At dinner on Saturday night, particularly as the night wore on, the die-hard rugby supporters in our midst made plans to rise early and watch the 5am replay, with Jeff’s apartment the chosen spot. I wasn’t drinking too much, and did wonder whether the plans of those more inebriated than me may prove overly optimistic, particularly as 5am got closer and the party continued.
Craig even stocked up on breakfast supplies for the occasion, supplies, like the good intentions of the not so hardy, proved overly optimistic, and a bonus for the cleaners. That being said, most of us were up before dawn, some watching all or part of the historic win against the deserving Springboks, others just early risers opting for a walk around Russell looking for an early opening breakfast spot, but alas, that other a few hopeful fishermen loitering on the wharf waiting for their charter, and those staff cranking up The Duke, there was little activity about town. Not to worry – we followed the example of a large contingent of cast and crew of a reality tv show, and lined up for the breakfast buffet at The Duke which did the trick, particularly those who were quietly trying to reconcile the way they felt and last night’s exuberance as the night wore on, when feeling bullet proof I was reminded at what a small world we live in when I recognised the receptionist at the hotel as Christine, a dear friend from long ago (Linda’s best friend from school) – delightful. Fed, boisterous and ready to roll, we departed half an hour early, ready to tackle the challenge of the Old Russell Road, extremely windy and technical, complete with sun strike, errant cyclists, the possibility of wandering stock and a treacherous median strip of super slippery green moss on those damp corners that rarely see the sun – exciting stuff. In deference to the magnificent scenery and so as not to put too much pressure on those towards the back of the pack, today was a “touring stage”. The 75kms to the main road is probably as challenging as anything the average rider would encounter anywhere, and most of our crew were pleased to see the end of it, particularly those whose concentration may have been still slightly impaired after a hard night, those whose tyres were due for replacement, or whose technical skills were a little rusty. A stop for coffee at the Helena Bay Gallery, handshakes and farewell man hugs, then the final leg straight down SH1, with riders peeling off at their appropriate exit. Rusty Nuts 2018 was voted a hit – some of the best riding ever, great accommodation, great food, great mates…. Comments are closed.
|
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
|