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Return to Oz

When you’ve got a good thing going on, it’s pretty stupid to just pack up and ride off into the sunset, right? I mean, it’s not an endurance race.

I had about four and a half months left on my visa in Australia, so I went back because of a girl (this is the part where I curl my hair around my finger and twist my foot into the floor).

So it was pretty much the same as last time I turned up in Melbourne; I had to get a job, get a house, all the usual real life stuff. Fortunately it all seems a lot more interesting when you’ve been sleeping rough for the last two months.

We stayed in the Love Shack.

We stayed in the Love Shack.

Walked up some mountains.

Walked up some mountains.

Then looked really far away.

Then looked really far away.

Saw some waterfalls.

And saw some waterfalls.

We managed to squeeze all kinds of cool stuff into the last four months, I couldn’t have really asked for anything more, and I’m just well aware that I’m a very, very lucky boy. We went on weekends away, I met a whole bunch of cool new people, got to know friends from last time a whole lot better, and got to see one of my best mates become the best Dad.

Stayed in a tram.

Stayed in a tram.

Chopped some wood.

Chopped some wood.

And had some advanced level barbecues.

And had some advanced level barbecues.

I’ll try and keep this one short as it’s not really about cycling, or making a fool of myself, or pooing myself in a strange, new way, or both for that matter, but for two very indecisive people, we’ve gone and made a pretty big decision.

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