day 6: Byron – Wooyung

jewel of the north coast


16th Jan 11; 6:50am(dep)/11:00am(arr)
47.4 km (dist); 2h 21m (saddle);
20.1 kph (av); 54 kph (max);
353.6 km (tot)

The long ride in company had made companions of our minds and bodies. The hazardous goal was in our thoughts, day and night; consciously and unconsciously we were training ourselves; reducing our wills to the single purpose which oftenest engrossed these odd moments of talk about an evening fire. And we were so musing while the coffee-maker boiled up his coffee, tapped it down again, made a palm-fibre mat to strain it before he poured (grounds in the cup were evil manners), when there came a volley from the shadowy dunes east of us and one of the Ageyl toppled forward into the centre of the firelit circle with a screech.” 7POW;ch45


An early start in Bryon. At breakfast Scott explains the advantages of maintaining our cadence at iambic pentameter.

In a reversal of Steven Hawking theory, turtles are seen to be not holding up the world, but vice versa:

Mullumbimby 2nd breakfast (“Paddle harder, I hear banjos”):

This bridge is a lot trickier than it looks.

With cows like these, there must be a chocolate factory nearby:

Nice mailbox:

Wooyung, the only beach bush camp ground left on the NSW coast?

Lots of Water Dragons:

The beach looking north:

The beach looking south (Wendy & James):

The beach looking straight ahead (Ian):

Awad was a ragged, brown-skinned lad of perhaps eighteen, splendidly built, with the muscles and sinews of an athlete, active as a cat, alive in the saddle (he rode magnificently) and not ill-looking, though with something of the base appearance of the Sherarat…” 7POW; ch72.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in en tour. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to day 6: Byron – Wooyung

  1. las artes says:

    We circled round Aba el Lissan to make sure that the Turks were in seemly idleness, for they had a habit of rushing a mounted patrol over the Batra sites at sudden notice, and I had no mind to put our party into unnecessary action yet. Awad was a ragged, brown-skinned lad of perhaps eighteen, splendidly built, with the muscles and sinews of an athlete, active as a cat, alive in the saddle (he rode magnificently) and not ill-looking, though with something of the base appearance of the Sherarat, and in his savage eye an air of constant and rather suspicious expectancy, as though he looked any moment for something new from life, and that something not of his seeking or ordering, nor wholly grateful.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s