It was another crisp, beautiful winter's day of subtle water colours, green and blue, and I sung to it in my helmet in joy as I danced across the hills at speed. Somewhere beyond Caveat I stopped:
and again when I reached Ruffy, I took a dirt road which pointed to a Recreational Reserve. There was a tennis court carpeted with moss, there were buildings, and there was silence and the absence of others and their activities...
North of Ruffy I entered a region of baby mountains and twisting road, where I stopped for this waterfall.
Just south of Longwood, below the Hume Highway, I decided to look for old graves at the Longwood cemetery. I made some friends...
...and found graves as old as the 1860s...
From Longwood I continued heading north, figuring I would have a coffee in Murchison. However I kept giving over time to exploring side roads and tracks. The main roads were wonderful in themselves; long and straight and with - as everywhere else - almost no other traffic.
At one point I turned down a side road at the suggestion of a sign which said 'Old Historic School'. On this road I think I made a breakthrough in dirt riding on a road bike. It was sandy and I came to see clearly how going too slowly and carefully made the bike waddled around more on the loose surface, whereas if I powered through with speed the bike was much more stable, although I had to let it weave as the dirt would have it. Travelling along, three sheep ran out from the quater mile track in a state of fear, and ran along the road in front of me. They really are stupid, affection-worthy animals. When three more joined them I expected Benny Hill music. Finally I came to a cross-roads and no school...
...so I turned back. At a hole in the fence I tried my hand at rounding up sheep on a motorcycle and they bolted for the hole, throwing themselves through it. Except for the last sheep, who threw himself at the fence, failed, and bounced back as though by a rubberband into a backwards summer-sault toward me! Stupid animals, sheep.
At a cross-roads somewhere I stopped to hear the silence. The only other traffic was a light plane high above. I didn't want to leave this place.
Looking at the map I see now that I managed to reach as far as only a few kilometers south of Murchsion, but I was unsure of where I was and decided it was getting time to head back.
I took a turn-off which pointed to Euroa, day-dreaming about a book I want to write about motorcycling, a work of popular philosophy, but expressing my love for the country with which riding connects me.
From Euroa I went south via Strathbogie and to Merton. On the way I stopped again at that small damn
I arrived in Yea after dark, as per the photo, and rode down the Melba Highway, hugging the tail-light of a slower car like a night beacon, basking in his safety. It can be quite difficult to ride twisty 100kph roads on a motorcycle at night when you have lots of bright oncoming headlights. I simply fixate on the red lights in front and follow their lead. I arrived in Melbourne much later than I had intended, and very cold.
As usual, it was a wonderful, soul-refreshing day!
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