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After a relaxing lie in, I decided to shower then set my balls on fire. Yep, that's right! The wonderful gift to humankind that goes by the euphemistic name "Chamois Cream" and is supposed to provide lubrication and relief from chafing is to me a vehicle of pain. I had another shower to remove it. An hour later I was feeling much better. In the meantime we were visited by anticipatory magpies ( we gave them nothing!) and we gazed over a still and slightly hazy valley while we had coffee.
It wasn't long after a delicious breakfast that the urge hit... We posed for the obligatory shot and headed off, stopping briefly at the general store. This cycling is so easy! You don't have to push on the pedals much. The Ovens river guided us steadily downhill. Mary was in a side tripping sort of mood, so we stopped for a Smoko and also had a treat of a visit to Richard of highcountryforge.com.au. He's a blacksmith and artist. His work is beautiful and he's a passionate artisan who showed us a folio of his work. I don't know how he'd managed to produce so many wonderful pieces, given their complexity and the time investment. He talked of the changes in modern times in people's expectations and willingness to pay for such craftsmanship. A lovely guy- we could have talked for ages. He told us some locations of his work, including a sculpture in Myrtleford.
The valley continued, and we elected to take as many opportunities as we could to avoid the main road, as the traffic, although not hectic, was consistent enough for us to seek relief. A small detour by the old Harrietville road and we were soon at the Ginger Baker. Here a tag team of a delightful waitress and her antithesis ( who amongst other acts, directed Belinda to the toilet and forgetfully tried to intrude only a minute later) "Nothing is too much trouble" she announced to another patron. Nothing except cooking eggs, making a large coffee, or even making a decent one. Beautiful setting though.
Bright bike shop was a highlight. We came, we saw, we purchased ( lights, camera bags, helmet mirror) , We left.
The rail trail was a fantastic way to get ourselves to Myrtleford, and the autumn colours of deciduous trees, the hazy light of late afternoon, views over disused tobacco kilns to sun kissed mountains and pleasant unseasonal warmth made for an easy ride to the Butter Factory where despite warnings about the service and coffee, we enjoyed a muffin and coffee.
Touring the town centre a very pleasant fellow in the bike shop happily tweaked our gears and chatted about his life and beliefs, the fall of the Berlin Wall, his music. Mary and I left there with quieter bikes
One of Richard's beautiful sculptures at Myrtleford.
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