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Photo-story - Where my bike’s been


StreetCowboy

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As you know, we often go almost to Rawang; last Sunday, we went even closer, beyond the new turnoff that bypasses the town centre, to within a few hundred metres of the roundabout at the centre of town, before we turned off and headed to the North South Highway, where cycling is prohibited by law.  One junction down there, and we were onto Guthrie Highway bike lane, and home by beer o' clock.  That used to be my regular commute, and the road to the highway was shorter, and less tedious and frustrating on the bike than in a car.

 

This week saw us on the North South Highway again, in the other direction; again only one junction...
We stopped at my buddy's mate's place for Ribena since we were passing, and then on more or less familiar roads home.  My buddy took the lead for a stretch on the outward leg, which kept the pace up, and then we had a tail wind on the way home, so the ride is littered with Personal Bests, though only a 2nd-best on How High Is That Viaduct?  I think it used to be higher, back in the day.

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I took a rake past one of our Stations to form my own opinion of allegations of vibration, and whilst I was there, availed myself of their top bike rack.  That Station is surrounded by highways, but Who Dares, Wins; getting home was just as SAS.

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Anyway, the vibration varies according to the state of the train wheels, and I have no reason to single out that station.  I went down a couple of stations for comparison, and checking out some parking problems at the same time.

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As you know, the architects have made the bike racks a tourist attraction in their own right, though not a very popular one.

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An acquaintance had been waxing lyrical about the beauty of the Scottish highlands, with a photo similar to yesterday’s ride - complete with rain clouds.

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The road from there to Kajang is lovely, until you get to the Highway - worth the struggle over Ampang Lookout; we stopped half-way up to admire the view and marvel at the brutal ugliness of the Duke Highway as it slashes through the heart of KL.  The stop made the climb up the hill all the more bearable - I suppose a photo would have been in order to share the monstrosity.  “There’s a bit of a haze over KL city centre”

There’s haze everywhere; you just don’t notice it over the suburbs because you can’t see the buildings behind it”

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Those of you with calendars will know that this is the only Sunday 20th of the year, so we combined our 20-20-20 ride with an excursion to a Toddy Shop, for the benefit of our friends, local and foreign, who were not familiar with such places.

The ride there was neither more troublesome nor more difficult than I expected, and we were little surprised that no one else arrrived at the Toddy Shop

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it was a fair bit more than 20 km to the toddy shop, And not much shorter coming home.  We didn’t manage 20 kph on the way home - not after 3 litres of toddy.  
They were offering”cocktail toddy” with sweet fruit syrup flavourings, which I thought made it much more drinkable, and it went really well - quickly, at least - with the wild boar curry.

I spent this evening fettling the gears on the shopping bike , which was a bit of a waste of time as I’ll probably not be riding it till the next Sunday 20th.

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An acquaintance from back in the day had called me out for a pint, and never one to back down, I had taken him at his word. As one is wont, we turned to times and places gone by, and after he had escaped in a taxi towards the safe haven of his home, I thought I would stop by to see how much the KL pub had deteriorated.

If “ a lot” had been enough, I’d have headed home, but some depths need plumbing.  I hope memory will serve me well enough that I will not come back soon

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I had planned a long ride on a gravel road we had ridden some years before, then (as previously planned though not achieved) via a complex route avoiding busy highways to home.

I had identified the most significant challenging junctions, but my navigational error came from forgetting that we had stoped in a petrol station on the right hand side, and set off thencewards in the opposite direction.

It was not a short ride, ten km extra was not going to make it any shorter, and I gave the navigational fruit machine a couple of extra pulls and a bit of a kicking to boot.

