We’re getting stuck into the thick of summer heat now. The air’s a furnace blast during the day – still above body temperature at home-from-work-time, even when that’s nearing sundown. Enduring this. Surviving this – until the glory that is autumn rescues us means we head south whenever possible. A couple of degrees cooler is the reward.
Creative route planning (a la Sarah) centres the trip around Fernhook Falls, and a swimming hole.
Leaving town, having packed 2 bikes, the Chariot and up-front Yepp-seat, all we are sure of is that we’ll ride in the shade of tall trees for a couple of days somewhere south of where we are. Fitting everything in is a bit of a juggle at the moment.
Somewhere around Bridgetown, when it’s time for a bit of out-of-car distraction, a decision is made. The southern-most option. One of the locals we disturb.
Away from the road, and breathing deeply of the dapple and green.
Water was carried in case 20km proved too much at 5pm. Yirra Kartta hut as dusk arrives.
Crawling – he’s not going to be content with where he’s put anymore.
Unpacking seems so much more attractive than the reverse.
The next day – more of the same (the green and dapple). On to Kwokralup Beela hut via Fernhook again.
Our two nights and one day plus two bits works well. We have fat tyres to cope with any softness the trail can conjure (particularly in summer) and Bryn clearly loves being on a bicycle or in his trailer. In fact, his chatting and glee are amplified in proportion to the speed or bumpiness of the trail. He sleeps easily in the Chariot and is the master of all he surveys on the Yepp-seat. We cover not much less ground that we would without him.