June 21st: Richmond to Hughenden – 112 km
Day 251
Some one was blaring music with thunderous bass in the middle of the night. It had to be some one at the public area at the lake. I finally fell asleep and then an hour or so later woke up to the same obnoxious music. I had no desire to get out of bed when the alarm went off. Today it was Cher urging me on, undoing the nozzle on my sleeping pad. Grumpily I started the day.
We arrived at Marathon Rest Area just outside of Richmond, and stopped for lunch. I considered spending the night there. We had only done about 45 km and it was early. Cher agreed that if I was spent then we would stay. We ate, and as I became full, the less desirable this dusty, unshaded, noisy, spot became. I knew that she wanted to continue on, as she was having an on day, but had agreed to stop since I looked so miserable. Not to be outdone by Cher’s formidable endurance, I got myself together and we set off for Hughenden.
For a short while it was hot, flat and boring before we finally hit some downhills and the weather cooled. Averaging around 18 kph, we rode parallel to the train tracks and received several encouraging blasts from horns of passing trains.
Continuing on we passed a herd of horses that came running over to check us out, and began galloping along the fence, keeping pace with us for a moment before taking off in front. For a moment we were an indefatigable diesel locomotive, and the next an unfettered horse. It was exhilarating.
With time to spare we stopped to get groceries but found that the main grocery store is closed on Sunday and only open until noon on Saturday. We were directed to a little basic market around the corner where we picked up some bread and canned goods. We found the camp kitchen at the caravan park extremely well equipped with a barbecue, stove, and an instant hot water dispenser. It was crowded and I quickly claimed a burner and squeezed in between a woman and a man who if I was a bottle of white-out, they were a bucket of paint. We made a small pot of pasta to go with pasta sauce and two fresh tomatoes, and sat down to eat. Across from us a group of four who made me look like a stick and Cher like a bug were having a mixed grill – steaks, sausages, bacon and the works. Cher whispered, we’re the only ones who deserve that sausage. We were quite hungry and we always have to laugh when caravaners talk about the wind and hills effecting their fuel consumption.