Sanity Will Never Be in the Way of the Daredevil Me

Travel to Tasmania — Day 2 — From Port Macquarie to Nelson Bay

The following morning once I opened my eyes, my first thought was, “Where is my map? Where could I go today?” And this started another conversation in my mind between the spontaneous me and the wisdom

“Oh no, today you aren’t going anywhere but straight to Sydney! You have to make it past Sydney if you want to catch the ferry in a couple of days!” — exclaimed the wisdom

“Yes, I know, but I just have a look where I could stop on the way”, — replied the careless me

“No, you know everything takes you at least twice as long as you think, and you are always late!”

“No, it’s not so bad… Just a little bit….”

As usually, sanity and rationality had no chance of convincing the enthusiastic and daredevil me. I started looking at the map and decided to ride along the coast on Ocean Drive and follow Tourist Drive 10 to Kew.

“It will take you at least double as long to get there as it would on the highway…” — whispered the sanity, but… nope, no chances, nothing could put me off my idea.

Feeling a little broken after sleeping on the ground, I crawled out of my tent like a bear waking up after winter sleep. I was positively surprised by the sunny weather — not a cloud in the sky and quite pleasantly warm. Even the wind stopped.

Greeting the day on the camping ground

I got up, stretched and looked around me to see where I actually was. Last night I couldn’t see anything as it was already dark, and I was half asleep anyway. There were plenty of cabins around the park, a couple of motor homes, some camper trailers, here and there and a few tents, however much bigger than mine. I was the tiniest thing on the playground.

I went to the amenities, which turned out to be just a few meters behind my tent, had a shower, spread my towel over the steering bar of my motorcycle to dry and went for a walk through the camping ground.

At the back of the park, there was a lush green meadow with a few benches and picnic tables overlooking a wide river with clear water, quite a bit different to the brown waters I saw in Ulmarra. It felt so very peaceful.

I had my breakfast, a squashed bread roll I had in my backpack and a piece of chocolate. Chocolate always works well when we want to keep hunger at bay. I knew this meal would keep me going until the evening.

On the road again

Before 9 am, I was fully dressed in my leather suit and back on the road. I stopped at a lookout overlooking the mouth of Hastings River, the ocean and the golden beaches. I realised everything around me was so vividly green and full of life, not like in Queensland, where there was drought, the fields were burned by the relentless sun, looking brown and dead.

I stood there watching the waves rolling over the soft sand of the beaches. Such a blissful view, except for the wind that by now really picked up and became quite strong. I got back on my bike and followed the road along the coast, mesmerised by the spectacular views.

And again, I had mixed feelings — the joy and excitement of visiting wonderful unknown to me places colliding with the grief at the failure of my relationship.

The good thing about riding a motorbike is that during the ride, you never feel lonely. It doesn’t matter if you travel solo or with your partner, or in a group, on the bike; you are always alone. It’s the beautiful feeling of freedom, just you and your bike.

Only the stops could be… lonely. These are the moments when you realise that you don’t have the “special someone” to share the journey with, and if your wounds are still fresh, this can cause an agonising pang in your heart. It’s not that I was alone; no, in fact, I rarely wasn’t alone because as soon as I stopped, someone came and started chatting with me.

A woman travelling solo on a motorbike isn’t something common, so people were curious; many felt sorry for me, assumed I had to feel forlorn not having anyone to talk to, and some even gave me addresses of motorbike clubs trying to help me to find riding companion, but… They just didn’t understand. I didn’t mind being on my own, in fact I enjoyed the me-time, I missed Andy and nobody would replace him…

Tacking Point Lighthouse

The next stop was at Tacking Point Lighthouse. I took my camera and went for a walk. The place was gorgeous — rolling deep-green hills all around me, except to the east, where a calm, smooth ocean replaced the high grounds.

“It looks so different to anything I have experienced so far”, — I thought to myself. I was standing at the coastal terrace watching waves breaking around the rocks and their white foam crests spreading over the blue waters, thinking which angle would be the best to document the extraordinary moment when I heard someone saying to me, “Would you like a photo here? I could take a snapshot of you with the ocean in the background if you like”.

I turned around, and I saw a man of friendly appearance, who obviously used the photo excuse to start a conversation with me. We chatted for a short while; I took his offer and got a photo in the lovely spot.

I continued my journey south. I briefly stopped in Kew, only to take a photo of the tidy neighbourhood, the family homes surrounded by pretty little gardens, and the gentle mountains appearing just at the end of the street. I swear I was going to follow the Pacific highway to Sydney, but somehow suddenly, I found myself in Crowdy Head at the lighthouse.

Crowdy Head

As usual, I left my bike in the parking area and went for a walk. Though for Australian conditions, we had a relatively cool summer, it was slowly getting hot, especially when wearing a black leather suit.

