Riding On

When I was a young boy my father would travel most summers to faraway places. He would return like a valiant conquistador with suitcases full of bounty. He would bring wooden dolls and filterless cigarettes from teh Soviet Union, model Porches from west Germany and various chocolates from the Netherlands. He would gather us in the family room for a slide projector presentation of his journies. With a clicking sound each individual slide would fall into place as I eagerly anticipated the image that would illuminate against the white bed sheet hung against the opposite wall. I sat in the dark room in wonderment as my father spoke about the architecture and works of art he saw, the people he met and their struggles. I knew that one day I would see the world like my father had.On the long stretch from Miles to Carnarvon Gorge, endless stretches of single lane black and red pavement lay in front of me. To ammuse myself I would honk my blaring horn at the numerous crows feasting on the endless Kangaroo roadkill buffet, and at the range cows lazily munching on field grass. My efforts were mostly greeted with blank stares. At one crossing 20 head of cattle lay between me and the oncoming road, I slowed my speed and feverishly blew my bikes horn, all but one sped away! as I zig zagged he matched my every move like a skillfull linebacker. Then, finally within a margin of one foot I passed safely.At carnarvon Gorge, an Australian National park, I rented for the night a one person canvas tent complete with a small cot and an electric fan.Immediately after unpacking my things I set off on the Aboriginal art walk trail. The perfectly manicured path led to massive alcoves with limestone cliffs sculpted by millions of years of water trickling down the rockface. Large ponds of water gathered at the bottom framed by dark green moss completed these little pictures of paradise. Running low on water and feeling the effects on my back and legs from the long ride I head back to camp for some well deserved rest.That night at the campground, I meet an older couple from Austria enjoying an entire year on holiday exploring Australia and Africa in their gargantuan Mercedes troop carrier which they had shipped from Europe. On the side of the vehicle was a map of the world with small icons to show where they had been, most of the map was colored in.