Type 2 Fun.

I stopped half way up Topps Hill Road, gasping for breath and reconsidering my life choices. A lazy wind went through me instead of around, with occasional needles of rain for extra stimulation. "Why do I do this to myself?" I asked.

I was having Type 2 Fun, which is the kind of fun that isn't fun while you do it but is heaps of fun to talk about afterwards.

My type 2 fun started easily enough on the trail to McLaren Flat, but I was soon working hard on the long uphill to Kangarilla, dodging trucks along the way. I stopped to talk to a Belted Galloway bull but he wasn't particularly pleased to see me, so I didn't stay long.

Smart outfit.  Shame about the attitude.

And then I came to Toops Hill Road, and started my type 2 fun.

Up.

I took lots of photo breaks as I slowly pushed my bicycle up the hill. Nothing to do with the steepness of Toops Hill, of course, just my natural desire to appreciate the view that gradually unfolded as I gained altitude.

I could see down McLaren valley all the way to the sea, and I was only half way up.

All of McLaren Vale spread out, slightly rumpled like an unmade bed. Grape vines marched in tidy rows, stitched together by lines of trees. Away in the distance sunlight peeked through the clouds and danced across the hills of the Fleurieu.

 

In between photo breaks I put one foot in front of the other and kept breathing. A Coles home delivery truck ground past, destroying my wilderness illusions as I smartened up and tried to look like someone who was taking a quick breather whilst blithely pedaling up the hill.

Type 2 fun ended at the top and I got back to good old gravity-assisted bicycling, aka Type 1 fun.

Sign for the Willunga Basin Trail.  It's a walking trail but large sections of it are suitable for cyclists and even more of it if you're willing to walk and push your bike for a bit.

I followed Range Road, bouncing along the top of the ridge with a gentle downhill trend. The wind strengthened, the rain needles got sharper. I stopped to put a fleece on under my rain jacket: I haven't needed to do that for a long time.

Pictures of hills I didn't climb. 

 

Up on the top of the ridge vineyards were interspersed with grazing, and grass trees flourished in the road reserve. South Australia calls its grass trees Yaccas, a name most likely derived from a South Australian Indigenous language.

 

Grass trees and grape vines.

Tree tunnels.

At the top of Willunga Hill I watched all the traffic zooming down Old Willunga Road and had scary imaginings of myself zooming down with them and not enough road for all of us to fit. I decided to go down the walking trail between the old road and the even busier new road.  While this sounded good in theory it was in reality all upsy downsy with slippery gravel, tight corners, and a whole heap of useful gravity just going to waste.  There were occasional nice views over the valley, but mostly it was just trees, the roar of traffic, and glimpses of the wiggly road down which I could have been zooming.

 

That would be fun.  Scary, but fun.

 

I found a lookout with long views down the Fleurieu, where I sat and thought about my life choices a bit more, and decided that I had done enough walking uphill on Toops Road and it was silly to walk downhill as well, wasting all that perfectly good gravity.

At the next available opportunity I tossed out my caution, zipped up my rain jacket to protect me against the wind, and threw myself and my bike onto the mercy of gravity.  Barely 5 minutes later I arrived in the main street of Willunga, eyes and nose streaming in the cold, face frozen in a rictus of exhilarated terror, brakes (thankfully) still working. I floated home along the Coast to Vines on a glowing cloud of post-adrenaline endorphins.

 

And then I had to help Roger find an op shop jacket for an upcoming event, so that brought me down to earth with a bump.

And then I made a cup of tea, and sat down to enjoy my Type 2 fun.