Feeling frisky

One of the highlights of riding around Victoria is the infinite opportunities afforded to the inveterate dog spotter. Up at Murrabit on the Murray River just east of Swan Hill, where the population probably struggles to reach 150, there's no shortage of Jack Russells. Not city dogs on leads with brushed fresh coats, but amiable little country chaps who trot along behind their owners, sniffing the dusty grass and on the lookout for a tasty morsel. When 4,500 of us arrived in town on that first night of the Great Vic Bike Ride in November 2005, the first night of my first bike tour, there was no shortage of morsel donors due to the array of barbeques set up by the locals to tempt our tastebuds and I like to think the dogs were as happy as were we to enjoy the town's hospitality.

So it's a bit bewildering to consider that soon I will be riding through countryside where the sight of a dog is more likely to fill me with fear rather than pleasure. I have a vision of riding along in bumpy chaotic Romania pursued by a pack of dogs yapping at my heels, one of which manages to sink his sharp little teeth into my ankle. Or worse, a Romanian bear wrestles me in my tent and scores a hit. I've seen 'Old Yella' so I know what's going to happen. Think I'd best seek that rabies vaccination post haste!

In the meantime I thought I'd share the start and end of the '06 GVBR - Lucy, Dale, Pedro, Pauline, Gonzalo, Catherine, Anna and me. I enjoyed lots of great dog sightings en route.

That Toad Work

As Philip Larkin asked in his poem 'Toads', "Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life?" Right now, a big fat toad of work is squatting on my shoulders. And if there's one thing I know, work toads can be a bugger to shift. Just ask anyone these days and they'll tell you how busy they are, how they need a break, and how they can't believe it's the end of February already.

And why has the toad come to squat? Money. That's the simple answer. It always is. Oh I know that sociologists and psychologists and doctors and even career counsellors, of whom I am one, are all too ready to tell us that work is good for us. It keeps us healthy - that is if we don't work in a country with poor workplace regulations or in industry where death and disease are all too prevalent; it keeps us sane - well, that's debatable as I'm sure you'll agree if you've ever watched 'Yes Minister' or 'The Office'; it keeps us optimistic - I guess it does, as there are worse things in the world than working, like riding a bike, for example...

Or not riding it, as is the case right now. You see I've got so many things to do, like training and shopping and going to the gym and swimming and experiments and none of them are getting done on account of the toad. I'm placing full blame on the toad. That's fair isn't it? Should I look elsewhere, I hear you ask. Perhaps at the end of Larkin's poem? "For something sufficiently toad-like Squats in me, too;" Surely not!

Holidays are Over

It's January 17 already, and in John Lennon's words, what have I done since Christmas?

What's a Melbourne summer without tennis? One of the things I've done is gone to, and watched on the idiot box, LOTS of tennis. Don't you just love the commentary? I know some might prefer Jim Courier for his wit and knowledge, or the consummately technical Roger Rasheed, but my favourite so far is John Alexander. His comment that Li'l Leyton's opponent's mum liked tennis, but as she couldn't call her son Tennis, she chose Dennis instead, is amazing, don't you agree? It leads one into all type of profound philosophical speculation, such as what Rex's and Honey's mums liked, for instance. Thank you, John. Keep up the good work.

I've written a bit more of the novel and thought about how it has to change, again; made jam to cheat the birds from the pleasure of eating all our fantastic stone fruits straight from the trees; sent out the first round of fund raising request letters; thought about what I can do to add my voice to the anti-bay-dredging majority; and done a bit of light training. I suspect my training will always be just 'light'...swimming, riding a bit, doing some stretching and the weekly personal torture routine at the gym. And lived through the university offers period with Junior. Now, that takes fortitude. Riding 4,000 kms seems like it will be a breeze in comparison, right now. Ask me in mid-June if I'm still sticking to this opinion.

I'm now trying to work out how to get back from Istanbul to London after Desy joins me. We're planning on a month to wander on home via London and goodness knows where else. Maybe a train with stopovers along the way through Europe? Maybe fly to Spain and book an apartment for a couple of weeks? Maybe just spend a couple of weeks in Turkey? I guess we'll work it out.

And then there's the tent challenge. I need a tent. I hate being in small tents, so it's off to see what the world of tents is all about in the modern era. It's got to be light, compact and really easy to put up. And cheap, as I'm pretty unlikely to use it on a regular basis. I've got the bed roll. Probably need a new sleeping bag, although I am very fond of the Swedish Princess that has accompanied me faithfully on three Great Vic Bike Rides, now. I've got the new super duper shower set and micro fibre towel, thanks to the tradition of giving gifts at Christmas.

I've also got to decide on my bike seat. The cruel expensive one I rode on the last Great Vic with the help of Nurofen to quell the absolute pain, although ergonomically sound, is not going to be for me. Then there's bike shoes with cleats. Time to grow up in this department. I've decided to take the Vivente rather than lash out on a new machine. I figure that by the time I get to Istanbul, the bike's not going to owe me anything so I can sell it, post it or give it away with impunity, and wander through Europe unencumbered.

Ah, so many decisions and so much planning. Delicious, indeed!

Almost Christmas

A few less sleeps to go and a few more kms under my belt on account of the enjoyable Great Victorian Bike Ride, November 25 - December 2, which went through some of the most glorious countryside Victoria has to offer. And I must say that the scones this year were plentiful and of excellent quality. Well done, ladies en route!

But back to the Orient Express, as the 2008 European ride is called. I'm hoping there is a fine tradition of home-made scones to be had as the only reason I ride really, is to eat. Well, that and the scenery, the company and the challenge. And for 2008, I have another incentive. The National Breast Cancer Foundation has accepted my offer to raise funds for them so that's exciting. All my friends, acquaintances and associated accomplices will help me I'm sure. Perhaps if I'd been quick enough, I could have organised donations in lieu of Christmas gifts.

If you want to check out the other riders on this adventure then go to http://www.tourdafrique.com/orientexpress/profiles.php

Starting out

There's about 204 sleeps to go before my bike and I take to the road. I'm leaving Paris on June 1st 2008 and expect to arrive in Istanbul 50 days later. It's about 4,000 kms in all.

I'm not sure if I'm right, but this seems like the best plan I've had for some time.

You see, this is no longer something I'm just talking about. This is commitment. Money has changed hands. Forms will be completed.

Who would have thought that picking up a postcard in Borsari's Bike Shop in Lygon St Carlton would lead to such an adventure.