Livin' the life!
BagLady
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Pics "Cooma to Braidwood"
Sven, from Germany, and his bike after he fell into a big hole.
Sonja and the kids from the Jerangle Public School!
I love being in a classroom.
Blaze sleeping in the school library.
Beautiful back roads.
When animals are killed on the roads, they are counted and then marked with spray paint to note the counting...then left to remind drivers to be more careful.
Anzac Day parade.
Dads with the strollers!
Celebrating.
Commemorating.
Livin' the life!
BagLady
Cooma to Braidswood
April 25, 2015
100th Anniversary of Anzac Day
Braidwood, NSW, AU
I finally rode out of Cooma last Tuesday. This is Saturday. I'm about 130 kms down the road. Not very far, I know. Weather has been a bit of an issue: rain. The first day I had already made plans with Sonja, the teacher of the one room school in Jerangle, to meet up with her that first night and stay at the school. I had met her at the Nordic Center in Perisher when I was up there with Adrian, and we felt like kindred spirits. I had called her because I wanted to cycle the dirt road through Jerangle and I wanted to get an idea of the condition. She offered to pick me up. Yippee.
The next day was rainy, so after talking to the kids about my bike and getting a break in the weather to let each one give it a try, I opted to stay out and play in the classroom for the day. Good idea! Because being with kids is always fun...and it rained all day. So after a second night at the school, I pedaled north through a state forest. I love the back roads. So much quieter. Beautiful scenery. Slow going. "Do you know where you're going?" Why is everyone asking me that? "This road is very dangerous." Similar sentiments keep getting repeated. But the roads are great. And the drivers kind. All except for this Australian thing for blasting the horn when they pass my tent on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Do you think you're being cute?? That's never happened before here. The other night I think he honked coming and going. The woodland floor is so rough with gum tree bark and bristly brush that I often have to camp on the mown edges of the road. So I guess I'm pretty obvious. The other morning I heard a car back up...I guess to check out my bike.
I made it to Braidwood in time for Anzac Day that commemorates the invasion into Gallipoli of the Australian and New Zealand combined forces. It's a spirit of honor that lives on today. I did not rise for the service at dawn although I did stick my head out of my tent:). I stayed around for the parade and service at the park. Don't ask me the facts. Not my forte. But the strength of this militia that was not a professional army was pretty amazing.
The weather this morning was beautiful for the events but I had read that thunderstorms were coming this afternoon. I had my supplies gathered for the next 120 kms through the mountains and water for the night, so I cycled out. When I stopped for lunch I was particularly moved by the feeling of the moment and wrote this:
No Words
I stand here in the noisy silence wanting to somehow soak up the feeling that no words can describe, no picture can capture. All alone and yet not. Human and yet not. Just one small piece in this vast universe. I see grey stormy clouds, grasslands over rolling hills, trees spotted here and there. Every now and then a car breaks the "silence" roaring down the road behind me. But oh the chatter of the birds fills the void. They are ever present. Musical. My molecules feel one with everything and my body feels non-existent. I am here. I am not here. I love this feeling. Yikes! That's thunder! Is that storm coming this way? Maybe I'd better stop being poetic and get real...and think about shelter! Now I'm here and I am human and there's things I need to do. The moment has passed...for now. But I know it will come again...and often....
I cycled down the hill as the rain came, gently at first, then heavier. The cows and horses had all found shelter under trees. This looks like it's going to be bad. There's an old lane. Wonder what's down there. An overgrown garden and a locked old, unlived in house. Think I'll camp here. Yes, I know. It's only 1 pm but that thunder sounds ominous. Quit while your ahead. So I've spent a rainy, stormy afternoon with soggy clothes strung about, all snuggled in my sleeping bag. It's getting cold. Probably low 50's. Sleeping and reading. And writing. And eating:). This food has to last me a few days. And since it's raining, it will be a cold dinner tonight. So much for the fresh tomato sauce over pasta I had planned:(. But the leftover fried tofu and sautéed spinach was delicious for lunch.
Let me share another writing I did the other day:
Sometimes
Sometimes I tire of the setting up
Sometimes I tire of the packing up
Sometimes I tire of so few things to do during the long evenings in my tent
And sometimes I tire of eating the same foods
But I never tire of seeing the misty mountains
And I never tire of feeling the breezes blow across my body
And I never tire of seeing the sunsets (I rarely see a sunrise:))
And I never tire of hearing the birds chorus.
And I never tire of feeling the sun's warmth and light break through on a gray chilly day.
Sometimes I tire of pushing the pedals round
But I never tire of the magic of living outside, of not knowing where I'll sleep each night, of the unknown that each day brings.
Nope.
Never tire of that!
(And I never tire of the beeps, the waves, and the thumbs up!)
