We left home early and headed for Brisbane Central station. This time to take a train to the coastal suburb of Wynnum. It’s an easy few hundred-metre ride to the station but accessing the platforms with heavy, electric bikes can pose a challenge. Usually, we just use the thoughtfully provided lifts and we had no problem doing this on our outbound journey. Unfortunately this would not hold true later in the day.
Wynnum has three stations; Wynnum North, Wynnum and Wynnum Central. As we approached the first of these Tracy suddenly had the sudden desire to disembark, not at Wynnum Central as originally planned but at Wynnum itself. Once off the train, we realised that to exit the station we would have to carry our bikes over a bridge. Superman wasn’t around and the station guard was heavily pregnant so we strugglingly helped each other with this task.
Once over the bridge, we rode a few hundred metres through tree-lined streets to the coastal bike path which forms part of the Moreton Bay Cycleway (MBC). After a short stretch on the MBC, we headed inland again towards the library where we had arranged to meet the librarian and drop off some books, with a view to conducting a talk there in the future. On the way, we spotted a cosy looking coffee shop and decided it was time for a break. We were pretty tired after 40 minutes sitting on the train and riding about 2 kilometres. The coffee shop turned out to also be a bookshop so I delivered my standard sales pitch to the friendly barista and will doubtless be dropping off copies soon.
Following a successful meeting at the library, where books were gratefully accepted and offers of conducting a reading when Covid-19 is over we headed out of town again back towards the MBC. On the way, I spotted an old-fashioned cordonnerie (shoe repair shop) called The Shoe Doctor. Synchronicity strikes when you least expect it. In need of a key for the bike lock and replacement batteries for garage remotes, I entered the artisan’s workshop. It was a step back in time. Adorning the walls and shelves were numerous artefacts and religious texts. The cobbler himself called out from his workshop, hidden behind gently flapping , fly-strip blinds, “with you in a minute”. As I waited I wondered how long the shop had been there. Quite some time I imagined, judging by the faded decor. When the shoe doctor appeared he was friendly and helpful and I left with a new key and replaced batteries.
We continued following the Moreton Bay Cycleway via a short stop at the Information Center on Manly Wharf. It was set in a lovely spot over the water and the person inside was enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Following her instructions, we had a lovely ride, along the water’s edge past mangroves with a powerful, but not unpleasant, scent of decaying seaweed. We passed by bushland with very tall trees where there was a good chance of seeing koalas. These critters are notoriously shy and difficult to spot at the best of times and despite craning our necks and risking a tumble we were unsuccessful in seeing any.
We’d ridden past a number of quaint looking restaurants but now that we were hungry and ready for lunch, there was nary a seller of victuals to be seen. We continued on, avoiding the swooping magpies, towards Cleveland, where, on the edge of town, we spied a cafe in a small group of shops. Elaine’s Cafe was a top spot and we took a table in the shade. Some of the other customers took an interest in us, or more accurately, in our bikes, and we happily answered the common questions about battery life and range.
We took the opportunity of an impromptu sales pitch for Soft Nut Tour of Burma and handed out literature while explaining we were on our way to Cleveland Library to drop off copies. We had had a similar experience at Wynnum Library when an older couple had admired our bikes and talked about their daughter and son-in-law in Japan, who also had electric bikes.
And so, we pedalled on to Cleveland library. We saw plenty of signs but the library building itself proved shy in revealing its whereabouts. We backtracked a few times and eventually headed up a winding walkway to find the building. Had we followed the road signs correctly, we woud have ridden in on the correct route and not risked a fine by cycling on a pedestrian pathway where bikes were prohibited. We’ll know next time.
I decided it was Tracy’s turn to front up to the reception desk and pitch our literary wares. During her visit she discovered there is a complicated hierarchy in libraries and, after four referrals up the line, she found someone happy to take our books. She was also given the name of the all-powerful being who was responsible for organising presentations and readings at the libraries of the Redland Shire Council. A successful trip on many levels.
We headed back to the station with 10 minutes to spare before the city-bound train departed from Cleveland Central. As I dozed on the journey home I wondered why Tracy kept rifling through her bike bag, taking items out and then sitting down again. Later she told me she had seen a lady reading a Susan Howatch novel. (Susan Howatch is a British author. Her writing career has been distinguished by family saga-type novels). This was a great opportunity to engage a possible customer, but Tracy’s coyness overruled her keenness and the fine line between friendliness and annoyance was not breached.
As we disembarked from the train Tracy spotted another lady whom she thought was an old friend she hadn’t seen for 25 years. But again, shyness got the better of her and she didn’t approach the woman.
We both envied those who seem untroubled by any sense of embarrassment or reserve, and who will happily talk to complete strangers on public transport, or approach those they think they recognise and engage them in conversation.
We had little time to dwell on our inadequacies as we discovered, much to our chagrin, that we had arrived on the platform where the lift was out of order. We faced this new challenge valiantly and steeled ourselves for the more physical task of hefting our bikes up yet more stairs to begin the short ride home.
