Bruthen marks the end of the hills and the start of the plains through Gippsland. I’ve been taking it easy so far, with frequent rest days and expecting to take a train from somewhere in the region, through to Ballarat. The weather was expected to get worse, so I decided that I’d have one more day of riding, then hop the train to escape the rain and wind. I glanced at the train network map and decided on a long ride to Maffra.
I had 30kms of rail trail to Bairnsdale. It was nice and easy and I’d done it seven or eight years earlier. I dually made it to town and stopped for a coffee and some second breakfast. From here, things got interesting. The route would take me on some secondary sealed roads and then onto some gravel roads that followed the railway line – the very railway line that I intended to use tomorrow.
The secondary road wasn’t great fun but the traffic thinned out and pretty soon I realised that I only had one more chance for food for the rest of the day – Lindenow, which according to Google had a cafe (Long Paddock) which was about to close. It was 1:30pm when I walked in and it was closing at 2pm but the sign on the door said 1pm. I entered and asked what good I could get, and the lady ummmed and ahhhed and suggested a toastie. Yum ! So I sat outside and read the menu while I waited. I’d just ordered a $28 toastie. Mind you it had local ham and apparently exquisite cheese, but in the end, it was a ham and cheese toastie.
It was one of the best, and I’m very well equipped to make that call.
I took off after that extravagant snack with a full belly and felt more like a nap than riding another 50km.
A few km later, I noticed two young guys walking down the middle of the road. A car went past and they aggressively stood their ground so I approached with a bit of trepidation. All I got was a “Hello mate, have a great day”, and I exhaled.
I turned off onto a beautiful quiet sealed road that took me to the railway line, then the gravel started. It was quiet and blissful riding but a little indirect. The road didn’t always follow the railway but it didn’t really matter.
I was used to riding fairly short distances of 50-60kms, so by the time I hit the 80km mark, I was ready to stop, but this was where the road became rockier as the kilometres wore on. That took me to Stratford where I joined another rail for the last 10kms.
Finally, I made it to the Maffra Motel which felt luxurious. There was a pub with a great menu just down the road and over dinner, I checked the train times for tomorrow.
Google told me that I’d need to catch a train on Friday due to trackwork on the weekend when buses would replace trains. Then I found that there’s no train station in Maffra. A big red flag.
Luckily, Google told me that I could get a train in the morning from Sale, a mere 20kms down the road. Sorted.
So with a full belly and sore legs, I slept like a log.