Was a Farmer Had a Bike, B - I - K - E - O?

Farmers markets being a delightful clash of suburban pretension and authentic livestock excrement, they are often excellent places for bike-spotting and the new Cradle Coast market does not look like being an exception. Held every Sunday on the wharf in Ulverstone, this latest edition to the north west Tasmanian market circuit is primed for bicycling shoppers as it's right next to the Leven River shared path. Sadly it's not accessible by bicycle to me but my own town also has a Farmers and lately I've seen a few people loading up bicycles as they circle the grounds, using them as shopping trolleys. I hope to join them one day when we live in a house where you could physically get a grocery loaded bicycle up the driveway. As it stands, getting an unloaded steel bicycle up to the door of our current residence is achievement in itself. I'd need to install a pulley to get it to the door with 10kg of potatoes and a few more of jam and cakes strapped to the back! In the meantime I've started 'collecting' the bicycles I see at markets. The variety I've seen so far (but not yet photographed as I only photograph unattended bikes) shows that there are many types of people adopting a bicycle/Farmers Market routine. Isn't that a happy thought?

The Recumbent/Trailer Combo, Burnie market.

The Affordable Vintage Revival, Ulverstone market.

All Hail!

And now, a Very Special Tasmanian Cycle Chic post:

Behold!

"But Fat-bottomed Girl!" you rudely interject, "What is so special about this perfectly ordinary looking and unfetishised bicycle? I see no wicker baskets or cute bells or even mudguards! I can barely picture a nubile, billowing skirted maiden upon the saddle! Surely this bicycle is the very antithesis of internet cycle chic posts!"

Firstly: Pervert.

And Secondly: I'll tell you why this bike is the most beautiful bicycle in the world if you'll just shut your trap for a moment.

This bicycle is parked outside of a chocolate factory. Specifically it is parked outside House of Anvers, a jewel in the North West Tasmanian crown of national highway attractions and most relevantly, the diametric opposite of bicycle friendly location and access. It is a car, car, car world after all but the beautiful soul who owns this bicycle knows it takes more than a string of high speed brushes with death and lack of bike rack to keep them from FREE CHOCOLATE.

Yes. There are free tasters in the gift shop. And not free cake in the restaurant. And amazing Belgian waffles. They also do a shockingly delicious gluten free sandwich. Once again you're welcome, Tasmanian Tourism.

I salute you, Anonymous Chocolate Seeking Cyclist.

See Your Oma and Raise You 1 Granny.

Spotted at the Ulverstone Agricultural Show: The inspiration for your next bicycle/craft project/yarn bomb.

You're welcome, Baby Boomers I blurred and cropped out for the sake of privacy.

Obviously what it lacks in practicality it makes up for in panache. That granny-square covered basket and saddle are giving me ideas as well as reminding me that it's entirely possible to crochet yourself a skirt guard or pay somebody on the internet to crochet you a skirt guard.

Wheels on Fire.

Not too long ago, Ginger and I were taking a jaunt along the Turners Beach/Ulverstone path when we saw the most spectacular sunset over the fields. It was so striking that everybody we passed on the path had either their phone or a camera out trying to capture the mist gently curling around the long grass.

Once we tore ourselves away from the photo opportunity (sadly we were only phone equipped) we reached the end of the path and discovered the 'mist' was actually smoke from Turners Beach petrol station that was going up in flames. As Australians we should have recognised a smoke reddened sunset when we saw one but as said smoke was strictly confined to the fields, the smell didn't carry to the path. I'm sure there's a profound remark to be made here regarding beauty in unexpected places but I'm not the fart joke connoisseur to make it.

Two Wheels Good, Four Wheels Baaaaad.

Yes, that was a completely recontextualised Animal Farm reference. Blame George Orwell. While we're blaming George Orwell, Australian politics is growing ever more excellent/ridiculous regards the transport debate. After we managed to accidentally elect a member of the Motoring Enthusiasts Party and a bicycle infrastructure hating MAMIL at the last federal skirmish it was only a matter of time before this happened:

Note the terrible stock-photo entirely failing to illustrate the issue.
But hey! THE BEACH!

