beaches and in woodland cabins . I couldn ’ t find a family connection at the Furneaux Museum , though .
Back in Tasmania , we were camping in an idyllic spot at a sports ground in Pyengana . We were surrounded by massive old trees and the bird-song was astounding . It was raining and not a moving-on day so we did various bike jobs under the eaves of the club-house . A more beauteous workshop environment is hard to imagine . The EFI drive chain needed adjustment and there was the conundrum of my headlight to address . Having established that the bulb was sound , we took the light switch to bits . On reassembly the left indicator didn ’ t work ! The wiring in the headlight was checked with a multimeter . Nothing amiss there . Whatever was the problem ?
We moved on to Oatlands , which has a lake and a working windmill . There was a small wizard-like man on the campsite who we chatted to . He lived and toured in a white van . He claimed to have been a champion motorcycle racer in the past and was keen to sort out my carburettor as I ’ d had problems with stalling and starting when the engine was hot . He fetched callipers and tools from his van and attended to the Enfield which , despite all that had befallen it , kept on going ! We shared food and wine , sitting at a picnic table under the trees , listening to frogs croaking whilst he appeared from his van with fruit and cream in china bowls more fitting with a grand dining room in a stately home . That evening we witnessed in silence the most spectacular moon-rise I ’ ve ever seen . To speak would have broken the magic as the huge moon slid slowly and dramatically onto the horizon , shining its light to herald its approach .
My stalling and starting problems remained despite the accurate measurements and adjustments .
A friend in Hobart had invited us
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