”I’d rather admit defeat now than double back and start on the navigationally challenging bit of the ride.  We can head up here and along and around and about a bit and find ourselves in The National Capital whence we can get the train to Serdang or Kuchai or Taman Tun”

”We can decide that when we get there…”

One short wrong turning saw us sheltering from the rain, commiserating with a motorcyclist who had fallen backside-down at the junction where we had erred, and our signposts were not adequate to find our way easily to the station, but Google Maps mitigated our omissions.  We rode wrong-direction through the bus station, and boarded the train in good time.  If anyone asks you, the air con on the train is fine - if anything too cold, and anyone that says otherwise is a troublemaker with nothing better to do while they’re travelling than post spurious complaints on social media.
“There’s still rain on the windows - it might be raining here - let’s stay on till TTDI”

”I was hoping you’d say that”

It was raining gently at TTDI as well, so we went to the nearest pub to the station.

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  • 1 month later...

I suffered a mishap that I can fairly ascribe to drinking, despite a lack of recollection, but cannot blame on cycling , due to an absence of cuts and grazes, and lack of damage to the bike.  It failed to get better within a few days, the orthopaedic hospital was closed on the Thursday what with it being a public holiday, so I went to my usual doctor, who recommended I go to the Orthopaedic hospital.  So I booked an appointment for the Monday afternoon, and struggled on through my weekend rides, suffering from not being willing to put weight on the affected arm.

”Yes, there’s a fracture there,  wear a sling, don’t put weight on it, and no cycling.  How did you get here?”

”Its ok - I’ll wear the sling cycling home”

So I’ve been off the bike a few weeks, but after seeing the doctor on Monday, felt relaxed about cycling out to listen to trains on Saturday, and then today rode a route check for Pubcycle 2023 - Pubcycle X, as the classical scholars amongst us would say.

I have lost a lot of fitness with three weeks off the bike - I might have suffered less if my drinking arm had been afflicted.

 

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8 minutes ago, StreetCowboy said:

I suffered a mishap that I can fairly ascribe to drinking, despite a lack of recollection, but cannot blame on cycling , due to an absence of cuts and grazes, and lack of damage to the bike.  It failed to get better within a few days, the orthopaedic hospital was closed on the Thursday what with it being a public holiday, so I went to my usual doctor, who recommended I go to the Orthopaedic hospital.  So I booked an appointment for the Monday afternoon, and struggled on through my weekend rides, suffering from not being willing to put weight on the affected arm.

”Yes, there’s a fracture there,  wear a sling, don’t put weight on it, and no cycling.  How did you get here?”

”Its ok - I’ll wear the sling cycling home”

So I’ve been off the bike a few weeks, but after seeing the doctor on Monday, felt relaxed about cycling out to listen to trains on Saturday, and then today rode a route check for Pubcycle 2023 - Pubcycle X, as the classical scholars amongst us would say.

I have lost a lot of fitness with three weeks off the bike - I might have suffered less if my drinking arm had been afflicted.

 

Wish you a speedy recovery. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

As you know from the other thread, I am seriously behind with my preparations for Pubcycle 2023; yesterday we took a spin past GravyBaby to confirm their support (they were not unequivocal) but that’s not far enough from home to mile a good mileage. I did my best, though.

”So we’ll come up here, straight across at the coffee van, and down to Parlimen roundabout”

”So we’re coming up this hill just to go straight back into town?”

”The way you say that, it sounds like you don’t think this is a good short cut…”

and he did a sign language that might have been comparing big fishes to little fishes.  Anyway, they sell cider in GravyBaby, so the long and short of it is that so long as you get to where you’re going, that’s better than the alternatives.  
I was slightly surprised that we set personal bests on the way home through Federal Hill - maybe they’re watering down their cider…

Maybe it was the weather; when we got back to our regular local, neither of us had touched our water bottles, and the barman’s iced water did not disappear as gratefully as it normally did.

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  • 3 weeks later...

I had cause to ride into town for a wedding present from Kompleks Kraf 

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which is just across the road from our Conlay Station.

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Considering how central it is, that area of town is remarkably undeveloped, considering the rate that urban sprawl is racing off in every direction.

