Glenorchy or Bust

The forecast looks considerably worse than yesterday, which turns out to be a good thing since I've forgotten to wear sunscreen. I try to stop for photos as there's not much in Glenorchy (for me at least, if I wasn't on a bicycle and wanted to sky dive, or something there's all kinds of things to do); today's ride is about the journey. 

I stop at Bennett's Bluff just ahead of a bus filled with Chinese tourists, and then another bus filled with Chinese tourists. They beat me to the top while I am catching up on burned calories. One by one, they venture past the barrier while a tour guide takes Instagram worthy photos. People are the same all over. I am afraid of the 150 meter drop into that lake so my picture isn't as good.

The kilometers are ticking by so slowly. I limit my stops, but these are the first sheep I've seen.

I see more of Glenorchy than I've seen before, which isn't saying much. 

All I remember from the last time I was here is lunch at what I thought was a Speight's Ale House, but was probably the Glenorchy Hotel. The coffee options are limited, but I appear to have wandered into the best in Glenorchy. I talk to the Canadian as he makes my espresso (sorry, no photo).

It's drizzling and even colder when I walk outside. I contemplate hitchhiking back, but put on my jacket and start pedaling. A light rain falls for two hours, but it's never hard enough for the waterproof pants.

The ride home goes faster in spite of the rain and my lack of physical preparation for this ride. The last-ish hill before Queenstown surprises me and I am disappointed to pull off onto a non-scenic turnout. Then I turn around and look behind me.

I scoot back to the hotel to catch most of World Series game 7. I stop watching after the 8th inning to catch the water taxi. The closest pub to the dock has the game on. 

I quickly realize I'm in the wrong pub. It's full of Canadians and San Franciscans.

I wait in line at Fergburger, then fend off sparrows trying to eat my onion rings.

I catch the water taxi back to the hotel. It's warmer on the hotel side of the lake and I sit down on a piece of public art. My phone says it's 41 degrees and I consider if I'm suffering from tuberculosis. 

Strava says 68 miles and 5361 feet. I meant to convert to metric, but haven't yet.