I’d just sat down after check in with a coffee when the text appeared; ‘flight cancelled’. The day didn’t get any better.
With that news came the realisation we had lost the opportunity of getting on trail today. Instead we were being rerouted via Sydney on two back to backs to Adelaide. We were split up, squeezed in and driven mad running from an already late leaving flight onto the next.
We waited. Gripping fearlessly on the handles of our empty trolleys in the oversized baggage area. Like formula one racers we lined up, licked our lips and stared out over the passengers in customs hall. We had to navigate that chaos with two boxed bikes and a deadline, I was taking no prisoners. And the only thing standing between us and the finish line was a rotund and moustacheod oversized baggage handler in a blue boiler suit. He waited. We waited. The clock ticked.
Then with a squark clearly audible over the conveyor we heard a sharp nasel quip ‘no bikes on board fight 102 mate’.
It’s fair to say we made the second flight with only seconds to spare and completely bikeless.
So here I sit, cycle shorted and shod staring aimless out over the scorch that is the great southern land. I’m melancholic and considering what might have been. Smirking at the irony; I’d just spent the last few days in a workshops discussing ‘adaptability’.
So there’s nothing else for it… beer on the beach. I think we just lost the Mawson.
Today’s top track: Tom Waits – Tom Traubert’s blues