We’d warmed the legs the evening before, and introduced some of the boys making their TDU debuts (we’re currently workshopping “Tee Deeboo’z” - it needs a lot more work). For the first time we were taking on a rest day Monday with a full nights sleep, and Adelaide as our oyster. Shame we're often too lazy to take advantage of such rare and incredible things.




As always we have the regulars. To kick off each day we will bring you exclusive foresight into how we plan our days, what we eat and drink while we plan our days, as well as a running log of important and highly relevant statistics (constantly evolving). The regulars are split up into mostly self-explanatory sub-chapters including: Plan of Attack, Not-Quite-Broadsheet (which for this year involves as many pointless café photos as possible, in honour of its actual namesake), Church of the Day, Beer of the Day, Adrian’s Work Expenses, and various place/product/vibe reviews from the week.


First things first we would procrastinate from adventuring to a supermarket – a mundane task in any state other than South Australia where the act of going to the supermarket requires a certain amount of cunning, audacity and skill. From there we would breakfast into brunch into lunch. There would be plenty to see at the Tour Village, and the ever-warming weather would invite us to go on some kind of ride towards dinner time. Route TBA.



Mark, the man taking care of the Franklin Hotel – Adrian’s pre-TDU accomodation made the early morning recommendation of Crack on Saturday morning. Not the substance but the venue, a cafe situated a few doors down on the street of the hotels same name. Housed in what we thought was an old bank (confirmed via its respective Broadsheet article) two days later since it's original recommendation, Crack would host Volume 1 of our much beloved segment “Not Quite Broadsheet”.

Adrian had some pre-existing faith, the rest of the gang joining him in the belief of being in good hands once the first rosetta dropped on the table. A few rounds of coffee were ordered as Riche, then Kip joined us in the sun, but under the shade of expansive umbrellas. The Potato Rosti’s are five star, the coffee; fantastic. The water; while from Adelaide, had a scent and the aftertaste of water from a much different state. But the staff? Incredible. Warm, friendly, knowledgeable, willing to slav/rap squat with meals as they made their way to tables, our tables. Kip’s purchase of a single blueberry cheesecake led to a table wide round of blueberry cheesecakes, served and consumed without any regret. We were now fuelled for the rest of the day.


Distance: 51km (Alex)
Vertical Gain: +588 (Alex)
Rounds of Beers: 5
Most Frequented Pub: The Exeter
Rounds of Caffé Lattes: 5
Wraps: 2
Pizzas: 1
TDU Fedoras: 0
KOM Bucket Hats: 0
Highest Temperature: 33ºC
Mechanicals: 0
Handball Record: 0-0-0

Crack, 13 Franklin Street Adelaide
M–F: 7.00am til 4.00pm; S–S: 8.00am til 3.00pm

The staff at Crack, knowledgeable, warm, friendly, trendy. Totally with it. They even managed to fuck us up in the circle game, which also makes them just the right amount of audacious.

Two Days in to the Tour Down Under, our fourth Tour Down Under, and we are yet to hit up an open supermarket. Experience counts for nothing in these parts of the country. Will our body clocks and our ability to prioritise basic nutrition ever adjust?

Also Hotel wi-fi. Will we have to become a fully fledged professional cycling team and/or professional cycling media outlet before we can cop some accomodation that has slightly better than 2010 internet speeds?! This is Australia after all. We aren't after something to torrent with, or play League of Legends with, just a connection capable of facilitating some #humble blogging.

"Get me a motherfuckin' choccy milk dammit" – Things were super tense following a wild #content brainstorming, all Adrian wanted was dinner, an Oak choccy milk. At 9.30pm. At the cost of $4.80AUD.


We took on a quick visit to the Tour Village to suss out the setup that becomes more and more bougie year on year. Our plans for “A Bike A Day” flew straight out the window pretty quickly as we found that it would be pretty hard to logistically organise, but our friends at BMC Australia were kind enough to reserve us a little something something for Friday afternoon. Before the heat of the day kicked in proper, we were outta there seeking the blue pastures of the coast. A beach ride was in order.




The Outer Harbour Loop leaves the CBD from Montefiore, taking the bike route frequented by the bulk of the Adelaide Soup Boys crew who reside throughout the north western suburbs of the city. Weaving through streets that followed the train line of the same name, we stopped by a next level Australiana hashtag BAAW while Alex changed from casual into kit, and so the first round of drinks could be ordered – Gatorades and Solo’s.


Heading up through Port Adelaide we got the first glimpse of the Beach on this here “beach loop”. But it was short-lived. Thanks to a pounding tailwind we left the port suburb behind and on a smooth and expansive semi-industrial road, we Shinkansened north to Outer Harbour. Turns weren’t required, the wind kept us at a steady 50kmph pace, maintained for so long that we grew slightly complacent with each kilometre ticked over. And that’s when it hit us.




