The Endless Climb
This day, I left the Great Ocean Road for a while and turned inland, heading toward Lavers Hill. As its name suggests, the road pointed sharply upward.
At first, the climb felt gentle, but soon my breath grew heavy, the pedals weighed down, and the scenery barely changed.
Two hours of effort carried me only 10 kilometers. Sweat ran down my back, carrying away every stray thought. What remained was just me and the road.
Autumn on the Hill
When I finally reached Lavers Hill, the view transformed. Deep greens were softened with patches of autumn colors. The air felt calmer, less like the wild bush and more like a tended garden.
At the small general store, I sat with a warm drink in hand. A young cyclist entered, and our conversation quickly skipped past distances and maps to deeper questions: Why are you traveling? What future do you imagine?
Such talks linger long after the journey moves on.
He soon left to meet his companions, but one of them forgot a water bottle. The shopkeeper smiled, handing it to me: “Take it—you might see them again.” In that moment, it was no longer just water. It felt like a thread of connection placed in my hands.
Gentle Roads and Open Skies
Descending from the hill, the landscape opened wide.
Trees reached into the sky, sheep grazed quietly, and the road eased into rolling stretches. My body felt relief, but my heart swelled with energy. The very name “Apollo Bay,” my next destination, seemed to carry the scent of the ocean on the breeze.
Cold Air, Warm Reflections
Before sunset, I found a spot to camp and set up my tent.
The photos I took show a smile, but in truth, the air cut cold and sharp. I ate quickly and sank into my sleeping bag, replaying the day’s climb and encounters in my mind.
It had been exhausting, but the views, the conversations, and even the forgotten water bottle stitched together into something lasting. Despite the aches, the thought settled quietly: Today was a good day.
