Nearly two-thirds of the way through this ride and the end begins to feel within reach. I know it is where I want to be, but unsure for how long. As the scenery flattens to barren plains and the days headwinds persist I won't deny that the predictable is something to long for. However in the evenings, as the sun lowers to the right as a full moon rises to the left, there is nowhere else I would rather be. This is what I can be sure of, day to day. This is my predictable. As home draws nearer to my thoughts I think of what I will change. I think of what I'll remember. Does a trip like the truely give one new eyes permanently? I have photos to aid memory, but will I truely remember the beauty of the sun in Kakadu as it rises above a crocodile filled billabong before bright green floodplains which stretch until bordered by a sacred escarpment? Or having Jim Jim falls to myself as I tried to have the same respecis countries indigenous did for all they received? Will I be more accepting after the confusion as four inches of rain came down upon my head just outside Katherine where I didn't set up my tent as I was told it wouldn't rain until December? What of the overwhelming feeling of riding down into valleys of cliffs that fall away until caught by hills near Victoria River as the scenery grew more beautiful every metre into the Kimberleys? Will I change having known the generosity of the people on board a tour bus I met once at Victoria River then again at Turkey Creek? Will I have grown stronger in patience and will from crossing the border into W.A. in 44 degree heat with flies sticking to my face? There is everything to learn, but it takes more to change. I do however doubt there was much to be taken from the man towing a car and a dog with two camels he had very limited, well, let me be honest, no control over. "No Charlie, No!" He cried towards a camel transfixed on some flowers in the opposite direction. No words would have helped. The camel went, and with it took the other camel, a dog and a man full of useless orders. The Kimberleys breath hungry scenery of distant cliffs scattered with trees as soft, delicate shadows stole mine, but for moments only. Will it last beyond over exposed photos? The crocodiles are gone now, and Ravenshoe has long since been conquered. There are fears I now have, for such moments to have effect beyond short weeks of return.
Beyond the Kimberleys I arrived at Fitzroy Crossing to watch the preliminary final (afl). Here I met Meredith who is volunteering with the fantastic programs running within the community, and her daughter Emma. I was treated to lunch and a swim at the only pool in town! It is amazing to be in temperatures over 40degrees where no water restrictions apply as people casually hose cars, driveways, anything that doesn't move. The preliminary seemed to be decided by half time so my eyes claimed victory and I headed to bed. With headwinds that threatened to set fire to my skin I rode off the next morning with 23L of towns endless water supply from a river that flows with 8.25 million cubic meters annually which, at peak flood could fill Sydney harbour in 21hrs! I hope they didn't mind. That night I met a man who walked around Australia in 1948. I'm sure he'd have an incredible story, if only he could remember it! The next few days were spent growing tired of canned food, noodles and headwinds until...Broome! Here I spent many hours playing the German version of 'Uno' with Robert, Chris, Thomas (all German) and Katia (French). Explaining the game to Katia began with a certain amount of difficulty though. "It's 'Uno'" "You know what?" etc. etc. However within a few hours she had us playing the french version! The sunset over Cable Beach was more beautiful and rewarding than I could have ever hoped. After the Grand Final it was unfortunately time to leave and rediscover my own company. I left Broome and sickness hit, and hit hard. Barely halfway between the 600km ride to Port Hedland I could hardly ride anymore. Stitches, cramping and I struggled to hold any food down. A man who pulled up to see if I was ok turned out to be a commisioner of police and soon the local (by that I mean from an indigenous community within 100kms) police arrived and threw me in the back to Sandfire roadhouse. Here I was inspected by ambo Mick who gave me a check up and refused to let me ride to Port Hedland. The Royal Flying Doctor Service (no I didn't go in a plane) then had me in a curtosy bed for the night (with air con!) and the next morning was spent sourcing a life to Port Hedland. It seems I was hydrated enough but had sweated out all my sodium, potassium, magnesium etc. So it was off to P.H. in a caravan convoy where $35 for a tent site in the caravan park was sacraficed for another sprinkler soaked night in a town park. Headwinds out of town turned to crosswinds for a day (resulting in a sore arm from just keeping the bike straight) but then the tailwinds befan! Still not setting up my tent a spider bite was a little worrying at night, but I woke in the morning so that was ok. As I swam in the Robe River for a lunch break beyond Karratha two cyclists stopped on the bridge above. I didn't call out for fear of looking like a mad man and they soon rode on. Sure enough, a few kms down the road I caught them. They were Doris and Matthias, a German couple who spend their holiday time cycling between Australia and Namibia. We rode toether for the rest of the day which made the kms pass quickly though the scenery was quite well summed up by Doris with "only in Australia can you find so much of nothing!" The roads however were rather busy with mining cars and trucks (it must be company policy not to wave. After we departed company that evening the scenery began again and I camped amongst fields of spinifex as the full moon rose over distant mountains. The following evening Helen, an English backpacker stopped me with a present curtosy of Doris and Matthias...a cold bottle of soft drink! The ride to Coral Bay began with tailwinds then within 10kms had become crosswinds, then within 20, headwinds. Not your average headwind, but the worst I had ever ridden in. Out of the seat I battled with them for nearly 40kms until with 20 of Coral Bay. An early morning cruise into town awaited. However as I woke to a chilly morning with only a slight breeze in the air and packed up, before I even made it out of the field and onto the road, my trailer snapped for a third time! After the one hour cruise turned into a 3 hour, windy and rather cold wait (Do people really think I get up out of my seat, wave with two arms, point to my bike and then stick out my thumb as a way of saying hello? I would more likely be sending a coded message to UFO's saying I need a lift) I found my lift through a couple heading on a one day, 1300km trip home. (Almost all travellers I meet now are done with their holidays and rushing home, it's a strange way to finish such a relaxing time. Maybe we overstay our welcomes on holidays too). In Coral Bay it was off to find a welder. Fortunately I was put in contact with Bill-John and Albert (fixers of everything that goes wrong in the caravan park) who welded it up for free! After a snorkel amongst the beautiful coral and tropical fish I am as ready as I'll ever be for the road again. To learn, to discover, to teach, to suffer, to achieve...
As Helen had handed me the bottle of drink that evening she had said 'I will never complain again!' It would be easy for me to say I won't, that I have been tested to my limits. But limits are only discovered when exceeded, and maybe it is then that life isn't taken for granted permanently.
I will not forget what I have learnt of the problems within Australia, and my confidence in the solutions will only grow. It is everything else, unrelated, that I didn't expect from this trip. I know what there is to learn from all this, and I know what I plan to change, I just hope my new eyes do not forget or grow lazy upon return to a more sterile society.

