How’s the serenity?
Last Saturday I went out for the usual club ride with other members of the Dutton Cycles Racing and Recreation Club (very soon to be renamed “Moreton Bay Cycling Club”). The route is not always the same but, thanks to Strava, always fun to see if we can beat our own PBs or others on the various sprint or climb segments uploaded to the site.
The ride last Saturday was one of the most frequently ridden, leaving North Lakes and riding via Petrie, Strathpine, Albany Creek and Zillmere out to Shorncliffe before finishing off around the Redcliffe peninsula and the jelly-legged sprint up Mango Hill for coffee and cake.
There is always much to see en-route: other bunches (some of whom don’t know how to acknowledge other cyclists); bogan drivers (who only know how to abuse cyclists); the rear wheels of others in the bunch as we rotate through; and of course fantastic views such as the one below.
Although not the halfway point of the ride (in fact it is over half way) it is the regular stop for us and many other bunches. Some riders will use the 5-10 minute break to catch their breath, others to talk incessantly. Most however will use it to snack on whatever they packed for the ride yet forgot to eat until then, get some more water or get rid of other “water”. Which brings me to the reason for this post…
At the southern end of Flinders Parade in Sandgate there is an amenities block. Toilets and washbasins are provided and there is a small gazebo with benches and tables adjoining an electric BBQ. All these are maintained by Brisbane City Council. Those exercising along the foreshore make good use of the facilities which, given their frequency of use, are usually found in good condition.
However, riding in to the rest stop last Saturday it was clear something was amiss. A gentle S/SW breeze was picking up and until I was passing the BBQ I was unaware of what was actually “cooking”. Looking towards the gazebo I saw a bloke with some bags, one of which obviously contained food. The glum look on his face told me he was not impressed at something but I didn’t for one second think it would be down to the BBQ. But a split second later, as the vapour of piss emanated from the BBQ, I realised that some feral bogan, too lazy to walk the ten metres to the toilets, had used the BBQ plate as a urinal. What had not evaporated in the early hours before the arrival of Glum Bloke and the hordes of cyclists stopping or just riding past must have collected in the trap below the plate and was now being warmed by the generated heat on the plate.
The stench was overpowering, so much so it was the unspoken encouragement for many of us to cut short our break or even forego it altogether. The below image I sourced from my helmet camera. Note the wisps of urine steam rising off the hot plate and Glum Bloke sitting on the bench in the shadows. There goes the serenity…
To give the reader the full experience I have made the image “scratch and sniff” enabled.
Use your imagination.