Last Saturday wasn’t the first day of spring, but it felt like it. I put on my helmet and pumped up the tyres on my bike and took a ride out along the highway towards Narromine – not quite knowing where I was going. Riding on the highway with cars and trucks doing 110 km/hr isn’t that much fun, but before I knew it I was at Whylandra Crossing. I spent the next two or three hours exploring tracks, chatting, avoiding sheep, sitting by the river, listening. A beautiful day in a beautiful place.
Whylandra Crossing Ride
