The Worst Yet the Bets Christmas Ever

During the night, the torrential rain continued. It was relentless, and it wouldn't give me a break. My tent was getting flooded. I woke up middle of the night, partially lying in the water. I swiftly took my sleeping bag and the mat, placed them on the other side of my tent, and put my bag into the water. All my clothes were wrapped in double plastic shopping bags, so they stayed dry. My leather suit I placed on top of the bag. “Who cares if it gets any wetter, it’s dripping wet anyway.” – I thought to myself and fell back asleep.

In the morning, the shrills and laughter of excited children woke me up. The rain stopped. I was lying on the mat blindly looking at the ceiling of my tent, afraid to make any move, not to mention to leave my protective den. I didn’t want to face the reality of my life. I was petrified the view of all the families enjoying their Christmas would cause pain in my heart that I wouldn’t survive. At that particular moment, I didn’t want to exist. I wanted to vanish into thin air and wake up when life was great again… However,

the reality of life is if we want to have a happy and fulfilling life, we can’t run away from the pain, we have to face it and work our way through it.

I gathered all my strength, opened the zipper of my tent, and looked outside. The sky was still covered with clouds; everything was wet, grey, and dull. However, the feeling I got was very different from what I was expecting. Yes, of course, there was the thought and the aching pain “This is my first Christmas on my own. There is nothing to be joyful about…, and so on. On the other hand seeing the children playing joyfully, riding their pushbikes, which they just got for Christmas, showing off their new toys, sharing their excitement with their parents and grandparents made me smile and gave me such a pleasant feeling inside of me.

I was heartbroken, but at the same time happy for the other people who enjoyed the special day with their families and loved ones.

I took my mobile phone and called my parents. It was still Christmas Eve over there. Initially, I wasn’t going to call them. In some respect, I blamed them for my unhappiness. I guess, subconsciously, I wanted them to feel my pain. I was hurt, and I refused to take responsibility for my misery. It was much easier to push the blame on someone else and with parents like mine… Well, I knew it didn’t matter how hysterical, irrational, nonsensical or melodramatic I was, how badly I behaved, they would never stop loving me. They would do what they could to support me and make me feel better. “I’m only calling to wish you Merry Christmas because you wanted me to call! I told you I don’t have money, so I can’t talk!” – I said in a voice of a spoiled and pettish kid. “It’s okay, darling, we understand. And we wish you a merry Christmas, too! We were so worried about you. Hearing your voice is the best Christmas present for us! Is everything okay?”- replied my dad in a warm, loving voice. “There is nothing merry about my Christmas! I don’t even want to know it’s Christmas, so you don’t need to remind me! And why are you worrying? Of course, everything is all right! I can ride a bike; I’m not as dumb as you think!” – I continued talking like a sulky kid. “We were worried because we love you. But we are happy to know you are all right” – replied my dad calmly. “I have to finish now; I don't have enough money on the card” – I replied in a calmer voice. “Enjoy your travels!” – said my dad, and we hung up. Despite my terrible behavior on the phone, deep inside of me, I think I wanted to talk to my parents and hear their voices, feel their love. But with my stubborn nature, I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself.

I went to the amenities to shower, recharge the batteries of my cameras, and with the hand-drier I tried to dry my motorbike gear, at least a little bit. Ladies in the amenities asked me about my travels, wondering how I could be so brave to travel on my own and how I didn’t feel lonely. In some respect, I enjoyed the chats. Occasionally a kid would come and proudly show me what they got for Christmas – it was lovely. I was friendly to everyone, absolutely the opposite of how I talked to my parents.

I went back to my tent, finished eating the biscuits I got from the friendly gentleman the previous day, and realized that with all the conversations, I got so distracted that I completely forgot about my batteries and left my video camera in the amenities. I rushed back. I was relieved to find them where I left them. I was sure someone would have taken them and claimed them as their own, but there are still honest people. My batteries were fully charged.

