While Not Working

We spent an hour or two following Google Gladys up hill and down dale, meandering over mountains around Bathurst and Lithgow, before realising that back in Melbourne I had instructed her to avoid highways and she was only doing what she was told.  By then it wasn't worth going back to the highway so we just completed the scenic route all the way to Lane Cove National Park in Sydney. We stopped in Bathurst for coffee, admiring the big old buildings and the autumn colours. Statue commemorating the European discovery of the Bathurst Plains, with Shrine of Remembrance behind.   It was cold.  What's new? Bathurst's very grand Court House. Sunlight on leaves; park gate with Shrine of Remembrance beyond; grumpy fish in the fountain.   By lunchtime we were following a tightrope road along the spine of a ridge in the Blue Mountains when a picnic area/trail head popped up just in time for lunch.     I took a short walk out on the walking track and was rewarded with spectacular cliff

Roger did all the hard work today, making up for not having had reliable navigation over the past week.  I waved him off from the campground in Wellington to slog out the final 30km of the CWCT and, after a bout of tent drying and packing, set about doing nothing much at all other than making super dooper sure that I collected all our cold goods from the fridge. I went to see the Piano Museum but it was closed and, alas, I don't think it had been open for quite some time.  So here's a little snippet of what I didn't see, but could glean from peeking in the windows and reading the notices blue-tacked to the glass.   The golden era of pianos started when Mr Sebastian Erard perfected and patented the mechanism of the pianoforte in 1821.  Prior to that the speed and expression of pianists was limited by the slower and clunkier action of the pianos of the day.  Sebastian's 'double escapement'  allowed both greater speed and much more expression, and the action is

Roger and I do some things very well. One of the things we do well is driving off from Caravan Parks (in this case Wellington 10 days ago) and leaving our cold goods in the refrigerator in the camp kitchen. This usually results in much gnashing of teeth, lamenting our lost butter and cheese, and developing strategies to prevent further losses (the effectiveness of which is debatable given we keep doing it).  We will return to this topic at the end of the day. We slept remarkably well, lulled by the conflicting strains of Cher (courtesy of the pub jukebox) and the too-loud too-late conversations of our fellow campers. The day started early, drinking hot tea while the sun dried out the tent and over the road, the Hair Of The Dog proprietor set out tables in the parking lot aka dusty patch of road in front of the pub, in preparation for a big charity event that evening.   The morning was crispy cold.  In the absence of a camp kitchen, we had to boil our own water but at least there was no

Out in Feral Pig Land this must be the time of year when little pigs go out alone to find their fortune. Five times, as I rode through the Goonoo Forest, I came upon a little pig wandering along doing little piggy things and thinking little piggy thoughts, only to be scared out of their pyjamas by the sudden appearance of a monster with wheels instead of legs. That's the advantage of a bicycle: you can sneak up on little pigs in the wilderness and frighten them. Mind you they were incredibly hard to photograph what with having run away by the time I stopped the bicycle, got out my phone, and readied the camera which is why I'm inordinately proud of this piggy ambush footage.   And while we're at it, this sneaking-up-on-feral-goats-and-scaring-them-too footage. I had to chase that goat down on a bicycle.  Uphill.  Over rocks.  It was hard work!   I got the pleasure of riding through the Goonoo Forest because I had a working phone and could presumably navigate myself out of b

We checked out of the Dunedoo CP bright and early and I headed out on Digilah Rd while Roger drove north to stash the car and ride back toward Dunedoo. Last view of the painted Dunedoo silos. Here be the Talbragar River which wends it's way past and around Dunedoo, and has a respectable amount of water in it. Sheep posed picturesquely beside waterholes. The riding was pleasant, but uphill. Just a little bit uphill at first, and then a lot more uphill. I took the opportunity to do some cross-training aka walking. Purely by choice, of course. Pretty rock patterns beside the road. I claimed KOM for the win, and started a fantastic downhill. Victory! Which to be honest wasn't hard since I was the only one in the race.   The bitumen finished and the ride got more interesting, with little water crossings and shady trees and not a lot of pedaling due to the tailwind and a false flat in my favour. To walk or pedal? Always the dilemma when approaching a creek crossing.   I did a li