The Sad Story of The Forgotten Phone
With A Happy Ending
On Saturday the wind was forecast to blow from the north with a period of indecision just after midday and an about-face to southerly by 2pm. Should they wish to do so, a smart person could ride south with a tailwind, have lunch in Moonta whilst the wind decided what to do, and then ride north back to Wallaroo also with a tailwind. I decided to be this smart person and while I did this I would make sure that all the kilometers that I rode were counted towards my goal of at least 200km/month for the whole year.
I waved Roger off to conduct his own exploration of Wallaroo and Kadina, and off I pedaled in the arms of a stiff north wind.
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The rail trail followed the route of the railway which in the 1800s brought copper ore from the Moonta mine to the smelter at Kadina and the rail trail was brand spanking new, having only opened six weeks ago. It even had shelters at regular intervals for bicyclists such as me to sit and contemplate their good fortune to be out on a bicycle on such a beautiful day.
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Away in the distance the deep blue sea was just visible beyond the cultivation.
The last couple of kilometers wandered through the Moonta minesite, along an embankment which had been revegetated by Brian over the last twenty years. Brian had put lots of signs up to make sure that everyone knew about his revegetation project. Tendency to blow his own horn aside, Brian had done a really good job and the eucalyptus on both sides of the trail put on quite a splendid show of colour.
Moonta was winding down from a busy Saturday morning and everyone was packing up their businesses and shutting their doors. I quickly gobbled down a Cornish Pastry and then, suffering from eyes-bigger-than-stomach-itis, waddled down to the park to do some serious digesting while I waited for the wind to change.
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The wind, having read the weather memo and decided to do what was expected of it, duly swung to the south and off I went back along the rail trail. On the way through the mine site I met the tourist train with a load of very serious tourists aboard. I waved madly at them and no-one waved back. Having taken the tourist train a couple of months ago I knew the route, and pedaled very energetically until I came to the point where the train went under the rail trail. I waved madly again and all the tourists looked the other way and pretended that they couldn't see the mad woman in the bright orange shirt who was stalking them around the mine site on a bicycle.
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I stopped at every little shelter for snacks and drinks and general faffing around. I used my phone to take photos of my bicycle in the shelter and put it on the seat beside me as I snacked. "Must remember to take that with me when I go," I said to myself.
Off I went again, on the home stretch to Wallaroo. The wind blew stronger: I sat up straight, made myself as sail-like as possible, and enjoyed the scenery as the wind blew me along. Then I saw an old well beside the trail and screeched (well, rolled) to a stop because an old well was the perfect spot to take a photo, and there I discovered that my phone was not in my pocket.
Oops.
My phone was back along the trail, sitting on a bench in a shelter. At least three(ish) kilometers back. Into a very strong head wind.
Bummer.
I thought of ringing Roger to come and rescue me, and we could drive to get my phone. Except you need a phone to ring someone. So I needed to ride to get my phone anyways, and then I may as well just ride back with the tailwind rather than loll about waiting for a rescue that I didn't (really) need.
I accepted the inevitable, got on my bicycle and, with not a little grumbling at the ninny who forgot her phone, started the painful grind back into the head wind. To add insult to injury, those extra kilometers wouldn't even be counted, because I used my phone to track my rides and my phone was having a little holiday in a shelter beside the trail. Only a cyclist could truly appreciate the pain, the agony, the anguish of riding un-counted kilometers and into an unnecessary head wind to boot.
One good thing about the Copper Coast Rail Trail on a Saturday afternoon was that nobody else was out on their bicycle and my phone sat undisturbed until I reclaimed it, and then I turned around (again) and rode the three(ish) kilometers (again) back to the old well.
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After all that I was very glad to see the Wallaroo silos on the horizon. It's a funny thing but as soon as I see the silos I'm convinced I'm home, even though it was at least another 10 kilometers before I wearily rolled up the driveway to say hello to the cats. And Roger, of course.
Roger had had a very nice day: exploring Wallaroo and Kadina; buying things at the markets; napping; and having coffee. The cats had decided that he was an acceptable person and NotAStray had even come to say hello. Roger was very relaxed and fresh and had cold drinks ready, along with caramel peanuts from the markets.
I think I'll keep him.
I watched the sun set, sipping a cold drink and snacking on caramel peanuts. Periodically, I checked my pocket, just to make sure that I really had remembered my phone.
Today's ride: 51 km (32 miles)
Total: 948 km (589 miles)
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