On Sunday, we went to Ampang Lookout, to take a photo gazing back over the sprawl, and the highways slashing the city into misshapen morsels

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That is the best view, though not the highest, but I was grateful to take a step back, admire what we’d achieved, before gritting my teeth and remounting

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I was distressed that we were still not half way to Kajang, but finally I was relieved that I had not underestimated the distance as we pulled up to Kajang station.  The heavy rain on the windows alleviated any rash temptation to alight for a final few kilometres home, and by the time we came out from the underground section, the rain had abated, and the final struggle from station to pub was happily tinged with optimistic anticipation.  The bike rack at Kajang Station was quite full, but I think many of them may be abandoned. 
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  • 2 weeks later...

Pubcycle X went as well as could reasonably be hoped.  I had to put my hand in my pocket for drinks more times than I had planned, so in the event that we hold a President's XI ride next year, I'll need to more clearly spell out the expectations from the landlords.

 

Irish F, who's at Havana now, made us most welcome,

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and the white can was outside the Bell& to lend support.
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M - who as you recall used to work in Port Klang - was there with his bike - it is carrying him round Singapore mostly these days.
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M with the model son had caught a slow boat to China - my buddy has been looking after his bike, seen second from the end
here
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The total raised for the orphanage fractionally exceeded expectations, and we got round the six pubs no more than an hour behind schedule.

You might recall that a couple of weeks ago on the route check I'd been persuaded to amend Stage Six out of safety concerns; I was glad that I could lead M (formerly of Port Klang) that way on the ride to the start, as he claimed this was a road he'd never ridden before - surely an omission on my part!  Federal Hill, near KL Sentral - 

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Batman turned up on his electric bike, and left us for dead on the climbs.  Out of spite, I kept the speed above 28 kph (his electric-assist cut-off) whenever I could.  I don't have a photo of me cycling faster...

 

 

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I was going to take the shopping bike to the pub on Wednesday, but the front tyre was completely flat.  So I walked to the pub - it’s only a few minutes, but I was wishing I’d taken the basket from the bike walking back with a couple of six-packs and some bread from the supermarket next door to the pub.

I fixed the puncture before I went out for dinner tonight - it was a leaking patch, and I remembered that I’d pumped up the shopping bike tyres on Sunday morning, along with the road bike tyres, because I was going to take my main floor pump to Pubcycle 2023, and it was going to be left in the rescue truck for some while.  The front tyre had been soft on Sunday, but pushing it up to 85 psi must’ve disturbed the patch further.  I had to use the standby old floor pump, which I leave in the parking lot for communal use, as the shopping bike has big 38 mm tyres, and I’d end up looking like Popeye getting them close to 70 psi with my hand pump.

 

 If I’d written this in advance, I’d have taken photos of both floor pumps, the patch and the parking lot.  And maybe two six packs, a loaf of bread, and the supermarket.  And the hand pump, for fear it felt left out, bore a grudge and let me down some day in the future on a desolate road in the boondocks.  

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  • 1 month later...

A few weeks back I took our new members to The Great Wall of Rawang - where, you might remember, last St Rongbows’ Day, our melon-scrumping excursion might have ended in miserable disappointment had not our return route passed by Sungai Buloh Pasar Segi.
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As before, the road is closed by an easily-circumvented barrier, and I was pleasantly surprised how far the road remained in good condition, and how much downhill we encountered.

Beyond the last track into the plantation, the road has deteriorated somewhat

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though the views remain spectacular.

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The ride is made painfully hazardous by hanging prickly slender creepers which look benignly harmless, but have the smallest, sharpest thorns I have ever encountered. My gloves and shirt are quite torn to holes, and the first indication that the thorns were fractionally longer than I had first thought was the blood oozing through my torn glove.

 I took a tumble over a log hidden in the leaf debris, and walked down the descent to The Great Wall.  With four of us, it was easier to pass the bikes over the wall and across the ditch - certainly easier than going back through the thorns.

Back in the day, we would merrily sail down the far side towards the cement works, but this time we erred on the side of caution.  The traffic was lighter (i.e. faster) than last time, but we put trepidation to one side and strode into middle of the road - it was as we were cresting the hill on way home that I remembered we had a choice of alternative routes turning left at the cement works - including but not limited to the North South Highway, where cycling is statutorily banned.

