The severity of the coastline never escapes me. The thought of being stuck on a ship as it gets dashed on the rocks along stretch gives me the willies. The Shipwreck Coast.
I got into Barwon heads and saw the new box shaped houses dotting the sheltered side of the dunes, the Cyclist clubs, the upmarket deli and food-trucks.
Gentrification is a hip word for urban upscale change.
The Fish and chips shop in Barwon remains uniquely un-gentrified. With classic laconic service, smoking fryer oil from 1984 and single serves of flake and chips enough to feed a family.
I crossed into the Northern Territory and things got greener.
Fresh out of the wet. It was looking lush.
Open limits on the road had me shooting high beams as I flew down towards the next roadhouse at sunset. I prayed a roo or a cow didn’t stroll into my path. I had to get away from the flies.
So thick I was breathing them in wherever I stopped.
I’m getting used to them now.
Always accept an invitation. Always turn down a road you might think leads somewhere. Never use a map when you don’t need one. Get lost. Take your shit with you. Be considerate of others. Listen. Keep the phone in the car. Don’t let yourself go. Live free. Take everything with a grain of salt. Don’t be a cynic. Be a touch more careful when going alone. Shit happens.
Ride it like you stole it.