You'll remember this when the south wind stirrs
Upon the fields of barley
You'll remember the sun in an azure sky
When we rode in fields of gold
When we rode in fields of gold
When we rode in fields of gold

Greetings All

You must be wondering "Fields of Gold? What the heck is he talking about - well not much really - it is mainly in reference to my continuing infatuation with Eva Cassidy who is singing this in the background.... I have to anchor this story against something

( It is serendipitously also Serges favourite song [the Sting version] )

Distance : 118 km
Average speed : 27.6
Average heart rate : 132
Maximum speed : 75.1 (Oliver's)
Maximum heart rate : 163
Time taken : 4h 15min

AN ASIDE ...THE RIDE

A serene dawn greeted seven hearty souls today. Serge, Kiwi and Waz led out from the concourse. On time and in accordance with the plan, we rode synchronously with Trevsy, Perce and Co down to Mordy before passing on to Mornington. Ray joined the merry group at Mentone, Denis at Parkdale, PB near Carrum and finally John at Mt Eliza. A model of corporate governance, we glissaded down hill and dale of the bayside. The golden sun sparkling on aquamarine waters. A brief thought for our comrades toiling in darkened rooms with wheezing air cons, and then back onto the vista that is, was, and hopefully will once again herald the onset of an elusive Melburnian summer.

There were some early swoops and leisurely attacks to be first over the rise and then we were turning into Mornington main street. 10 minutes to late (or cappuccino) opening so we idly amused ourselves surveying the hardware down at the harbour. Then back up for coffee, muffins and pancakes with syrup. Newspapers were purchased and matters of state discussed. The cruisy vision splendid was being realised.

After some who what and wherefore on the Arthur's Seat route, we eased off and did some more gentle roller coasters to Dromana. At this stage the clouds had receded and a gentle southerly had stirred. All boded well for a wind assisted push back to base camp.

I cant be sure but there may have been some hammering up The Seat. But for 4 of us, we had a coupla stops to take some pictures and absorb the views. Before we became aware, cognisant and the like, it was the top. And all without having to take off our wind vests !!

Some more visual recording coupled with hearty self congratulation (surely the first white people to conquer this peak ?) and then off in search of the Nepean highway.

The record shows we had to brush off some large trucks and mobile armoured troop carriers in our relentless search for domination of the centre line, but hey, we're The Bandidos, people expect that of us. You cant have the spots without being the leopard..... Im sure their next of kin will sympathise.

A dance up Balcombe Hill and we were back in food land. I think. I must admit I started daydreaming but Im sure that's what happened. Too much of a good thing tends to have a narcotic effect. Or is it the other way around? No matter, we'll take it anyway we can get it.

If we were restrained at the first pit stop, we laid misgivings to rest and led out the rest of the restaurant dwellers in what can only be described as a gastronomic peloton of titanic proportions.... There was the poppy seed with orange icing, the sienna chocblocco or something (choc and nuts), the pecan and carrot pie, the vanilla slice and the mandatory muffins ( apple and date, youngberry ) ...And all sluiced down with their highest octane coffee.

From there it was all downhill, mostly with some help from the rear from a gentle southerly.

Truly the Gods had smiled upon us on a day of many golden vistas.

JR

Phew, with a nickname like "JR" one comes to a contest like this with a big reputation for sadism and thuggery .... I well recall my previous MHR when he dotted out going up Arthur's Seat and then repeated attacks up every hill with a road on it. Even if it wasn't on our route. Even if there wasn't a road.... "Hill....enemy...destroy" and off he would leap ...over ditches and sometimes surmounting trees and large houses in pursuit of a peak. Any peak. Well ... perhaps I exaggerate but my point is that he is ferocious in the presence of a gradient.

However, today I can report he was calm and measured. Made mention of his principle that today was a holiday and hence some rest would be in order. It took a few hills and dales for me to digest such a momentous statement. I felt he was showing his calmer, more feminine side. Perhaps it was those yellow tinted glasses. Its strange what a pair of trendy sunglasses will do to a man. Ask Ricardo. You try it. I wouldn't dare.

SERGE

When I got to the concourse start on the dot of sparrows fart, I saw young Mick waiting opposite on Reserve road.... Mick? cant be - no emails from the executive team member - maybe he's got a puncture - perhaps he got lost looking for the coffee grinder ? No - he was in. "Why don't we cruise on down and meet up with the Mordialloc crew?" I was stunned. Courage, Grace, and Ideas. All in one sentence without blinking an eye. Recovering as quickly as I could, I joined him in step and pondered the question that had to be asked....

"Ever done Arthur's Seat before mate?"

"Nope"

"Thinking of doing it today perhaps?"

"Is that where we're going?"

"Yep, what have you got on the back cluster?"

"Excuse me?

"Sorry, your gears, what's the biggest cog on it?

"Dunno"

"Hmmm OK" ...another stunned silence ...not the answers one expects from a Bandido elder and statesman

Well I could go on - but this is supposed to be a short script - so suffice to say, after much tutoring, mentoring and physiological toughening up, discussion of concepts like "riding tempo" so on and so forth etc etc - we go under that last highway bridge and ...zing !!... he just disappeared up the road like a scalded cat - I meant to say - take it easy until you get to the bottom cable car station but he was gone. What is it with these exec types - you try and give them solid advice and tutoring ...and ... poof...out the window it all goes and you're left alone in B grade as they sail off to victory covered in silverware

Needless to say Mick was unrelenting all the way back to Mornington. But then drifted back to us backmarkers after the slabs of coffee and vanilla slice gave him a bit of a digestive handicap.