When the reception reopened, I took the stainless steel water bottle I got yesterday from the friendly night-watchman and walked to the reception. I slightly hoped that maybe he would still be there so that I could thank him again, but no, he finished his shift and was already gone. I handed the bottle to the chirpy young girls at the reception, asking them to give it back to the man. We wished each other Merry Christmas, and I walked back to my tent. Packing the wet gear wasn’t fun at all, not to mention putting on the heavy damp leather felt unpleasant, to say the least. “Oh well, at least it’s not raining. The wind of the ride will dry the leather in no time”- I cheered myself up. I looked at the map and then at my watch. “Hmm… I have 24 hours to get to Melbourne. Tomorrow at this time my ferry will leave the port”. Despite knowing that I was well behind with my schedule and I should take the shortest way to get to my destination, I decided to follow the Princes Highway because… it was going along the shores, so much more appealing than the more inland road. I also liked the name of the little town Tathra, because it reminded me of the Tatra mountains in Poland, which I occasionally visited with my parents, and we went skiing there. I love the mountains.

And so, if I wanted to catch the ferry to Tasmania the following morning, I had precisely 24 hours to ride close to 1000km. I should be in a hurry, shouldn’t I? I jumped on my bike and followed the Princes Highway until I saw a turn-off towards Kiama Lighthouse. Of course, I had to go and check it out. I was standing on a small peninsula looking across the waterway at the caravan park on the opposite shores. “This looks nice. Much nicer than the caravan park I stayed the last night. It’s a pity I couldn’t stay here. “Maybe another time, when I will be passing here again, I will stay at this caravan park” – I wondered and jumped back on my bike. I didn't get much further, and a tiny cute church got my attention. I stopped, and though I knew the white towel would hardly be visible on the white background of the clouds, I had to take a few snapshots.

Mt Pleasant lookout, not far away from Kiama, was charming too. The green tongues of the land reaching out into the ocean were irresistible; they had to be documented with my camera. The time was passing, but not so much the kilometers on my speedometer. And, of course, I had to chat with every person who approached me.

I was in Jervis Bay Marine Park, about 60km south of Kiama, when the weather finally started to improve. I slowly cruised along the coastal road stopping here and there, at some park a few kilometers past Batemans Bay, or along the road somewhere before Moruya. When I passed Tilba Tilba I left the highway and drove through Akolele, towards Bermagui. It was around 2 pm. I started to feel hungry and needed to refuel my bike. I pulled at a petrol station and… It was shut. I didn’t give it much thought, jumped on the bike, and rode to the next one. It was also closed, as was the following one. I slowly started to feel disquiet. “All petrol stations shut? That’s weird; I thought they are always open…” – I thought to myself, completely ignoring the fact it was Christmas day. I stopped at Bermagui and went for a walk. I found some tiny kiosk which surprisingly was opened. I got a nut-bar and asked where I could refuel my bike. She explained where the next petrol station was, adding, “But you will need to wait until tomorrow, as today everything is shut” “What?! But I have to be in Melbourne by tomorrow morning! Otherwise, I will miss my ferry to Tassie!” – I replied, confused. “In Melbourne? That’s over 600km from here! I don’t know how you are going to do this. It’s Christmas Day, everything is shut…” replied the lady. I thanked her, walked out of the shop, and went to the harbor. I looked at the boats, the calm waters, the hills in the background, and the few fluffy-looking white clouds and wandered to myself: “I’ve some fuel, but 5 liters won't get me to Melbourne… I don’t know what I should do? No point in staying here. I guess I just keep going south and see how far I get. Who knows, maybe I get lucky, and by a miracle, some petrol station will be open?” And so I jumped back on my bike and continued riding towards Tathra. Nothing would stop me from enjoying the moment, despite all the stress I caused myself, the lack of fuel, the tiredness. I stopped here and there, looked at the sandy beaches, the deep blue ocean, and the light blue sky. I was happy that by such fantastic weather, at least my photos would look good. “What a change from today morning. I woke up lying in the water; everything was wet and hopeless, and now such beautiful weather. I’m dry, and nothing reminds me of the stormy night. Who knows, maybe I will be lucky with the petrol too,” – I thought to myself, still not giving up hope that I would make it to Melbourne on time.

