Arrival

I had a knot in my belly the whole way over, and I still do. What did I get myself into? How am I going to make it? The knot is from anticipation of adventure, but also because I am eight thousand miles from everything familiar, and making it to Melbourne in a month is looking quite daunting. Brisbane just had it's worst cyclone-strength thunderstorm in a generation. Luckily, it didn't blow down the house I am staying in, but it did blow down a few around here. A bad omen perhaps. But I don't believe in omens.

I was sunburned after about a half hour of riding in partly cloudy weather. The landing was great though. I love hard landings. I love watching the wings flex wildly, and feeling the gears compress low. This one in Brisbane was a good one, good enough to make the big 747 shudder loudly and to make one woman scream. After 47 kilometers of jet-lagged riding, I made it to Stradbroke Island, affectionately known as "Straddie." I had a little trouble getting ahold of my host there, but fortunately I was forced to wait on the grass of a small beach with water birds striding around, and crabs peering at me with stalky eyes.

Zoe, my warm and inviting host, brought me in from the drizzle and cooked fresh fish and chips for me. After this savory meal, we had a stroll down to the "Little Ships Club" for a Tooheys. Here, I met an old Aboriginal fellow, speech a bit slurred from beer, but still barely articulate enough to voice his opinions about land stewardship, American westerns, and the scariness of certain man-eating beasts. He argued that, to be a true steward of the land, one must continually be on the move, so as not to spoil one location too much. Makes sense. However, when I mentioned I grew up in Colorado, he had a bit of an unclear picture of my homeland. He imagines some kind of 1880s wild west shoot-em-up place. He hung his head a bit when I told him it was full of modern sprawling civilization, including all the malls and cars and spoilers of paradise. And this lead to our discussion of wild beasts. I argued that the salt water croc is one of the most fearsome predators, since they will mindlessly leap out of a placid billabong, clamp down on a part of your body (most likely your head), and drag you under water for a live eating. He seemed to think that the Grizzly bear is the most frightening, simply because of the ferociousness of its claws and teeth. We had to disagree.

On Thursday, Zoe and I rode our bikes to a fresh water lake on Straddie called Brown Lake. The water is quite pristine, but is colored brown by the tea trees in the area. We went for a walk down the sandy shore path shrouded by gum trees, and at the terminus, we found a couple getting it on in the water. We burst into laughter, much to the dismay and embarrassment of the lustful couple, I am sure. After a ride back and a homemade lunch at a flower market, we shed our shoes shoes and walked out over the exposed seabed of low tide toward the rusted hulk of an old ship. On the way, sea cucumbers squirmed in pools, and hundreds of blue soldier crabs evaded us in herds, carrying their little round bodies on the sound of a thousand clicking legs. When overtaken, they quickly bury themselves sideways in the sand. The bottom of the ship's hull has rusted away, allowing a mini mangrove to grow inside, and the sea has reduced the sides to a flaking mess. How wonderful to see nature so completely overwhelm a man made object.

Straddie has a beautiful town called Point Lookout, and on Friday, Zoe and I hitchhiked there. We sat on a 20-kilometer long beach, and there wasn't another soul there. The sand of low tide was perfectly smooth, extending out fifty yards from our feet. We also took a walk along the cliffs, and spied some of the sea turtles that Zoe so dearly loves. I toughened up my feet a little by walking barefoot down the road to a pub where I ate a huge pizza covered in five kinds of meat and barbecue sauce.

I spent the last day on Straddie exploring a 4x4 track through the marsh and lagoons behind the east beach. I popped out a mile or so south of Point Lookout, and pushed my bike up the beach for another pass though the ice cream shop and a rolling ride back into Dunwich. Thank goodness for Zoe and her warm generosity. My memories of her and her home are already fond.

Now I'm in Brisbane, and have been exploring this sunny, modern city. Well, it was sunny until last night when the storm came. The forecast is for more storms, storms for another week, and tomorrow I will head south into them.