Nothing but the ride

Saturday, 7 October
Iron Ridge to Oxford, 82 km
Early morning is somewhat, but not very, cold and overcast, and yet my hopes for the day are high. Initially, I retrace yesterday’s route, thinking I might bypass Amberley, but I pull in there on a whim and discover a Saturday farmer’s market in full swing. Lacking resistance, I’m quickly lured into buying goat cheese, a small jar of raspberry preserve, and coffee and croissant. And a small pot plant on sale for $1 from an ad hoc stall run by two children. I make up a story for myself about it being a house warming present for my sister. What makes me think I can carry this safely for the next two weeks is as much a mystery to me as it might be to you.

I’d only just left Amberley and got onto Route 72, the Inland Scenic Route, when the drizzle begins. The breeze is from the south so I catch the wet drops on my face, glasses and arms, and this continues all day with only brief pauses for respite. It’s not awful, but it’s a bit of a dampener and does discourage too much photo taking.

Days like this are part and parcel of the experience. The strategy is to focus on the ride and appreciate the scenery in passing. How is the bike running? How are the legs feeling? Let the conditions govern the response: slow down when the wind or the incline determines, allow the bike to freewheel when it wants. Navigate, make choices about the route. Greet the locals when they run up to see what strange kind of creature I am.

Sheep are always started and run away, whereas herds of curious cows often run up to say ‘Hello’

Today I decide to bypass the only substantial town along the way and leave Route 72 to instead take a recommended northerly route that stays closer to the hills, eventually hugging their lower slopes before swinging south directly into Oxford. It does mean the road undulates more than it might have, had I kept to the better-known scenic route.

I’m reminded, though, of that quote many travellers come to know and reflect on: ‘Two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.’ (Robert Frost, American poet, 1874–1963).


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