Eildon on the Hornet

The last time I parked by the shore of Lake Eildon, in its national park, I was riding the GR650. I thought of that bike a lot today: I miss its torquey thump - I miss single and twin cylinder bikes. This didn't stop me appreciating, however, the dreamy smooth hum of the Hornet. It had been running terribly during the week: one piston was not firing. It turned out later to be a very worn, old spark plug.

So I rode out east, against my preference, hoping that if I broke down my father-in-law might come rescue me with his trailer. This was unnecessary, but it lead me to meander along the dirt in Cathedral Range State Park, and to scour the back roads in Eildon National Park. My return trip involved heavy rain all the way along the famously twisty Black Spur, where the bike held her ground confidently. It was quite simply a pleasant day.

Here, between Thornton and Eildon, the cows were bathing.



Over-looking Lake Eildon.



Down by its shore.



Where there was art, if you had eyes to notice.