Cold Beer and Crocodiles

I'm reading a book titled Cold Beer and Crocodiles: A Bicycle Journey Into Australia, by Roff Smith. The book details Roff's experiences riding his bicycle counterclockwise around the entire Australian continent.

Having finished only half the book, I'm amazed at the experiences he has. I'm at a loss to understand just how he went about getting into the situations he did. And yet, being a cycle-tourist myself, I can understand.

Let me explain a bit. While Smith was riding inland, in central Queensland, he decided he wanted to visit a sheep station (ranch) and see how it operated. Somehow he got in contact with the MacIntoshes of Fairfield Station. He stayed for days, helping out on the ranch.

Later, while pedaling through hot plains of Northern Queensland in the dry season, a couple of guys pulled up behind him in a Land Rover and offered him a beer. They got to talking, and again Smith spent days with newfound friends in the outback. They camped, fished, and in the end Smith was invited to a wedding.

And time after time, the author was invited to stay over for dinner or to sleep in the spare bedroom at various homes along the way.

During my everyday comings and goings in North Dakota, it's hard to imagine that one could so easily make new friends and have such adventures. People are not so trusting, so willing to share their lives. I thought to myself, this isn't the way things work. And then I remembered what it was like to pedal from Phoenix, Arizona to El Paso, Texas. And then Smith's adventure seemed plausible - even made sense.

While on our bike ride through the Southwestern US, Jesse McCormack and I experienced quite a few gestures of goodwill. A woman drove twenty miles to offer Jesse a ride when his spokes snapped. A man opened his home to me and offered up his computer, refrigerator, and even his shower. Three families on holiday in the mountains shared their meal with us and were more than willing to give us a ride down the mountain to a New Year's party the community was putting on at the community center.

When I think back, people are anxious to share and offer a helping hand, sometimes. But why isn't every day life like this?

Perhaps it's something to do with being a cyclist on the road. Maybe it's because being a cyclist in the middle of a desert is a good icebreaker. Or perhaps people feel inclined to help someone so vulnerable to the elements. Or maybe they're just curious.

Whatever the case, I both identify with Smith's experiences and am baffled by them. It's a book I can hardly put down.