Husband Dave was keen to check out the route for an upcoming ride and I thought it might be nice to share the weekend. We’re pretty fortunate to know a number of other couples locally who not only love to camp and ride, but are also really nice humans who’re great to ride with. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and, surprisingly, they all happened to be free on the same weekend. All Dave’s thoughts of a romantic weekend getaway were dashed (no, it wasn’t one of ‘those’ couples’ weekends).
Our party consisted of Kylie and Greg, Macca and Ness, Nigel and Lianni, plus we were joined by Joc from Armidale, who was full of local knowledge and would maintain decorum. We had a rough plan of what time
we’d be at different places on the way to camp so we could meet each other en route after leaving work on Friday arvo. Fuelling up along the way, Kylie was commenting on how nice a particular area looked. She hadn’t been there before and had heard the place gets a bad rap. Next minute we saw some sort of tradie-looking bloke jogging down the road wearing a sidearm.
That was our cue to gear up and get out.
On the web
The particular National Park area we camped at that night was one of those that requires you to book in advance and they give you the code to get in the gate.
Now, I’m more than happy to pay for camping if there’s no free camping. My issue is, if