Across Continents

Ken's Blog

Bruce Highway

May 1st, 2011

Bruce

My Dad had a few questions. Bruce Highway. Was it the main arterial route along Australia’s east coast? The only one? Did it really get closed to traffic as frequently as I’d suggested? Yes. I said. On all accounts.

Highway, I added, was perhaps an unduly grand description. Maybe not further south. But in north Queensland certainly. Mostly mediocre "A" road. Low lying sections often submerged in the wet season. Cutting off the region from the rest of the State.

Road closures just part and parcel of life here. Supermarket shelves sometimes run a bit low. Fresh produce rockets in price. People just take it in their stride. After all, if it gets really bad, provisions can always be brought up the coast by ship.

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Coming up…..

May 1st, 2011

Back online at last… with a new netbook. Finally catching up with my blog. Rain soaked notes. Scribbles. Doodles on whatever was to hand. But no tattoos. There is a limit to my devotion.

Coming up over the next few weeks? Highway etiquette, some harmless altercations with the natives, spot of dog walking, the odd sleepless night, a day all at sea, dropping in on family, off-road driving. And extreme cooking.

Not forgetting a whole cast of characters. Couple of ballsy Brits on a tandem with a wooden… err.. phallus for a front mudguard. Gnomes. The odd candidate for the Darwin Awards. French if you hadn’t guessed. Couple of Dutch girls. Gaggle of athletic Kiwi women cyclists. Swiss nurses. Quite a few "Cousins". And a provocative German psychologist.

There’s also guest appearances by queue-averse Chinese tourists. And the usual pot-smoking regulars from some of the dubious spots where I’ve pitched my tent. Normally one night only.

You just couldn’t make it up. No need. So. Enjoy. In the meantime, I’m off to circumvent Brisbane. A scenic route through the Glass House Mountains. Two words that normally strike dread in the heart of a long-haul cyclist…. ho hum…

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Pomp and circumstance

April 30th, 2011

Had I stayed up to watch the Royal Wedding, enquired Chris and Tina? Coffee shop in Maryborough. Owner Jason’s parents. No, I explained, I’d missed it. Sure there’d be ample opportunity to catch up on the highlights. For many years to come. Adding that whilst I’d wish any couple getting married the best of luck, pomp and circumstance wasn’t quite my thing. Much preferring understated. Flag waving simply not my thing.

Tina had spent time in London. Working as a nanny. Kensington. Greenwich. Expensive city to live in I added. Explaining I’d spent some time there. Not cheap. To the extent one of my predecessors had to rely on state handouts to make ends meet. Sort of. But that’s another story…

They were both keen Royalists. None of this Republicanism for them. Explained I thought the Monarchy a good idea. Stabilizing influence. Her Majesty had seen just one or two Prime Ministers come and go. Always wondered what they discussed during the weekly audience at the Palace.

Had even bought one member of the Royal Family a cup of tea. Well, sort of. On a train. Free with my ticket. An excuse to engage the lady in conversation. To the irritation of the two plain clothes Police officers who’d been watching me intently ever since they’d boarded.

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Dawn breaks

April 30th, 2011

Dawn breaks from Ken Roberts on Vimeo.

Morning after the storm. Proserpine, north Queensland.

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Sapping headwind, steady drizzle

April 30th, 2011

South of Proserpine thirty miles of sporadic sugar cane. The odd homestead. But otherwise nothing save frequent uphill drags. Sapping headwind. Steady drizzle. And roadworks.

Waiting at a stop sign for my turn to pass, I chatted for a while with the traffic controller. Noticed she was wearing a fleece. Still warm. T-shirt and shorts ample. But it was beginning to cool a little as I’d continued south. Heavy rains felt sharper. Icier touch.

Bloomsbury. Few houses. Rusting truck. And a small servo. Coffee and a crumbed snag. Watching two young women spend almost an hour sweep and mop a floor barely twice the size of my lounge. Smiled as I left. Returning into the gloom outside.

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Four pegs

April 30th, 2011

Woken about one am. Wind had risen sharply. Rain had returned. Conscious I’d avoided sinking into the quagmire by pitching on a concrete slab. But only able to secure the tent with a few guy lines. Four pegs. Hoping that’d be enough. Dome appearing top flex alarmingly with the gusts. Amplified by the gloom.

windsigns

Suddenly remembered the signs I’d seen around the park. "Beware falling limbs". Council liability disclaimer for high winds. Thinking I should have pitched in the relative shelter of the camp kitchen as "Two Bob" had suggested. But by then it’d been dark. The tent already wet. Too much hassle.

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Preoccupations in Proserpine

April 29th, 2011

After Bowen, nothing but sugar cane until Proserpine. And a headwind. Few brief rain squalls. Preoccupied with how I might revive my netbook. Refusing to contemplate replacing it. But conscious that labour costs might easily make that the cheapest option. Depressing. Hoping it’d be a quick fix.

Later a coffee in the camp kitchen. Funny sort of day. Defunct computer. Final skirmish of the hostel yielding the hood securing strap for my jacket. In the lounge. Somewhere I’d never taken it. Spot of rubber glue and fixed easily enough. But strange all the same.

In Proserpine I’d ridden off from the cafe to the campsite without first securing my map case to the handlebars. Normally as intuitive as tying shoe laces. Noticing its absence in time to retrieve it from the roadside a little way back.

Hardly show stoppers. Rather, irritations. Inconvenience. Hoping the next day would bring better luck.

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Awash with prohibitions

April 29th, 2011

soapsign

Definitely not topping up my small shampoo bottle from the soap dispenser then…. as if…

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Washed out

April 29th, 2011

washsign

I’ve no idea either….

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Premonition?

April 29th, 2011

Premonition

In Maryborough, central Queensland.

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