Sugarmills and Canefields

3rd May : This evening I sit watching over the sugarmill of Broadwater. It was 15km closer than I thought and my legs are relieved. Now I'm sitting back at a mate's place.

Letter

By the light of a new day I was less bothered by the fact the place didn't seem anything like Italy, and more perplexed by the onlooker and his fascination at a swaggie making his bed. At 6am I'm not always out to make life-long friends, but when I've packed up and on my way, I'm less inclined to consider people as being nosy.

I discovered mild amusement at the sign announcing 'Woodbum' (most people pronounce it WoodbuRN). In that town a tour bus of elderly folk was enjoying a morning tea spread. It crossed my mind briefly how I might talk my way into some tea and biscuits, or perhaps earn some money by becoming a kind of walking tourist attraction. Instead I sat where I could eventually be assaulted by a beak which was evidently attached to a minature, lice bitten, feathered giraffe-like creature which could've been mistaken for an Ibis, except for its rudeness of expecting food hand-outs.

Trucks on the highway will generally give walkers or hitch hikers as much room as they can. I presume it's a subconscious appreciation for people that go to the effort to put one less car on the road.

A muffled yell from a passing car called "Get a bike!" To which the swaggie replied "I've already got enough to carry!"

Broadwater, where I was to stay with a mate, turned out to be a pleasantly surprising 15km shorter walk than I'd anticipated. It was a relief at the time but it just means that the next town is 15km further than I expected.