A Slow Morning Start
I woke up around 7 a.m., with no reason to rush. Today’s ride was just 10 kilometers to Bairnsdale. Breakfast turned into a feast of carbs—ramen, noodles, and curry rice. My stomach felt heavy, but my heart was full of a strange kind of happiness.
The sky was a clear, endless blue, and the crisp morning air felt refreshing. I stretched across the open field and, on impulse, did a 100-meter sprint. My breath quickened, my body warmed up, and it felt new and exciting. Usually, I’m only pedaling, so using my whole body like that was unexpectedly fun.
A Short Ride and a Small Mishap
I set off at 9:30.
The road was mostly flat, and the cool wind brushed against my cheeks. With few cars passing, even the narrow roads didn’t feel threatening. An hour later, I arrived in Bairnsdale.
I stopped at a facility called “Aqua-something.” I hadn’t planned to go inside, but there I noticed a water leak, and my bike suddenly toppled over with a loud crash. My heart skipped, but moments like these remind me that travel is really about how you recover.
Inspiration at Bunnings
After adjusting the trailer, I spent nearly six hours sitting on a bench at the facility—meditating, staring at the sky, simply letting time pass. It was a rare kind of luxury. But when boredom crept in, I wandered to a nearby Bunnings.
Surrounded by the scent of wood and soil, I bought flowers. And that’s when a new idea struck me: to cover my entire bike with flowers, turning it into a “moving garden.” The plants I had been growing often got shaken loose on the road, their roots exposed. But if I filled the trailer with already-blooming flowers, maybe the garden itself could move with me, spreading joy as I traveled.
A Chance Encounter and Evening Glow
While I was lost in these thoughts, an older man approached me. “What you’re doing is wonderful,” he said. He told me about his time working near Cairns and even gave me his contact information, offering help if I ever passed through. I felt a strong sense of connection—proof that flowers really do open conversations and bring people together.
By 4 p.m., I moved to a park and lay on the grass, watching the sky change color in the soft glow of evening. I realized how rare it was on this journey to spend such slow, peaceful time.
Warmth at Night
After 5 p.m., I arrived at my host’s home. I was welcomed warmly, soaked in a hot bath that reached deep into my tired muscles, and shared a dinner of curry rice. Its aroma and spice spread warmth through my body after the cool evening air.
After the meal, we spoke about Japan, about travel, and about life itself. By the time I slipped under the covers, my body felt heavy, but my heart was light.
Tomorrow, I’ll ride 60 kilometers to Lake Entrance. With my new “flower bicycle,” maybe I’ll spark a few more smiles along the way.
