feared of them all. The Pentecost Riv-
er.
A line of 4x4’s were assessing the
crossing, some drivers ventured in,
only a few metres, others discussed
the path, the depth, the dangers. We
had a quick chat and decided the best
course of action was to take it on.
“There’s no shame in paddling your
way through,” I was told. I was still
nervous.
I moved forward and unlike the
previous day I kept a steady pace and
made sure the bow wave was kept low.
The bike still bucked and kicked but
at a more controllable rate. I quick-
ly discovered that this river crossing
caper was quite easy. I looked ahead
and saw many travellers standing on
the river bank filming me cross the
river, no doubt waiting for what they
perceived to be the inevitable.
Abruptly the bike stopped, my feet
went down and slipped on the round-
TRAVERSE 50
ed rocks. Bloody hell! The inevitable
was about to happen.
Amazingly I regained my balance,
but the bike still wouldn’t move, it was
grounded on a large rock.
I tried rocking it back and forth in
the hope of dislodging from the of-
fending rock, to no avail. Almost apol-
ogetically I called to Leigh for help.
He waded into the thigh high water
and made his way to my position,
more than halfway across the river, al-