Can it be uphill in every direction?

Competitive sport has never appealed to me. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I have never appealed to it. As a short, weedy, bespectacled kid I was rarely if ever picked to be in team sports; and on those rare occasions when I was involved in cricket or soccer I managed to disgrace myself pretty quickly (I kicked an "own goal" once...).

Mind you, I wasn't emotionally traumatised by this; in general I preferred to be able to carry on my exercise in less potentially embarrassing pursuits. My ideal occupation, of course, was reading. But if I were forced to be involved in some sort of activity, I would pick cross-country running (which, out of sight of the masters, quickly degenerated into cross-country walking).

But out of school hours, there was one physical activity which I did enjoy greatly, and one which I have re-discovered in the last few years - riding a bike.

When I was about 10, living in the North of England, I had a red bike. It was called a D'Artagnan for some obscure reason (from The Three Musketeers, of course, but why?), with Sturmey Archer 3-speed gears. These gears, for those who remember them, were of very little use; the lowest speed would only barely assist you in getting up even the gentlest of hills.

On this machine, however, I travelled to school and back every day; and on weekends I often went on long expeditions with my friends.

We not infrequently went on rides from my home town, on the outskirts of Bradford, to a town called Skipton; a round-trip journey of around 50 miles (80 km). More frequently, however, we used to climb (mostly pushing the bikes) up to the top of the moors above Shipley. It took hours to get to the top; we'd ride (or more likely push) past people flying model aeroplanes, going rock climbing, and other such pursuits, right to the peak. From there, eager with anticipation, we sped down on a delicious free-wheel for about 5 or 6 miles, down on the other side of the moor to a town called Bingley. The free-wheel probably lasted only about 15 minutes, but it well repaid the agony of the climb. I'd hate to think what speeds we reached, all without a safety helmet, but we never seemed to come to any harm. (I do remember, however, that one of my cousins spent several weeks in a coma after coming off his bike doing something similar).

I couldn't do the same thing now; for a start I'd never be able to make the climb; but over the last few years I've certainly re-discovered the joy of cycling.

It started a couple of years ago, when my brother told me that he was selling his bike. He's a policeman who spends most of his time driving around in a squad car; he bought the bike to try to improve his fitness, then never used it.

But, remembrance of times past flooding into my mind, I volunteered to buy it off him; and I'm very pleased that I did.

Now, I have to say right away that I am not one of these cycling jocks; I met a couple of these characters at Bike User Group meetings in Eltham; they are the cycling equivalent of the Arnold Schwartzneggers of weight-lifting, or the James Fixx's of jogging, or the Jane Fondas of aerobics. You know the type: the "no gain without pain" freaks, the ones in the $500 runners and the bright pink or green lurex shorts. These guys at the meeting were spouting endlessly about how you couldn't buy a decent bike for less than $2000, bitching about the way car drivers treated them, boasting about the 1 in 5 grade hills they had powered up without changing gears. When I mentioned that I never cycled on roads and so avoided the problems of mixing it with cars, the disdain was tangible. "You ride on bike paths...!!!"

I failed to make my point with these characters; but I will make it to you. I hate cycling on roads; it's dangerous, and it's boring. But I love bike paths, and Melbourne is now extremely well-served with a fantastic network of paths, largely courtesy of the Board of Works and a number of local councils (of which Eltham is one).

The jocks would never be seen dead on a bike path, of course. For a start, it doesn't show off their lurex pants to greatest advantage; secondly they can't do very high speeds; thirdly there aren't enough agonisingly steep hill climbs; and fourthly they wouldn't be able to bitch about cars they way they do now.

But to me, joy is an overcast but not cold day, and an unexplored bike path in front of me. Bike paths are interesting because they are the converse of why roads are boring: they don't go straight for long stretches; you can't see what's around the next bend; and they are full of obstacles and challenges. You have to keep your wits about you and be prepared to take evasive action. You need to be prepared to swing sharply around corners, lift off the seat to cope with sudden bumps and holes, dodge your head under an overhanging tree branch. And - bliss - there aren't any cars.

The Board of Works (now the insipidly named Melbourne Water) has done a splendid job in building what it calls "trails" through its existing parks, and making major efforts to link these trails together into a continuous network. The Main Yarra Trail is now almost complete from Spencer Street in the city out to Templestowe, and many other trails link with it along the way. This represents an end-to-end distance measured along the trail of some 45 kilometres.

I haven't actually done the full journey yet (though I am keen to do so), but I could now cycle from almost right outside my house all the way into the city without ever having to travel on a major road. I reckon that when I do it, it will take me around 4 hours. (A cycling jock, if he could be brought to condescend to try it, would probably do the whole thing in an hour and a half). I've certainly done the whole length in a series of segments tackled on different days. Let me take you on this journey, and describe some of the highlights.

