Muddy sand / singing rain

Morning Ride

I was up early again yesterday so actually managed to get on the road before 6:00 am and test my new headlamp.

On my way to Lee Point and well impressed with the solid beam of light emitting from my forehead, I was struck with a flash of inspiration. ‘Turn right’ the adventurer in me said, ‘go check out Buffalo Creek’. Err OK said I. So I turned right and headed down to Buffalo Creek. A few minutes later I was rolling smoothly into the car park at the Buffalo Creek boat ramp. The tide was out, way way out, and there wasn’t much to see in the mud flats. As I peered out across the void of mud and sand I wondered what to do next. It was still pretty early and I’d always wondered what it would be like to ride along the firm sand of the bank to the mouth of the creek. Without considering the possible distance I left the bitumen and headed across the soft grey sand. Bad Idea!

I’d ridden for ages and still no sight of the mouth of the creek! Approaching the channel beacon I realized that on a very low tide the shore might be miles beyond where I was standing and this appeared to be a very low tide. The sky was taking on the familiar hue of 7:00 am! It was time to head back, but which way should I go? Back to the boat ramp? Or along the beach back to the surf club at Casuarina cliffs? I chose the beach!

I tracked back away from the shoreline to avoid disturbing the wading birds that had congregated along the thin strip between sand and sea. So many times I’ve seen people loose there dogs so they can chase these birds and I often wonder how this might affect them. Do they have to devote so much energy to escaping dogs that they are unable to fulfil some other part of their life cycle like migration or breeding? How much extra needs to be consumed to counter the number of times they have to fly to avoid people or animals? Anyway I’d already disturbed a large flock so headed towards land to avoid upsetting any more. At least on this more remote part of the coast they were far less likely to be humbugged by any people.

As I rode on I discovered that I had chosen the bumpiest rout with the most salt-water puddles and sand bogs, it was a pretty hard slog back along the beach! Eventually I reached Sandy Creek and attempted to ford it at what I thought was a shallow spot. It was too close to the shore and the water was still muddy, I couldn’t see the bottom and I never counted on the quicksand effect of a muddy river flowing across beach sand! As soon as I entered the creek my front wheel sank into river goo! WOW!! I nearly went over the handlebars!

My heart jumped a bit as I recovered my bike from sinking and I clambered back to the bank thinking the whole time about the possibility of a crock lurking in the (deeper than I’d expected) muddy water. My thongs acting as suction pads I struggled to move away from the creek and ended up losing my balance. For a few seconds it was looking like bike and rider would be lying face down in the shallow creek mud! What better way to present a meal for a hungry crock? Luckily my thongs slipped off and I was freed! I recovered them quickly when they bobbed to the surface and carefully departed the edge of the creek.

In the name of safety I followed the creek towards the shoreline until it had widened and shallowed enough for me to cross safely. I had already lost too much time and was starting to think I’d be late for work so I pushed on as hard as I could with a wet sandy chain grinding and groaning miserably! To the free beach and a blast of fresh water from a public shower to dislodge the sand and dilute the salt that had assaulted Sam’s poor bike (well mine is in pieces). I finally made it to work just in time to shower and get started 5 minutes late!

Biggest-mob-a little crabs!

Night Ride

After work I rode to Palmerston in the rain and came home in the dark, again in the rain. The headlamp worked so well coming home that I was dazzled by illuminated streaks of rain. The glare was so great that I could barely see the path in front of me. There were Nightjars and bats ambushing insects at the edge of my lamps beam but I could barely make them out against the sparkling brilliance of illuminated rain drops. A constant monsoonal drenching for the past couple of days has brought the wetland to life. All around there were frogs croaking in a celebratory chorus; ‘finally it is raining like it should!’ I tried to look out for frogs on the path and hoped I wouldn’t splatter any, I say a few leaping to safety. I also saw a couple of large cane toads and mused that they might try to eat me if I were to hit one and come off my bike! There were so many different frog calls! I have no idea what species they belonged to. What a pleasure to be in the middle of a wetland amid the din of so much life. It was as if the rain was singing itself.
I made it home without incident and in pretty good time! Another successful commute without needing the car!

This auto burns no oil