Beach on a Bike

“We gotta love each other again.”

So many people... are conditioned to a life of security, conformity and conservatism, all of which appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have and endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.

- Alex McCandless (Into the Wild)

Inner peace is in no way a complacency or a comfort. I think our adventurous spirit comes from a desire to understand the nature of the life we play a part in more completely. It is a drive that leads us to uncover truths within us that can only be illuminated through discovery or connection with the world around us. Challenging ourselves and pushing our bodies (rock climing, hiking, yoga, cycling, etc) seem to be of the utmost importance in maintaining physical and mental health.

Conversely, our drive to be daring and to find that adrenaline rush seems to come from a lack of feeling and connecting with life. Almost like a momentary attempt to fill a void our society has evolved to ignore. Most likely this is the same void we have become so adept at covering up with the standard belief that if only we become more beautiful, more successful, we will find our ‘place’ in this world. For myself, this daring often came from a need to impress others, a search for validation or some sort of definition of my ego, when I felt that such a definition was necessary.

I think it's appropriate to return to the age-old Socratic idea of the ‘middle road’. Our adventurous spirit keeps us constantly learning about and interacting with our environment to nourish the soul, to keep us physically healthy and to teach us to live in varied conditions and situations. Yet if we go too far and pursue adventure and challenge as an ends, rather than a means towards a radiant inner peace, we will never find a lasting peace and will in all likelihood continue to live a life of constant, desperate searching.

My explorations this morning were indeed sucessful; a walk to the lake before my morning tea turned into a small treck to the ocean from my Mungo Brush campsite. Since i began raining and I had no desire to get my only pair of warm clothes wet, I left them under a tree and explored the shore in a t-shirt and undies... good thing it was 6am and no one was around.

Along the coastline at Myall Lakes are some crazy-looking sand dunes decorated with lush, vine-like bushes. There is a large, menacing (could have been the stormy weather) rock island off the south end of the shore (is that Broughton Island?).

I walked along the sand in awe of the powerful waves which rolled to a rest, lapping at my feet before returning to the tumultuous roar of the ocean, and then became engulfed, probably for a good hour, by the beautiful varieties of seashells scattered across the beach. Such a peaceful activity, to ponder the origins of each shell, to appreciate the colours and unique markings and shapes.

Since the weather was looking hopeful, I decided to take the long route to Sydney via Putty Road. Before hitting Newcastle, I cut north-west to Singleton, where the motorcycle mecca begins. It really was as great as i'd read, but I did need to recurrantly remind myself that it's not necessary to push the limit around each and every corner (a stressful endeavor, pushing limits, to say the least) and just enjoy the ride. (Jamie tells me that a helicopter pulls a biker out of that area at least once per week...) My favorite scenery was around Kangaroo Waterholes, where there must have been massive fires, because all the trees had turned a red colour, with bases scorched black. This went on for a good 10 km before returning to the rich green characterising the rest of the ride.

By the time I got to Windsor I was exhausted (imagine how Gael Garcia must feel, had he any feelings) so I grabbed a much-needed coffee and sat down to plan my attack on Sydney. After a bit of confusion as to my whereabouts, Jamie and I worked out a route over the phone. The city traffic was as bad as i'd thought, and a huge shock after being in the countryside for so long.

It was fabulous to see both Jamie and Sim when they arrived home, and i'm looking forward to spending time with them. It still doesn't feel like Christmas... where's the snow? This will be my first Christmas without my brother, the only thing I regret about being here in Australia...

I wasn’t surprised to wake up to the rain this morning. So much for driving to Dorrigo National Park. Yet one more place I’ll have to hit up on the way back.

My drive south was basically just a battle agains the rain. It go t pretty heavy for a good hour or two, and the rest was just bone-chilling drizzle. I took the detour through Port Macquarie, just out of curiosity, and because the storm had temporarily subsided. The rocky coast was stunning with dark skies and storm clouds. It’s a nice deviation from endless stretches of sand (although I wouldn’t complain about either!). The town itself seemed pretty mellow, and I bought some delicious fresh fruit from the local market for lunch and dinner.

