Sunday

Sunday came and was calm and fine. My motor felt good, I felt good, but as I rode south and saw the landscape change I was sad to be leaving the Mallee. My heart has roots there. And yet my love is big, and it gladly embraced new things as I turned off the highway on to the swamp-hinting back roads at Lake Charm, leading through Murrabit into the central Riverina.

“Water, water, everywhere.” Lake Boga is alive again, just as we had reconciled ourselves to the loss.




Koondrook, behind Barham where I had lunch.


Barham had lots of signs about being in relaxed Barham, and happy in Barham, “Have a great time!” It frightened me. Before their drug set in and I woke up on a farm, gang-chained to a line of backpackers harvesting dope, I revved my engine and got out of there!



At Cohuna I turned on to one of Victoria’s greatest stretches of tarmac: the fifteen kilometre Cohuna Island Road. It hugs a swampy river, an oasis of cool water and willows in a hot place.









At the turn-off down Dalton’s Road Zeus gave his blessing to my ride: he sent an eagle, his symbol, to say he was well-pleased with the summer-coloured humanism through which I see the landscape of my riding.



And so I dwelt in that place and my happiness was a form of giving thanks.





From there I rode home continually giving thanks for good things. Arriving home my wife and I were excited to see each other.


And as I washed the mealtime dishes that night, I looked through the window on to the great musical machine that takes me to all these places.