I've been riding my bike to work for most of this year, mostly 3 days a week. Great stress relief, good adrenalin outlet and fantastic for the fitness. But a lot of what brings a smile to my (red, panting) face is the sights.
Rowing crews scattered across the Yarra like dragonflies, voices echoing over the water.
A chilly day. The Yarra steams quietly, providing a soft white haze. Any minute a hand should thrust a gleaming sword clear of the water.
Hot air balloons drift lazily over the city, giant coloured acid drops hanging in the sky.
The sun rises, yellow autumn light casting low rays into the city, lighting up the bridges, sending skyscrapers glistening.
The homeless man who sleeps each night swaddled in blankets under the tail end of a bridge, his bike propped up against the path. When I ride home, I can just see his kit folded and stuffed into an overhang, out of the way of the rain and thieves.
In the evening, the two asian men who set up with their fishing gear by one of the floating bridges, sometimes accompanied by wife and child. I've never seen them catch anything, and the next morning there's usually the debris of a KFC meal left behind.
At dusk and dawn, riding beneath the bridges and hearing the multitude of birds who nest there raucously caroling their greeting and farewell to the sun.