Hello. I know I said that we were planning on starting a new blog, me and Dea, but certain unfortunate and dramatic events have taken place that mean I'm going to be continuing on here instead. I won't tell you any more about the unfortunate and dramatic events yet, just read on...

As anyone who has seen the fantastic 'Speed 2: Cruise Control' will know, sequels are always a good idea, and it was such a great feeling to know that Dea and I had secured the funding for ours, and that we were now free to set off on our great journey together. We were, however, and I'll admit this is a slight deviation from the usual definition of the word 'together', setting off on our great journey together in opposite directions. Our slow boat to Canada was departing from Sydney two and a half weeks hence, and whilst I, as the purest of the purists, naturally had to cycle all the way back there, Dea preferred the idea of cycling north and seeing the Great Barrier Reef, before travelling to Sydney on an overnight bus.

After spending a last night together camping on a spit of land north of Surfers imaginatively known as 'the spit' we said our goodbyes the next morning outside of K-mart in what I imagine will probably be the first scene of the second movie. In my opinion, nothing says 'great movie' like an opening scene outside of K-mart. With Dea strapping dishwashing sponges (I've taught her so well) to her new drop handlebars I went inside and bought a cheap gel seat cover for my Brookes saddle, which, after approximately 100,000 kilometres, had come to look (and unfortunately feel) less like a saddle and more like an oversized shoe horn. Had circumstances permitted I should have liked to replace the saddle completely, but with 100,000 kilometres of rust to contend with, I couldn't get the damn thing off. (And in any case I had no need of a shoe horn because I'd recently sold my shoes for $20 to a drunk man.) By the time I'd got the seat cover and made my way across the giant superstore and eventually returned to daylight, Dea was gone, off to her own exciting adventures.

Alone again, my own exciting adventures were put on hold for a few days as I had to hang around Surfers Paradise and tie up a few loose ends. Although that might sound quite involved, it really wasn't, I was just waiting for the return of deposits, and spent a large part of my days sitting in parks feeding the birds like the quintessential homeless man I had suddenly re-become. At night I returned alone to the spit and made camp, although the exact location that Dea and I had spent our last night in lost its appeal when daylight revealed a big sign next to it reading 'Warning: A boa constrictor has been sighted in this area.' I consequently found another place to pitch the tent in amongst the grassy dunes of the spit that was several kilometres further away.

Heart

1

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply

Heart

2

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply

Heart

3

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply

On the last night, however, I had hung around all evening in Surfers Paradise. I stood on the beach and walked into the surf and looked around at the bright lights of the skyscrapers, just like I'd done with Dea on our first night. Now those buildings were so familiar to me, I knew every street, every hotel. I smiled and went to say my farewells to my pedicabbing friends and it was late by the time I finally headed out. Away from the bright lights of Surfers it was dark and I couldn't be bothered to ride out as far as I had before, and so I decided to have a look for a new campsite in the trees beside the beach at the start of the spit. A full moon hung over the sea but in amongst the trees it was almost pitch black and the light of my headlamp was all I had to see by. Careful not to step on any boa constrictors as I walked amongst the trees I failed to find a good spot for the tent and reluctantly trudged back to my bike that I'd left on the trail nearby. Just before I got to it I was suddenly alarmed by the sound of footfall crunching in the undergrowth. I looked into the gloaming of the trees from which suddenly a dark shape appeared. It was walking sharply in my direction and it was almost upon me before I realised it was that of an old man.

He was a well-built man, taller than me, with an aged face and a shock of white hair that reminded me of Doc from Back to the Future (FYI Central casting, look into that one please.) He screwed up his face, squinting from the glare of my headlamp and asked me what I was doing out here. Frankly speaking his sudden bizarre appearance had scared the hell out of me, and I really wanted to get as far away from him as possible, but I answered casually that I was looking for a place to camp, and then asked him what he was doing out here in the dark.

“Oh, I'm just out for a walk” he replied, cocking his head and raising one eyebrow in a way that convinced me he was completely mad even before he added, “They won't let me out during the day because I'm on these very hard drugs.”

Now I was very scared. I was alone in the dark with a man who was, let's be honest, odds-on a psychopath, and there was nobody else around to hear my screams. He was still talking, rabbiting on about how he used to love going outside during the day, how his mother used to have to drag him out of the sea he loved it outside so much. I looked at him more closely, which had the possibly beneficial effect of making him recoil from the brightness of my head torch. I apologised and turned my head, but left the torch on, I certainly didn't want to give up that advantage should it be needed.

“If you see one of those,” the madman said, pointing at a long stick on the ground, “but its moving, well, that's a snake. Don't step on it.”

“That's good advice.” I conceded.

“Most likely its an Eastern Brown. If it bites you, you've got seven minutes. Then you're dead.”

“I'll be careful, thank you.” I said, not entirely certain that I was going to live that long anyway, and desperately looking for an exit strategy, but still wanting to ask what a man who clearly knew so much about the dangers of snakes was doing walking around in the dark in sandals without a torch, but before I could ask he had an answer for me.

“They don't bother me of course, I'm a local. I'm their friend. They all know me.”

I decided I'd be better off to cycle those last few kilometres after all, and immediately did so. Very fast.

Springbrook trip - 140km

20/03/16 – 6km

21/03/16 -19km

22/03/16 – 16km

23/03/16 – 16km