I get on my bike in Research, carrying a small day pack on my back. In here is a carefully assembled set of useful items: a windcheater for if the weather turns cold or if I get wet; a balaclava ditto and because my ears are very sensitive to cold; an old cap for being in the sun without my helmet on; bike tools and puncture repair stuff (unchanged over 30 years, this); a set of photocopied and reduced Melway maps, with bike paths marked in red; a short bike pump; a spare handkerchief; sun blockout cream; and a small container of water.

Thus equipped, I set off. I can reach the Research to Eltham bike path simply by going down my drive, crossing the road to the kindergarten, and then crossing another road, two minutes at most.

The bike path slopes downhill past the vet's, then levels out. It follows the course of the Research Creek, now running in an underground culvert. Above ground, there is the equivalent of a linear park running for about 4 km parallel to the main road, with trees planted by the council now starting to reach medium height. Past the new Eltham Gateway motel, watching carefully as I cross various minor roads along the way (generally ignoring the hated "dismount" signs).

Once into Eltham, I cross the railway, then along around Eltham Town Park (dedicated to Alistair Knox, this), under the railway bridge and along a beautiful stretch down by the Diamond Creek.

Eventually I get to the Eltham Lower Park (scene of long-ago rocketry experiments). Climbing an incredibly steep but thankfully short stretch up Homestead Road (where Carey Handfield's parents live), I reach a path which takes me over the newly-widened bridge over the Yarra and into Westerfold Park. There is an extensive network of bike paths through this, now connecting with a new footbridge over the Yarra to the path which runs on the northern side of the river, past Odyssey House (a drug rehabilitation centre, now no longer as isolated as it used to be), for about 7 kilometres until I reach Heidelberg. There's a bad kilometre or so in this which is marked as "Temporary Route": all that the authorities seem to have done is take down a couple of fences and mowed a stretch through a paddock. It has patches of mud and worse, dried mud with rock-hard ruts.

From Heidelberg, I cycle through the Yarra Flats park on a rotten track of loose sandy gravel (asphalt or concrete is much to be preferred), reaching a newish footbridge where Burke Road crosses the river. A good asphalt path then leads up to a thankfully short stretch along the side of the Eastern Freeway, separated from cars whizzing in the opposite direction at 110 km per hour by an all-too-flimsy cyclone wire fence. After this, I pass through Willsmere Park and enter a pleasant run to the south of the Yarra and alongside the LaTrobe Golf Club.

Past the National Guide Dog centre and over the Chandler Highway, I meet the first set of stairs. Yes, stairs, and steep they are, too. This is where the cyclist and walker parts company with anyone in a wheelchair. You have to push the bike up the stairs by placing its wheels in a sort of gutter alongside the steps. No fun.

If I haven't had a heart attack by then, I proceed along the footpath of the Yarra Boulevard until I find a path which descends quickly down to the pipe bridge over the Yarra to the Fairfield Boat House. The bridge is where I part company with anyone who (like Sue) cannot take heights. It's quite safe, but the bridge is at a fair height...

I then do a sort of loop up and around the Fairfield Hospital, and coast down an open stretch of parkland alongside the Merri Creek. On the other side of the creek you can see the Merri Creek bike path, which goes up to Coburg and beyond. One day I may explore this one.

I then whizz under the Eastern Freeway and come out at Dights Falls. The path is supposed to follow the river here, but the path is very close to the water, and it has been closed for most of the last year because some idiot went cycling when the river was in flood and went in. So I have to do a few kilometres of the back streets of Collingwood. Interesting in its own way, though. I then rejoin the path proper at a footbridge at the end of Gipps Street, which leads over the Yarra to the Yarra Bend Park. This is an unpleasant stretch, not because of the scenery, which is pretty ordinary, but because there is a long slow uphill climb, and by now I am rather tired! Then I get to a short downhill stretch, over another footbridge to the south side of the Yarra in Abbotsford.

Down some more stairs, and then along a quite good stretch of the path, through Hawthorn, and then Richmond. All of the latter part is the very long established bikepath. It's also very long in distance, as it closely follows the loops and bends of the river; but it is fairly flat, and if there is no headwind it isn't too much of a hassle. There are some less than great stretches over wooden boards, but nothing too bad.

After a long, long ride I come in sight of Princes Bridge. At this stage I will be close to complete and utter collapse through exhaustion. I'll buy a drink, mooch around a bit, but being drenched in sweat means you aren't too welcome in any shops, etc. So then I would buy a train ticket and go back home the easy way!