Please read my Blackwood 1000 ride report here.
The blasters have departed, the butts are all swept
now mongrels come to piss in the gullies
near the ring barked cypresses and the kitchen hand
wincing from cigarette smoke.
By noon all the boards are chalked
the first stoners sit on the church steps
the first cocktail is sipped, the ladies
aviators peered over and under and through.
The waitresses sore heels, her toes curl
when she speaks, bored
her meteorological mind is with the Mistral
the Cevennes, or Wolf Peak.
Humidity, hippy’s jamming and insomnia,
another sleepless night, open the window
close the window, cat curls in leg triangle,
thoughts with the love triangle.
You enter, like Ulysses knowing your head
and heart won’t handle the intensity,
so you divorce and timeshare the children,
sitting on stools, playing fools.
The square was quiet, now full
butts and black dots about our feet
he’s planning his irrational retreat
gold, myrrh, felspar.
A couple carrying their mattress
give way to a vespa, give or take,
hole or snake, his loneliness loaded like a syringe.
never going to be with anyone again, this week.
Her flingers flick specks of glitter
off her jeans onto polished travertine,
these vagabonds brandishing a partial map
of Montpellier, silently screaming over cake and cream.
A skulls worth of dandruff;
the erasure of our perceived mistakes
lying like a floor bound dart
or an island on the horizon.
You’ve read too much into her feet pointing your way
in bed reading Finnegan’s Wake
across the train views of a blue lake
that somewhere connects to the sea.
Almost all the men in my life are dead to me.
I have made these streets, and the streets have made me.
“Would you ever take performance enhancing drugs?”
Ventoux. Ventoux. The name wakes you up. Like an exam you’ve missed. A job interview that means something. Little need for an alarm. Shane stays in bed. I know he’s awake. We agreed to leave at 10am. I’m ready. He hasn’t left his room yet. He’s scared. He’s done the climb once before and the nerves are filling him with hesitation. I know the feeling. I half expect him to emerge from his room with some excuse for not riding.
Read about my Five 5 Dams Ride here:
Today we were to ride with Bike Break Girona, with Dave Walsh and whoever else rocked up. After the previous days effort I was probably better off either staying in bed or simply cruising around, which what the ride was meant to be. However as is with all group rides, the fresh people get carried away and the slower and less fresh of us get dropped.
I struggled up the first small hill. My leg muscles were still recovering and getting stronger. Apparently we were to cruise to a cafe and then decide if we wanted to go on.
I chatted to Neil Martin for a while in the bunch and then he and Dave decided to do a 9km climb. I was dropped pretty quickly and rode a slow steady pace to the top. Once there we turned around quickly and the boys descended like demons and one of them coming a cropper. Much sand and small stones on the corners.
Coffee at the cafe and chatting bikes was fun, and then the long slow grovel back to Girona. 90km ‘rest’ day.