Sometimes I get tired on the bike but I never tire of riding. I was up and packed ready to greet a sunshiny morning. I managed to farewell park worker Richard, then I was off into peak hour traffic . Time to leave the beef capital, land of 4WD’s, ute’s and big hats.
Just getting out of town was a challenge. Once out on the highway rolling in hilly country around the Berserker Ranges pretty soon the sunshine faded, low clouds promised rain. Just outside Yamba, where the caravans circled close together as if attack was imminent, the sky began a gentle weeping. I didn’t mind so much, it was warm rain. I put my ridiculous looking booty covers over my riding shoes and ploughed on.
Everything smells different in this wet sticky rain. I can smell molasses and coal tar. The grass was as high as a business mans tie, nothing good lived in there beyond the verge. I saw feral cats, wild cattle and who knows-what else. Something darting across the road, a pig perhaps? Birds whistled melodic tunes as the metal windmill kept time like a metronome: Click, Click, Click. Passing army trucks were heading to Shoalwater Bay, the restricted military training base just off the highway, where solider’s go prior to being deployed overseas.
The Stop /Go man waved me through the road works, pointing to the left he said “Take the dead lane all the way through and you will be OK.”
Marlborough is a couple of kms off the highway. I went to investigate and found a town of 80 people. At the pub, you can camp out back on the grass and have a shower for $5.00, while at the cafe/shop Sandra made me a cup of tea and we exchanged pleasant conversation Apparently a Spanish rider came through a couple of days ago, packed to the hilt and heading north. tomorrow it’s 100 clicks to Clearview and perhaps my first view of the coast since leaving.