I then returned to my lodgings for a 5pm brunch to see a gutwrenchingly patronising film, Academy Award winning "Out Of Africa" where all the blicks were poor or servants. Meryl Streep's accent was as disasterous as the movie. Robert Redford savedcthe show being handsome , modest and pissing off on safari very frequently.
Well, new to me. He's a Jamis Coda Sport on good condition with a rack and panniers, a bar bag and headlight.
After hours, days and weeks of doing bugger-all I escaped the clutches of the lounge seeking adventure. If Scott Zamek from Ohio can survive;
bike theft in Italy, an aggressive mid-night arrest in Syria (?) and detention in Jordan, then surely I could ride 20 of 30 k of cycleway! My little red folding bike was ready: tyres pumped, pannier packed, all spic and span and lubed up ... as was I.
I shut "Fred" up and lifted him into the back of my daughter's tiny hatch. Well, that was easy. And of we went heading east for the coast. I figured, if I'm going to test myself and the bike out, it might as well be done somewhere scenic. We got showers and the sky was mostly overcast on the way out, which i was really happy about because where I was headed is a tourism hotspot and rain will keep people away.
The spot for take of was near to a dedicated cycleway on the south side of a protected waterway. The plan was to head east then south along the coast and back, then out i had a need for more I could keep heading west along the waters edge.
The immediate section was on a fairly busy road with a market shoulder for cyclists and walkers. There was a bit off traffic on road and shoulder and the only problem was that I created for myself; riding along adjusting and checking my gear distracted me enough to do a swerve in front of a following car. This was partly an age problem, while I'm not an old crony, my reactions are not as sharp as they once were. But anyway, we survived without drama thanks to a new law in the state that requirrequiring cats to give cyclists a wide berth.
Entering the of road cycleway was bliss by comparison with the road; smoother, quieter, shady and right by the water. It was also more social and slower placed. Ahh. I pulled a low great and cruised along negotiating around puddles that sent grey sand and bark mulch flicking up over me and the gears. But essentially it was totally engaging, a dreamlike good.
I had a few more sections of shared roadway cycling which is bloody dangerous and decidedly un-peaceful. At the furthest out point Fingal Bay, I had a refreshing swim by the southern headland. There was a strange mix out water users, frog men in full snorkling suits through to woman in bikinis. A lifesavers carnival was going on along the beach and the crowd was massive. Post Covid enthusiasms I guess?
As I was showering off it started raining, a little grey cloud that snuck up behind the headland ambushed everyone. I scuttled along and found a sheltered picnic table to stay dry and change into dry clothes. But as I Got ready to go the rain got serious and there was a whiteout for a while. I ate my cold pizza bread and drank water, kind of craving a coffee but enjoying the moment. As the rain broke, shafts of light highlighted the scene, grey blue surf, gold sand, black skies beyond and in the foreground eucalypts all shiny and sparkling rain drops on leaves. Why don't I do this more often?!
Into the ride back I had numbness in my hands and, well my dick. The seat is pretty small and my arse is, well not that big but it suffers the weight of my fat guts bearing down on it. My hands often go tingly but respond quickly to a bit of a shake. But these were minor annoyances and offset a day that went ballistic on the Good Time Register..
I clocked up just under 25k on my first serious outing, and apart from the need to rest my numb bum I felt capable of another few ks. I think the weird squirming of Folding Fred mean that he's best restricted to commuter riding though.
The only element I need to take caution over are state authorities. Our Premier, in a bid to further increase std a are revenue and oppress the working class had an army of law enforcement officers policing ever mow draconian regulations. But i am determined that i should not be controlled by fear inducing government. On on.
Now, serious cyclists can scoff away, as far as serious bikes go this one doesn't enter the picture. Even Giant's sales pitch describes it as a "comfortable commuter for the pleasure cyclist". But you know its what I've got and i dont have the spare cash to invest in a serious touring bike. Besides, I like old. I'm old for heavens sake! When I was a kid this 20 plus year old bike would have been ahead of its time. Hell an aluminum frame and 21 gears, for me that's good enough.
