Augusta and Grey Nomads

We sped towards the most south western point of Australia. National Park Rangers had warned us of approaching adverse weather and rather than bulk and tie down in another perfect wilderness campground we wanted to watch the approaching storm from where the 2 oceans meet.
The wind howled….primarily from behind. Sun came and went behind grey forlorn clouds that moved swiftly above us. Eucalypts debris littered the roads and was caught in swirling eddies that lapped at our tyres, chased our tyres and then died into silence….before another onslaught from yet another direction.
As usual I was behind but I was bubbling with energy and excitement as the weather fuelled me and my imagination… yes….I sped on.
Cycle touring for as long as we have, it is far easier to brace whatever Mother Nature throws at us, rejoice in it…..or rather we could complain about the weather and go home.
We didn’t complain…but we did appreciate the undercover bbq’s and steaming hot showers upon arrival at Augusta…..then we waited. I rode 3km mostly uphill for a goon bag……snuggled inside a cosy tent, red wine and listening, feeling, while remaining dry…a raging downpour. Perfect thoughts….but as I left the bottle shop the heavens opened….someone up there with a multitude of buckets….thrown sideways with the gusts of wind that left me struggling to take a straight return route to our sweet home for the night. But no worries….until the last speed hump….goon bag launches up and over my basket, upon the ground like a burst dam trailing rivers of red…and the torrent running into the guzzling gutter that has no right to my hard earned imaginings of the indulgent night ahead.
One of the pleasures of traveling in Australia is meetings with The Gray Nomads….if you are not sure of these travellers the bumper sticker “adventure before dementia” sums them up nicely . When not towing a caravan these nomads will happily take their robust 4wd back up the 3km hill ignoring the onslaught of argameddon to collect another bag of red wine….if asked nicely…or assuming a look of soggy desperation.
So the storm came and went overnight….and it came and went again during the daylight. We strolled the rugged coast, then inland for 18km after a peaceful
nights sleep…. Perhaps I am use to the tent in all weather….perhaps it was the wine….and the coast, the forests, the giants, beloved karri….I would cycle 15000 km again for the love of it.

Leave a Reply to Jane Hyde Parker Cancel reply

%d bloggers like this: