Coromandel town crier
“I’m all alone in the big wide world!”
Starting with Sideshow Bob, then Bella and her son Louis (who rescued me from an irreparable rear flat on my first day of actual riding), I’ve been batted between Extremely Generous Kiwis like Helen Macky, Janette Lloyd, Murray and Marg Gilmore, and Chris Coombe.
I try ONE NIGHT out in the open, under the stars, and suddenly I’m a major wimp.
So tonight, after a night of listening to the pounding surf at Buffalo Beach in Whitianga, I’m going to listen to (or block out, with “Quies” brand earplugs, which silenced the surf) four other snoring maidens at the Old Age Hostel.
The ride was a thrill, and the Kuaotunu beach, right there in front of me halfway to my destination, stood empty!
Turquoise water, white sand, dead tree (Anne Cutler alert!) and barenaked wombat sprinting for the three inch high waves.
Cold, but nice.
Castle Rock winery had every imaginable fruit (but grape) wines: feijoa, chayote, plum, ginger, and others. Not my cup of tea, but I sampled every last one of them, then ordered a sandwich, possibly my last civilized food until next week…
The bike is working great, but I keep heaping more things on (found stuff, like the nice facecloth, and the kilo of manukka/bush honey from the Dutch lady, and the huge wool sweater from the Op-shop) and at some point, when Helen brings my other pile of stuff, I’m going to have a problem.
I’ve still not created a system for finding my stuff, so each item takes at least five minutes to find, and it all adds up.
I guess if I were riding with someone, they’d go nuts waiting for me.
When I tell my hosts I’m about to go, I remind them that it will be in about forty-five minutes when I really push off.
Got great photos of dead ‘possum’ (looks like a cat, not a native here, but supposedly endangered native of Australia–they trap them here and make sweaters, socks out of the fur blended with merino) and hope not to be one myself.