I must say it was a very cosy night at the Clifton Motel. I was only after a ‘cheap’ room within close proximity to the railway station. I scored really well. The Motel was full, and I was given the family two bedroom unit all to myself, which included my own King sized bed. I felt extra blessed because the television actually worked on all digital channels, especially ABC and ABC News 24. I have been starved of some of my favourite ABC current affairs shows. The wonderful lady running the motel was a bit shocked at my state when I turned up in the rain yesterday, especially when I asked if the bike was okay in the room with me. I could tell she didn’t like the idea, but she supplied towels and sheets for me to cover the entire floor, and for wiping down all my bags and the bike before they went into the room. They really were truly wonderful.
It was a slow start to the day. I planned to be at the station by 9:30am to break down the bike and get it all packed away in the two bike boxes I had paid for and booked. I woke to heavy rain, and didn’t cherish even the 100 metre walk to the station in this weather.
I took time to repack all my bags, and have my very last breakfast with ALDI 3 minute oats. Actually, I didn’t need this, but I wanted to use the last of the sultanas! I also had the light breakfast provided by the Motel, a good deal for $75. (This photo is of the magnificent Albury Railway Station...)
By 9:15am the rain had eased, and I was all packed and ready to go. I managed to fit my tent into one of the panniers, and distribute its contents into the other three. This made one less thing to carry. I wheeled the loaded bike to the station. All should have been fine, but when I asked for the bike boxes to pack the bike, it was then they realized that they didn’t have any! The guys were wonderful, but they could have realized this last night when I booked it all. So what did they do – they rang the local bike shop to request 2 bike boxes – they get them for nothing, but they had already charged me $24! Anyway, they assured me if they couldn’t get the boxes, the bike would simply go on the train. This was best option because then I wouldn’t have to break it down.
Sadly, two boxes turned up, but one box was the maxi size which actually took the bike with pannier racks attached with only having to remove the front wheel. The seat, pedals and handle bars come off, and all fitted snugly in the one box. They offered me my $12 back for the unused box, and overall I was left feeling very happy about everything.
While waiting for the train, I explored this most magnificent railway station building. The mansion outside is now used as the Albury Information Centre, but is the original Station Master’s ‘cottage’. It is in stunning condition, and stands resplendent on the lawns adjacent to the station. Both were built in 1880.
The train was late by about 50 minutes. The heavens opened again with torrential rain, the fog descended in covering all but the immediate vicinity, and it went quite cold. It was one day I didn’t mind having ‘off’ the bike. I didn't venture far from the railway station all morning, although the train did not arrive until almost 1pm. I sampled the railway cafe which only serves instant coffee, and while taking it easy in the cafe reading the paper, a lovely mum from Sudan with her two children came and asked to sit at my table. I felt quite honoured to pass the time with them and learn a little about their story.
I suspect that Albury has a lot to offer the tourist and history buff. When I came in yesterday afternoon, it was 'bucketing' with rain and it was impossible to stop and take photos once I entered Wodonga. Somewhere between Wodonga and Albury (I rode the Causeway) I crossed the Murray for the final time. However, the conditions were so poor that I never saw any sign and was therefore unaware that I was actually crossing the Murray. Today was also simply too wet to go back, so the best I got was a photo of the town profile from the cross birdge of the railway station!
It has been good to reflect on my travels. I haven’t always been keen on cycling. From an early age I started into athletics, and discovered I could run. I developed into a reasonable middle distance athlete, and graduated to marathons into my late twenties. In those days it was nothing to run home from family BBQ’s, even if it was 25k away. It was all good training. However, when I was appointed to my first ministry ‘post’ at Port Macquarie, the town runners met for a pack run each week from The Salvation Army car park, but some of these were cyclists. I was eventually influenced onto a bike and the rest is history as they say. As I got older, the running faded and was taken over by a dedicated interest in cycling. It has been a great dimension to my life.