This bike was good enough for me to commute on for several years, so a few lazy touring miles should be a cinch.
It's raining and I want to achieve something with the day.
Repairs & Parts List: Cables x4; brakes & gears. Tyres x2 Hand grips Front wheel?? Brake pads x 4.
So, not bad, apart from the wheel, its all the "soft" perishable stuff.
https://www.wharram.com/articles/spirit-of-gaia-renovation/part-1
Above is a link to party 1 of 4 detailingthe refit off the 20 year old Spirit of Gaia. So far I've only skim read parts 1 and 4 and i read with interest and concern that all deck timber is epoxy coated. Well the front beam of Knu has virtually no epoxy anywhere.
Scraped and sanded per usual.
Removing fittings (winch, cleats) bolts left too long had corrosion paint to make it hard. These need to be cut off.
NEXT = Cut bolts and oil.
Removed swivel extension bar.
Scraped.
Power sanded.
Observed possible rot, could be crappy timber.
PLAN => Oil.
PLAN B => Replace with aluminium tube.
Birdlife is busy too; there was some strange call just before dawn that ive never heard. It sounded like someone hitting a tennis ball followed by an "ah" sound, like the shot went out. It must have been odd because the rosters have up their incessant banter around the valley. We have a community of Willywagtails, game as Ned and quite songful. I do love their machine gun chatter anyhow, and they're good big munched . No snakes or ticks, a few mozzies, but really very enjoyable.
It's possible too, that i am the happiest and fittest I've ever been. Working hard, eating less and thinking about roofing and paddling. Life is indeed lush right now.
Typically for my western encultured mind i looked to consume my way ahead. I was entranced by the Cargo Bike Cult coming out off California. Those long flowing frames and massive racks capable of carrying four children and mow recently on their FB marketing feed, behives. I know Google listens to users' conversations and markets to suit, but have Yuba bikes discovered personal marketing? But the feel good marketing BS wrote thin when, after weeks of saving I accepted that $7k for a Spicy Curry was not going to fly.
One thing that irked me about the Cargo Bike was the length and how you hide it on a train. Then i looked at Touring bikes. More hardy on gravel, able to carry a decent load, go on a train more easily and cheaper ... but still to expensive.
But the detour through Touring Bike literature took me further on a looping path back to the Foldable Bike. Still with my culture blinkers on, i was looking at high budget models like the Brompton ... "handmade in London by craftsmen trained in [the dark art of] braising, ridden and loved the world over". I felt like i was back on the fasting sites - it was a brief dalliance - but it was really only more brand relationship building BS.
I then took a route that I'm often want to take, Kindle. I love to read long narratives about people's experiences with a certain product that i want to buy. Touring on Foldable Bikes revealed yarnsthat i could relate to. Buying a cheap bikebikes doing micro-adventures in China, packing your gear and pedaling across America smiling, laughing and joking all the way, apparently. Then the possibility of using the bike I've got took a hold on me!
Once again I got carried away wanting to but puncture proof tubes, pannìers, lights and the list just seemed to lengthen stupidly. Then, whilereading my Kindle yarn about "unraveling", getting all the bike racing baggage putt of your mind and just having fun on your bike. "Like you did Wyden you were a kid". so i rolled over, setmy alarm for 5.45.
Up early, load the bike, pump, helmet and backpack my
And with the truck now going okay, kind of like someone with a skinful of rum insists they're sober and wobbles in a straight line, okay. But I fitted a rear roof rack 2 weeks ago just in the off chance, you know . And today, my time came and ignoring the heat, I loaded my Riot C-Kayak and hit the river.
It hadn't lost any weight since our last outing, but thankfully the body was holding up. Keeping It Simple, it was jist the basics, no snacks, just water and a hat. I'd waylaid my preferred lifevest so made do with a dangly item that was supposed to self inflate, but by the look of the corrosion on the gas bottle, I doubt that. The river was glassy with a steady ebb flow,. The turgid colour indicating that it was probably hangovers runoff from a really wet Xmas.
