Cycle touring

The morning after the first day is always the hardest. Fortunately the next two days weren’t all that big; we were scheduled for about 60k today, up to Cradle Mountain, the most popular national park in Tasmania.

As is the norm when I tour with a group, I was running late and wound up being last on the road. The hearty breakfast had energized me, so despite my legs being somewhat tight, I was able to catch up with the rest of the Bay Area group, and we rode together to the top of a moderate rise, where we learned that “Fatigue Can Be Fatal.” (This became my mantra while battling 60kph headwinds a couple days later).

Our first riding day featured mostly mellow roads, encounters with actual Tasmanian Devils, and a wilderness lodge where we got to see a platypus, wallabies and possum.

Flying into Launceston, Tasmania, is, in itself, an amusing experience for a city boy. The airport is tiny, and “baggage claim” consists of going into the garage and waiting for the truck to pull up. It’s a city of 50,000 people, second largest on the island, but very small by any American standard. (Of course, that was the point). Here I met up with our guides, a father/son pair, Bob and Damien, with the improbable surname of “Boocock.”