CECIL B DE MAHONEY

Denis has become something of an institution in the MHR series. A veteran of many such rides, he always has something unique on offer. No gymnastics and display of balancing tricks or monos were advertised. Today was reserved for a surprise. Cec' informed me beforehand - sotto voce - that I would be in for something new. My mind immediately sprung to something large hanging between 2 wheels - I know what you're thinking - don't go there - but he quickly pulled me up (steady...) and affirmed that it wasn't that big a surprise, but nevertheless I was challenged to be surprised all the same.

I did feel somewhat apprehensive as he hove into view - but the change was obvious. Now, I shouldn't steal the mans thunder but his head appeared to be on fire. I wont say any more. But there's a clue in there somewhere.

Anyway the human torch's constant banter kept us entertained throughout the ride. And of course... for those who have never ridden with Denis in the hills, he is a one man comedy show with that microscopic 19 tooth cluster in the back. I thought his knees would snap going up "The Seat" . But no. None of this pausing for the view or acceding to happy snaps with a panorama of the bay. It was solid, leg trembling, grunt work all the way up to the top. I wanted to tell him about the inner ring on the front chain ringset but that would have been too sporting... So how are those legs Denis ?

DON CARDOSI

"The Don" for those not in the know, is a veteran of cycling. A been there done that of great proportions and multi dimensions. None of this I've always wanted to wear lycra in public, why don't I buy a bike. Not this man. The eyes that peer impenetrably through the forest of his moustache have seen many battles. When the lights go red at crossings he refuses to dismount but hangs there in defiance of at least 3 of Newtons laws. Only true veterans can do that. He also has minimal teeth "at the back" . Like a veteran. In his prime he only needed an 18 and would take on any hill. Whilst racing. Only a veteran does those sort of things. I felt like dismounting and crawling inside a storm drain in my shame. I fervently hoped that I looked the part and wouldn't look to much like a stuffed lycra wannabe.

At the start, we caught sight of The Don thundering down from Mordy. He pulled what I can only crudely describe as a Ewey and proceeded to cruise alongside of us. Occasionally resting a hand on the handlebar when not sitting bolt upright against the wind. Hence giving himself sufficient wind resistance and reminding his heart it wasn't still in bed.

The Don amused himself throughout the ride by trying to find that gear that would be almost impossible to rotate and hence push that pain barrier up another few notches. One could only watch with mute admiration.

When at rest The Don was able to recount to further speechless horror, the length and depth of the IT layoff. My fingers are still trembling. I better finish this tonight - this laptop may belong to someone else tomorrow...

KIWI

Young Davo is a newbie to the MHR subkultcha I suspect. But definitely a bonus. A man of great athletic ability. He confided im me that he was once called up for a doping test. What fame !! To actually be considered of high enough calibre to be a contender worthy of being taken seriously !! Quite beyond my ken. A winner of the polka dots, he would also have the capability to entertain the punisher of mountains. And so he did. There were many incidents of them disappearing into the distance happily chatting quite unaware that other mortals are unable to respire at such alveoli blistering rates. But that is the way with legends. High up there. Clouds all around you. A whole lot of fuss below them that they are blissfully unaware of.

Kiwi is owner of the probably the two lightest frames in the Bandidos ( one is a small size Giant Carbon TCR0 ) this man seems to float down the road his legs a blur of high cadence activity.

Especially noteworthy was his sleeveless bike top, a summer fashion statement if ever there was, belying also the 11 point 6 degrees of Celsius at start of proceedings

Even more noteworthy was his pulling us all the way back from Carrum. Dave we salute you.

THE PUNISHER

There was some degree of trepidation when PB announced that his decision to join us would be in the affirmative. At approx 120km the Arthur's Seat ride is a bit of a doddle for our mountain machiavelli. Consequentially PB puts some spice into these affairs by riding to and from Pearcedale to meet us. For people living in the bayside and who are not aware, Pearcedale is not very far from NSW. So we are talking substantial km.

Hence for a man in search of "some spicy riding" , what would a ride proclaiming to be "laid back" be able to provide?

I tried to talk it up a bit, but was repeatedly checkmated by "so what do we do then?" , or, "and after that, where do we go?" And then came the proposals from his side of the table..."why not go past the abattoir", or, "we could loop past Pearcedale" . It was all rather intimidating and I started developing a nervous tic in my left eye. He thought I was getting fresh with him and fortunately shut up soon thereafter.

Luckily Kiwi was able to provide him with much needed spice and he maintained consciousness for most of the ride.

A postscript in fairness to the man. I have accompanied PB on many rides, and (with the one exception of the infamous Benalla incident) never never has PB been so restrained. Was happy to accept riding at 30kmph and below. Hung back on most of the hills and only reacted after repeated attacks from our man from the long white cloud. You should have been there to see it. You may never see it again.

WAZZA

The scribe was wholly, completely and utterly satisfied with the ride. First there was the vision. Then came the affirmation from the fellow brave souls. And then came the weather report. Then at the break of dawn, the wind was calm. Then was the food both tasty and plentiful. And then on third hour the skies turned blue and the wind freshened to a southerly. The scribe looked upon all of these. And it was good. And he offered up his heartfelt appreciation of good fortune. Punctures were absent. Offs had a holiday. How many good things can a man have? All whilst riding in fields of gold.