What is that, that sense of elation as you shove off away from land. I first felt it when i got my first trailer sailor, 42 years ago. Rush through traffic, rig her up, back her off , park the ute, climb on, hoist sail then aaahh. I feel it mostly in the shoulders, like a release off pressure, a raising on the heart in the chest cavity and an easing of my breath. Ithappened today too, to be sure. Just a few strokes, the shoulders working painlessly, the satisfying pull of the paddle and the glide of the hull over the water. Pretty quickly, I realised my physical excuses for not paddling were overstated. Probably being in pain the negativity enveloped me. Oh well I'm here now, and it feels good.
To preserve energy I paddled on the shaded side of the river, below massive guns, willows and that grassy bamboo like plant that infests the river banks. Mullet and the occasional bass sent up bow waves, a lone brown duck fled its camp, but mostly it was so bloddy peaceful. A couple of guys on sit on top boats paddled painfully slowly down river, no rhythm, aimless. In response to my enthusiastic remarks about the moment, they grumbled about the heat. I hesitated to recommend paddling in the shade, but decided they were happy in their misery and let them pass. They were the only water users I met on the water today. I was amused by jumping mullet; whooshing clear of the water they turn slightly in the air and land with a slap. As I approached the village of Paterson what was obvious was the quietness. Nobody picnicking or swimming, not a sound from the park. Surely they were not all at home in airconditioning?! The diving pontoon was abandoned. Photo.
The paddle home was current assisted and the speed of my kayak amazed and delighted me. At the ramp I met Matt and his wife Melinda. Matt was quite upbeat, this was his first paddle since having his leg amputated and he'd wrapped his mechanical knee in glad wrap to preserve it.
"What's that?", he asks. "Silverbeet. You can put it on stir fries and with scrambled eggs".
"Is that tomato?"
"This one? No it's potato. They just chine up from throwing peelings out. This is amaranth, you can eat the young leaves in salad and make floor from the seeds... that's spinach. Its a native type. Its a bit tough and bitter, but a little butter and garlic and is nice". I looked around realising there was more going on in the garden than i gave credit for. Cans lily, grape, sweet potato, beyond, the colors odd a young macadamia and sprawling white mulberry tree.
"It looks busy but once got that old cupboard onthe verandah full of seedlings to go in".
He looked dazed. I suspect he'd seen the Farmers Friends and Milk Thistle and thought it was a weedy mess. I did a bit, but I'd left the weeds there on purpose, for the bees, other bugs, diversity and, well just because it's nature doing it's thing. He looked overwhelmed. In his New Housing Estate World where residents worked long hours in tedious positions, the gardens were low maintenance from necessity; agapanthus, yukkas, box hedges. And vast lawns where people slumped over ride-on mowers on Sundays with a chilled bottle of beer or wine in the cup holder.
May be my garden is not so bags after all.
A subtle change has unfolded here recently, probably while I was indicated by the Everything Mechanical I Own Has Broken dramas of last month.
Stage one of the change I suspect was the departure of the Pied Butcherbirds. I've no clue what caused that. It's it possible that the passing of my cat and concomitant cessation of regular feeds of mince, played a part? As I said, I have no real clue, they've been here for more than 15 years, all year around. But now, they've moved out.
What has happened is something quite delightful is that the ecological gap caused by the departure of the PBB's had been filed with Peewees. A mid-sized monochromatic bird with a high pitched rasp-ish call. I find their call nostalgic though, if that's the correct expression. It is laden with great memories of the first time I stayed on my grandparents' farm at Kingcumber. Yes, that chic seaside estate with lifestyle acreages was once a sparsely populated rural area. My grandparents ran a handful of Saanen goats for milk, a heap of hens for eggs and a dozen Australian Silly Terrier dogs fort showing. I was placed there with my little brother Pete lover Christmas the year my mum was having trouble with carrying my youngest sibling. Pete didn't last long, but I stayed on because I really enjoyed my Nan's peaceful, no fuss attitude and her love of animals. I still remember when she sighed softly as she discovered the hens were out of grain. It meant a trip to town; glad rags on, hop on the rumbling old bus that stopped right by the house, walk to the produce store, load the hand trolley with a 40lb bag of grain and bus home again. Even then my Nan was only justtaller that the trolley and weighed as much as two bags of grain. But side never complained, and the bus driver knew better than to offer a hand.