Thanks for mentioning terrorism straight up, dude. I'm not sure even an obviously facetious reference to being a terrorist is entirely helpful to Australian perception of cyclists but whatever gets the click-through, AMIRITE?! Just kidding, this article does actually address the important issue of Car Vs Everyone Else culture in Australia. Namely the bizarre campaign by some newspapers and current affairs programmes to encourage enmity between people behind the wheel and people on pedals. Enmity resulting in serious injury or death. Can you imagine if you picked up a newspaper and read an article encouraging you to fight anyone you see waiting for a train? Or an article claiming that people who walk think they're better than you? Yet this is the kind of rhetoric lately published in a sustained effort to - what, exactly? Dismantle bicycle infrastructure? Spill blood on the suburban streets?

With headlines like: Police blitz on arrogant Sydney cyclists who push the law (Actual headline) or Cyclists making a fool of our bike laws (Again, actual headline) the framing of the Australian transport debate is downright irresponsible. These headlines are poking motorists in the chest and saying, "A cyclist is laughing at you RIGHT NOW - what are you gonna do about it?" as though all cyclists are deliberately provocative. As though Australian cyclists are not also (mostly) car drivers. As though getting on a bike is an act of deliberate douche-baggery rather than a mode of transport. When was the last time you saw the headline Police blitz on arrogant motorists who flout speed limits? Bad motorists and bad cyclists happen every day. I'm betting there's even a large crossover in that particular Venn diagram (Show me a dickhead on 2 wheels and I'll show you dickhead on 4). But even if a motorist breaks enough laws to warrant a headline, I'm also betting there was a lack of character judgement in that headline. And if the issue is a problem group of recurrent law breakers within the group of people designated as 'motorists', I'm betting the more likely headline is: Police accused of revenue raising through speeding fine blitz.

Just as irrelevant as the one above but at least it's not a stock-photo.

Look. People who deliberately 'push' road rules are all arrogant douche-bags in that moment, regardless of whether they're on rollerblades, bicycles or driving cars. Even if they are upstanding citizens in every other situation. That's because every single one of us believes that MY journey is more important, MY time is most precious and if I break the law it's because I HAD A GOOD REASON. See also: It was safer/I was tricked/I didn't have a choice. We're all to blame, not just George Orwell. The Australian specific problem is that we are so collectively in love with cars as an extension of ourselves (and ourselves are never wrong, remember) that we just don't view laws broken while driving as 'really' breaking the law. Ask your friends how many speeding fines they've had in their driving careers. Go ahead.

Do you see the problem? The question should not be 'How many speeding fines have you had?' it should be 'Have you ever had a speeding fine?' But we take it as given that motorists will break the law. And that it's sort of okay. I personally don't subscribe to that attitude but then I'm not a motorist so many would discount my opinion. "It was safer/I was tricked/I didn't have a choice," my driving friends and family say to me.  I don't know about driving but I'm sure I've heard that argument before. Perhaps being made by 'arrogant' cyclists? I don't think people on two wheels should ignore road rules. Even if prominent bicycle bloggers with books out sometimes do. I don't believe riding a bicycle is a renegade action that ought to be packed with danger and excitement and directly challenging larger vehicles for your 'right' to the road. So perhaps a cyclists party is exactly what we need. So long as they focus on integration rather than competition between modes of transport. It looks hopeful:

Omar Khalifa, who is launching the new political party, says “a motorist’s best friend is often a cyclist.” They ease congestion, lessen fuel demand and free up parking spaces. It’s irresponsible to promote bad feeling between motorists and cyclists. We need to co-exist harmoniously – no good can come of any campaign that seeks to do otherwise.

 Now that's the kind of sentiment I'd vote for.

Bicycling Twits.

Good news, everyone! Tasmanian bicycle advocacy organisation Bicycle Tasmania has started a Twitter account. Their 'handle' (sorry, I watched Hackers the other day) is @BicycleTasmania and so far they have burst onto the social media scene with this spectacularly exciting piece of bike advocacy:

I know you're exhilarated but try to remain calm.

It's almost as thrilling as their profile header and bio:

WOOO! YEEEAH!

But seriously, I'm glad they're making an effort and look forward to harassing them with direct complaints about people letting their dogs poo on the shared paths. It'll make a change from complaining directly to the Woolworths Twitter about how I can never find my favourite biscuits since they changed all their signage.

Democracy on Wheels.

