A few days ago, I set out on what has become a common routine for me here in Canberra. It basically goes like this: head south on my bike while it is still dark, ride through the city dodging the glass and drunks at Civic, coast on the bridge over the lake to enjoy dawn over the water, ride under the Australian Parliament House, ride past the The Lodge (Prime Ministers House), eat a banana, and 45 minutes after departure arrive at the Bike Shed where at 6 am cyclists are swarming like Aussie flies.
On this morning it was the Hour of Power. Fast forward through some crazy hard riding and then we were at the coffee shop, which is actually the store front of a bike shop in this case. Then, I followed some guys on a trip they were referring to as “The Wet Lands.” We ended up riding on dirt, sand, chunks of pavement and then the bike path around the lake, all of which was an adventure in bike handling. I had my sights set on doing some climbing repeats, which would be a monumental effort given the thrashing my legs just received during the Hour of Power. I hadn’t chosen my mountain yet though. Read more
When I first arrived in Australia, I was expecting to come to some type of new and different place, but as I drove to Canberra I thought I was back in Texas again, where I lived for 3 years. For starters, the language barrier has been a bit difficult to overcome, but not as difficult as the language barrier in Texas. The landscape is surprisingly like Texas, which reminded me of northern California. So I guess this part of Australia reminds me of NoCal. But then again, while driving toward the Outback, the scenery change was reminding me of of the landscape transition from north Texas driving toward west Texas. So I guess Australia reminds me more of WesTex. But then again, Canberra reminds me of another capital I’m familiar with, Boise. It has a similar population and a similar climate with heaps of rednecks (er…bushmen) drivers that barrel by you at high speed, which reminds me of drivers in Texas and California. Plus, the roads are littered with trash, glass, and odd debris, which reminds me of Boise, Texas, and California. My increasingly obvious point is that I have come to a vacation (err. . .”holiday”) place that reminds me of back home in The States, except that it is a bizarro world. I’ll explain.
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