

Meet S, aboard the HMAS Tadpole on his maiden voyage.  "I used to ride a motorcycle," said S.  "Then I came off.  It wasn't very pretty.  This is much better."  And off she went.

At Woodside we met the Crazy Bikes.

 

 

 In Charleston we met an exotic and elegant emu.

Cheeky emu.

Meet Bessie and Charlie.  Much better behaved than our emu friend.

In Mount Torrens we refilled our water bottles and turned around, having run out of Bikeway and not being particularly inclined to partake of the limited range of snacks on offer.  The return journey was punctuated by children in meltdown. A little fellow sobbed and wailed while his father gamely reassured him that the top of the hill was "just up there!"

It was, too.

The downhill ride was very pleasant, assisted as it was by gravity.

There were flowers,

and opportunities for on-the-roll selfies.

I stopped to take photos of my favourite tree, which hadn't changed much since last year.

In Charleston we stopped to watch the Uraidla Concert Band, who had an impressive repertoire of bicycle-themed music.

Back in Woodside the party was nearly over and everyone was packing up to go home. A few children still cracked BMX loops, watched by weary parents. We passed a final meltdown: two small screaming people, four bicycles (two big, two small) and two frazzled parents trying gamely to control it all with far too few arms, all the while politely rejecting offers of help. We left them to it and went home to Big Fluff and The Cat, who demanded apologies and contrition for our heartless neglect.

I'll leave you with a quick drive-by of our friends the Adelaide Recumbent Riders, proudly proving that bicyclers come in all colours, shapes, and sizes.