Today I took bike and camera around the Miramar peninsular, stopping at various points along the way for pics and rests. The wind was getting up a bit as I came along the eastern side, round Scorching Bay and Karaka Bay, so I decided to pop up over the ridge and go back through Miramar itself. Between the hills and the wind, I was very glad to get home. Where I found that somewhere along the route I'd dropped my keys. Bugger.
I dumped out the contents of my bag, searched through my pockets multiple times. No keys. Also I could remember a metallic noise at one particular stop. It had seemed like an odd noise for the bike to make, but, in hindsight, exactly the sort of noise that keys would make. I contemplated the idea of hopping back on the bike and retracing my ride. This seemed like a whole lot of Not Fun, especially with the increasing wind.
I ended up getting hold of my property manager, cycling into town to pick up a copy of the key from their office, a shorter distance, at least, and one with a guaranteed key at the end of it. This got me into the flat where I was able to get my spare key - not to mention some lunch and a toilet. I hopped on the motorised transport and rode slowly around Evans Bay, keeping an eye out for stray keys on the way.
I eventually got to the place where I thought I'd dropped them, and yes, success, there they were, artfully arranged on a rock by a woman with a border collie. I know that she had a border collie, because they were still there, she reading a book in her car, the collie running around looking for a stick to be thrown. I thanked them both profusely, and headed home. Gonna secure the keys rather better in the future.