Halfway/halfmad ponderings

Hello from Karratha! Thought I would post a short one to let all know that I'm still alive and pedalling. I am now well over halfway having covered over 9000kms. Just beyond Kunanurra I realised I was around halfway so thought I would write down some quick thoughts on travel, it may be interesting to compare to my thoughts when I return home.
Despite times (or weeks) of difficulty, frustration and exhaustion I am still of the opinion to yes, travel. But I would suggest to find the ones you love and travel. Not together, but let your paths intertwine like loosely plaited rope. The knowledge travel brings can then be shared between you, for it is the fellow traveler's ears who are open. What you believe of others stories and what you agree upon is of little consequence as there is still knowledge to be gathered from the vast plains of INFORMED opinion. As for mode of transport, to discover a place you must not fly. You must not drive, sail or even ride or walk. You must sit. For alone you will find time. In that time you will find silence, and in silence you will hear the whispers of all the truth, knowledge and beauty that the land holds. The whispers of all that's larger than our moments. But one will always return home surer of why they called it such.

Heat, hills and headwinds

The morning of Guus' birthday bought bacon and eggs and a swim. With that they were off riding as I attempted to update the blog. Paul informed me he was off for a run, then upon his return that his heart rate had peaked before he had taken the first decent stride. Onto the path had slid a 2m long black snake, raised it's head in approval of the petrified reaction, then continued into the bush. Paul then announced it to nearby campers who proceeded to fold up books and chairs. Eventually we made a move, Paul dropping me at the base of the climb before heading off for supplies. I eventually caught the others and we rode on until Paul arrived, my waterproof bag having been emptied of contents less important than the ice, dip, icecream and sorbet that now filled it and soon, filled us. As we rolled (with some added difficulty) onto our bikes the rolling of green hills and scattered rainforest were soon replaced by the flat and dry landscape around Lake Mitchell punctured by termite mounds. It was then up to the riders to relax in the local park of Mareeba while the car researched caravan parks. The answer was found in granite gorge, 14kms away along a road, slowly climbing above the amazing rocky landscape that surrounded. Beyond the scenery, the parks swimming hole was worth the extra distance. Andrew's tent, having been packed up a little wet was beyond the limits of what his nose could take, Guus obliged as Andrew found plenty of space within the safari tent Paul had booked. Happy birthday Guus. After discussion that night over pizza and (once again) coke, it was decided that poor old Bianchi just doesn't look like she'll last, so Peter kindly offered his Thorn. One problem, it had loose bearings in the back wheel allowing for a little play. With the decision to put Andrews wheel on from his almost identical bike we needed to change the sprockets. A borrowed shifter and a broken chain whip later and suddenely the play in Peter's wheel seemed less, and now quite acceptable (fix it in Darwin was the plan). Atherton then and the rainforest made a welcome return, bringing shade and a bbq lunch where Peter's demise began which fall in the gravel and ended with sunburn. Guus being one for twists in the tale suggested Lake Tinaroo rather than the proposed Undara Lava tubes some several hundred kms away and immediately we agreed. Here was the last night of comfort as Paul's lack of tent once again resulted in four walled comfort. The large air con system that may well be responsible for the Atherton Tablelands being cooler than Cairns went on and a swim in the pool found us freezing in our room when we got back. Peter's life was then put in jeopardy with Guus taking his chances lying on the broken bunk above. An uneasy nights sleep. In the morning we faced the daunting task of organisation with the crucial deadline placed upon our tastebuds by the map stating 'Gallo Dairyland' was onroute. After Guus nearly being run over on the way we made it and celebrated his second chance at life with cheese, chocolate and milkshakes. Andrew, having realised to almost die is a sure way to appreciate life more enquired about a cup of melted chocolate. Fortunately he survived by not purchasing it (though the price almost provided the initially desired effect). Rainforest once again was found beyond the 'Dairyland' and we arrived at Mt Hippapimee NP where a swim in the bitter water was braved by Peter and Guus only. We then climbed over 'Qld's highest declared road' and coasted into Ravenshoe. 'All downhill fromhere' I thought. Wrong again. With the bike swap and a tim tam competition (Paul had been discussing for quite some time-'it's impossible to eat in under 30secs'-it was gone in 15) we bid farewell and my own company was reinstated to the position of bearing my singing. A night at Millstream falls, though beautiful, did not promote sleep through cars driving through with spotlights (why was I of more interest than the wildlife?) and the sounds of animals attacking each other. Either that or too much coke. With a visit to the Oxfam office in Normanton planned for the 19th I had some fairly serious kms to do. A planned filling of water bottles at Mt Suprise was turned down by locals telling me I would become very sick from the untreated water. Fortunately after explaining I was on a push bike I was pointed in the direction of one of the only rain water tanks in town. A 180km day of hills that rolled out into the outback put me on target for Normanton though not eating enough that night, kms the next day came slowly. The roads narrowing to one lane made concentration more important, looking out for road trains, cars and caravans approaching from both directions. I was extremely grateful for Peter's bike and the wide tyres as I fear my riding onto the gravel may have been the straw that broke the Bianchi's back. Hills and heat persisted until Georgetown where at least some holiday makers provided me with some amusement. 'You should camp tonight at the place we did last night. Beautiful!' 'Oh ok, excellent. How far was it?' 'Oh wait, it might be a bit far' They thought again. 'I think it was about 300kms...' I found a camp all the same. The next day wasn't off to a good start as I rode through a swarm of flying ants. Fortunately no one was around to see the insane movements of this cyclist in the middle of nowhere but after some kms of hitting myself finally the stinging stopped. A few kms later the holder for my solar charger snapped and sent bits a pieces scattering across the road. The charger was still ok though. At Croydon in time for lunch it was time to do some shopping. 'Where's the best place to buy groceries here?' I asked the man at the information centre. 'My wife usually finds the supermarket best' came the reply. Obvious, yes...however it had become, and was to remain more common for service stations to sell the groceries out here. In the park for lunch I met Kevin and Lydia from Bribie Island and was treated to a cold coke! Down the road, a blown trailer tyre and I made camp. The next day I was headed for Normanton (1 day early) where I met Steve, a man looking for his dog that had run off 2 days ago. A little worrying with the Norman river nearby. He suggested in Normanton I camp the other side of that same river. 'And no crocs there?' I asked as though expecting some other answer to the 'Crocs everywhere up here!' I recieved in reply. In Normanton I asked about a new map. 