Clocking up the k's

Another public holiday, another bike ride! We set off from home, rode into the city, then took the Bay West rail trail all the way to lovely Port Melbourne:

Rump report: Oh, I could do this alllllll day! Easy peasy!

From Port Melbourne we rode along the aptly named Beach Street until we hit St Kilda. It was getting a wee bit hot by this stage, and the roller bladers were beginning to shit me with their sticky out leg action, and my tummy was protesting that it had been a while since brekkie, so we turned around and trundled into South Melbourne for a nice pub lunch.

Rump report: Hmmm. Maybe those sheep skin seat covers aren't such a bad idea after all. Not that I'm complaining, oh no. I'm a tough rump! I'm not saying, I'm just saying, you know?

After lunch we skedaddled back into the city, via the tram deport (Grumbles: Look! Another tram! Look! Another tram! Look! and so on and so on), dodged and weaved amongst all the sight see-ers poking around the casino, and then stopped for a little breather.


Rump report: I can't decide if I'm feeling tender or sore. How many ks have we done so far? And how far to home? And why is Grumbles suddenly in charge of the map? If she gets her way, we'll have to turn back and look at those damn trams again. I'm not sure how many more trams I can take!

After that we were homeward bound. Foolishly we decided to ride along Swanston St, and I can now inform you from my own terrifying experience that getting stuck between a tram and a horse drawn carriage is no.fun.at.all. In fact, it's downright scary.

And the headwind! Why does the wind always seem to pick up on the home stretch? Gah, it was a killer! And uphill most of the way! When we got home I just collapsed on the bed, too tired to even take my helmet off.

And the rump? ARRRRGGGGHHHHHH, the AGONY!