While I was riding, it was all right, but as soon as I stopped and started walking, I could feel the heat and an army of salty droplets rushing down my back. My T-shirt was saturated. The excitement of the travels, however, the unstoppable curiosity to discover what was hiding behind the next corner, made me forget all about the inconveniences of travelling on a motorbike, and I was perfectly happy.

I walked to the lighthouse and noticed another motorbike parked just at the building. “Hmm… that’s a perfect spot to park! Protected from the wind, marvellous! Strange, I didn’t notice this earlier; it’s a place where I would usually park,” — I thought to myself while walking past the lighthouse.

“Also enjoying the weather and taking the bike for a cruise?” — I heard someone say.

I turned around and saw a short man of middle-east appearance in his mid-forties, whose smoothly shaved scalp gleamed in the sun.

“Where are you going?” — he continued.

“To Tassie”, — I replied without a particular excitement.

“What?! Tassie?! That’s a fair way from here,” — he responded, not even trying to hide his surprise.

“Yeah, I left from Brisbane, and I’m going to Tassie. First, I’ll check the west coast and then the east”

“You are a serious bikie. I’m Mick, by the way.”

“Janin. Yeah, I love my bike,” and so we started chatting.

“If you feel lonely and need someone to chat with, you can give me a ring. I would be curious to hear about your adventures,” — he said and handed me his phone number.

“Will see; maybe I will call you,” I replied, smiling, and we went our separate ways.

On the way to Forster

I rode back to the highway, passed a number of little towns and again, despite my best intention to follow this road to Sydney, my bike decided to take the exit towards Rainbow Flat and follow tourist drive number 6.

Just after 1 pm, I found myself in Foster. I stopped at a beach. The smell of salty water, the sound of waves, and the feeling of freedom were beyond words.

While walking along the beach, I looked… hmm… slightly different from most people there. Women were wearing their sexy bikinis, men in swimmers, and I… in my full black leather suit. I didn’t even take the jacket off, as I stopped there for only a few minutes, and taking off and on the bike, gear takes about 10 min.

I didn’t have time for that; I was too busy wasting time taking photos and reminiscing past holidays I had with Andy on French Rivera or in Italy… The beaches there weren’t as gorgeous as here, but still beautiful and above all, I was with him… It was wonderful.

Suddenly I started to feel a bit tired, and I wished I could just lie down on the sand and relax before I continued riding, but it was getting late, not to mention the dark stormy clouds to the north looked somewhat concerning, if not treacherous.

“Oh well, I keep looking to the south, there the sky is still clear, and anyway, I’m going south, so all good!” — I thought to myself and tried to keep my good spirit up.

I jumped on the bike and… actually drove only a few kilometres before I stopped again to take more photos of the shallow turquoise waters and slightly rugged coast. In some respect, luckily, I stopped, as I forgot to turn off my video camera, and it was recording while driving. The battery would be flat by my next stop.

The parking area hidden in the greenery looked peaceful and blissful, except for a couple of cars that arrived just after me. Seeing the two young couples getting out of their vehicles, walking to the cliff while holding hands and together enjoying the moment felt as if someone stabbed me in the back, straight into my heart and slowly turned the knife to cause even more pain.

“I better jump on my bike and go back on the road before I melt here out of pain and heat”, — I thought to myself, struggling to catch a breath.

Nelson Bay

I followed the roadway to Booti Booti, and Elisabeth Beach, where I found all the minor rough unsealed, sometimes sandy roads, which I needed to check out, and see where they led. I wondered myself how I managed to get through all these roads without crashing, but… miracles do happen.

I followed The Lake Way past several other little towns until, somewhere near Bulahdelah, I joined the Pacific Highway again. Remarkably I stayed on the highway for 80km before it got boring again, and I took the next exit, and before I knew it, I was in Nelson Bay.

I stopped at Nelson Head Lighthouse Reserve, beheld all the yachts parked in the harbour and… tortured myself watching the endless couples in love or single individuals walking their dogs and enjoying their afternoon stroll. “I can’t even have a dog!” — I thought to myself. “Life isn’t fair! Oh well, at least the weather improved, and I didn’t get wet.” — I tried to cheer myself up while eating a nut bar and a banana.

Somewhere on a camping ground

I continued riding south, past New Castle and followed A43 along the coast. There were so many beautiful places I wanted to stop and photograph, but… time really wasn’t on my side. It didn’t take long, and it started to get dark. I had no idea where I was, hungry, exhausted and needed a place to sleep.

I was nowhere near Sydney, but as soon as I noticed a camping ground, I knew it was the place to stay for the night. At that particular moment, it was the best place on the planet. In a few minutes, I set up my tent, had another cold canned meal for dinner and fell asleep.

If you are curious about what happened on the first day of my travels and how I got to Port Macquarie, you can read about it here

Or, if you got intrigued by my story and are curious about what happened the next day, you can read about it here

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