When I made it to Tathra the sun was getting quite a law. I stopped at some higher point and took a photo of the coastal cliffs. “So different to the known to me mountains”- I smiled. I didn’t stay there for long because time put me under intense pressure. I passed Kiah, and suddenly I noticed a “General Store” sign, also showing a symbol of a petrol station. “A shop middle in nowhere surely won’t be open, but… my tank is empty, so I need to refuel it anyway, even if just with my reserve fuel. At least I will know I tried anything possible to get the fuel.” And so I pulled in front of the shop. I got off my bike and looked around. The shop was shut. It was open today, but they shut earlier than usually. “If only I was here a few minutes earlier…” – I thought to myself when I could hear someone calling “Can I help you?” I turned around and saw a man walking towards me “Hello, I wanted to refuel my bike, but I guess you’ve shut already…”- I said with some resignation in my voice. “Yeah, we are shut. We will be open tomorrow” replied the man. “Tomorrow I should be in Melbourne… I will miss my ferry…” I mumbled, feeling absolutely hopeless. “Where are you going?” asked the man. And so we started chatting, and I told him about my trip. In the end, the man said “Ah, what the hell, it’s Christmas! I can open the pump, but you need to pay cash, all the ‘end of day’ processing is already completed. Do you have cash?” “Yes, I have! Thank you so much! You saved my trip! Thank you so very much!” – I couldn’t believe my luck. I refueled the bike and walked into the house to pay. I saw a big family sitting at the table and enjoying a meal together. They invited me to join them, but I had to apologize as I didn’t have the time.

The sun was close to set down, and I had about 550km to ride. From there on I followed the Princes highway, practically without stopping, especially not for sightseeing. It was dark, luckily, so I couldn’t see anything anyway. I was grateful it wasn’t raining, but riding a motorbike through the bush at nighttime was super irresponsible and dangerous. It was about 1 am when I was half-frozen and falling asleep while riding. I pulled at some 24/7 petrol station along the highway, which to my surprise, was open. I walked in and stopped next to the heated display cabinet; it felt so nice warm. “Do you mind if I stay here next to the cabinet for a few minutes? I’ve been riding for hours, and I feel so cold… It’s so pleasant warm here” – I asked the cashier. “No problem, you can stay here as long as you like” – replied the man, and after a short break, he added “Are you riding a motorbike at nighttime through the bush? Do you know how dangerous it is? Here are plenty of roos and other animals…” “Yes, I know, but… I’ve to make it to Melbourne by 8 am. My ferry to Tassie is leaving at 9 am, I don’t want to miss it” He looked at me and shook his head. I was standing there for about 15 min, and I knew I wasn’t fit for riding. I was falling asleep. “Do you mind if I sleep there on the ground next to my bike? I need a nap before I continue riding” I asked the man, and he agreed. It was probably 2:30 am, or maybe 3 am, when I refueled my bike and continued riding. I arrived at the ferry terminal in Melbournw 15min before they closed the gates.

This was just the beginning of my adventures. The more I rode, the better it got. And if you think that the drive from Sydney to Melbourne was crazy and long, then… It was nothing compared to my way back from Melbourne to Brisbane when I ended up riding 1300km in one day. I arrived home at 1 am Sunday, or already Monday night, crashed on the bed and fell asleep wearing my full motorbike leather. The following morning I woke up a 5 am, had a shower, put the leather back on, and went to work. When I arrived in the office, my boss asked me, surprised (if not disgusted) “Where did you park?” “On the street. Why?” – I replied. “You are covered in bird shit!” “That’s not bird shit! Just dead flies. I was riding most of the night and didn’t have time to clean my leathers!”