October 28, 2024
The End
To Dublin
I had low expectations of my last day. Avoiding the highway, I had 40-odd km meandering through wheatfields in an awkward corner of country that was neither the Yorke Peninsula nor the Clare valley. I expected headwinds, pleasant but uninspiring countryside, and no towns or settlements to break the journey. Roger would pick me up in Dublin, a little highway town named by a long-ago Irishman who was both homesick and imaginative.
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The day surprised me. The weather started dull and turned out glorious. Rabbits provided entertainment. The wind blew in fickle bursts but was controlled by vegetation.
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There were hillsides of flowers;
ruins in various degrees of, well, ruin;
occasional large pieces of machinery to avoid,
and the road to follow.
In a fit of morning excitement I had bought an egg-and-lettuce sandwich at the bakery, stashing it securely in my pannier for lunch. When lunchtime rolled around I settled myself comfortably underneath a particularly shady tree, retrieved my more than slightly squashed sandwich, and began the complicated and messy process of eating an egg and lettuce sandwich without taking off a fly net or eating any flies. I'll spare you the gruesome details. Suffice to say it was a short lunch break and I'll wash my fly net when I get home.
I survived the highway crossing and by 2pm I had rolled to a stop outside the Dublin Grocery Store, where I celebrated my successes with an ice cream and South Australia's own Farmers Union iced coffee.
Roger arrived bearing a thermos and picnic, and while we drank our coffee who should roll into town but another bicycle tourist. This young man, whose name and picture I didn't get, had left Perth and was on his way to Sydney via Adelaide and Melbourne. We admired each other's bikes and swapped gear tips. "Where did you start today?" I asked.
"Wallaroo," he said casually as I choked on my coffee, he having ridden in one day what I'd taken four to travel. " But I'm heading to Adelaide today," he added, in case I though he was slacking. "Just another 65km." He did concede that he wasn't enjoying the head wind and was over the traffic on the highway. Then he jumped on his bike and off he went, leaving me feeling both old and slow but with a new appreciation of all the little gravel roads I'd traveled.
We loaded the car and drove the 65km to Adelaide with ridiculous motorised ease. There was no fanfare. I had a shower, took the dog to the dog park, unpacked my bags, stashed away my camping gear, and the first short tour was over.
Until the next time.
Today's ride: 46 km (29 miles)
Total: 152 km (94 miles)
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