'I think you need a new pair of shorts before a new map' I was informed. Rightly so, my shorts were rather ripped to shreds. Outside the shops I was eating my latest purchase when a lady asks if I'm riding around Australia. It was Carol from Oxfam. She then mentioned that she had just been given keys to a fully furnished house if I would like to stay there the night. I couldn't resist. I wasn't even game to try, for regret is a horrible thing. Surely enough the house was furnished. Luxuries such as a couch, bed, fridge, freezer, washing machine and an air...wait, no two air conditioners had me already wondering how I was going to leave. The tv was then shown to have unlimited movies and when Carol announced she would bring me back some fresh fruit I had to try and draw a line. That night I went to the weekly local disco where the kids of Normanton were witness to my very average touch football, basketball and soccer abilities. The next morning Carol explained to me all the amazing programs Oxfam Australia have running through this office and it was inspiring to see the success of these as a result of her hard work. Then Carol offered to shout lunch with Lil (who has since begun work with Oxfam) and despite the overwhelming hospitality so far I couldn't say no. As we sat eating lunch at the pub the weekly fruit truck pulled up and Lil insisted she buy me some fresh fruit (I did resist while the fruit was bagged, until I looked into my wallet). A cruel addiction to banana chips began with the inability to buy them for hundreds of kms. As I barely needed convincing to stay another night Lil put out the invitation for a barramundi feast at hers that night. So it was off to Bill and Lil's where I stocked up the stomach, then upon leaving was given a lunch box with more for tomorrow. I know I use the word a lot but...Amazing! Despite all this I did manage to leave the next day, however hard. When driving it is usually an hour or so before you are fuelling up and back in some form of society. However ahead of me I had over 2 days and 400kms until the next town. Though flat, these kms didn't come easily. The scenery remained similar, the dust slowly by the km becoming a slightly deeper red. Termite mounds began to rise from the earth to highlight these subtle changes in what seemed like small monuments to minor victories of height on a country of flat, dry grassed plains. I eventually arrived at Cloncurry and after nearly 3hrs of sitting in a park recovering left towards Mt Isa. A flat tyre on the way, with no shade around and the day grew hotter (I was later to discover it was Mt Isa's hottest August day on record, 38 degrees or so). That night was spent in an overnight rest area to the sounds of campervan sattelite dishes repositioning themselves. After avoiding the last hot part of the day I headed out of Mt Isa, meeting along the way 5 people travelling in cars and on motorbikes who were 'sick of the isolation, sick of the outback'...encouraging words were beyond them. The next day the slight headwinds eased as I headed for Camooweal then, after a month and a half of Qld, the border! As I rode for the border, approaching from the otherside was a reflection of my silhoutte. It seemed to turn as I turned, approaching at the same rate. But no this reflection didn't have a trailer. As I slowed at the border, at exactly the same time Kendall slowed his bike and we shook hands at the Northern Territory sign. Incredible timing-I hadn't seen a in thousands of kms! He began his ride in Sth America and came through Indonesia. Sam and Bronwyn, a couple travelling in a campervan then shouted us both an ice cold solo from their campers fridge and we were two happy cyclists. We departed ways and I headed into the Northern Territory and for Avon Downs, home of a police station hundreds of kms from the nearest town. No police dogs to look after however there was a newly recruited police cow. Barkly homestead then provided the only signs of life moving below 130km/hr in the next 400kms. While filling up water bottles I met Terry who has been on the road 5 months with his family in their campervan. That night for dinner I had a great test of patience-trying to seperate tortillas while 43 flies try to seperate sanity from my mind. The next morning was a lucky escape as my back axle decided it had had enough and undid itself, attempting the great escape. It failed as it fortunately stayed on. Further down the road Terry pulled up bearing Gatorade and starburst treats (note that nothing comes cheaply out here)! It is thanks to these that my biggest day was ridden of 187kms...too far on a bike for my liking. Just before dark I arrived at three ways and stocked up on food. As I prepared to head down the road just on dark to sleep the lady from inside approached me "You shouldn't ride down there, the caravan park is cheap here..." Thanks but no thanks. As she went back inside I went to ride off. Flat tyre. Caravan park it was. A swim and fixing the tyre fortunately revealed it did have a real puncture and wasn't let down! In the caravan park I lay listening to those fellow campers who wish their woes to those who would struggle to care less. The listeners however remain polite enough to shake their head in a movement of slight disbelief during the pauses that promise to last an eternity-these silences are not to broken, for any words from you would only suggest you've seen similar troubles and would then result in further telling of woes of previous travels-these silences are just used for effect. My woes involved being woken the next morning by campers using lights and packing up annexes at 4:30am. The ride north involved facing brutal headwinds, resulting in very slow passing kms. Slight hills provided more of a challenge until Banka Banka-a property of 3.5million (yes, Million) acres. Banka Banka means 'lots of water' and so I filled up my drink bottles and rode on, not seeing one of the 65 000 cattle they have upon the property. From this property I discovered the cows are driven hundreds of kms to Darwin and then placed live upon a boat holding 40 000 and shipped to Jakarta. Not good. The riding grew easier towards the end of the day as rocky outcrops popped up and the sun departed the day in an brilliant explosion of red and yellow across the sky. The next morning at Renner Springs in search of amusement I found the unfailing source. 'Any idea how far to Newcastle Waters?' I asked a campervan driver. 'Couldn't be more than 40kms' 'My map says it's more than 100kms so I was actually just wondering how much further'. Turned out about 130kms further down the road so that's where I headed, into the headwinds. Lunch in Elliot and I met another cyclist named Peter. He had just ridden the dirt Savannah Way, incredibly hard! Here as we shopped I offered Peter a banana smoothie (Andrew's style) which he agreed sounded pretty good. As I made the smoothie, he purchased chocolate however when the local kids drank half my milk I was with a chocolate and Peter without a smoothie. I made it to Newcastle Waters rest area that night where I met Dave and Shelley, an English couple who I was saddened to hear had heard a lot of the stereotyped opinions from many Australian travellers who have never seen Indiginous australian life beyond their tinted windows and airconditioning. The type of travellers whom exclude me from conversations on headwinds for I'm not 'paying $1.77 a litre for fuel'-ok-Fade back. At Dunmarra I met Jorgen and Eiloner (definately spelt wrong) and their two young kids who were headed south and had some good recommendations for up north. Further down the road at one of the many WWII memorials that had begun to appear on the roadside Norm (after mentioning I hadn't set up my tent in weeks) informed me of snakes travelling at night and that he has heard cane toads can squirt you with a poison that kills crocodiles. Hmmm...Nothing yet. It was then to the classic Daly Waters pub where I met Mark the chef who is planning a round the world bike trip himself! Earlier the next day I met the new record holder of my trip-a man who was driving from orange to darwin (over 3500kms) in less than 3 days. Ouch. With the headwinds finally easing I made it to Mataranka and Bitter springs. A natural oasis of a thermal pool surrounded by ferns and palm trees. A few hours of swimming, recovering and talking to Graham and Anne-Marie, a couple with a refreshingly optimistic view on Close the Gap and the things Oxfam is trying to achieve I headed down the road. The next morning at a rest area a camper had his angle grinder out in what seemed an attempt to destroy his trailer and the sounds of nature. Via Pine Creek and sitting beneath the mango trees in the park and wishing they were riper it was onto Emerald Creek roadhouse and the best homemade ice cream I've ever had! Cherry ripe! Come morning I met Yuki, a japanese cyclist who is on the same route as me, I may catch him eventually. Then through Adelaide River as the scenery turned from the shaded woodlands that had appeared since Newcastle Waters and turned into tropical ferns and greenery. The last 60kms into Darwin came painfully slowly, and though it was good to run into Norm by the road again I felt my body had decided to give up. Now I sit in the hostel in Darwin with legs I fear won't recover, along with the two numb fingers that haven't had feeling since Ravenshoe. A break in the budget with a trip to Kakadu should be well worth it though!