I’m not anxious to repeat that route, not without a machete.

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

I’d planned a trip to Bukit Bloke That Sells Drinks, coming back via a wrong-road-rampage and the Kerak Highway, which I anticipated would be a spectacular fast descent.  I’m still anticipating, as the guys who like hills never showed up due to me not sending a reminder email.  
Instead, we took the highways to near Klang; it was a lovely easy pace on the way out, and a struggle on the way back.  We had a good selection of second-fastest times on the outbound leg, thanks to the tail wind.

We paused for a bit of abnormal heart rate shortly after How High Is That Viaduct? (Not so high, if you take it steady) and we took our normal, safest-option route home. It had been a shorter ride than I had planned, and I knew that the Bell& had no cider, so I was slightly nervous that Soi 42 (formerly 42, previously E42T or East 42) might not be open (“I can drink Guinness, but not after cycling”).  All’s well that ends well…

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Sunday saw us up at Sungai Buloh  Leper Colony - a tentative candidate for a UNESCO World Heritage site, if my 30 seconds’ internet research is to be trusted.

We took the opportunity to trial a new U-turn under a flyover on Jalan Sungai Buloh, and given that it’s the only walking route from Kota Damansara to the MRT station, the provision for pedestrians is dismal.

The new Sungai Buloh Hospital is an impressive edifice, and I can commend their care in case of mishap.  The Leper Colony is on the other side of the road, and the nurseries are popular at weekends.  The roads are well-made gravel, but not wide enough for SUVs and oversized pickups to pass one another.  
I was baffled by a new highway junction that is under construction, but we persevered further than necessary. Eventually, we found ourselves back on the planned road, and shortly thereafter, on tarmac once again.  A few minutes later, and we were at Sungai Buloh Pasar Segar, where some years ago we had picked up “wild mountain water melons”.  
I had misremembered the geography of Kampung Kubu Gaja, and stung by the deserved derision of bystanding village boys when we reached the limit  of our dead-end wrong turning, I was reticent about a second attempt to find a way through to the familiar industrial estates of Kampung Baru Sungai Buloh, and instead we cut through to the new town of Subang Bestari.  
I think I have broken the Navigational Fruit Machine; in an attempt to keep the mileage up, I had planned to proceed past the old airport, and approach the pub via a lap round Tropicana Mall.  You can’t turn right or go straight (steady … go straight ahead!) where you emerge from Subang Bestari, I was in no mood for the humiliation of another U-turn, and I resignedly led us back the shortest route to the pub.

After initial rehydration, I walked home to collect my mountain bike, which is going on loan to my buddy’s sister.  As I was walking in the scorching heat of the afternoon sun, I thought “I can’t believe we cycle in this”, but once I was on the mountain bike, I had to loop round the block, because it really is a lovely bike, albeit a bit heavy.

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I took a rake this afternoon, on the occasion of the Thaipussam public holiday, to Johnny’s My Bicycle Shop.  He offered me a gratuitous can of beer while he fitted new panniers to my bike, but my refusal was pointless; the mere opportunity was enough to arouse a thirst, and when it started to rain on the way home, it became a question of which pub to stop in for lunch.

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I had planned a ride to The Palace Of The Golden Horses, but had it not been a gentle ride in favour of my buddy’s doctor’s recommendations, I’d have had my trepidations.  As it was, I was happy to sit for half an hour waiting for New J to turn up, and given his higher level of fitness and enthusiasm, I was not sad to head off with just the two of us.  You can call it illness, or malady, or poor health, lifestyle, whatever, but I was counting down the kilometres from the moment we left the station.

The outward journey was marred only by its length, but I think we benefited from a tail wind out along the Federal Highway, and KESAS Highway has a nicer bike lane, which, today, we rode all the way to its East-most end.

As usual, we bantered unsuccessfully with the security guards to get into the racecourse, then proceeded to the other side with similar disappointment.

”I think you gave up too easily”, my buddy said, “Next time, they’ll feel emboldened and just tell us to bugger off”.

