The Trek Begins

It's Day 6 of my trip and who would've thought that the first week could have had so many ups and downs. I don't mean hills either. It has been a week of mixed weather from severe heat to thundering storms, and it has tested me. I thought I was going to have a holiday, I wasn't endeavouing to commit to some kind of 'life' challenge. I have three daughters at home, I don't need anymore challenges...lol.

Monday started out later than I had planned but, meh, I was on holidays so if you can't leave when you want to, what's the point? I headed out via the cane fields and vegie crops of Southern Bundaberg along Goodwood and Farnsfield Roads to Childers. I had done this route many a time so it was just a means to an end really. But it was different cruising on a loaded touring bike compard to a ight carbon road bike.

The Dippers, or Rollers of Farnsfield Rd were a breeze but I had Showground Hill to contend with. Needless to say I walked it. That's all well and good, it was a nice day for a walk.

After some lunch and a coffee at the park in Childers it was time to tackle the first of my apprehensions, The Bruce Highway. The Bruce is known as the worst highway in Australia and whilst there is plenty of shoulder to the side, the mere thought of what could be flying down behind me was eerily disturbing.

Luckily I only had thirty-five kilometers to ride before turning off, and I have to say that I was impressed with the general motoring populous that day. I was given plenty of room and it wasn't overly busy.

I headed into my first night's camp at Wongi Waterholes in the State Forest. Along a bone jolting corrugated road I pedalled taking every bump into my now overly tired body. But, HOORAY...I finally made it to a beautiful little spot with cold showers, toilets and a swimming hole that I was so tempted to emerge myself in, and no-one else around.

Up the tent went, a cold shower that revived and rejuvinated an old bum's body and all that was needed was a cold beer. But I haven't worked out how to carry a fridge on the Kona yet.

Dinner on and eaten, no fly on the tent, and a warm night just made to lay back and watch the stars above saw me drift into a peaceful slumber.

It was about 1:30 in the morning when I was awoken by my tent, with me in it trying to blow away. As I looked up I saw the emptiness of looming storm clouds that replaced the sparceness of stardom that had once been. A few drops of rain was felt through the screen of the tent and in no time I hade the fly whipped over and my gear, as best I could, shoved in under the fly. I no longer tucked myself into my hiding hole and the heavens opened. I awoke about 5:30 am to hear the patter of light drops still falling, but it was on the clear.

Day two strated right about then. But in no hurry to get up in the rain I just laid there until it eventuall stopped. I had, in my haste packed everything I thought of before the earlier downpour, but one thing...my socks. There's nothing like putting wet socks on in the morning.

I did take my time and as the sun encroached through the clouds I had a line of damp clothes hanging in the broken morning sunshine. It was still windy, so if the sun didn't work, surely the wind would help.

With an overcast day, a slight chill to the breeze I was in for a cool day's ride. Or so I thought...

Cheers guys, and as always, ride safe.