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Mallacoota. Is there anything more lonely than a bicycle leaning against a caravan park power outlet? Probably.


to Cann River

the hills, the hills

The hills, like bad guys in an action film, are largely nameless and only dealt with one at a time. I take them on sequentially and always win. I'm the hero. I'm Harrison Ford. On a bike.

Late start, not on the road until after 11. Bodes badly. Reading, wandering, waiting for knicks to dry, asking advice regarding National Parks tracks along the coast to Thurra River. Consensus advice is: don't try it. So I don't and am soon back on the highway.

Ah. yes. The cold. Crossed the border into Victoria yesterday, so naturally the wind is, and I am, completely cold. Rode 47 km in the cold. Finished the day cold. Not fun.


Chicken burgers from the camp kitchen for tea. And breakfast tomorrow. And lunch.