Twists and turns

Yesterday started at 7:30am at Food Bank.  Day two… and I got “a promotion”!  Many of the volunteers who were there yesterday were on day release from prison, so I guess I was a pretty clear choice, given that there were too few drivers for the rural food collection run (same route as I passengered on Monday).  Still, I do wonder that no one asked to see my driver’s license or check my driving record.  Nathan – who has been volunteering twice a week for a decade or so – came to babysit me.  He was an excellent personal Siri, making sure we stayed on route without difficulty.

I’ve been watching the tennis a bit this week, after Mary reminded me (thank you!) that would be a good way to pass some time.  Yesterday I was particularly delighted that Novak overcame his hamstring issues to rescue the game that looked for a while to be massive upset.  I’d be thrilled if he won the Open, given his atrocious treatment here last year.  What an impeccable gentleman he’s been in light of that farce, given especially the point it was in his career – the defending Aus Open champ, and if he’d been allowed to play, and won, he’d have then had the most Grand Slam titles of any male player.  Well, at least that possibility still awaits at the end of next week.  Such composure, to stay calm and even-tempered in light of all that being ripped away without consistent treatment of fair rules.  Anyway.  He’s back this year, and my money is on a Djokovic victory next weekend, followed by a post-match interview retirement announcement.

But on to all things travel…

There has been a shift.  Seismic.

I’ve been percolating a bit of a conversation with Timor Leste’s Immigration Attaché over the last few weeks, although that has stayed beneath the diary radar.  I’m confident that Mr Attaché has a stack of significant and important focus areas, but within all of that he’s been faultless in finding time to correspond with pesky ol’ me.  And the long story short, I’m approved as of this morning for visiting Timor Leste.  That is a massive change of landscape.  Sorry to have to do this – and it’s a bit of a significant hole in my diary narrative – but at this stage details will need to stay off record.  Suffice it to say, all rules have been honoured, all processes followed, full disclosure made (ie covid vax, due to conscientious objection), all integrity intact, and yet I’m free to travel to a country (the first of several 😳) that still requires the vax. Yahey!

Allan’s Huey is still months from sailing and I don’t have time to wait for that.  So while I was really loved the idea of the 3-day sail to Dili and was keen to totally avoid flying on this whole trip (it spoils the “spirit” of the adventure), I’ll have to take a 50-minute flight across the 400 nautical miles to Dili, while the bike sails on a commercial liner.  I can cope with that, under the circumstances.  But both bike and boy should get there, and I now have explicit confirmation I’ll be welcome, on authority from the relevant decision-maker (at least I hope that’s the “Immigration Attaché’s” mandate!). I’ll be holding my breath on entry, because it would be an almighty mess if I’m turned around at the airport while my bike is at the Dili docks.  But I’ve got all the confirmation I could hope for from this distance, so its time to take the plunge.

”Taking the plunge” sounds brilliantly definitive and decisive.  But the reality will unfortunately be more like the Zootopia Sloths.  I’ve been working today through the paperwork to book the bike passage, with a bunch of questions outstanding for Monday’s task list.  It sounds like I then have to deliver the bike to the shipping yards this coming Wednesday for a sailing on Jan 30.  I’m yet to get to the bottom of how it can then take that boat until Feb 19 to travel the 400 miles to Dili.  Yes, that’s three weeks total, making it (unless my arithmetic has gone awry) an average of 20 nautical miles a day.  I wish Zootopia was doing the route, as it would likely be an improvement.

I’m travelling pretty light, with all my belongings for six months on the back of a bike.  The few people I’ve had a bit more contact will already be wondering why I’ve been wearing the same clothes for the two months in Darwin.  Now I’ll need to cut back even further for the coming month.  I think I’ll need to find me a day pack (not already in my equipment), and be pretty judicious about what goes with the bike and what stays with me.

I’ll fine-tune the plan once the bike passage is fully locked in, but at this stage I’m in favour of flying to Dili as soon as the bike is delivered to the shipyard, rather than just in time to collect at the other end.  I have to either wait in Darwin bike-less or in Dili bike-less, so might as well explore somewhere I’ve not yet been.  And I do really feel like the Melbourne-to-Darwin ride and the two months floating about listlessly in the top end are really only a prequel, whereas Dili will represent the “proper” start of the adventure.  I’ll be itching to get the bike back and get on the road, but at least in Dili prior to bike delivery I’ll prove out the immigration constraint solution, and can start to explore the very first (for this trip at least) small corner of Asia.

I had said last week that I’d like to close out the Darwin chapter “one way or the other” while I’m in the current house-sit.  I’m still kind of pinching myself and holding my breath all in one – but its absolutely best-case to be now contemplating heading out to Timor before my house host even returns to kick me out.  I’ve spent two months slowing down and learning how to be stopped… and now I’ll have to rev up both the metaphorical and literal engine all over again.

It certainly continues to be a day by day proposition.  There’s no telling what tomorrow will bring!

Meanwhile, back to what looks like another upset, with Medvedev currently trailing Korda in a tie-breaker that could spell the end of the Russian’s hopes in Melbourne within minutes.