Back on the bikes today

Having spent yesterday doing nothing much and loving every minute of it because it was such a change, it was back to riding today, just incase we forgot how it went. Macksville is 28kms from Taylors Arm, and there are two ways there; the north bank and the south bank, ( of the Taylors Arm River, part of the Nambucca River catchment) both on dirt, with a bit of tarmac chucked in every once in a while.

We took the north bank first off, and took a wrong turn within about 2 kms, much to the delight of two ferocious cattle dogs with big fangs who came bounding out of a local property. The boy hound was definitely up for a fight, but the houndess didn’t seem too bothered, maybe because of the heat, or that she sensed that regardless of whomever won, they would both get a kick in the head.  So we escaped a good mauling with those mega fangs, turned round and found the correct road.

It was good dirt, if very dusty, but there were no incidents and we reached Macksville after about and hour. The river looked very inviting as a cool down and dust remover, but we needed food, so we found a cafe instead. It was even hotter in there but we were hungry so we stayed put.

The south bank route back to the pub was much quicker, and with less dirt. 

Quite a few bikers had arrived at the pub when we got back - a few on dirt bikes, a couple on cruisers and two on big adventure bikes. It was a bit like two wheeled commune.

Nadine and I went back to a swimming hole we’d spotted a few kms back towards Kempsey, when crossing a ropey old wooden bridge. 

We spent a couple of hours there in the cool water, washing off the day’s riding dust, chatting and again, doing nothing in particular. 

Then just as we walked back to the bikes, it started to rain. It was a bit of a half baked attempt though as it stopped almost as soon as it started.

There is an old bloke living at the pub in the room next to us. He’s a nice old fella, a retired miner, originally from St Helen’s in Lancashire. A top beer fan, he’s got some good stories, including one about when he got bitten by a brown snake ( not one you want to get bitten by if you can help it as their venom is often fatal). He shot it and  put it in a carrier bag before driving himself to hospital. But he stopped on route to buy eight beers for the trip, as he judged the drive would be about the same time as it would take him to drink them, which of course it did. The triage nurse in reception ( or the ‘triangle woman’ as he called her) was a bit snotty and questioned him about the snake, so he put the bag on the table. However, the snake was still alive and started wriggling, which made her scream and pandemonium broke out. He was admitted to shut him up, but didnt wake up for three days. Turns out he had so much alcohol in his system they though he would die if they did too much  to him, but somehow he survived and one of the doctors ended up writing a medical paper about him. And it clearly hadn’t put him off as he was still downing the beers, and reckons it works as he hasn’t been bitten by a snake since.