Livin' the life,
BagLady
Facebook: Kathryn Mossbrook Zimmerman
100th Anniversary of Anzac Day
Braidwood, NSW, AU
I finally rode out of Cooma last Tuesday. This is Saturday. I'm about 130 kms down the road. Not very far, I know. Weather has been a bit of an issue: rain. The first day I had already made plans with Sonja, the teacher of the one room school in Jerangle, to meet up with her that first night and stay at the school. I had met her at the Nordic Center in Perisher when I was up there with Adrian, and we felt like kindred spirits. I had called her because I wanted to cycle the dirt road through Jerangle and I wanted to get an idea of the condition. She offered to pick me up. Yippee.
The next day was rainy, so after talking to the kids about my bike and getting a break in the weather to let each one give it a try, I opted to stay out and play in the classroom for the day. Good idea! Because being with kids is always fun...and it rained all day. So after a second night at the school, I pedaled north through a state forest. I love the back roads. So much quieter. Beautiful scenery. Slow going. "Do you know where you're going?" Why is everyone asking me that? "This road is very dangerous." Similar sentiments keep getting repeated. But the roads are great. And the drivers kind. All except for this Australian thing for blasting the horn when they pass my tent on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Do you think you're being cute?? That's never happened before here. The other night I think he honked coming and going. The woodland floor is so rough with gum tree bark and bristly brush that I often have to camp on the mown edges of the road. So I guess I'm pretty obvious. The other morning I heard a car back up...I guess to check out my bike.
I made it to Braidwood in time for Anzac Day that commemorates the invasion into Gallipoli of the Australian and New Zealand combined forces. It's a spirit of honor that lives on today. I did not rise for the service at dawn although I did stick my head out of my tent:). I stayed around for the parade and service at the park. Don't ask me the facts. Not my forte. But the strength of this militia that was not a professional army was pretty amazing.
The weather this morning was beautiful for the events but I had read that thunderstorms were coming this afternoon. I had my supplies gathered for the next 120 kms through the mountains and water for the night, so I cycled out. When I stopped for lunch I was particularly moved by the feeling of the moment and wrote this:
No Words
I stand here in the noisy silence wanting to somehow soak up the feeling that no words can describe, no picture can capture. All alone and yet not. Human and yet not. Just one small piece in this vast universe. I see grey stormy clouds, grasslands over rolling hills, trees spotted here and there. Every now and then a car breaks the "silence" roaring down the road behind me. But oh the chatter of the birds fills the void. They are ever present. Musical. My molecules feel one with everything and my body feels non-existent. I am here. I am not here. I love this feeling. Yikes! That's thunder! Is that storm coming this way? Maybe I'd better stop being poetic and get real...and think about shelter! Now I'm here and I am human and there's things I need to do. The moment has passed...for now. But I know it will come again...and often....
I cycled down the hill as the rain came, gently at first, then heavier. The cows and horses had all found shelter under trees. This looks like it's going to be bad. There's an old lane. Wonder what's down there. An overgrown garden and a locked old, unlived in house. Think I'll camp here. Yes, I know. It's only 1 pm but that thunder sounds ominous. Quit while your ahead. So I've spent a rainy, stormy afternoon with soggy clothes strung about, all snuggled in my sleeping bag. It's getting cold. Probably low 50's. Sleeping and reading. And writing. And eating:). This food has to last me a few days. And since it's raining, it will be a cold dinner tonight. So much for the fresh tomato sauce over pasta I had planned:(. But the leftover fried tofu and sautéed spinach was delicious for lunch.
Let me share another writing I did the other day:
Sometimes
Sometimes I tire of the setting up
Sometimes I tire of the packing up
Sometimes I tire of so few things to do during the long evenings in my tent
And sometimes I tire of eating the same foods
But I never tire of seeing the misty mountains
And I never tire of feeling the breezes blow across my body
And I never tire of seeing the sunsets (I rarely see a sunrise:))
And I never tire of hearing the birds chorus.
And I never tire of feeling the sun's warmth and light break through on a gray chilly day.
Sometimes I tire of pushing the pedals round
But I never tire of the magic of living outside, of not knowing where I'll sleep each night, of the unknown that each day brings.
Nope.
Never tire of that!
(And I never tire of the beeps, the waves, and the thumbs up!)
Livin' the life,
BagLady
Facebook: Kathryn Mossbrook Zimmerman
Pics in Cooma
Learning to fence.
Bad ass cop cars!
Earning my keep at Nordic Ski Center.
Mt. Kuscioszko, the highest point in Australia.
My Warmshowers host, Adrian Blake, and me.
Trying to figure out why I'm sick.
Coffee with the local bike club.
Recuperating.
Mountain biking.
Livin' the life,
BagLady
Facebook: Kathryn Mossbrook Zimmerman
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