Earlier this month we Australians lived the dream (or Libertarian's nightmare) of compulsory voting and headed to our local polling place for a federal election. As it was a pleasant early spring day, Ginger and I decided to bicycle - thus revealing to our fellow democracy unenthusiasts that we are Commie-Pinko Tree-hugging Bicycle-Riding Left-Wing Voters. Or so you'd be justified in believing.

Pictured: Lefty Posers exercising...their democratic rights, YEAH!

And you'd be mostly correct. But post election, the way bicycles are perceived in Oz may be about to change. Dramatically. And terribly. You see Australia is a nation as full of political apathy as we are beer and BBQs (mean average). We knew we didn't want the Current Guy anymore but beyond that decision it was collectively agreed that we didn't much care for anybody else either. So as a nation we turned, proud and strong and said, "So I guess you win?" to the Other Guy. And the Other Guy is this guy:

This Guy.

"Brilliant!" you might exclaim, "Sure he's a Roadie but he's a cyclist Prime Minister! This is a step towards a bicycle infrastructure renaissance, a cleaner and greener future, a serious look at where Australia's obsession with cars might cause problems down the track!"

But you'd be ignorant and foolish because This Guy is also:

This Guy.

And:

This Guy.

That's right. We didn't give the top job to a garden variety Roadie, we gave it to a TRIATHLETE. The only reason This Guy rides a bicycle is to prove how much faster he is than other guys. He has no interest in sustainable/alternative transport or bicycle infrastructure or even the environment. In fact he's only been in charge a matter of days and he's already dismantled Australia's climate commission. He's also promised to extend highways across the country and help mining companies expand into World Heritage Areas. This Guy doesn't care about cycling unless it can be used to win at things or prove how brave you are by riding with cars.

Although This Guy likes to affirm his masculinity by staging photo opportunities at all kinds of sporting events, unfortunately an iconic bike image encapsulating This Guy's general attitude and deliberately testosterone-centric world view emerged during the election campaign:

Yeah.

Added to all the other times he appeared on a bicycle, he is now inexorably tied to (road)cycling. This means that when This Guy inevitably upsets the country he will be remembered as 'That douche-hole on a bicycle' and contribute to the already swelling hatred of cyclists in Australia. I'm referring to the many Facebook groups about running over cyclists with your car (complete with actual photos from horrific crashes), the articles written by well known sports figures and journalists condemning cyclists for being cyclists and of course the general dominance of the automobile in the national psyche.

Worse still, due to the quirks of the Australian system we have managed to elect (albeit to a less important position than Prime Minister) a rogue private citizen running under the banner of 'The Motoring Enthusiasts Party'. Their entire policy platform is 'We like cars. But like car-liking people are a persecuted group and so you should just let us drive our cars through everywhere and on top of everything at whatever speed we please because CARS WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CARS?!'

So with these post-election problems in mind I'll be very surprised if the next three years deliver any positives to the bicycle users of Australia. But that's compulsory democracy for you.

For the Record: I am actually pro-compulsory voting. Take THAT, Libertarians.

2013 Bike Hour II: The Bikening.

It's that time of year again! Soon the equinox will be upon us and no matter which hemisphere you call home, the equinox means Bike Hour.

 

As I explained in typically coarse language last equinox, Bike Hour is a completely unstructured, unorganised excuse to celebrate and ride your bicycle in the hopes of inspiring those around you to think about bicycles. Whether you choose to channel that inspiration through a filter of Strava Obsessed Roadie, Penny Farthing Oddity, BMX Session, Twee Hipster Coffee Run or Urban Commuter is entirely up to you. My personal favourite form of inspiration is jealousy so I try to look like I'm a much more interesting person than I really am who is pedalling somewhere much cooler than I really am. (Reality: I am probably returning incredibly mainstream video rentals or buying cat food.) The point of Bike Hour is that none of these variables actually matter as the only goal is to be out on your bicycle during the designated hour.

This time around the promotional materials are hot-pink so of course the Bike Hour Facebook has been linking to women's bike blogs in the lead up to launch, thus handing The Patriarchy yet another gender-conformity victory in the Bicycle Wars. And as this is the internet, I'll just put this here:

THAT WAS SATIRE.

Anybody already familiar with the 'Lady Bike Blogosphere' (Blogs written by Lady Bicycles, obviously) will not be overwhelmed by new discoveries as it's all the regular offenders such as LGRAB, Bike Pretty and Lovely Bicycle! but it's great to see somebody outside of the pink-spoked circle encouraging others to venture in. And you have my permission to use 'Pink-spoked Circle' as a euphemism because it certainly sounds dirty as balls. And that was AFTER I mentally took it down a notch from 'pink-rimmed circle'. Now that we've all thought about our genitals for a while, the only thing left to do is ask:

Where will YOU be this Bike Hour?