Thank you so much to all the recent donations and the support! To have seen the work that Oxfam is doing was an amazing experience and their programs are truely working thanks to everyones support! Please keep helping raise awareness on the issues and speak to those who don't believe change is in sight!

...

....A night of rain and eating at Sth Mission Beach was left behind as we headed towards the walking trails through rainforest. Here Guus demonstrated how he would make living in the Rainforest stylish with the simple features of your average dried fern. (I'll have to get Andrew to post photos). With the Bianchi gears deciding here was a good a place as ever to give way I was limited on gear choices...fortunately I only needed one for the following hills. From Mission Beach the road wound its way along the coast before heading into countryside that rolled like Tasmania with hints of rainforest.






























A flat tyre for me and Andrew decided it was time to make a banana smoothie...this involved knives, forks and whatever other weapon could be found being thrown into a milk bottle and shaken with a banana. It worked suprisingly well (note:almost anything is impressive when cycling).

Back onto the highway for 8kms then onto Canecutters way, a quiet, winding, not flat (as promised by a man who's hair softly waved as it was graced with the presence of airconditioning) road which led us to Paronella Park. A night tour followed by the fascinating story of the day tour and we bid our farewells to Peter over our BYO food at a cafe lunch (the brush turkey had started on the loaf of bread without us the night before...just to add to the cheapness of the whole event). From here the only way was up and so we headed for the tablelands. The tough climbs made worth it from the spectacular views. As Guus took a canopy walk Andrew I took advantage of his absence and found the supply of choc chip cookies. As we sat waiting his return Karen and Bruce from the Marlborough petrol station walked past! A quick catch up on travels and Guus returned, unfortunately too alert to not see the small pyramids of crumbs that surrounded us.

We climbed again, and again, then once more up a 5km 10% hill to reach an amazing view point. Here Bob pulled up to see if we required any help...of course not. Bob drives of...I pick up my bike and bob the trailer snaps! A different place from last time but on the same piece of metal!

It was then to the nearest farm with a shed and we left the trailer behind and headed for the Millaa Millaa falls loop. I enjoyed watching Andrew and Guus ride up the hills with luggage (including some extra stuff of mine). This was how I imagined my time riding with them would be! This is the way it should be! The Millaa Millaa falls loop began and the best road I have ever ridden on stretched out before us down the hill. With a full moon rising on the right and the golden glow of a Queensland sunset from the left we had entered paradise. A camp at the first of three waterfalls and Andrew's trek to the top of the hill to call Paul (soon to be arriving in Cairns and hiring a car) to inform him of Bob's departure from our travels. The next morning we headed to the second of the waterfalls which was just as, if not more stunning and then back along the road of rolling green to Millaa Millaa falls. As Guus headed to the water the magic of motorised transport arrived with Paul behind the wheel. After Paul forced us into the icy water for a swim under the waterfall we headed to pick up the trailer for repair. A visit to the Dairy Centre nearby and we were headed for Cairns and comfort. Guus and Andrew's diving refresher course wasn't available so with the bends likely to occur in diving Guus booked skydiving for himself. He headed off the following morning as we prepared how to tell his parents. It was then to the bike store and welders. Extra metal for strength was added to Bob and then it was too the (very tourist based) esplanade to meet slightly alive, slightly more shaken Guus. Peter arrived that night at 1am and the next day the task of organising the chaos we had unleashed upon the hotel room began. Finally we are ready and it becomes apparent Peter and I are the only ones on the bikes today. With 150kms ahead of us a two man team time trial was in order and that's what we did. The stunning coastal scenery towards Port Douglas was still appreciated as we aimed for Mossman Gorge for lunch. The roads became quieter as we headed to the foot of the hills and into the Gorge. Once again our vision was consumed by rainforest. Towards the Cape Tribulation ferry where the road became a little narrower and a motorcyclist didn't hesitate to yell 'you're asking to be killed riding here' as he road past. Beyond the ferry the cycle of 2 mins of cars then 30mins of silent roads awaited. Unbelievable cycling! We made the camp ground and slept soundly. Peter woke to his own Birthday celebrations of sweet chili sauce on cheese. We later made it up to him as a feast was prepared...by the freezers icecream section at the supermarket. A walk to cape trib beach then it was to the ferry where all but I (catching up on diary) went on a croc tour. A little worrying to hear that saltwater crocs 'enjoy' fresh water occasionally. Then to Wonga for carbonara birthday dinner for Peter...though there was a problem. I had taken it upon myself to buy the ingredients, though without pasta it is a little hard to make it a meal. But sure enough the kiosk had pasta for sale. Tomorrow it was Guus's birthday so we rested our stomachs while watching the hilarious stance and dance of the peacocks.

