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Date: Sun, 13 Jul 1997 14:35:41 -0700To: studio@toysatellite.org From: Don Pattenden <dpattenden@pegasus.com.au> Subject: The Central Coast (Part One) Via Woy Woy Well here I am in Woy Woy on the New Nouth Wales "Central Coast"(i.e. in between the South Coast and the North Coast. It is now 10 AM on Sunday (July 13) [Hey, just realised tomorrow is Bastille Day: Allons enfants de la patrie - - -"They're not letting off nuclear bombs in the Pacific this year, so we can like them again] on a cool and very overcast morning, with showers forecast later in the day. This is in great contrast to yesterday which was just fantastice: one of those fine, sunny crackling blue & blue sky days such as you only get in winter with everything sharp and clear, just perfect for being near the sea, as I was. In fact I had one of the most enjoyable day's riding of the entire trip. Certainly helped clear my palate and compensate for a most unpleasant" experience at the yukkiest hostel I've ever stayed at. But more of that anon; let me start at the beginning. Departing from Bondi was the usual major excercise and painful ordeal reaching escape velocity -- getting myself organised and packed and ready to start riding with my loaded bike. When I arrived back there after the trip from Nowra I had a strong desire to continue the momentum, having rediscovered the feeling of freedom that comes with being "on the road again" (notwithstanding the wintry conditions), I wanted to keep it up, with only a minimal delay (like one or two nights at Bondi at the most. But unfortunately there were things to be organised, including the huge bag of belongings I needed to send ahead of me up to Hebaton (near Cairns) for Dani to mind for me. That excercise took up an entire day and re-packing my paniers another. So it was Thursday morning (July 11) by the time I was loaded up and ready to start riding. The day was fine and coo,l with lengthy sunny periods, so the ride from Bondi to Circular Quay was a pleasant one, along Oxford Street, across Hyde Park (bidding a silent farewell to Sydney town (probably won't be back there for a year or more) and down Macquarie Street to the Operal House. The sun was out just then so the Harbour was looking magnificent. I couldn't resist lingering there to take a few photos of my loaded up bike with the Harbour and the ferries in the background. Then I made my way along to the Manly Ferry wharf, bought a ticket ($1 on my pension card) and was soon on board. I tied up my bike securely with a couple of "ocker straps" so I could spend most of the journey up on deck at the "sharp end" gazing around at all familiar landmarks as they passed by. It's always the same, whenever I'm on the harbour or near it, no matter how long I've been away from Sydney a voice inside says "this is *my* harbour. I don't think I could ever look at it through the eyes of a tourist. Once at Manly I rode along to an optometrist shop in the Corso where I was to meet Patrick, one of my email penfriends, face to face for the first time. This contact came about thanks to "Click-On", a Listserver dicsussion group loosely based around an ABC radio program (that particular program has been discontined) but the group goes on, a particularly lively one, and for me the source of some very useful contacts (including Joan in Woy Woy whose computer I am using to type and send this message.) Patrick and I had a cup of coffee together (and a chat about many things) after which I checked in at one of Backpackers Hostels in Manly. I had a comfortable enough night there although the place was full mainly of young surfboarders. The manager was kind to me and gave me a room to myself (with plenty of space, and a wardrobe, to store my paniers & other junk) for the usual dormitory price ($15). I had to enter it by going through one of the dormitories but that was no hassle, all of the young people in it were either sleeping or out somewhere (doing the things that young people do, surfing or raging or whatever). I had one cursory look at the communal kitchen then gave it a wide berth -- the sink was full of dirty saucepans, every one of which had been used -- and did my cooking in my room with my trusty Tranjia. So I was well set up to follow my usual morning routine, coffee, yoga, porridge, so all in all it was value for money. That was Friday (July 11). The weather was not promising -- drizzly and cold, though the drizzle had cleared by the time I was packed and making my way around to Patrick's shop (around 11 AM). Still cold though. I made a few phone calls there (checking out accommodation), had another brief chat with Patrick & by then it was lunctime; my tummy was sending me signals. Patrick had other things to do so I said goodbye & rode down to the surf beach to sit at one of the tables just near the beach. On a fine, sunny day that would have been enjoyable, but the wind was icy and my fingers were frozen by the time I'd finished. So just for once I found myself hoping for a hill or two on the way to Palm Beach so I could warm up. Wasn't disappointed either, there were a few. I have to keep on reminding myself that I am heading north and that every 200 km I ride will increase the average local temperature by one degree Celsius. At least that's the rule of thumb Patrick goes by and I'm prepared to take his word for it. CHANGE OF PLAN It's now 2:30 PM and it's pouring with rain. Send her down Hughie!!! (To quote an old aussie saying, apparently deriving from the shearing sheds). Real cats and dogs. What a let down! I gather it's only raining like this on the Central Coast. Ho hum. Anyway, this means a change of plan which is rather involved; I'll explain next time. I'll have to send this now, as is, and will continue the saga later, most probably from Gosford. One thing about this trip: I'm learning to take the good with the bad; take things as they come; all good experience. You just never know from day to day how things are going to work out. But by and large they work out for the best.
Next instalment from Gosford, probably. |