We arrived at the Riverside Café and found a seat on the wide wooden floored verandah overlooking the Hunter River. To our right was a man seated alone, seemingly self-absorbed as he ate his bacon and eggs and scrolled his mobile phone. To our left were the only other people in the café – a group of about five blokes all in their 60s or older. Given their relaxed demeanour and that this was a Thursday morning, I reckon they were all more or less retired. Dressed in a motley array of T shirts, shorts and runners – the sort of attire that’s fine for hanging around the house in or working in the garden, my guess is that their visit to the café had been preceded by a walk, probably along the riverside path that stretched in front of the café and partly hidden by low scrubby gum trees.
With our bikes loaded onto the back of our car we had left Wollongong the previous afternoon to travel to Brisbane. After attending a play – a Christmas gift from our three girls – at Sydney’s Belvoir St Theatre in the early evening, we drove to Raymond Terrace where we stayed the night at a little motel: a red brick box-like structure that was simple but clean and quiet – perfect for our need for a good night’s sleep.
Keen to reach Brisbane in daylight, we were up bright and early the next morning, but our first port of call was somewhere to grab breakfast. Google search suggested Riverside Café as the nearest place on offer, and it had the advantage of being an easy place to park our car.
The blokes’ friendly relaxed banter, interspersed with occasional outbursts of laughter suggested a sense of familiarity with each other and the cafe: this was where they meet after their walk. Every now and again one or other them would call out a G’day, ‘How ya goin mate?’ or a friendly message of encouragement to a passing walker or jogger.
One of the joggers was a woman – I think the blokes called her Sue – very likely also in her 60s. Wearing a long, sleeveless white T shirt, black three-quarter length tights and old joggers, Sue shuffled past the café in a heavy sideways gait that suggested protection of wonky hips or knees.
Having cleaned up our scrambled eggs and skinny flat whites we returned to our car parked across the road from the café and next to the riverside path. Steve and I were checking that the bikes were securely locked onto the carrier at the back of the car when we suddenly heard Sue.
‘Going on a cycling trip, are ya?’ she asked as she stopped just beyond the car.
‘Yes’, I said, ‘we are headed for a three-dayer – the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail’.
‘Good on ya’, she replied her face spreading into a bright toothy smile. After a moment’s hesitancy, I added, ‘Actually, it’s our first post cancer cycling trip since my diagnosis two years ago. trip, so it’s sort of special.’
‘Oh’, she said, ‘that’s awesome’, and held my gaze for just a second before throwing her big bare, sweaty arms and drenched T shirt around me in a huge body warming hug. As we embraced, I felt utterly loved. ‘Thanks so much,’ I said. ‘Enjoy the rest of your run’.
March 2026.
Meandering Thoughts 