I’d have been delighted to ride round the back of the race track, but I had lost the enthusiasm for witty yet unsuccessful repartee, and we headed for home.

We followed Road 217 (Bukit Jalil Highway), and it has some junctions that are not good for cycling, and I accept that we did not always take the safest line.  We persevered through partially familiar roads, and met up with my buddy’s sister for a short ride to the pub.

I’d originally planned for this section to be 20 km, but given that I’d lacked the enthusiasm to debate with the second lot of security guards, my buddy’s waning enthusiasm, the height of the Sun in the sky, the phases of the moon and the tides of the sea, there was no dissenting opinion when I stopped: “Right, that’s 5 km, it will be more than 10 km when we get to the pub, and that’s an easier target to improve than 20 km”

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We had the drama of the FIE Snail Racing last night

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and I knew in advance that I’d struggle on today’s ride.  Fortunately, no-one else turned up, and I could struggle in discreet solitude.

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 2/9/2024 at 12:40 AM, GammaGlobulin said:

 

You are usually rather cryptic.

So, then, what else is new?

 

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And...

What is old?

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Back in the day, back in the Old Country, we’d gone to a bike superstore - not like Decathlon, but a veritable market of bikes of all sorts - a Bassetts of bikes.  Anyway, my eye was caught by a butchers’ bike with solid basket and rod brakes, but it was expensive. And it would not have fitted in my car, so I’d have had to ride it home and get the train back to recover my car.

 

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I’d gone down to the supermarket after work, and as I was coming out, it started to rain; so I ordered a pint, but by the time I’d loaded my groceries into my pannier it was stopping. As I finished the pint, it resumed slightly heavier, so I moved my bike under cover and ordered a second.  It is now hissing down persistently, and a third may not see me to safety.  And the wind’s blowing the rain onto the pub balcony more than is lightly refreshing.

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On 3/8/2024 at 4:30 PM, marty147 said:

 

I'm guessing it's that time of the year where you can set your watch by the arrival of the daily KL monsoon...

I don’t really understand the seasons here; in the wet season it rains heavily most afternoons, and in the dry season, it sometimes rains in the afternoon.  And we get two of each every year.

I could maybe find on my Strava records the heaviest rain I’ve cycled in, and the worst floods that I’ve cycled through, but I am not sure that data and facts would contribute much to the tale.

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On 3/8/2024 at 4:30 PM, marty147 said:

 

I'm guessing it's that time of the year where you can set your watch by the arrival of the daily KL monsoon...

As I was dressing for dinner, I thought it sounded like rain outside, but all was clear when I looked out the window.  As I was waiting for the lift, there was no sign of rain on the pool.  As I was unlocking my bike and putting on my helmet, the rain sounded heavier, and sure enough, by the time I left the car park the rain front had reached us, and I was in no mood to cycle any further than the pubs across the road. Dinner and two pints later, there’s a veritable storm blowing, which I hope will not last more than a couple more.  There was a cat sheltering under my bike; I hope it was able to keep clear of the chain.

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A few nights back, I had cycled out to buy beer and bread, thinking that while I was about it, I would stop for dinner and a few pints at the pub next door to the mini-market.  You can imagine my dismay when I discovered that the supermarket had shut up shop, leaving us nothing but a couple of 7-11s, some local convenience stores, and a few greengrocers that close before 8 pm.  And all the pubs and restaurants…

So I set off to Centrepoint, and the slightly larger supermarket, but took a sudden unexpected dismount at a pothole that had been lurking under a puddle at the get-away from some traffic lights -seen below photographed in sunnier and drier conditions

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No harm done, I bought a fancy loaf of bread and two six-packs to lash on the rear rack, and I was back in the pub for sardine masala and three pints of Guinness quicker than you can say “Lucky the lights were red”

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  • 3 weeks later...

Paris - Roubaix clashed with our regular Sunday ride, so I decided to do it, rather than watch it. I had to substitute gravel for traditional cobbles, but it was a sound planning guideline.