Your bicycle, not your Pink-Spoked Circle.
At least not in public.

Gratis Bike Hour promotional materials are available here if you do decide to organise a community event, otherwise you're free to crank your pink-spoked circle alone. I've heard it's just as fun that way.

(Not)Sitting on the Dock of the Bay.

With record rainfalls for the month of August (which is not yet over) and even a few flakes of snow making an appearance within 20km of my North West Tasmanian town (very, very unusual), there has not been much winter sunshine of late. It's hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago Ginger and I were boasting about crisp yet sunny afternoons in defiance of the season. Now it's ALL RAIN, ALL THE TIME and I struggle to snatch some vitamin D between storms. While I am actually enjoying the rain I have misplaced my giant and ridiculous bicycling poncho and the weather report has been fairly useless at predicting showers so that any leisurely cycling risks a soaking. Aye, me! I'll just have to gaze longingly at this collection of Autumn/Winter beach themed rides from the last couple of months and keep hunting for that poncho!

First: Ulverstone Pier in late Autumn by the River Leven. Contrary to expectations, Leven does NOT rhyme with 'seven'.  Allegedly it is actually pronounced 'Leevin'.

'Bad Cat' on the water, how droll.
Better than Bad Wolf, I suppose.
DOCTOR WHO JOKE NERD LEVEL UP.

They serve nice iced coffees here at 'Pier01'.

Next, a Winter afternoon in Burnie that ended in the best possible way: Meeting Ginger for fish and chips.

Rain threatened but never made it to land.

The sad end of Burnie bike path.

Lastly, to give you an idea of just how much hydrogen and oxygen has been cascading out of the sky over Tasmania, here is the waterfall near my town (Guide Falls). Captured last weekend BEFORE we broke rainfall records:

 

And here's me for scale, a fair distance away because the spray was so mad I could not get closer:

That Coat Pregnancy is actually pocket distention, I swear.

Hittin' The Ground. (Why I hate the Pashley Princess Kickstand)

Anybody who owns a factory standard Pashley can attest to two things:

1. The Pashley (Princess Sovereign) is a heavy bicycle, and

2. The included kickstand is six kinds of incapable of dealing with fact number 1.

Even without any baskets, without any front or rear load, the included single kickstand just cannot be relied upon no matter how much careful front wheel skewing you may take as a precaution. And the second you add any kind of cargo you'd better start leaning it against a wall or handing it off to a friend if you want to let go of it for a minute. As you can imagine, this makes attaching said cargo an exercise in bullshit if you are travelling alone. All the more frustrating considering the included back rack is rated to carry a child seat! Better have great dental coverage for your toddler before you trust that single kickstand.

Yes, many a time in the first blush of Pashley ownership did I blithely turn my back only to hear the tell-tale sound of gravity beating the kickstand into submission. It's gotten so I am adept at accurately identifying potential kick-stand failure scenarios and with a special kind of vigilance specific to the anal retentive I was enjoying a long period of incident free Pashley ownership - Until last weekend, when the Pashley surprised me with a brand new kind of failure.

I was putting the bicycle away after an invigoratingly chilly 20km through North West Tasmanian coastal farm lands (goose shit included). I began the Pashley propstand/kickstand ritual which is now automatic.

Rural bike path hazards.

Pictured: Almost as much shit as you'll get from the Pashley kickstand.

Standing on the left of the cargo-free bicycle, I deployed the kickstand on solid ground to the right. I then positioned the front wheel to 'maximum skew' so that it could not independently skew itself and send the bike toppling over towards me. I gave the whole thing a bit of a jiggle to make sure it was sturdy, held it steady for a moment and then slowly let go to unlock the door. (I have to do this every. Single. Time.) It was then I heard that familiar warning creak. I quickly turned to catch the Pashley, expecting to see it bearing down on me as usual but as I grasped the left grip I realised it was falling away from me, the bloody useless kickstand having failed to fulfil the most fundamental requirement of the single kickstand/bicycle contract. In a final indignity, my quick reflexes did indeed allow me to catch the bike by the handlebars but only so that I could slow its descent and press the front tyre against my shin where the spinning wheel did a little burn-out on my leg. I was glad to be wearing thick tights or I would have lost some skin. I was compelled to photograph its shame:

"You're embarrassing yourself."

