[This is the final post in the series Smiling Kodiak Rides Again]
I may call myself a progressive, but at the end of most days there is nowhere I’d rather be than where I started: home. This morning the sultry voice of the Radio National breakfast host informed me it would be no easy feat: “Today’s forecast is for severe and sometimes dangerous thunderstorms, with high winds and damaging hail.” I don’t usually start my day with a prayer, but on this occasion I asked the gods to let me discover the radio station was broadcasting from a distant region of country Victoria.
The weather radar confirmed the accuracy of the forecast. A long swath of red nightmarish storms crept slowly towards us, running parallel to the entirety of our sixty kilometer cycling route from Myrtleford back to Wangaratta. I muttered many solemn oaths. Damn gods. Continue reading 10. Damn