Morning Departure and Farewell
I woke at 7:30 a.m. The day of departure always carries a special weight for a traveler. Even though I know the routine well, packing up and organizing my belongings always takes longer than I expect. I caught myself thinking, “I didn’t mean to put things off, but somehow I still did.” A small regret, yet familiar on the road.
Breakfast was oatmeal, muesli, yogurt, and coffee—simple but deeply appreciated. The unhurried time around the table felt like a gift before leaving.
When it came time to go, my host and her husband joined me for part of the journey. He cycled alongside me for five or six kilometers while she drove ahead in the car to film my ride. Having my image captured in motion—something impossible when traveling alone—felt like the most precious gift. We said our goodbyes at a crossroads, and from there, I continued alone on the highway once more.
The Weight of the Body and the Road
My destination for the day was Moruya, about 50 kilometers away. I had been warned that the route was full of steep ups and downs.
Not long after I began, I noticed the heaviness in my body. Three days of rest had left me looser than I realized. Bridging the gap between rest and motion is always more difficult than it seems. To sustain a long journey, I realized again, it is not only important to rest but also to actively regain the body’s rhythm afterward.
A Pause in Bodalla
On the way, I stopped briefly in Bodalla, a tiny town with only a handful of shops. I stayed for just a few minutes, but its quiet main street gave me the feeling of a gentle pause in the middle of my ride.
Arrival in Moruya and a New Choice
By 3 p.m., I reached Moruya, a town of about 4,000 people and the main center of the Eurobodalla region. With its Woolworths and cafés, it felt like a convenient hub where a traveler could stock up and rest.
After grabbing a meal and some supplies, the clock read 4 p.m. I could have stopped there for the night, but my heart told me to go further. I decided to take the coastal route. With fewer steep climbs and a string of small towns along the way, I felt certain the road would bring new discoveries.
Camping Before Broulee
Before sunset, I pitched my tent near Broulee, close enough to hear the steady rhythm of the waves. As I lay down, the small regrets of the morning and the heaviness I had felt during the ride already seemed far away.
Another road, another memory—today, one more piece was added to the long path of my journey.
