A Restless Night and a Freezing Morning
From around two in the morning, sleep abandoned me. Each time I closed my eyes, new ideas for my book circled endlessly through my mind. I lay there, body still but mind racing, until the faint light of dawn appeared.
At six, I gave up on rest and forced myself upright. The air inside the tent was so cold it made my shoulders tighten. I lit the small stove, boiled water, and prepared oatmeal and a curry-flavored ready meal. Finally, I poured a cup of hot tea. As the warmth seeped into my frozen body, I felt grateful for the simple act of morning itself.
Parting Gifts Before the Road
Alan, my camp neighbor, called out, “Have a coffee before you go.” I gladly accepted, holding the steaming cup in both hands. Another traveler living out of his caravan invited me to join his breakfast. On the table were bread, scrambled eggs, slices of ham, and even cake.
Before I left, they pressed an orange and an apple into my hands. “For the road,” they said with smiles. The kindness of strangers once again filled me with quiet strength. By the time I packed everything, it was already half past nine. Ahead lay seventy kilometers of steep climbs and descents to Eden—a long day was waiting.
Crossing the State Border
Not long after loading the trailer and setting out, a huge hill rose before me like a wall. My lungs burned, and my legs felt heavy. I knew from the start this would not be an easy day.
After ten kilometers, I reached the border. At last, I crossed into New South Wales. The air felt different somehow, fresh and new, and for a moment my chest filled with energy. But the road quickly changed to gravel. The tires slid and sank slightly with each push of the pedals, making every meter harder than it should have been.
I stopped briefly, biting into the cake given to me that morning. Its sweetness spread through me, restoring enough energy to continue.
Moments That Shook the Heart
The last ten kilometers were nothing but hills. Again and again, Google Maps promised “downhill ahead,” but each descent was followed by another climb. I muttered “liar” under my breath, feeling frustration at the road and then at myself for growing impatient.
Just when I was sinking into that dark mood, a follower who had recognized me called out, “Keep going, you’re doing great! Watch out for insects ahead.” Their encouragement lightened my heart.
Not long after, I met three cyclists heading toward Melbourne. They carried almost nothing and planned to complete the trip in just six days. Their speed and lightness stirred a little envy in me, but also reminded me that my journey had its own meaning. My heavy trailer, my plants, my slower pace—all of it was part of my chosen path.
Arrival in Eden and a Story from the Past
By evening, I rolled into Eden. My legs were like lead, and the last hill nearly broke me, but reaching the town brought deep relief.
The host’s home was a converted old factory, filled with the scent of wood and lined with tools on the walls. That night, I was given a safe space to sleep in a caravan—a welcome comfort after the long day.
As we sat together, my host told me a story: about Francis Birtles, a man who, in the early 1900s, cycled across Australia when cars were barely known. It was reckless, even dangerous, but also full of courage and curiosity. Listening, I felt a spark inside me. Perhaps I too could carry a little of that spirit forward, always curious, always willing to try, no matter how hard the road becomes.
