Townsville to Ingham

It just shows you how I'm fit for cycling, but not much else, when my legs felt stiffer than usual this morning, after a few miles of walking the day before. Nothing much happened today. The scenery was dull and the road was straight, flat and went on and on. On days like this I keep my head down, listen to the radio and don't pay much attention to the endless gum trees and grass whizzing by; only they didn't whiz by because there was no wind from the south, or any other direction. When the sky is blue, the sun is hot and the landscape is dreary, I wish I was back in Scotland, where every day feels brand new. Sick of that cooked tomatoey stench, which is ever-present, except when passing sugar cane fields, that look and smell like grass. Trying to breathe through my mouth, but then my throat dries up and I want to drink more. The best time of the day is when the sun is low in the sky, as the light softens and the air cools. The Couchsurfer in Ingham had told me he lived on the main drag, yet didn't actually give me his address or phone number, so a few days ago, I asked him to provide them. No information was forthcoming, so I stayed in a motel. Again, painted breeze blocks and no decor; however, these rooms are usually spacious, with good facilities, including a fridge and microwave. Two people said I was mad today - a bloke is a servo and the motel manager, who said he was too fat to cycle anywhere. You said it mate. Pizza again and nipped into the bottle shop for a cold one while waiting for it to be cooked. Even red wine is refrigerated here. Back at the motel I repatriated a pea green grasshopper to the great outdoors and settled down for a Saturday night of televisual drivel.