Charters Towers, QLD

K--

I saw a woman on a bicycle today with yellow panniers

and I thought it was you.

When I remembered you

aren't here,

I cried.

Miss you.

-A

For Anni.

My panniers aren't yellow here. 

Borrowed, they are grey and made of fabric. Ripped in one place, duct taped for repair. 

My panniers aren't yellow here. Borrowed, they are tearing at the seams.  Stuffed full of food for four days into Queensland's unpopulated and unknown. 

A food list too long to list. But Nutella. Peanut butter. Quinoa. Store brand chocolate chip cookies. Bread, cheese. 

No, no bright yellow panniers here. 

Grey ones, not waterproofed.  Lined with grey trash bags and filled with all my things. As if it was going to rain out here. 

You asked how I was.  Anni, I am borrowed panniers, bursting at the seams.  2500+ kilometers cycled.  Two months and one day.  500 in the last six days. With two Frenchies, Stephane and Manue, on a tandem recumbent. Kilometers rolled by. In grasses and rivers, all dry. In black cockatoos, tails bright blood red.  In bush flies swatted, swarming in the morning. In sun rising, riding on my own, first to leave camp. In sun setting,  laughter of friends made over a stretch of road with 7 curves and 100 times as much straight away. 

Anni.  Bursting. My muscles are exhausted from Bike heavy: 4 days of food and ten liters of water for every two days.  The first three I was all exhilaration. Energy. Manue joked, "you were so fast on those hills.  This is you on Nutella!" But yesterday: 105 km of no motivation. Little rhythm.  That I found was hard to come by. But still going. This I love.  Terrain changed. Greener. Tree-ee-er. The battling voices, "oh, I am so tired. I can barely move. I hate this. Agh." And ,"but look, kels, it is so pretty here!  Look at the trees, the dark clouds! It could rain.  Look at the green, the beauty!" And,  "I know, it is so pretty but I'm too worn out and grumpy to even take it in." Yes, This I love.  When I've arrived in Charters Towers, at the end of it. Perseverance, I love.   Accomplishment, I love.  Doing what I once thought scary to do.

Carried. Bird calls whistled back to the parrots, the magpie larks, the brolgas flown in flocks, grey wings out across the infinite blue sky. 

I am borrowed.  Another eucalyptus tree.  A heart.  A monster.  A landscape.  Land. Trees and sought after shade patches and yesterday I was so tired I thought, 'hmm, what if I try resting my eyes for just a bit.'  And I could still ride straight!  Well, mostly. A swerve to stay on the road and 'maybe that isn't the best idea.'  Four days of quiet road.  Red backed fairy wrens. One broken spoke. Solitude. And company. 

I haven't had a hug since Biloela. I wake most days by five. I have a weird collection of tan lines.  And this morning I get to share breakfast with the two French cyclists, and a Belgian one too, Ludo, who has ridden for the last three years.  In this town, where we will all take a rest before the next long, 'empty' stretch. 

How am I doing?  Well, in other words, I am doing quite well.  I love you.  And how are you?

Stephane and Manue

30 ks northeast of Capella

three people, two bikes, a lot of stuff

the flies were kinda intense this morning

100 ks out of Charters Towers

Ludo takes a picture of the frogs/ see below

frogs in a drain

Mr. Sheep and Blue study the way north