Rest day in Darwin

I can’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would want to live life without a 24-hour rest each week.  I’ve learned more recently to love a “sunset to sunset” rhythm, which marks the beginning moment to “down tools” each (for me) Saturday night.  Why would you not want that?!  Of all the things to berate me for being “religious”, surely cynics can do better than mocking the rhythm designed only to fill my tank?!  Anyway.

I’ve just had a really great rest day after 5 long days ride – with a swim before breakfast, meeting a few people after church, pottering around through the afternoon, and another swim before the day was done.  Unwinding my tightly-coiled spring, just one little bit.  Back into a bit of admin etc for an hour or so tonight.

I promised an update on this campsite.  Well it turns out I hadn’t even understood the worst of it.  Not only did I screw up a booking twice, but the camp site has a policy of no tents in wet season!  So I’m actually not allowed here at all anyway.  Perhaps that says something about the wisdom of my plans – but that’s a well-worn narrative already.  Anyway I am delighted to confirm that Discovery Parks Darwin has put a human approach ahead of the rules, and allowed be to stay despite the policy.  I’ve been a nuisance, and they’ve been relatively gracious and accomodating.  Such a relief not to have to pack up and relocate.

Ironically I do feel very loved as I’ve prepped for and started this trip, and feel an intense sense of sharedness (I know – that’s not a word) with an array of people – that’s you! – invested with me in my madness.  So I’m experiencing an unexplainable mix of loneliness and yet community and company.  Thank you.  Really.  Your interest in my insanity has been a surprise, but I’ve enjoyed it.  Yes I’m lonely in a sense but I genuinely don’t feel alone with you travelling with me!  And I keep meeting people on the road bowled-over-inspired by the craziness and audacity of it all.  That’s encouraging too.  Many have said they wish they could, several have said perhaps they would (do something similar), and others have been inspired to stay positive when life turns to mush.

Changing topics.  I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise (but was) that stopping today I’ve been overwhelmed with grief at what I’ve lost – family (mostly) and also to the business I founded (as a result of the family breakdown).  I haven’t yet really been able to stop over the last couple of years to let that sink in, and the day I stop properly happens to be my wife’s birthday.  I was glad that this morning’s church was (physically) dark, but I still suspect nonetheless that I didn’t hide sobbing from many.  The rhythm of the road is probably preparing me to address this loss more deeply than I have so far, in the busy cut-and-thrust of life-as-usual.  I suspect those waves may well come deeper and stronger as the kilometres roll on.  I don’t much like it.  (Who am I kidding?  I hate it.)  But it is no doubt healthy.  Messy, but healthy.  And I’m sure any decent psychologist will tell me I can’t find a properly positive posture into what’s next, until I’ve dealt with loss and grief from what’s past.  So I suppose that’s the trip starting to do its thing all here in week one.  Or maybe it’s me overthinking, again.  I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of under-thinking.

Anyway, there’s lots from the last weeks of prep and days of travel that should have found its way into my diary – but hasn’t.  Just a speckled sampling:

  • I’m so thankful for a long list of people who, unlike me, actually know something about relevant parts of my trip. Andrew, whose immediate enthusiasm for my madness helped me to catalyse idea into action.  John, who encouraged me to look beyond “just India” for this trip, and hence catalysed turning it into something more significant.  Neville, who sold me the GSA bike and then helped wire up a USB charger into the top box.  John, whose experience climbing to the Mt Everest peak has informed my camping equipment. Etc – quite a long list.
  • My own Melbourne church interviewed me briefly and prayed for me Sunday before I left.  Filled my tank.  So many wonderful people enthusiastically wanted to engage.  A gift of money was thrust into my hand by a partitioner to help with costs (the blessing of that is measured in far more than the currency on the paper – thank you!).  A 10(ish)-yo lady drew a beautiful picture of me and all my preparation, and waited patiently to give it to me and wish me well.  Interest, excitement, passion – it all made me think “I want some of what’s going on there” (oh wait… that is ME, and it seems my insanity is energising!).  Three bold men turned up as I left my apartment on Tuesday for a “cutting of the ribbon” ceremony (improvised with loo paper – classy! 😏).
  • Telea and her husband and infant who I met as I stepped (for my first time ever) across the border from SA into NT.  We got chatting when they asked me to take a photo at the border sign, and the usual story swapping ensued.  These three intrepid travellers are moving to a new life in Melbourne, and I’m sure it will be a wonderful chapter for them.  I think inspiration was mutual.
  • Three days in a lovely couple from Israel, Yoav and Dafna, invited me over to their tent and put on the most glorious meal with wine at Banka Banka (yes, that’s a real place name).  Of course I didn’t have anything to contribute given the small pack space on the bike, but they insisted and even had me back for coffee the next morning.  A real highlight.  Thank you Dafna and Yoav – I look forward to staying in touch!
  • It was an inspiration to meet Eric, who’s son (my age) died unexpectedly in his sleep earlier this year.  Clearly massive trauma, and yet he and his wife are confronting that with determined hope, with peace, and with a “life happens, deal with it” attitude.  I agree, even if sometimes that comes with fountains of tears.  (My kids can quote to you that I say frequently “life’s not fair… and that’s ok”.  We all carry our war wounds.  Pain is unavoidable, but doing something beautiful with it is a choice.)
  • Tonight in the pool I met David and (oh – so sorry, can’t remember your name, Mrs David! 😢), who were two of those bowled-over-inspired people from above.  They both love travel and both love motorbikes, and are now competing with each other to be the one to find my solution to get from here to Timor Leste!  Thanks to you both.
  • Many others.

 

While I’ve been surprised at people’s interest in what I’m doing, I’ve been even more deeply impacted watching the sense of hope with which it seems to infect others.  (Ironic, since this is my own search for hope.)  That’s impact from simply hearing my (briefly-told) story and the trip as a way of processing that.  I see shoulders go back, sparks light up eyes, open faces beaming.  And hope seems to ooze.  Isn’t that funny?  Hope, simply as a product of my own drama, loss, grief – or perhaps from a determination to lean forward rather than to wallow.

 

Changing topics again.  There are many aspects of this trip that should scare me, but don’t – almost certainly a character failing.  But funnily the thing that has worried me the most since the plan evolved is that which comes next.  Or – and here’s the actual worry – that which might not come next.  The whole “ride to England” thing hinges on the little matter of getting from Darwin to somewhere near Malaysia.  And this is impossible (with any sensible price and timeframe).  I’m more fearful about coming home a week from now with my tail between my legs saying “Darwin was nice, that’s as far as I got!” than about any other aspect of the trip.  What a sham that would be.  What a fuss for nothing/not much.  What a lot of setup, planning, effort – for something barely more than pedestrian.  And what a useless attempt to process loss, and to work through a positive approach to the rest of life.  So… if you wake up with an epiphany at 2 one morning on how I might get my bike and me across that bit of water, please do let me know!

 

I’m blabbering on now, but feel like there is so much more that must be said.  Perhaps some of that can be fed into posts over coming days as the Darwin.

Administratively, thanks for your patience that I still haven’t conquered photos in these blogs, much less video.  I feel like there’s a bit of work that needs to go into curating it all, and the point was to leave work behind for this trip.  Oh well.  There’s a balance in there somewhere.

I’m going to turn in for the night.  Doubtless I’ll catch you up again tomorrow.

3 Comments

  • Craig Baxter

    It is great to hear you have made it to Darwin with some interesting challenges along the way. Don’t forget that the challenges, though frustratingly painful, are part of the journey and God’s seal of sonship (Heb 12:5-11, 12) :). Praying for the the Lord to get you across the sea to Timor Leste. Thanks for sharing!

  • Peter

    What an amazing first week on the road you have had. It has been a joy to read your posts each day and live vicariously through you as you start out on your journey of self-discovery and adventure. Well done on making it to Darwin by Saturday so you could enjoy your planned day of rest. No doubt it will be during the times of rest that you get the opportunity to process everything. My continued thoughts and prayers are with you as you navigate what seems like the impossible next step of cheaply and quickly getting to mainland Malaysia.

  • Jenny van den Bosch

    What a great description! So lovely to share the people you are meeting. Will you post more pics and videos?
    Don’t forget to describe the landscapes for us too. Great stuff. All aboard to Timor.

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