Travels to the Tropics

By the third day in Toowoomba the craving for adventure subsided and the comforts of four walls had set in. The hospitality of warm surrounds with the sound of company at Peter's place would have allowed for perfect recovery. That is at any other time of the year but this, for this was Tour time. Contador, Lance, Cadel, Schleck's one and two, the updates I had received had never quite been enough. To watch their pain was more enjoyable than ever. The daylight hours I saw were spent between my phone and the bike store. Andrew and Guus had now planned to hire a car and meet me in Townsville on the 2nd of August rather than Mackay on the 1st. 400kms further north. Ben's work had fixed Bob for free so again I heard the road conjuring a revised planned path to victory. The weather came into play as the morning I left the sunny skies gave way to a rainy, windy day. I had the pedals in motion by 10am and the rain cleared so I was off along another driver declared 'flat road' (I will stop listening one day...) Leaving the comfort became easier through an organised stay at the Greenhalgh's north of Gympie only 3 days away. My new cycling sandals that had arrived in Toowoomba felt amazing and hence were one of the simple things ones mind plays upon up hills. A nice campsite with lyrebirds was a welcoming return to life in a tent, with of course the all too common midnight high-beam curiousity. Nanango welcomed me the following morning with the advice 'Take a rest day today, these winds will destroy you'. Fortunately the winds were more in my favour than against so on I pedalled. That was for 300m until the peanut wagon called. There Barbara donated some sensational peanut brittle to the cause which, with all my restraint, was still gone by the following morning. Further into town I met Michael who also rode a bike with a trailer. Well, a 5 speed trike with a two wheeled trailer where over time rust had taken over the more reliable process of welding. As I complimented his 'scrap aluminium collecting' vehicle the conversation steered, uncomfortably for me, towards how much better his setup was. I really shouldn't have mentioned my trailer broke. The conversation then turned to health as he announced over his greatly protruding stomach how the diabetes figures amongst Australian kids 'frankly scared him'. As the morning air became increasingly lined with his alcohol tinged breath upon which words of terrible political advice rolled like a rusty 5 speed I bid farewell and headed for Goomeri. A bbq and a campsite 36kms away resulted in my biggest day yet at 140kms. It was then on to the Greenhalgh's where Darren, Melinda, Zolton and a late breakfast of bacon and eggs awaited! Having not seen Zolton in 7months he had grown a lot. Needless to say endless hours of entertainment where found in his company! With amazing soup for lunch and crepes for breakfast the proposed leaving time of 2pm soon became 4:30 as another lunch was offered down the road at Henry and Margaret's. The hospitality once again seemed insane to leave however after being loaded up with 3 containers of lunch left-overs it was now or never. Darren's company on his bike until the highway, a tailwind and great campsite that night helped. The next morning Maryborough was the target and with the tailwind having waited for me it was an easy one, leaving me enough time to chat to locals (one informing me of every possible way to beat a corrupt system-'fight corruption with corruption!' He announced in a chant that rang without repetition) and enjoy some shade in the park. Maryborough primary was then very welcoming, with even a donation of home cooking for dinner! The next day I headed for Bundaberg, passing through Childers where I was warned by a few locals I would 'never make it'. Upon mentioning I had already ridden so far and that 50kms wasn't too bad they were silenced for a moment before the shaking heads resumed. 'Nup...not Bundy'. On the road north I crossed paths with southbound Andy, the first touring cyclist I had seen. As he rode unsteadily towards me down the highway I saw light puncture his silhouette between one arm and the handlebars, noticing he rode with only the one. 'Yeah I broke my arm so I'm riding from Gladstone to the Gold Coast to get the cast taken off.' Upon stopping he was attacked by cramps. 'I'd just been drinking and smoking too much. All that bad stuff.' Being a seasoned veteran of just over two weeks I assured him it gets easier. It was then on to Bundaberg into headwinds where too much icecream and of course ginger beer was consumed. As the sun departed from my vision which clearly hadn't been connected to my brain, or had been blocked by a haze of sugar, I realised I was in a park in the middle of town. The logical campsite then presented itself in the form of children's play equipment. After lying down then scanning around I noticed I lay perfectly within the vision of a security camera. I could only hope no guards saw, or thought it was too obvious to be any more than an early morning hallucination. Two hours into my sleep I was awoken by a familiar wurring sound. I seems I lay in the bmx arena for two teenagers. They seemed quite happy to ignore my silent presence as they jumped on the slides around me. I could only close my eyes hoping not to be run over. After an hour or so of practise they left, the sound of wurring wheels soon to be replaced by screeching bats. Sleep eventually came until I was awoken by a rooster from the 'free zoo' next to the park. I didn't mind, I wanted to leave on light anyway. However when I looked at my clock 2:30am glowed back and the roosters, not understanding the joke would have been equally as effective if they had stopped then and there continued until 6am. With this uninspiring night I felt less than prepared to talk at Bundaberg East State School that morning. Onto Agnes Water where a rest day awaited. At the campground I met Graham and Margaret who provided plenty of tea and conversation over the next day. With the local tavern unable to get sbs I was back to the unsatisfying updates of the tour. Then, with the much needed rest day over so soon it was to Agnes Water primary where, with much struggle I reached the place the children had gathered upon the hill. It was then for Calliope by 4:30 where I had planned to find a quiet place to plug in my phone for the pre-organised Koorie radio interview. Unfortunately I am not as organised and as I went from shop to shop trying to find one appropriate I finally reached Deslie and her clothes shop. Obviously confused by such a strange request she agreed and allowed me to plug in my phone in the back of the shop, next to her son on the internet. 'Fantastic' I thought, the relief obvious as I pulled out my charger. I plugged it in. Darkness. The power to the shop went out. We looked at each other confused, found the circuit breaker and flicked it back up. I plugged in my phone again. Darkness suddenly returned. Flick again, the till printing out coded receipts. A process of elimination revealed the power board to be the most likely source. I plugged my phone into another plug. The lights stayed on. I breathed a sigh of relief as my phone flashed 'charging', but only for a moment. My charger died. Deslie hunted for a charger she was sure she had and eventually found. It didn't fit. I decided to make the call anyway on the limited battery I had. No answer. Try again. No answer. Deslie in the meantime found the correct charger but mine had decided to start working. It was after 5 and time to close the shop. In desperation I tried the number once more. An answer! 'Could we do the interview tomorrow morning Stephen?'

The Mont Ventoux stage of the tour required a breaking of the budget in Rockhampton as I checked in to the YHA-filled with all the characters I had hoped for. It was however quieter than expected as I entered at 3pm to soft words and heads in hands. The night before seemed to have declared this a hangover hostel. Heavy heads declared me insane some period of time until finally sensible conversation (well as sensible as conversation was ever expected to get) was pursued. It felt good to alter perceptions on ways of travel. Two Irish guys commented "Now that's something you can talk about in 50 years time. We'll just say 'I dunno, I got drunk, I think I had a good time'". Shame I think they were too drunk to remember this moment of realisation. Most of the guys were there to find work, and as their conversation turned to farm employment such observations were made: "If you can't kill a cow and eat it you shouldn't eat meat. Besides it's the food chain anyway. We eat them, they eat us." You get the idea. In Alwin from Holland I found my helper in reserving the tv for Le Ventoux. We watched the stage while convincing another guy it is worthy of it's reputation. By the final kms of the climb he had agreed and we all went to bed in the early hours, tired but I was satisfied.
An early start and hills awaited. My first flat of the trailer tyre was downhill and resulted in some dangerous fishtailing. Changing the tyre was what I had expected from the bike tyres as I snapped a tyre lever. Further up the road I met Tom who was cycling from Cooktown to Canberra with a titanium bike and all the touring parts I didn't have. Onwards and the rain set in and the first offer of a lift was declined. Oh how I regretted that decision when 5kms down the road a rear spoke broke. 'No worries' I thought as I pulled out my tool kit. Spare spokes and spanners were removed from the tool kit but would not go in the wheel. It was a drive side spoke I had broken and didn't have the cassette breaker I needed. After hours of unsuccessful improvisation a lift was sourced through 'Shorty' to Marlborough service station where I was sure I could find a tool to do the job. Nope. A night spent sleeping out the back to the all too familiar sound of trucks and 5 hours of asking for a lift the next day resulted in suggestions such as 'If you're religious, pray!', meeting Bruce and Karen and then a lift through 'Damo'-searching for work driving trucks, preferrably road trains outside of a city. With a tailwind and perfectly sunny day it was hard not to wish to be on the bike. A bike that worked. As the outskirts of Mackay came into view Damo's dreams sunk with every foot that pounded a footpath. 'I was hoping for a main street with a shop and a pub and that's it.' He saw visions of an idyllic Queensland lifestyle dilute into a population already searching. I saw a bike store and a way out of this car. An expensive trip to the bike store and a bit of extra weight in tools later I was on the road again. Calen school was the next stop with extremely short notice. Here I was informed by a young student that I was riding a girls bike. "Is it a girls bike?" I asked clarifying for myself what I'd heard. "No" the girl replied "It is a girls bike." "Oh" Can't argue with someone of such certainty. With the next day bringing a 3 hour stop in Bowen with the very welcoming Bowen State School, the local paper and lunch I still managed almost 150kms-the tailwind helped to say the least. At Bowen for lunch I met Charles who now just travels around, correctly informing me 'It's so much better than waiting to die.' That night next door neighbours to my tent Debbie and Peter told me as most do "I admire you but I wouldn't want to be you." Then headed inside their caravan to roast pork and cake. I limp to Ayr State School with a flat tyre and after talking head out to fix by the school entrance near the shade. I'm not sure how I ended up with 3 leaks in the one tube but after fixing all of them the valve snapped off so I was left to face the stampede of the final bell. A few flats down the road later I decided to give up on riding for the day and found a camp site in a recently planted cane field, fixing flats by a setting sun. The next morning, putting the wheel back on the local farmer stopped as he passed for the 4th time and I really wanted to be on the road. Eventually I got there and was riding smoothly until another 2 flats closer to Townsville. With some caramel topping, milk, fruit cake and biscuits my worries were gone as I fixed punctures in the shade. Here my first opportunity to see harley tourers stopped was hopefully my last as conversation barely flowed over their bikes, struggling to find anything more in common than the fact they own vehicles too proud for silence and their combined vocabulary of 3 words. Riding into Townsville felt amazing and another flat tyre was fixed beside a manmade waterfall. A swim and talking to locals was a relaxing end to the day as I headed for a park the Information lady said I should be able to camp in after dark. Deciding not setting up a tent would be less obvious I rolled out the sleepmat, confident no one had seen my movements as I lay behind a toilet block. The grass was so soft I barely needed my sleepmat and I lay drifting, watching the last of the colour fade from a beautiful sunset. Sleep consumed me. at 12:20am I was woken by a 'Psssss!' It returned to silent so I ignored it. This time something hit me 'Psssss!' I looked up...nothing. Something wet hit me and the noise didn't stop. Townsville's 12:20am sprinkler system had started, though it was closer to a fire hose. The dampness left for 5 seconds and a tired mind barely had to convince a drained body that it wouldn't return to this angle. Wrong. This time a proper soaking. Maybe it was a complimentary rinse this city provided for those who wash their clothes in the ocean. Maybe not. I had to move. A piece of dry concrete looked appealing and with an awkward shuffle I was there. Nope...The angle widened and I was soaked again. On the other side of the toilet block wall I found my shelter, but as the wind picked up and drops were blown over I could no longer care and sleep came again. Now the temptation lay in whether to tell Andrew and Guus of this 'magnificent campsite' and stay awake to watch the midnight commotion. They were to arrive that afternoon and the lack of riding to be done that day bought the temptation of Castle Hill. It loomed over Townsville city in a defiant stance ready to acquire new knowledge. The knowledge of whether I had yet become an insane cyclist. I had, for something left me no choice but to ride up it. I don't know why I didn't leave the trailer behind, maybe that's more to blame on genuine insanity rather than that of a cyclist. Either way the view was as rewarding as I had hoped. Back in town I met a man on a bike, who upon asking many questions about touring informed me he was also going to ride around Australia. His trailer however was home made from steel and 'plywood to make it waterproof'. The connection on his bike for his trailer gave more than enough indication of the quality of the construction and I could only hope he was of strong character. Two hours of waiting at the airport that evening saw Andrew and Guus arrive, 2 bike boxes within the smallest car available. With a 20 minute setup declared ridiculous by a setting sun we left by dark, Guus without helmet or lights, on the wrong side of the road, with his face being attacked by a map. I enjoyed drafting them all the way to a campsite on the other side of the city, a supposed 'industrial area with fences'. When we arrived at this area to discover it was farm land we rode down a dark road, only avoiding creeks for campsites. Guus saw a gate and announced for the second time 'Here! There's a fence!' 'What is it with you and fences?' 'Crocodiles don't go through fences' With that we set up camp and andrew cooked. The road we were told by a local to have 'nothing there, you don't want to go down there' seemed, after 10pm to become one of the busiest roads in Townsville, with more than its fair share of cars with midnight high-beam curiousity. The next morning we headed through town and for rollingstone for lunch. After deciding a hat would be a good idea Guus soon found one beside the road. As we closed in closer on rollingstone talk of food and all Guus must try took over. There it was a swim in the river as the temperature of the day rose. After telling Guus he must try beetroot we opened some at lunch. 'Oh is that the red one? We have that, we call it redroot.' What a shame they don't have pavlova, lamingtons and our favourite types of icecream. Only they are allowed now. Later that afternoon Guus declared a rest and we agreed, as Andrew pulled down a side road out of some sugar cane walked Peter, a 19 year old cyclist from Melbourne. After some rockmelon Peter decided to ride with us for the rest of the day. Stunning scenery, the first crocodile signs and a furious pace finished the days riding. We arrived in Ingham and proceeded to use the one free electric bbq in town. Only it was situated in the middle of the main divided street in town, upon a hill, with a light just for extra attention. It was then to the sports ground where a grandstand provided well sheltered sleeping. The next day again had the scenery but this time with the hills. A 12% pushing the limits of the Bianchis gears. Peter decided to abandon plans of Wallaman falls to join us to Mission Beach. A two hour lunch stop that day at a fantastic spot before heading for Tully and of course, rain. After all this town had 7.9m in one year! It was then onto Sth Mission beach and passing hilarious cassowary signs. The undercover bbq area hosted us that night as Peter slept in the roof........

