Our journey from Kentish Park to Deloraine. We got up the hill, got back to town and then got to Deloraine, which was down the bottom of a hill, close to the river.

A few days to unwind. A few days to swim. A nice, very angular, camp site.

From Latrobe to Kentish Park we found some hills. 700 meters of up all day, the last of them were painful. But we made it to camp.

I may have been the maker of some decisions that didn't work so well for happiness.

The second day was as eventful as the first, with new experiences, early days and tents being set up in the falling light.

Today we departed on our bike adventure. It rained and rained in the morning, while we walked around the house gathering and yelling, sorting and eating, packing and building our bikes. Bits and pieces from our previously assembled test run were repacked as we were beginning our month long trip bicycle touring in Tasmania.

Some days, or even weeks, seem to be a continual spiral, the earth spinning tighter on itself, like water spiralling down a plug hole.

The rack we had fitted to the back of my bike (codenamed Papa Bear) was recalled, citing hidden cracks, breaking while riding and injury to either rider as a result. Not news you want to read less that two weeks before a month long bicycle trip.

I hate riding on the bike trainer, yet due to a crash it is all I can do to keep riding. All I can do is keep turning the pedals, on my bike attached to the trainer. I keep on moving because in my mind I have kilometers of riding in Tasmania drifting on my mind.

There is a plan taking shape, it is happening behind us as we are searching and finding what we need to know. The plan is still hazy, but bits and pieces are starting to show and then get nailed into place as we see how it is taking shape. It is different to what we thought it may have been, and most of us are okay with that.