owlrigh

The airport was full of people when we arrived at Launceston, all waiting to halloo arrivals. They were out in the open air -- it looked most strange, used as I am to bigger terminals, all closed in. The luggage came out on a bunch of carriages behind a little vehicle. No continuous belt! How quaint, how strange! There were our luggage, two big boxes on the last carriage. We waited until everyone had finished the mad rush for their bag before dragging them off and outside.

Propping the boxes against the wall, I dug into mine and pulled out my trusty swiss Army knife, tore into the box, and so began assembly of our bicycles. It wasn't long until dark, and our night's destination still was some distance away.

I toddled off to fill our water bottles and came back to find Ben talking to a cabbie.

"Nothing at Evandale," said the cabbie. "You can camp there -- at the primary school. Take the first left when you hit the post office and keep going. You'll see it."

Bikes set, we headed on to historic town Evandale of the penny farthing races -- our first night's camp.

( After a long silence, the two weeks in Tasmania. Over 8,000 words worth. )

"Bloody hell they're big," said my brother, pulling up to the side of me and nodding his head in front of us.

I looked in front again, this time really taking in the size of the two Brahman bulls, which I had only before curiously looked over.

"Bloody hell. I hope they move," said I, just as they began trotting to a larger group of cattle behind a nearby tree. "Thank goodness!"

Up until that moment I had been cycling along, smelling fresh cattle dung and reminiscing upon how pastoral it all felt. Dung was all over the road I was on, and it's not until you realise that there are these huge bulls nearby and you are on a bicycle, not a car, that you feel small. Or as insecure as when you notice there is no fence.

Damien and I pedalled along slowly, watching the cattle nervously ... when they started trotting towards us. These cattle are amongst the largest sort in the world, and here they were coming towards us and we on our tiny bikes.

( Do not mess about with nature. )

"We'll leave at dawn," Damien and I told one another, "just as it gets light. Set the alarm for 4:30am."

When the alarm sounded I got up to turn off my phone and then snuggled down back amongst the covers. Three hours later the town hall tower clock gonged and awoke us and we slowly began to get ready. No need to worry about lateness of leaving once hours of daylight have already passed you by!

The good thing about the ride back north to Bundaberg was that the wind was going to be up the arse the whole way. Seeing as the ride down had been hindered by the gusts I was looking forwards to it.

"Do you want to get a milkshake?" Damien is obsessed with these, and here would be none to be had for another day. With his assent, we navigated Bazaar street -- aptly named -- and parked ourselves in front of the health food store.

We milled around out there for a while, for although the door was half opened it still wasn't open to business. As I mooched around for my wallet, the store owner appeared.

"Milkshake?" he asked, pointing at Damien. "Soy?" he said, and pointed at me. "Banana?"

"Wow, you're good." And all we had to do was sit outside waiting, for he brought them out to us as well.

( A good couple of days on the road. )

"Well, if you're bored, come with me to Maryborough then," I said to my brother, just the day before I was due to cycle on down there to meet a friend. He ummed and ahhed and then agreed.

Monday morning came about and I woke him before dawn. He hadn't begun to pack, so he did that quickly and I cooked us up a batch of porridge. The look on his face when he saw it said it all.

"What?" I said when he came out with his belongings. "You're going to cycle that far with a bag on your back?" Nothing I said deterred him. So he put in on his back, I put my panniers on my bike rack, and off we went.

We weren't too far down -- perhaps a couple of hours' ride -- when I began to complain.

( Not so hardy. )