Apologies for the lack of updates, things have been slightly chaotic since Toowoomba. In the past two days we have been to Cape Tribulation and are now headed west until Peter, Paul, Andrew and Guus depart on the 14th. I will fill in up to that point asap with stories of more broken trailers, the best cycling road ever, Guus' rainforest outfits and now Paul returns to tell me of his epic staring contest with a snake. For now we have 900m to climb today which sort us all out. Until then!

Goulburn-Toowoomba

The roads grow busy as the sign shows 'Toowoomba - 23kms'. I know there are hills approaching but my legs feel good. Though my eyesight is like looking through bug stained glass, the trucks are quiet and the temperature feels airconditioned to the ideal. I smile as I glance over my shoulder to look back at what I've achieved. The smile fades as my eyes find the bike and trailer sitting comfortably in the back of the ute. Oscar's voice filters back in through my disappointed, though slightly relieved stare. 'So where in Toowoomba does your brother live?'

I stood on the 2nd of July at Canberra airport, awaiting the arrival of Sean. Short, confusing messages left on my phone told me to expect a hire car. The cleared carpark provided no protection from the bitter wind. I looked to the sun, trying to work out the direction, but the
clouds quickly swept to steal my warmth, and with it my minds ability to focus on anything but my bike box as a wind break. Sean arrived, in his hire car. The code of messages deciphered to being the story of an early morning appointment between a kangaroo and the front of his forester. Lesson from meeting-first impressions on Sean only last until the panelbeaters. Why my first reaction is to ask how the kangaroo is I don't know. I think because it was Sean. He would get his own tomorrow.

Having been dropped at Towrang by Sean, unpacking my bike box, which held all but a bike, began and then, after table tennis of course, packing began. But I was soon to find Andrew had already prepared the bike...and basically everything else! Sean left for Sydney, organising to pick Paul and Andrew up from Taralga tomorrow. I slept well thinking how this preparation thing is a piece of cake...

With the packing of the next morning having been made easy, the challenge lay in the task of looking down the driveway towards the approaching wind, hills and general unknown that would follow. The slight excitement of the adventure and the whole lot of belief in the cause was all I had to turn the first pedal. Fortunately it was enough. It moved. We made our way towards Taralga through winds from every direction. Upon a rest I decided to take a look at the map while Paul and Andrew ate. I opened my trusty handlebar bag, opened my map and ran my finger across for scanning eyes to follow. Barcaldine...Emerald...Roma...Brisbane. Ah. That's a Queensland map. The NSW one still sitting on the table in the warmth of the house. Oh warmth. To think how much I have taken your accessibility for granted. We made Taralga and the lure of warm indoors did not need to be discussed between us, a blink and we were there. Inside the information centre I found my map I needed and we headed to the local store. There our minds began to calculate the math of how much we need to spend in order to remain within warm walls. It involved a lot of sugar. After hearing of a campsite 3kms down the road that's where we headed. I made the most of Paul and Andrew to set up my campsite, though upon questioning Andrew's ability to light a fire - out came the fuel. Lots of fuel. But even the fuel had no interest of burning in the cold wind. Eventually it came to life and so with smoke stung eyes we waited for Sean. On the edge of tomorrow's headwind he arrived from the north. He exited the car with a laugh I heard as an evil cackle followed by words that penetrated as cold as the wind. 'I think you'll do about 40kms tomorrow with those hills! Oh and it's snowing!' I glared. Yeah and how's the kangaroo Sean? I didn't say it. We spoke briefly then said goodbye. I retreated into my hollow tent with the warm sounds of the fire carried away on the wind to ears less in need of company. But it wasn't an effort to sleep. In middle of the night I woke to look around the rim of the tent that was glowing surely too bright for the moon. I opened my tent and stared into a spotlight. I thought about approaching the light but it was too early in my trip to end. A voice sounded weak amongst the elements. 'How's it going? You sure picked a night to do this!' I reply politely to questions for a minute or so to this glowing symbol of midnight confusion until, finally I ask and discover it's the police. All ok, he'd just seen the fire, I slept again.

Morning came and surely enough it was bitterly cold and those winds kept my own company lonely. The ups and downs of the road provided no rhythm for unfit legs. I thought I had passed the hills Sean spoke of, and as I rode upon a ridge with amazing scenery the day grew brighter. That was until I passed into the Abercrombie river valley. As I road down the hill I saw what I thought was a tar cliff. No. That was the road. I had no gears for such so it was off the bike and pushing, Sean's laughter ringing. I pushed on through the day, seeing Dad and Uncle Neil (not much) further down the road. With a chat for moral and some sugar for a boost I continued up my hills. Sugar was welcomed after discovering just how many of Mum's muffins Paul and Andrew had eaten while I was staring at my Qld map. The idea of setting up a tent in the wind wasn't so appealing so when I stumbled upon a shelter facing the right way for the wind and rain I settled in with a fire and my bed.

The 3rd day brought the prospect of Oberon by mid-morning, a town where the reason could be excercised. The rain and wind held off and the morning, though icy was starting better. As I turned for Oberon I joined the Katoomba to Bathurst 'Scenic Road'. Within 4 mins I had been mooned and shown a stern middle finger from passing cars. As for locals walking the street I recieved one and a quarter smiles. Cold Sunday mornings seemed too much for any icebreaker I could muster. Then as I return to the cruel seat of my bike, hoping the chill of the morning air is focused to frostbite upon that exposed rear I again pass the sign 'Scenic Road' and have to wonder how long until a bypass is put in. Onto Bathurst where fortunately nicer weather and welcomes awaited.

Beyond Orange for the next two days the riding became easier. The hills flattened which was a major relief. Just beyond Orange in a rest area I met a family of 3 (Victoria, Damien and Laura) who have been travelling around in the car, with the two dogs for the past 18 months. They were to find themselves at this rest area for the next 5 days as Damien and Laura studied for year 12 exams. Not a bad learning environment I thought.

