BBQs, Food Trucks, Pizza, Beer... The Hardships Of Travelling By Bicycle

 Well, I only got home from my mini-tour two weeks ago and what does Roger do but pack up his bicycle and take himself off, leaving me and the dog at home to go to the dog park on our ownsomes.

I guess I can't complain, seeing I did the same thing a scant fortnight ago and summer is breathing down our necks, bringing temperatures that will make cycle touring sweaty and unpleasant.

He left on Friday in the rain and caught the train to Gawler, where he jumped on the rail trail all the way to Tanunda.  The weather behaved surprisingly well, timing showers to coincide with cafes such that he had no option other than to seek shelter and sacrifice himself for coffee and snacks. 

The unpowered section of the Tanunda Caravan Park was deserted, although the same couldn't be said of the rest of the park which was filled by the Adelaide RV Club who had based themselves there for an extremely well fed good time and lots of jolly fund-raising activities for charity. Roger, poor soul, had to suffer their BBQs, food trucks, wood fired pizzas, and sweets all for a gold coin donation.  I know all this because the Tanunda Caravan Park had my phone number on record and I received multiple messages exhorting me to pick up my bag of RV goodies from the admin office, come to the BBQ, partake of the sweets, etc, etc.  Then I got lots of messages from Roger extolling the BBQ, food trucks, pizzas, sweets, the movie, etc, etc.

"They are everywhere!!!"  Yes, positively overwhelming.

Spare a thought for a suffering cycle tourist.  I think I'm jealous.  When I camped at the Tanunda Caravan Park I shared it with European families whose children demonstrated an admirable capacity to scream and cry in multiple languages. There were no gold coin donation sweeties to be had.

 

Saturday morning rolled around with a full cooked breakfast including pancakes, the hardship accentuated by having to (gasp) make his own coffee.

"But I had no milk!"  'Tis hardship indead.

There were more pizzas and $3 beers on offer during the day, but because he was ostensibly on a bicycle tour and therefore had to put some modicum of effort into, you know, riding his bicycle, he reluctantly relinquished his honorary Adelaide RV Club membership and rode off into the morning.  The Mawson Trail took him up and over the low hills that separated the Barossa Valley from the Light Valley.

The Mawson Trail, reknowned for peanut-butter mud with the slightest sprinkle of rain, was thankfully as dry as a bone and provided pleasant cycling.  Not having brought headphones, he was obliged to listen to birdsong and wind in the trees.

Lunch time rolled around with perfectly placed shade and logs which begged to be sat upon.

From the top of the hill.

Kapunda Caravan Park welcomed him with a distinct lack of BBQs, food trucks, $3 beers, blah, blah, etc. The poor man actually had to walk uptown and forage for his dinner at the local pub and the camp kitchen, while adequate, was not luxurious.  Kapunda itself was bursting with grand old buildings speaking more to its past as an economic powerhouse rather than its somnolent present.

Is the inside as impressive as the outside?  This question is yet to be answered: our man on the ground had other more pressing things to do, like foraging.

Tomorrow, he has to turn around and head for home.