The first section of gravel - a pretty pointless detour from our regular route through the village - had been resurfaced, and qualified as Village Tarmac rather than gravel. The old Jalan Damansara has been resurfaced as well, and I can see that after 12 years of construction, that road might be nearing completion.  Similarly, they have resurfaced the road that leads up to our office, and when they’ve done the downhill direction I can see that road being less attractively quaint. Especially if they close the concrete batching plant, and the cement trucks stop piddling obstacles all the way up…

I had thought long, and hard to find a route that took us through the gravel at the furniture showroom, over the Jerry bridge and up the quiet estate lane to the steep downhill to Damansara Perdana. Long, hard, and unsuccessfully. Instead, we went the opposite direction.  And that is a climb! A long, hard climb, and, after a short rest, successful at the second attempt.

I didn’t try to find the gravel back road behind the Chinese village and the construction workers’ accommodation - the time we rode that in the other direction it was flooded, and we both ended up with one wet foot…

So we carried on to The Leper Colony - I had hoped it would be quiet during Ramadan, but it seemed only the competent drivers were staying home fasting, and we crawled through as usual. Then, we’re into the new highway junction construction zone, and the roads are different every time we ride them, but we could follow the local motorcyclists, and before you can say

”Which… “

”Last time…”

”But…”

”Motorbike”

we were back on tarmac.

That took us out to the Pasar Segi (the highlight of our St Rongbow Day melon-scrumping adventure)

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I had not planned the route on Google Maps - there were too many sections that Google would not allow - so we had a mid-ride route change but we know those roads well enough, and we were soon fanging it in the traffic into Jalan Sungai Buloh.  My buddy, for safety reasons, prefers to take the low road, and the traffic lights, at fly-over junctions

”The New Boy would’ve gone over the top”

”He’d have turned back at The Leper Colony”

”No, he’d have stoically soldiered on, and then complained ‘You never told me it was going to get worse!’ “

If I’ve learnt one thing from our ride through the floods in Hulu Langat in Jan. 2021, it would be this: That you should turn back at the first opportunity, because when it gets worse, and you eventually turn back, you have to ride through all this a second time… We didn’t, and I didn’t, so that is a lesson that I still have to learn.  I am not looking forward to learning that lesson, but I know it is on the curriculum.

The next gravel section was a familiar road - Jalan Montfort - I think used for the laughingly named Skypark Rail Link, which terminates near a car park not far from Subang Airport.  The politicians that spent the public money on it clearly didn’t get their envelopes from The Operator…

The road was blocked to vehicles, which was new… it seemed slightly overgrown from lack of traffic and then…the riverbank under the road had been washed away, and the road had collapsed right in front of a small Indian temple.  A young gentleman observing his observances at the temple said we could go round behind the temple, but please to keep away from the shrines as we were wearing our shoes…It’s handy that you can still get to the temple from either direction.

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In the view looking down-river you can see the small temple in the distance.

Once you get to the end of that road, and through the posh housing estate, past the Japanese School and a golf course, you are not far up the Airport Highway before the turn-off to the shooting range; a courteous driver helped us make the right turn at the roundabout, and we’re off past the University Aviation Department, some aviation industry workshops, an international school, to the shooting range, and the gravel road beyond around a detention pond. It all looked different since I was last there five years ago, but the gravel road round the detention pond still ended in a dead end overlooking Sungai Damansara.

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I’d wanted to follow a path the other way round the detention pond, in the hope of finding a route out to the airport road, but instead, we found another herd of cows, some folks enjoying a picnic by the pond, and a dead end on the opposite side of Sungai Damansara.  If it had started to rain, I’d have learned the lesson mentioned above, but luckily, we got from there back to the pub dry.

I don’t know if I enjoy gravel rides more looking forward to them, or looking back on them, but certainly not when I’m riding them.

 

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Saturday will see us riding our 20-20-24; 20 on 20” wheels; it’ll be a city ride, so I’m not targeting 20 kph.  We’ll ride to Bukit Bintang, I’ll have my phone face up on Strava, and we’ll stop at 20 km and go to the nearest pub.  That’s the plan, anyway, but the best-laid plans o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.

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