Onto Wellington where I met Mark, a local who told me about the town and unfortunately his motorised push bike...temptation is a horrible thing. It was then to Dubbo where the local paper was good enough to help out by interviewing me to raise awareness. The number of trucks grew, many transporting livestock. To those who haven't travelled on a pushbike, you haven't felt alive until passed by a cattle truck to be coated by the dampening mist that trails. The mist you can only hope is from a more mysterious source than 5 out of 5 senses suggest. With 120kms covered I made camp contented with feeling a little fitter. The moon rose to be seen by eyes to tired to be worthy of such a view. It's glow however did provide a perfect silhoutte for the mouse above my head, fortunately on the outside.

The next morning I woke to find the mouse in my trailer bag. What's worse was it had eaten my bread and taken a decent amount of a fruit muffin! But it didn't get the cheese I had in there! What happened to that theory? The days riding started with my first flat, which, to be honest was a good thing. It helped me overcome the fear of the tight fitting continental tyres. The next two punctures within 10kms however were very draining. After pushing my bike with the 3rd flat into Gilgandra in need of food I hit the bakery to eat away my sorrows. After I met some lovely locals and sat in the beautiful sunshine and fixed the flats. Quite enjoyable actually. After some amazing scenery and hilly afternoon riding that comes with being around the Warrumbungle National Park area I camped up on a hill. It was cold again. As I lay in my tent for what must have been 10mins trying to convince myself to roll to the side and brush my teeth I managed to open tent and my mouth to begin brushing. As I did of course a truck pulled up beside the road, filled with cattle odours that wafted into my open mouth. Serves my laziness right. As I returned to my tent the truck remained. Sleep wouldn't come to the sad rhythm being tapped out by the cows feet. The noise grew over the quiet, distressed moos of the cattle. The nights delicate, once comforting silence had been torn by the trucks that hold this country together, and their cargo of cattle that never had a bed time until it was broken. It was therefore a relief to arrive in coonabarabran where the butcher advertised meat locally born, raised and killed. Here I met Aden, the 'first person in the world, to be the friendliest person in Australia'. We spoke for a while, I did my shopping, then left. I asked a local on the way out "Is it about 120kms to Narrabri?" To which the answer came "Yeah but that's in a car, don't know about on a bike."

The next morning I rose in the Pillaga Nature Reserve. It was the first morning that felt like the outback. The creek beds were dry and native wildlife was everywhere. After this outback feel, entering Narrabri I saw a sign for 'Highway Tourist Park'. This seemed all too appropriate for most who never do leave the highway. After an interview with Virginia for the paper, and then a bbq for my lunch where I spoke to Bill and others having a NAIDOC bbq, I was on the road again. A tailwind whipped up and I flew towards Moree. With Mt Kaputor to the right and endless fields of wheat to the left it was amazing riding! Even a puncture didn't ruin it. I camped that night to an amazing sunset, and some carbonara.

The proposed plan of Moree thermal springs never came to be. But I headed into town and met some of the nice locals and travellers which was great. A tough rest of the day made amazing when I saw emus including a male with its 5 little ones! An incredible site! Camping that night a little short of water I approached a family in a caravan nearby who were more than happy to oblige with plenty of water. They were headed from Wollongong to Airlie Beach for a day trip!

Aiming for 280kms over the next two days I left before dawn towards an amazing sunrise. Headed for Goondiwindi I'm not sure how I did it, but missed the border signs! But a photo by a river later was revealed to have been the unmarked border, so I was in Queensland. A stock up at the local bakery (only thing open on a Sunday morning) I headed off again, making great time. Thinking these two days may not be as difficult as once thought proved correct when not too long after Goondiwindi my trailer snapped! After an attempt to splint it with tyre levers and cable ties proved unsuccessful I turned to looking for a lift to Toowoomba. After a few hours of over-exaggerated waving and pointing to the bike, to which many people still just smile and wave back (I turned the bike upside down even though it wasn't the problem, adjusting like a carefully thought out advertising campaign. Some return of waving was still seen) and meeting many interesting people not headed to Toowoomba, Terry pulled up. As he was only headed a short way down the road he was more than happy to give me a lift to the Toowoomba turn off. After a good chat I was dropped off and spent another couple of hours waiting until Oscar pulled over. He was returning to Brisbane from his parents 10000acre farm near Moree (which has an 1880 Cobb & Co pub on it for a house!) and was more than happy to drop me off...not just in Toowoomba but right to Peter's door via my terrible directions! Then even made a donation!

Now I find myself at Peter's place organising myself to hit the road again, most likely on Thursday morning. I have travelled around 1100kms, but ridden 900 of those. Ben has taken the trailer into his work today to see about welding it back together so fingers crossed for that! Fundraising hasn't been as easy as I thought though I have met some incredibly generous people. I am learning a lot about the details of the cause on the road, though i'm still no expert. You certainly get some interesting point of views!

Andrew and his Dutch friend Guus fly into Mackay on the 1st so I have riding company until Cairns and Port Douglas which should be excellent! Should hopefully update before I leave here or, if not then from Mackay around the 1st. Thank you to everyone for their continuing help in raising awareness! Take care!

Goodbye comfort. Hello...?

There had only been the one type of farewell I was aware of. The one where the return will be to the familiar territory in which friends reign. With this view I would say I have never personally struggled with goodbyes. For even with change how could lives tie so securely with such little knowledge, with so many years unknown? For such to exist within it has to have been constructed from the beginning, where ties have become strong by growing together. It is when one is discovered to have done so, goodbyes become daunting, the attempt to come free of what has grown to be as it is. Would you remove a branch from a tree and think the travelled eye wouldn't notice something missing? The leaves can be picked, for the tree sheds them anyway, none to be missed in colder, quieter times so long as those branches remain. Stronger branches will even cling long after life has left. But contrary to many thoughts, a gaping hole is not what is left. It's a sinking feeling that this wasn't forced upon you, and that what there is to arrive to upon return may not be what it was, what you had wanted. So you must hope for what you will, but permit no regrets to follow.

Riding begins tomorrow! 'Gusty northerly winds, rain and snow' predicted! Not to mention the top of 8degrees...should be an interesting start! Andrew shall hopefully post the first photos later in the day for me! My eyes are suggesting an early morning finish to packing...advice I have no choice but to take. Other than this though all is falling into place...everything seems to have come together very well at the last moment as it always does. The next from me will hopefully be Toowoomba, around 1100kms away from this outer-Goulburn based start. Until then...