While Not Working

  I had a little photo session with Steve in the morning, before we headed off in opposite directions along the Darling: him south toward Trilby Station and me north toward  the Yanda Campsite in the Gunderabooka Conservation Area. Bye Steve, enjoy your ride. I want one of these.  Then again, if I had one of these I'd have missed out on all those beautiful bush camps, so maybe I'll stick with what I've (not) got. It was uneventful riding on a sealed road with a sneaky little head wind.  There was no sign of moisture in the country around me: the ground was bare and grey, the trees silver or dull green.  There were occasional goats.  Kangaroos abounded (ha ha), most of them too far away by the time I stopped and tried to grab a photo. Except for this one.  I think it was an orphan, or abandoned. My office, with goats. The usual 11:00 clutch of caravans came past, having checked out from their last caravan park at 10:00.  Then I had a surprise centr...

  I thought my caravanning neighbours would keep me up all night. They crashed and bashed around in the manner of the inebriated trying to be silent, stage-whispering "Be quiet! There's a tent just there!" Next minute it was morning so I must have been tireder than I'd thought. And I wouldn't have indulged myself in a little petty crashing and bashing over breakfast would I? That would be mean. Di at the pub filled my water bottles for free, so I ordered a coffee as quasi payment and then realised I hadn't paid as I sat outside sipping coffee and charging my phone. "It's on me!" said Di, and wouldn't change her mind, not that I tried too hard. I think I'll start donating to the RFDS on behalf of all the freebies I'm getting. Coffee in the morning sun, looking back toward the levee bank with the river beyond. "Port of Louth"??  I don't think it's been that for a long time. Double Louth. Long stretches of the road were...

  The red-tailed black cockatoos put on quite a show for my last evening at Trilby. Central Coast left the bunkhouse and a Merry Band of Eight moved in. They were on a mystery tour planned by Number 1 and his wife. They paid for the gourmet 3-course meal with preliminary cheese platter around the camp-fire and I was consumed by jealously even as I ate my more than adequate leftovers. I made sure to get up before them in the morning and have my porridge before Liz arrived to make their cooked breakfast. I'd already cleaned my teeth and was filling my waterbottles when she caught sight of me. "I sent you an email at 06:00 to let you know that there's too much bacon so feel free to jump in and help yourself to breakfast." I rapidly channelled my inner Hobbit and wrapped myself around a second breakfast. The band of Eight waved goodbye and I wasn't far behind them.  One of the grey nomads wanted photos, cementing my celebrity status. Apparently word was out about the ...