quickly replaced . Riding across the causeway , I ' d felt the bike being moved by the water flow , increasing the revs of the engine , feathering the clutch to avoid sudden acceleration , leaning and steering against the push of the water . My focus was firmly fixed up , and on the dry dirt road on the other side of the causeway .
Getting across the causeway was a relief , for everyone . I ’ m sure Dave ’ s eyes had been like mine , as big as dinner plates , and a heart rate as high as an overweight marathon runner ! After a few moments to gather ourselves and potentially change our wet pants , we ' d pushed on to the second crossing .
At the second crossing , it was like a giant mining truck had deposited a load of rocks on the approach road . It could have easily been mistaken for Fred Flinstone ’ s Bedrock Quarry . Selecting a spot to stop , ensuring the side stand wouldn ’ t sink in the collection of stones , I again jumped
off the bike to survey the crossing . Wading into the water , this crossing was shorter , while the water was deeper and the velocity much faster . It was an easy decision ; we ’ d save this crossing for another day .
Turning around had meant another crossing of the first causeway , it didn ’ t seem too bad after inspecting the the second one ! The return crossing of the first causeway was successful , with Dave even managing to lift the front wheel of his VStrom , with some delicate finessing of his clutch and throttle .
Riding along the bitumen to Ilford wasn ’ t a bad ‘ second option ’. Valleys and hills , curves and straights , little traffic , and the accompanying classic Australian scenery , is never difficult to experience and embrace . Hills covered in green trees , the smell of eucalypt on the breeze , dominated by the occasional piece of rotting , pungent roadkill . Homesteads and houses full of dreams , paddocks , and sheds full of hope , futures hanging on the turn of the weather .
Turning left off the Castlereagh Highway at Ilford onto Mt Vincent Road , the road a blur beneath the tyres , changes from coarse black bitumen to various shades of grey , yellow , and white – the colours of the local rocks , quarried and spread across the surface of the road . A pair of black , yellow tailed cockatoos majestically glided across the sky , perching themselves high on an outstretched branch . Bright yellow tail feathers stunning and brilliantly contrasted against their black plumage .
Descending into Running Stream and turning back onto the Castlereagh Highway , our ride for the day almost complete . Capertee was only 16 kilometres further . Our accommodation for the night yet another Royal Hotel . With a railway station opening in 1882 , the township was well established , and like
TRAVERSE 26