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Published: January 9th 2018
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It was a case of the first one to wake, to wake the other.
Alert the authorities!, we were camping in the park, just near the
"No camping in the park" sign. So we quickly packed up our tents, goods and chattels, (I am not sure if we actually had any chattels, but if we did, we packed them up as well), before "Johnny Ranger" discovered vagabond's camping in the park. Question! When did we begin to fear words daubed on metal structures shoved in the Earth, like angry sentinels, striking fear into the wallets of law abiding citizens? For Pete's sake if I am littering, loitering with intent, (Oops! we were in tents) or God forbid, not dressed right, Call the police immediately!! Otherwise let me live, as I choose, not causing harm to anybody or anything on this beautiful blue green rock, hurtling through space, around this big ball of fire in the daytime sky! Didn't anybody see the movie "
Born Free?!!". And now we looked like just regular dudes having breakfast in the park. No sign outlawing breakfast in the park......
yet!! On this magnificent rock table with carved log seats, we were dining on muesli and fruit,
whilst the annoying mosquitoes were dining on us! After breakfast, Colin and I played the dreaded "S.A Water Lotto game", to fill up our water bottles for the day. Water in S.A is an absolute lottery, sometimes champagne, sometimes it just tastes like.... well you know! We were pleased to find the town water in the park, passed the "Thank God it doesn't taste like Crap test". Speaking of the precious H2O, the water in our bike bottles, over the last few mega hot days, had been like drinking out of the hot tap. I remembered a little trick, my father taught me many moons ago, about the evaporative cooling technique.
We encased our bottles on the bike, with wet socks, (yes they were clean!) the air passing through the wet sock has a cooling effect on the encased water bottles. With the forecast for today, mega hot (High 30's again), with hot winds from you know where, it was the perfect day to test the theory. Hallelujah! it kept our water a lot cooler, than it had been on the previous hot days. Finally we hit the road, heading for the town of Echunga, (whatever that means!!, possibly
a mate throwing up!) Along the way, we stopped at a tended roadside stall, selling farm fresh fruit and vegies. The kindness and generosity of humanity never ceases to impress me. We only bought a bag of tomatoes, however the farmer was so astounded, in how far we had ridden on our treddlies, and even more about where we were going, he kindly donated carrots, plums, pears, limes and apple cucumbers to help feed us on our way. "Thank you Kind sir!" We cut a few limes, and squeezed them into our water bottles, to improve the flavour, and to add some extra Vitamin C, to ward off scurvy. We were so nervy about scurvy.
Leaving Echunga, we were heading for Mount Barker, thought we would take a short cut through the woods, As this road began to be heading in the wrong direction, we were a little worried about the L word. Yes we were officially lost in the woods, That meant back tracking to the main drag. (mental note to self, "don't trust elcheapo maps!") After riding through hill and dale, as we were now on the outskirts of the Adelaide Hills, the bikes were mega loaded,
courtesy of the kind farmer, it was low gear riding up the hills. We eventually found Mount Barker, and then rode the hills to Hahndorf, Australia's oldest surviving German Village. Established in 1839, the town is well known for its traditional German pubs and beer. Colin and I have been known to imbibe the odd amber liquid a few times, when bikes must obligatorily stop at the welcome "Blue Stop sign". Well it was like putting Count Dracula in charge of the Blood Bank, we were like kids in the candy store, " which pub first Colin?", "Eeny Meeny Miney, that one, Dazz.". After many pubs and one or three German beer steins, we attempted the old thigh slapping beer dance to the accordion music frenzy of the Klubbergus song. We danced until we stopped!
Heads and bellies full of much beer, we reluctantly had to leave the beer capital of he universe and push on, in this ridiculous heat. After 20 kilometres of swerve riding, we were very inebriated, but once again the bike God, Cyclus looks after drunks and idiots. Riding into the outskirts of the little town of Lobethal, we met a roadside apple farmer of 82, who had lived in the area all of his long life. It was great to park the bikes, sit in the shade, bite into a juicy apple and wax lyrical about the old and the new times. Like the farmer from Meadows, he loaded up our food panniers with juicy apples and wished us well on our journey. A few more ks' down the road was the quaint little hippy village of Lobethal. Once a thriving wool processing town in the 50's, the Lobethal wool sheds are now home to many cottage, arts and craft industries. The village has a nuance of New Agism, amongst its populace. Its' good to see little towns and villages, reinventing themselves, with new viable industries, whilst still retaining their heritage
Riding in the Adelaide hills is a big scenery change from the flat lands, since the Vic. border, the 18 gears on the bike are getting a big workout in these hills. On the road out of Lobethal, we stopped at yet another roadside stall, this one selling herbs and shrubberies. We knocked on the door of an impressive stone house, with a big grapevine pergola, dripping with luscious grapes.The young hippy couple invited us in for a chai tea, cake and another big chat about our adventure. They kindly filled our water bottles with cool tank water, and loaded us up with herbs, grapes and vegies. Our bikes are starting to look like mobile delis, but at least we will have good fruit and veg. for the next few days. All the many gifts in kind today, is a celebration of the goodness of humankind.
We were heading for Kersbrook Youth Hostel about 36 ks, from Adelaide. Our plan is to to rest, put our feet up, do some maintenance on the bikes, and lap up some much needed luxury. After riding 73 inebriated kilometres today, we checked into our house of domestic bliss. There to greet us was Kiwi John, who had been staying at the hostel for the past few days, waiting for the yacht Harlequin to dock in Adelaide. We unpacked our bike panniers into our room. Showered and refreshed, It was so surreal, cooking in a real kitchen, with all the appliances. With all our donated goodies from our benefactor farmers, we sat down to an oven roasted dinner with Kiwi John. Sharing travel tales over that 84 Malbec, I bought a few days ago at Langhorne Creek, we finished off with a dessert of donated fruit and Johns' Ice ceam. Man this is luxury for two weary travellers. We burnt the midnight oil until late in to the night, and then crashed into real beds, Ah! the bliss of domesticity.
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