Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Day 12 - Wingham to Gresford (almost Gresford)

I found it hard to sleep on my cousin’s bed, being a little short, so I slept on the floor. I woke up, had a shower and then spoke to cousins via the power of the internet.

Uncle Matt cooked us breakfast and we had a long and lazy morning drinking tea and eating Nan’s awesome fruit cake. Dad and I got on the topic of NSW roads being really crap and seeing numerous “rough surface ahead” signs, but not enough (realistically the NSW government should put a “Rough Surface Roads in NSW” sign at the NSW boarder – it will save them some trouble), and Uncle Matt suggested that he and Dad quickly duck off to the shed and machine up some preload spacers for dad’s back shocks.

It must be awesome to have the skills to go off and do that, I can only whinge and hope someone knows what to do.

The spacers only took an hour and a half to make, and Dad and I set off to Gresford to see Uncle Athol and Sarah around 3pm. They don’t actually live in Gresford, or East Gresford (there is no West Gresford), but they do like to flirt with it for mobile coverage. There is a relief and a worry when not having mobile signal; it is a relief when people cannot contact you, but it is worrying because those people will think you are ignoring them.

From Wingham, Dad and I travelled via Gloucester and Dungog. I felt they were making up names as they go. With so much rain, the area through Gloucester I found quite remarkable. It is on the edge of a couple of national parks, but yet it does not feel like it is trying very hard to be that pleasant. As we rode into town the sun was setting behind Barrington Tops and the town is surrounded by hills and mountains, and it reminded me of Zurich in Switzerland, expect with less neutral loving chocolate dripping yodelling weirdos... It just had weirdos; less people but in higher concentrations.

But gee the road was rough.

My arse and back hurt so much after that leg, and when I went to the toilet, my piss had a head. Barman would walk past and compliment me on my pour. I found it uncomfortable... cough... anyway...

Sarah and Athol greeted us with love and warmth; we greeted them with tired faces, shivering bodies, and angry hearts. The country roads were starting to take the toll on dad and I, and we were at our limits. Sarah and Athol made us dinner, a cup of tea, and threw a few more logs on the fire.

We put our feet up, had ice cream, wicked ice cream, and watched “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly”. I had forgotten how long that movie went. It has side plots that go nowhere; like a Quentin Tarantino movie. But it is wonderfully shot and looks awesome even after all these years.

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