It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you and you have no such accurate remembrance of country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle.
In 2008, I participated on the Great Victorian Bike Ride and wrote the following article. As I mentioned in my previous blog (When opportunity knocks), this article led to many other great opportunities in my writing, photography and editing. I have fond memories of the ride and all the people I met.
Great Victorian Bike Ride
Squinting through the swirling dust I could barely make out the direction of the road as it turned to rise above the drought-stricken lakes. Atop the hill I saw cyclists lying on the ground, exhausted. But I forced myself to peddle on. After cycling 50km into a relentless headwind I was in no mood for these desolate lakes, which seemed intent on joining forces as one gigantic dust storm. I was desperate to get out of the wind and silently cursing anyone that had ever uttered the word ‘holiday’ in reference to this bike ride.