2023-05-31 -37 144

Location

In a footy field at Cherry Creek, Altona.

Participants

Expedition (according to Steve)

A hashpoint in the middle of an oval in nearby Williamstown was too good to miss. Lachie tried to meet me at my house, but got lost in the middle of my street, where I managed to track him down. We made our way to the very busy Inner Circle Rail Trail, spotting Rob making his way past in the opposite direction.

And then suddenly a Cam appeared, right where we expected. And unexpectedly, a friend of mine, also heading south but for completely different reasons.

Westgate Tunnel project apocalypse. Lachie left, Cam right.

Once across the Maribyrnong, the fact became known that we would be passing very close to the Hop Nation brewery in Yarraville. The fact became a dream, the dream became a goal, the goal became a plan, then the plan became thwarted as the brewery was not actually open.

But once a seed is planted, something must grow, even if it is just a weed unrelated to the original seed. And thus we eventually (after many abortive attempts to transfer from bike path to road) found ourselves making a detour to Two Birds brewery. Whereupon, over beers, I mentioned my desire to later have fish and chips from the place in Williamstown where I had previously had such an amazing fishy-chippy experience. We debated the merits of pre-hash dinner vs post-hash dinner at some length, before finally settling for the latter. My companions pointedly mentioned that my beer-drinking was now on the critical path, so I downed the pot and we set off.

Soon we were in unfamiliar territory for me, but not Cam and Lachie. Bike paths through backstreets and badlands and along parks and wetlands led us before long to the appropriate park, whereupon we split up. I plotted a direct course through garden beds and a couple of convenient breaks in fences, while the others took a more sensible, although slower route.

Success! A second round of beers, dredged from pannier depths. Lachie considered the merits of an abandoned hoodie as a replacement for one he had lost on a previous mission, but decided against it.

Lachie dons an undersized hoodie and nibbles a sausage.

We also considered the merits of Lachie's sausages, snaffled from a work barbecue earlier in the day, and decided in favour.

We retraced our path in the direction of fish and chips, until it emerged that we weren't actually retracing them. Oh no! Something had gone wrong. U-turn!

At the fabled fish and chippery, a last minute intervention by Lachie meant instead of ordering alone, we could go halves in a bulk pack, and potentially save vast sums. Until we did the maths, and vast sums turned out to be exactly $1. I'm sure Felix would still approve.

On my previous expedition this way, I had been waylaid by a middle aged gentleman wanting to talk about cycling and its many dangers. This time, I was waylaid by a middle aged gentleman wanting to talk about cycling and its many dangers. The main difference was that I was still inside the fish and chippery this time. Probably the best way to avoid it is to stop wearing high vis, so no one realises I'm a cyclist.

We took our fish and chips down to the same spot as last time, a nice picnic bench overlooking the water. With bated breath, I tucked into my piece of battered fish. Would it be as incredible as last time? A true culinary high point? Battered fish batting above its weight?

It was...fine. Good even. But some distance short of remarkable, and even further still from write-home-able. Still, the meal was satisfying, especially accompanied by our third round of beers. This time, I swapsied with Lachie, who took a punt on mystery beer in exchange for ginger beer. Mystery beer was actually Balter XPA so he did ok.

I can't actually recall anything much happening after this point, but apparently we all got home safely.