It is now my mission to outfit the Pashley with an annoyingly costly and unavailable locally double kickstand but I do so with a disgruntled sigh, resenting the fact that it did not come with one when the weight and potential for human (and inanimate) cargo so obviously requires something more than currently provided!

Red Right Wheel.

I was pleased when I saw this glistening Cannondale. It was chained up outside a Burnie supermarket like a faithful dog awaiting the return of her owner.

The green pedal/bar tape combo and lonely red wheel caught my eye. It's an insouciantly eclectic colour mix that could either be left over from the factory or due to natural evolution of replacement parts. It made me wonder what happened to the other red wheel. Either way it's the kind of well loved and frequently used bicycle that makes me think the owner would not necessarily be a tool. I also appreciate anybody who matches their helmet to their frame.

Beach Blanket Baby (Electra Boogaloo Redux)

In the fortunately flat town of Ulverstone, the bike shop is helping to disseminate more upright bicycles into the North West of Tasmania. Walking past after closing time, I spied this Electra beach cruiser in their window:

It's the steel framed ladies Cruiser 1 in blue, priced at AU$359. Single speed, coaster/back pedal brake. I have an aversion to back-pedal brakes now that I'm a weak-kneed adult and I'd personally want more than one speed but then, I live on the side of a cliff and not beachy smooth Ulverstone. The colour is certainly a glorious match for the nearby sparkling water.

Tour De Bore 2013.

It's that time of year again in the Fat-Bottom household. Time for late nights, tour tracker graphs and the piquant mixing of vague national pride with mind numbing boredom. Really, as an Australian watching the Tour De France this year I could not be more proud:

#OricaGreenWedge
(Source: au.sports.yahoo.com)

You're welcome, every person in the bicycle sport spectator world. Not only is it the most interesting thing an Australian has ever done in the Tour (And I include 'Our Cadel' in that sweeping statement) it also birthed the best Twitter hashtag of the week. Unfortunately, it was all downhill from there as Orica yawningly redeemed themselves by winning a couple of stages or something, I don't know - I was simultaneously reading Game of Thrones so it was a contest between which kind of carnage caught my attention. Something did catch my attention during ad breaks in the long broadcast and it was my adopted state of Tasmania's so-dumb-it's-genius application of, well…look, just see this:

In case you didn't know, Tasmanian Salmon is a B.F.D in Australia. And in case you missed the long form of the campaign, Tasmanian Salmon is a 'natural performance enhancer' (Sneer sneer on YOU, dopers!) as evidenced by the fact that Tasmanian Pride and Tour De France Person Richie Porte is a graduate of 'The Huon Salmon – Genesys Wealth Advisers Pro Cycling' team. You know, that one. I particularly admire the whacked-out VICTORY! closing shot which I get to see every single ad break because the live feed cycles (see what I did) through the same 3 advertisements every. Single. Night.

"Mother. Fucking-"

"SALLLLLMONNNNN!"

There's also this:

Yeah, that's a pretend live salmon stuffed near his crack.

Even before moving here I had eaten my own enormous share of Tasmanian salmon and while I can confirm it is delicious, it has yet to propel me far beyond the Burnie Boardwalk. One thing you will see if you watch the long version or visit the website is where Porte got his stamina; A lot of Tasmanian landscape is featured, nonsensically masquerading as France (The Allez! sign) or at least as somewhere more exotic than down under Down Under but you can clearly see it is made up of the kind of gradients that would serve you well if dreaming of the Tour.

Until the bitter end of this event, Ginger and I will continue to stay up until 2am waiting to watch one minute of cycling even though the preceding 3 hours and 59 minutes contain not nearly enough castles and bloodshed. For that, I still have my Game of Thrones book.

Devonport Bicycle Path Picnic.

Last month Ginger and I decided it was high time we experienced both the Devonport cycleway and our new picnic blanket. So like the Middle-Middle classes to which we aspire, we bought some extra special treats from Burnie Farmers Market, packed up the basket and bikes and drove East to grab a perfect piece of the new Winter sunshine.

This is what a fortnightly Treat Buying Expedition looks like.
And also why I am fat.

