Day 497 | Wilpena: back here again

35 km | zzOz total: 16,090 km

Definition of a perfect day.

Big red kangaroos silhouetted against the early morning rose coloured sky … not having to pack up an already packed up tent … sun low in the sky behind … startling sheer mountain cliffs in the distance … a twisting, slightly undulating track that had some recent grader work but the standard tourist traffic is locked out … a lookout with one of those biscuit tin, if they still have ‘em, iconic Top Ten Australian iconic views, to myself … the frightening descent down Razorback Ridge … an emu with two turkey sized chicks, with dark stripes on their plumage … a quick, almost evening dash up Mt Ohlsen Bagge with views across Wilpena Pound to the dramatic Elder Range … an almost warm shower … the nighttime glow of the well exercised leg muscles, full internet connectability … etc …

I must have rose coloured glasses now I think about it, there was an afternoon battle in the uphill direction, up a valley, the road surface impeccable due to the sharp nature of the fine gravel, but some not always rideable inclines, steering too light at low speeds even though most of the water ballast has been discharged, necessitating the occasional walk-the-bike phenomenon when caught out on gear selection.

I met Rodney coming the other direction on the Trail, his bike loaded at the opposite extreme, perhaps the major luggage on board is a credit card, although I note a tent,he’s been on the Mawson 10 days since Gawler, nearer Kapunda than Adelaide, the lighter load would make his imminent hill climbs more pleasurable.

I query the single track I’ve dredged from deep memory recesses, he confirms there’s a short stretch not far away.

Some aspects of bike touring are easier when travelling in a downhill direction, unfortunately I’m still on the up, there’s a short portage required to ascend a rock ledge, despite some momentary unburdening, it’s low 30ºCs, my sandals are slippery through effort, the trailer wheel catches on some rocky impediment and refuses to follow, I’m straining all known muscles lifting/pulling/dragging/shoving/muttering/wrestling and I’ve busted out the heel of my only footwear, a sandal, pushing post not saddle Pete.

In life I don’t necessarily aim for perfection but sometimes it just falls, and when it does you just gratefully accept even an imperfect perfection, just like today.