Lying here on bed rest, under a nurses watchful eye I now have a far greater appreciation for the often-quoted phrase, ‘careful what you wish for!’
As a warm up to our Indian tour we’ve first dropped anchor here in Australia where we’re spinning our legs from Melbourne, a 1000km or so over the Great Dividing Range to Rachael’s home town of Pambula.
Since draining the pipes, turning the thermostat down to 48 degrees F and bidding NH’s winter good-bye I’ve been keen to inform of our progress but every night I go to lift my pen it just feels to heavy. This I’m attributing to the fact that the trip is progressing to smoothly, I’ve nothing worthy to scribble.
Sadly the flight over was simple, one may have even called it relaxing. Lucking out with exit row seats and evading the expected $400 excess bike charge plus popping two sleeping pills and an equivalent number of G-N-T’s I awoke refreshed in a foreign land.
Frustrating it was that the Melbourne logistics meshed like well oiled gears. We avoided customs inspection with a few strategically timed smiles. On top of that Ben and Janel, Rachael’s cousin and his wife were waiting at the airport with two vehicles to whisk us and our 200lbs or so of gear away to their apartment where we were able to relax among friends for a day and a half; virtually eliminating jet lag.
Worst of all, our first three days of riding and camping went off with out a hitch and were actually rather enjoyable.
Day one: Rode on a converted train rail trail through gorgeous farm land with out passing a single car all day.
Day two: Rode through a specular National Park over a 1000m spur. The riding was tough but there were 6-foot diameter trees everywhere you looked to take our minds off the climb. We had the road virtually to ourselves save the few hundred motorcyclists who used the twisty switchbacks for racing practice and the poor bloke who came into a corner too fast, sliding off the road down a drop and into a stump, that will him to slow down.
Day three: Peddled through flat luscious green farmland, found another rail trail, ate ripe apples off branches overhanging the road and had the sun and wind at our backs all day.
Day 4 and 5: Relaxed with Beck and Grant, Rachael’s sister and her boyfriend at his parents home atop a knoll surrounded by specular farms, pristine water ways, king parrots, happy cows and an infinity pool.
Inconveniently I have no motivation to write when travels are going so smooth.
"I WISH I HAD SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!"
Day 6: We’re ready to cast off from our luxury post and get back on the road. But the pain in my achillies that’s been nagging for the past few days all of a sudden rapidly escalates and by km 7 I can go no further. If not for the fact that Beck was riding with us for the day I’d surely have thrown a tantrum but in trying to project and air of self control I simply declared, ‘I'm f-ed and can go no further,’ hobbling off the road I gently place my wheels in the grass and await rescue.
Shit, now i have something to write about!
Gazing out to the distant luscious green farm covered hills I’m back at the pool in my banana lounge icing my achellies under the watchful eye of nurse Rachael. Longing again to be 18 and invincible I reach for my now not so cumbersome pen.
Love Rachael and Mantis
Possibly interesting side note:
Life long I’ve been waiting for someone to bestow upon me a nickname, but aside from Hannah’s attempted ‘Mc-Shit’ none has come.
That was until, dut dut dut…yesterday. Munching my double-coated chocolate caramel ice-cream it dawned on me. I’m long, skinny wearing green shorts and shirt. I look remarkably similar that that ... Praying Mantis we were just admiring.
Mantis it shall be.
Mantis
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