Day Twenty
Last Ride
Final Chapter
Morning came softly on the twentieth day, as if the world itself understood this was the last page of the journey. The sky was impossibly clear one of those rare mornings where the blue feels endless, untouched. Today was the final day. The day I laid Gaynor’s ashes to rest. The day of my last small ride out before everything turned toward home.
The air was already warm when I started, twenty six degrees and rising, the kind of heat that settles into your bones without asking. By the time the day was done, it would climb to thirty two, but I welcomed it. It felt alive. It felt right.
The ride wasn’t long forty eight kilometres, just over an hour but it wasn’t about distance anymore. Nothing was. It was about completion. About being present for every second, every breath, every turn of the road. When I stopped and stood there, knowing this was the moment, I felt a quiet settle inside me. Not an ending filled with loss but one filled with peace. I had done what I came to do.
Later, I headed back toward Perth, knowing I’d be staying the night. Helen would leave tomorrow, beginning her own journey back home. There was comfort in that knowing we had reached this point together, even as our paths gently separated again.
Yesterday, I’d seen old friends faces I hadn’t realized I needed so much. That moment stayed with me, grounding me, reminding me that even long roads eventually lead back to people who know your story.
I captured what I could one morning video, one final talk. Photos. Drone footage sweeping slowly over the city, over the centre, under the bridge, across the skyline. I made sure to slow the drone down, to let the view breathe. I wanted to remember how it felt to look down and realize I had come this far.
Perth glowed beneath me that night. Calm. Complete.
By the numbers, the journey said it all: over 6,800 kilometres planned, over 6,900 travelled. One hundred and two percent covered. I smiled at that. Somehow, I’d gone further than I set out to like the journey itself had given me a little extra, just because.
As I prepared to head home, I felt lighter. Not because I was leaving something behind, but because I was carrying it forward memories, love, closure, and a quiet strength I didn’t have when I began.
This wasn’t the end.
It was the moment I turned the page, knowing the story would continue just in a different direction now.