This curiosity-fueled route was cut short by another bout of rough rain, leading me to bear back towards the Pacific Hwy. By the time I got to Taree my hands were dark purple from the wet wet leather and I had swimming pools in my boots. MacDonalds never seemed such an appealing coffee stop.

As I pulled into Nabiac for petrol at about 3pm, I saw a sign for the National Australian Motorcycle Museum! It was a great excuse (albeit and expensive one… $11) to take another break from the wet roads. Pretty interesting stuff, and some really old bikes; it made me feel a part of something more than just a girl on a bike… like this trip is just a small part of so many other explorations and adventures, but I’m still doing my bit.

I was somewhat surprised to make it all the way to Myall Lakes. It was a fun drive through the park, and the lake is magnificent, with ducks and black swans and the evening mist settling over the mountains on the far side of the water. Hopefully I’ll be able to do some exploring in the morning before my next big day of riding to Sydney…

Since I've got plenty of time crouched here in my (leaky)tent on the side of the road ~16 km south of Coff's Harbour, it's a great opportunity to catch up on the past few days. I wouldn't say they've been completley positive, but genuine experiences at any rate.

Yesterday morning I was a bit slow getting on the road (as usual) but I made it to Byron Bay by around 11am to meet up with Lynette's little brother, Brett. I tried to get a camping spot at his hostel, "The Art Factory", but it was so insanely crowded, so I ended up camping 10 minutes out of town, which turned out to be quite the hassle at 1am...
After a mellow day on the beach (Brett's pretty chill and it was nice to do as little as possible), we walked to the end of the beach and up some stairs built into the rocks. It was pretty cool to see Mount Warning from the coast and to think, "I climed that!"
When I went back to camp for a nap, I met the folks beside me, who were also Canadian! One of the guys was the kiteboarder Brett and I had been admiring all day... Turns out one of the others dated a girl I went to school with in Ponoka! It's a small world after all [insert overused tune here].
The first half of the night was great; Brett and I found some hammocks, and reclined with beer, cheese and crackers. We decided then to head into town (a bad idea in hindsight) to find the other Canadians at a bar called the Cheeky Monkey. After convincing the firl at the door to let us in without cover, we walked in to see one of the Canadian girls topless on stage in a wet t-shirt contest! Now, I'm not condoning this kind of thing... if you're looking for a fun, loud, drunken time, this is the bar to visit. It just seems to me like such a rediculous idea to judge and reward girls with money for appearing as slutty as possible. I'm glad Brett didn't like the atmosphere either and after one drink we left.
I've always pictured Byron Bay as a fun place, but i think it's just really not for me. As much as I love beer and wine, I don't like being drunk and I never have fun in the party scene anymore. I guess I just feel like it's so negative (again, my perspective and I undertand that other's would disagree with me), like the entire atmosphere is dirty. The issue, I suppose, is that when I used to be into that scene, I longed for attention and to be "wanted". That's not so important to me anymore but i still have negative associations with the whole scene. These days i'm more focused on appreciating peace and beauty than being intoxicated and rowdy.

Today was another slow start, but I decided to take the tourist drive through Evan's Head, at which point it started to rain. Since the downpoar showed no signs of letting up, I decided to just drive as far as I could get. I was hoping to camp at South West Rocks tonight but as I was leaving Coff's Harbour the rain became quite heavy and the visibility quite low. So here I am, camped at a rest stop (most likely illegally) with the sound of freight trucks and speeding cars to lull me to sleep.

Noteworthy: At the New Italy rest stop I met a man who was crippled. We talked about my bike and travels for a while, and before we parted he warned me about kangaroos on the road. Apparently, hitting a roo at 100 kms on his bike was what crippled him! Hmm... a good reality check for me!