Anyway, in the early morning before the sun was up I would wait for the peewees call. At the hint of first light the small birds would start twittering away. Not really calling as such, I think of it as a soft chatter may be about the night before, a roll call or planning the day ahead. Ah, the first peewee sends out a shrill call, sometimes a call with a stutter. They would move about in the hedges or the different areas of lawn catching early worms I suppose. I could tell where they were just by the direction and strength of their calls. Magic! I would just lay in my warm berth listening to their calls and wondering what they were doing. Otherwise, it was just so peaceful and quiet.
Lately, I've really been getting into Cargo Bikes. It's fair to say that in Australia they're a fairly rare commodity. It's also true to say that these bikes are monopolized by found parents doing urban deliveries of their kids to preschool or school. But, i feel that the design has wider appeal.
I've also found it really hard to look beyond what the Climate Scientists are saying about the need for humans to make rapid and radical changes to their lifestyles in order to literally save the planet. I already live of grid and work at my own small business where I earn enough to pay the bills with a little over. But i can and want to do more, i want to get out of my car ... and the cargo bike is regularly touted as the "car replacement" bike.
I don't have anywhere near enough money to buy yet, especially an electric version. But that's the way I'm heading, that and moving my gardening business towards electric tools including mower.
Unique to this property though are other benefits like keeping the chickens, goats and other wild critters out from under the house. It would also stop it being used as an ugly storage space.
So, using treated timber and old iron sheeting, it's happening. I'll paint it a charcoal colour to finish it off, and find some place else to store
My old cat Timmy the Tipcat has just passed away on the loungeroom floor. He was a bit off when I left the house two hours ago, now he's not here amymore and I realise I don't have a photo of him.
Each night after dinner he would up up on my lap for a pat. He liked a rough pat with lots of squeezing and firm pats. He would squirm around flashing his tail on my face and meowing and purring all the while. After he was done from inside with me, he would curl up alongside me on the lounge.
First thing every morning he would run himself ragged meowing at the top of his lungs. He was not just hungry, her was starving and needed food now. That used to annoy me, but I will miss that.
Goodbye Timmy Boy.
As World Media falls over itself to create drama around the US presidential election, something mow profound had been given short shrift.
Last week the Australian Rugby League took the front foot and announced it would not play Australia's anthem before next week's to rating State of Origin match. This set of a social bomb so loud they backtracked within 2 hours.
So what went on? ARL reckoned the "we are going and free" lyrics were onerous for Indigenous players.
An article posted by ABC News details how indigenous communities were not consulted, many "old school" Aussies thought it was just wrong to suggest not playing Advance Australia Fair.
This reflects a cultural black hole in Australia. A nation that refused to even acknowledge indigenous people as citizens for almost 180 years of ours short history. The nation needs to embrace this, the world's oldest culture which scientists are now dating even older than previously thought. The nation also needs political leaders with heart and their heads will follow.
Sorry.
Well it's the last week of October and the weather is totally wet. It was to wet Saturday to work on the truck and it's way wetter now. I fact it was pleasantly wet Saturday, a tinkling light rain falling vertically. Today it's blowing a gale and an all pervasive wetness persists.
So, no work on Tiki is possible. She sits still lashed to the Hobie trailer, slightly down by the stern.
I've been reading today the a Storm Jib by Roly Taller with an area of 28 sq feet is a useful bit of rigespecially when the wind pipe up to 25 knots. The author of the "Little Cat" blog has found that sailing upwind a small headsail is best and downwind a reefed main is good too. I look forward to testing this out.
Today, I will continue reading back issues of "Seapeople" magazine, trying to glean snippets of information about refitting, sailing or living aboard a baby Tiki.
