Getting into the western suburbs

Ah, last exit from Homebush. Check out the razor wire on the fence on the left - that is there to keep the zombies out. Or in. There is a sign at the end of this stretch that says "End bikepath". It needs to be changed to read "End civilisation".


But for the most part, it really isn't that bad. The bike path goes through lots of light industrial areas like this one, where panel beaters and warehouses dominate.


There's the odd rundown, seemingly abandoned building, but most of the area seems to be showing plenty of signs of reasonable economic health. I think this is the only boarded up place around. For now.


Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.


The west is not exactly overflowing with Swedish style, crystal clear, babbling snow-fed streams. Instead, they have green, murky, turgid slow moving swamps that look like the outlet pipe for a Monty Burns nuclear waste plant. Anyone for three-eyed fish?


May I just say one thing about Westie drivers? "Did you all get your fucking license out of a Weeties packet?" I have been across this zebra crossing at least 10 times now, and on each occasion, either some cock-spanker in a BMW flies through it just in front of me without looking, or another cock-spanker parks right across it, blocking my way.


Elevated bike path alongside the motorway, with interesting fish-spoof motif sculpture.


More of the green and pleasant land. It looks nice enough at 40km/h, and if you are going that fast, I suggest you continue to pass on by at that speed. Do not stop (like I did) and look down. It makes a Balinese sewer look like a champagne flute.


Ah, the dark satanic mills of industry. I have no idea what this place does, but you can smell it from the next suburb. Lots of things are burnt under that roof. This photo really doesn't do it justice - the mess, stench and complete chaos that suggests a blacksmiths shop being run by speed freaks and orks.


Does the underside of the motorway remind you of the underside of a Star Destroyer?


Maybe not.


Whenever I go through here, I wonder about the sense in building a path at a height such that it might flood from time to time. I also get this creepy feeling that one day, I am going to come belting around the corner and find this wave of water shooting out of this directly at me. Like a bad disaster movie.


As I said the other day, I sometimes dream about riding through the wheatfields of France, and then I wake up to find myself here, riding through the open sewers of the west.


Facebook for westies. Or should that be RSVP?


A triple-headed disaster. Open sewer (the waterways prefer to call them "canals", but I don't recall seeing any fucking gondolas on them recently), a rail bridge and a motorway, all meeting at one point. Concrete below me, concrete to the side of me, concrete above me. All this picture needs is a "Welcome to LA" sign.


Motorcycle training school. I've done the two day course at one of these centres - it's very good. I could sit here all day and watch the learners fall over as they go through the obstacle course.


In the absence of public toilets, I have found that these things do just as well.


More photos coming soon.