I remember watching the movie “The Great Escape” when it first came out. The movie finishes with a scene of one of the escapees quietly riding a bike away to freedom down a country road. I remember thinking then “that’s what I would love to do”. At age 57, I have now accomplished quite a number of these long distance cycle tours, four of them in excess of 2000k. However, I would have to rate this one as the hardest I have done, but also probably the most satisfying in terms of depth and breadth of experiences.
The bike is a ‘Masi Speciale’, an Italian manufacturer with a long history in the manufacture of bikes. It is a standard steel frame, so a little heavier than a racing bike but the steel is strong and it is flexible, ideal for cycle touring. I have attached pannier racks to front and rear, but otherwise it looks every bit like a normal road racing bike. It has a classic leather look seat. It is almost too good for cycle touring, but I must say it has stood up to everything on this trip (its first) in fine style.
I carry Ortlieb panniers. They are excellent, made of tough material and completely waterproof, almost bullet proof! Despite passing through some very heavy rain episodes, nothing inside the panniers got the slightest bit wet.
I carried a back pack with some valuables and essentials, such as my two small computers, snacks, wallet and spare tubes for the bike. This sits nicely between the rear panniers, across which I sit the tent, all tied down with two ‘ocky’ straps. It all sat very nicely on the bike.
The bike has a computer which keeps the speed, distance, accumulated time, accumulated distance, maximum speed, average speed and other functions. On the iPad in the backpack, I have a GPS application which tracks all of the above plus plots the course taken on a map and also produces an elevation of the day's ride. This way I can see the altitude I have climbed and over what distance.
I arrived at Yass in driving rain, and grateful that my brother Peter was there to quickly transfer all my gear and bike box into his car, and drove me to his country estate at Murrumbateman, where I enjoyed a lovely family dinner with his wife Lauren, Lauren's father Colin, and four of his six children.
It has been a great 'rest day'. The bike is now back together, and all is ready for the final leg, albeit a relatively short one, home to Canberra tomorrow.
Julie just sms'd to say she had arrived in Scotland at the lovely Loch Lomond where she is scattering the ashes of her Dad, Douglas Charles Stewart, on the bonny banks of the country of his heritage which was so close to his heart. Julie has been on a pilgrimage as well!
Just finally, I have taken particular note of the vast numbers of sheep that I could see through my train window today. Their fields are lush with grass, and they seem to have no lack of water. Sadly these days, we do not have the richness of seeing the traditional figure of the shepherd, as in days of old.
It was the shepherd boy David who later became King of Israel who really knew what it was to be a shepherd. He would have known each and every one of the sheep for whom he had care; he would have known when they were hungry, when they needed water, and even when they had need of protection or physical healing of injury or ailment. As a shepherd, he would have been a devoted, caring, loving shepherd to the sheep under his care.
It is little wonder then, when many years later when he became King, he could write with intimate knowledge and conviction "The Lord is MY shepherd, I have everything.....". The writer of Psalm 23 knew what it meant to be a shepherd, and to be the object of the love and provision of the divine shepherd. It is good to know that although we may feel alone, we always live under the watchful eye of the divine shepherd who knows us by name.
Until tomorrow, the final day....
KRA
It was the shepherd boy David who later became King of Israel who really knew what it was to be a shepherd. He would have known each and every one of the sheep for whom he had care; he would have known when they were hungry, when they needed water, and even when they had need of protection or physical healing of injury or ailment. As a shepherd, he would have been a devoted, caring, loving shepherd to the sheep under his care.
It is little wonder then, when many years later when he became King, he could write with intimate knowledge and conviction "The Lord is MY shepherd, I have everything.....". The writer of Psalm 23 knew what it meant to be a shepherd, and to be the object of the love and provision of the divine shepherd. It is good to know that although we may feel alone, we always live under the watchful eye of the divine shepherd who knows us by name.
Until tomorrow, the final day....
KRA
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