Day 28 – Winds, Art, and the Final Stretch

Time to discover our home state! We’ve travelled around Victoria quite a bit over the years, but there’s still so much left to see — including everything from the far north-west around Mildura, all the way to Bendigo and beyond.

As had become tradition on this trip, we decided to skip breakfast and go straight for brunch at our first stop: Charlton.

Charlton is a charming little town on the banks of the Avoca River, halfway between Melbourne and Mildura. Known as the “Friendly River Town,” it’s surrounded by golden fields and wide skies — a classic snapshot of rural Victoria. The town has a strong sense of community and old-fashioned hospitality, which we immediately felt at the local café.

A young man served us brunch with genuine warmth, patiently answering every one of Noune’s questions about the ingredients in her wrap. I’m a simpler guy — a bacon and cheese pie was all I needed. Yum!

Next stop: Bendigo. It’s hard to believe that in 32 years of living in Victoria, we had never properly explored one of its most iconic towns.

Bendigo’s story is pure gold — literally. Founded in the 1850s during the gold rush, it grew into one of the richest cities in the world at the time. The legacy of that wealth is still visible today in its grand architecture, wide boulevards, and proud regional character. But Bendigo is also known for something else — its humour.

For Victorians, Bendigo is often the butt of light-hearted jokes, much like Aparan in Armenia or Ireland in global folklore. It’s all good-natured fun — the kind of teasing reserved for places everyone secretly loves.

The ride from Charlton to Bendigo wasn’t long, but it was windy — really windy. A strong side wind pushed us most of the way, not the worst we’d faced on this trip, but enough to tire the arms.

And it got me thinking. In 15 years of riding, I’d never consciously realised something so simple: when riding in a crosswind, your eyes tell you you’re going straight — but your arms feel like you’re constantly turning. The bike must lean into the wind just enough to counter it, and that subtle, continuous tension plays tricks on your body. It’s a strange kind of fatigue that only riders understand.

Once in Bendigo, our first target was the Black Swan Motorcycle Museum. Unfortunately, Google Maps had other ideas. It proudly announced we had “arrived” — right in front of someone’s house. A quick check showed we were 500 metres off. We rode further down the road, spotted the heritage building of the Black Swan Hotel, and turned around to park — only to find ourselves at the Bendigo Visitor Centre instead!

At that point, we decided that Fate didn’t want us to see the motorcycle museum and took the hint — heading instead to the Bendigo Art Gallery.

And wow, what a decision. The gallery was fantastic. Right at the entrance, a magnificent Sidney Nolan painting greeted us. The deeper we went, the richer the collection — works by French, English, Italian, and Australian artists. An entire wall of Agnes Goodsir’s works. A whole room dedicated to incredible Aboriginal artists. Not quite Dali or da Vinci, but world-class nonetheless.