We had all gotten way too excited by the prospect of heaving tailwinds, completely forgetting that eventually we would run out of road, and have to turn back for home. Looping around past the end of the Outer Harbour train line was that moment. An unrelenting, brick wall of a head wind greeted us as we caught glimpses of the long stretches of beach we longed for ever since our first rest day ride.


We were riding in a bunch where only 2 cyclists were built to tackle winds, and where maybe 1 of the 6 were willing to even pretend to tackle winds. A duo only far too happy to sit up, suck wheels, or give up against the wind were Adrian and Kip, unapologetic in their show of defiance towards giving a fuck. Any turns they could/would/should have pulled were replaced by photos of the #squad, as the smooth roads heading north turned into slightly heavier variants along the coast.

 We hadn’t even hit double digits on the “riding into a headwind” kilometre tally before a jetty and kiosk stop were both required and forced by some in the bunch. In this case; Largs Bay – a jetty that offered great views of some locals participating in the much more wind friendly activity of kitesurfing.


Reluctantly we rolled out again, the heat finally kicking in to make conditions even better. Renditions of Lana’s Summertime Sadness almost belted out before not a moment too soon we rolled into the faux(?) lake estates surrounding Glenelg, our turn for home, and respite from the wind. Slade and Mortimer would continue on for a shot up Norton Summit, while everyone else was happy to call it a day and jump of their bikes for now.




As we alluded to in our TDU Manifesto, someone other than Mr Simon Mottram himself (how is he not a Sir and or Lord yet?) hit us up via the Soup Boys HQ secure hotline. Part of it was community led coverage of the Tour Down Under week; easy…we run this shit. Another part was chilling at the Rapha pop-up Clubhouse. Also easy, they have fans, beers, a rotating slushee menu, and the Gravier boys doing up some valet parking and cleaning for fivers. The third part, some kind of social media vibe, specifically an Instagram takeover. Sounds easy enough, but after figuring out we would be doing one of the Rapha rides the next morning, we sought to find out what the specific rules and/or guidelines from Mottram’s henchmen would be. Instead we walked into the launch of Rapha’s new Ode to the Sun collection.


Presented by Tiffany Cromwell; the “Diva from Down Under” – the new collection was a women’s exclusive series of Rapha pieces that had direct input from the Diva herself. Proving that name is anything but hyperbole she spoke candidly about racing the Australian summer of cycling, the design process and her love of fashion, and took on a few questions from the audience. Following all this she stuck around to share drinks and selfies with some of the fans.

We would go on to learn she would be the only other Instagram takeover-er besides us. The, er...Soup Boys.




With the impending heatwave, mixed with the increased population in Adelaide brought on by the weeks events, local news media feared that despite the new Tesla battery being “switched on” – the state may not be able to provide the necessary power to the Greater Adelaide region. As a plan B, Bike Exchange & Port Adelaide CC conducted a power challenge as a way for cyclists to do their bit, to “pay their rego”. Propped up on rollers, each rider would lay the watts down, with each effort being fed back into the grid, powering the air-conditioning at the Hilton Hotel. Kip, alongside our lovely Adelaide friends, was there to document some of the true hero shit that was going down in the golden light.




Adelaide, the city of churches, Feeling the Rush, and the home of a very strong wrap game. No we’re not talking about Allday and the Hilltop Hoods, rather the kind you can hold in your hand, wrap your lips around, and don’t come with a whack accent. Alex and Riche wandered down Hindley St in a post ride daze deep in Ryder Hesjedal territory. That was until Falafel House appeared on the horizon. They provide us, and you with a rare insight.

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The first edition of the daily wrap features falafel house with it’s well renowned falafel roll. I’m not going to say that it’s more than a standard falafel wrap from any other falafel joint, but I will say that it is in the higher tiers of standard falafel wraps. Probably the most standout feature of this wrap is the heavy dosing of hummus lathered on the bread. This is only made more prominent when the wrap is then heated up on a hot plate with the hummus, bringing both to a premium level of softness and warmth. It is both cool enough to handle and eat, but warm enough so that it feels like you just copped a fat load in your mouth from a chickpea and enjoyed it. The garlic sauce is a nice touch too, no yoghurt here only tahini and garlic so fairly legit traditional styles. The biggest negative of the experience is probably watching the dude put the falafels into the microwave right before your eyes. Now I’m not one to turn my nose up to microwaved foods, but why microwave the falafel when you’re warming the bread on the hot plate? It just doesn’t make sense.

Overall the Falafel House Falafel Roll is a must cop if you’re visiting Adelaide. At just a smidge over 10 dollars, the fact that the wrap is in your hands in under 3 minutes from when you walk in the door really makes it an offer you can’t refuse. 

I give it 4 out of 5 laps around the block.

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