Devonport (third largest population centre in Tasmania) has an almost fully formed cyclepath network, the council has a pretty decent transportation strategy and the vision to implement it, if not the funds to make it as smooth and continuous as Perth. The section we chose was the Don to Devonport trail, running from the middle of town out along the coast and finishing at the Don River Railway tourist attraction.

The middle of Devonport is not your standard town centre, it's also the arrival point for the Spirit of Tasmania ferries; luxury passenger liners sailing from Melbourne to Tasmania, transporting Grey Nomads and their caravans. You can even walk off the ferry and hire a bicycle or bring your own if you're up for some touring. One of them was in port when we arrived so we stared at it for a while. We also stared at the ugliest lighthouse I have ever seen.

Spirit of Tasmania, Pashley in Picnic Portage Mode™.

Be more quaint and less functional!

Sculptures on the Mersey River path.

We were both eager to have lunch sooner rather than later so I saved most of the route documentation for the journey back from Don. The path led us along the Mersey river through the heart of Devonport and out to the recently refreshed waterfront. There you'll find a burger bar, playground, toilets, beach showers and the bluffs. Also the attractive Mersey Bluff lighthouse if you divert a bit but we were hungry so we rode on.

The beach on the return trip.

The way there, where Devonport meets the sea and I photograph
shifty looking men exiting public toilets.

Briefly considered this beach picnic spot.

Once we left the beach, the path quickly became empty and wound through some rapidly changing landscapes. After the typical gum trees and shrubbery of the main beach we encountered these oddly manicured looking 'transitional' flora, still right next to the ocean though it was hidden from us by their dense canopy and the rise above sea level. (Even though we didn't seem to climb) They looked like they'd spent a lot of evolutionary energy adapting perfectly to the windy, salty bluffs. The first trip through was at high noon so they looked especially odd without shadows, I photographed them on the way home at about 4pm.

The rounded foliage gave way to an open view of the ocean and a brief flirtation with the suburbs before plunging us into some straight-up temperate rainforest. Here we started to descend. I wish I'd taken a picture of the zig-zag trail but the trees made it basically impossible and riding down it was far too much fun to stop. There were swoops and little wooden bridges all through it and I rode with a smile plastered on my stupid face even though the entire time I was dreading hauling the Pashley back up. This rainforest section of the path was quite narrow, unevenly surfaced due to tree roots and very busy with joggers and family strolls in some sections. I was pretty glad to have the weight of the Pashley rolling tank-style over bumps; although I discovered on the way back that a big enough bump will knock a hub brake right out of your front wheel. Fortunately the counter-discovery was that you can just pop it back in with your fingers.

Well after the zig-zag, a return to flat land.

Eventually the forest thinned out, the tree trunks became more spindly and we were expelled into the carpark of the Devonport Aquatic centre before returning to the trail. We were crossing train tracks still in use but there was plenty of signage on the official crossing points. Towards the end we could see we'd left the coast entirely and come up next to the Don river. On the way back I made Ginger hold the Pashley upright (fie on the included kick-stand!) while I took a picture of the afternoon view, wood smoke was sitting like mist in the valley as the sunshine waned.

"Hold my shit while I capture nature."

"Done."

At last we reached the Don River Railway leisure ground, just in time to see a delightful display of steam (not a euphemism) before 'Getting our Picnic On' (totally a euphemism). Next to a car park. Oh, well. It's a Car, Car, Car, Car World after all. But we had the whole place to ourselves and the banks made it remarkably peaceful. It was very tempting to fall asleep in the sunshine and we were very full of Ribena and cakes so we had a nice rest.

Don River Railway. We've been on the train. It's worth it.

Not using the creepy picnic shelter.

The not quite distant enough tranquility of the Don River Railway car park.

Idiots doing Picnic in public.

The Tourism Tasmania version.

The winter sun combined with my wool tights for a toasty fat bottom.

Another Tourism-ready view.

Sadly, we could not tarry because I had to get the Pashley up the zig-zag and back to town. I actually managed to do it without once getting off to push, though I've never before spent so much time in first gear! We reached Devonport with enough light to spare for a quick spin on a breakwater to mark the setting sun.

As far as you're supposed to go.
There were fishermen/women climbing over the rails anyway.

Public art unimpeded by railings.
(No, I didn't climb over.)

Mersey Bluff sunset before the drive home.