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Racing, riding and adventure by bike

Full moon ride number 2.

For those that were there, a knowing smile passes between us when we talk about the first full moon ride. Utterly, completely, amazingly ridiculous.

It’s hard to plan epic storms weeks in advance and despite my own rump shaking rain dances (performed in the anonymity of my house mind you), rain failed to materialise and we were left to pedal dry powdery sand this time around.

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Not that it represents a problem. There was trail to be ridden on the way to the beach. There were fish and chips to be eaten as we waited for the sun to set. There were ferries to catch to far away lands. There was hidden single track leading out through the back of a grave yard. There were sandy hike-a-bikes  and there were dunes silhouetted in moonlight.

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The riding was hard but I always find joy pedalling on sand since it is such a ridiculous concept. I always find joy in disproving the Jacobs theory of trail building too. It seems it is possible to perform a switchback on a bicycle even when there are no microwave sized rocks to go around. Tacking up steep Dunes is such and art-form and as I proved early in my schooling, I’m not much of an artist.

We stopped pedalling about 11 and bivvied close to the edge of the steepest dune we could find so we didn’t get run over in the middle of the night by a stray 4×4. The mozzies found us. They fed upon our soul.

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We woke in the morning. We raced the incoming tide back to the ferry and waited an hour for it to return. We ate bacon, we drank coffee and meandered through the suburbs by bike on a sunday morning. What’s not to like?

 

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