Unless we manage to stuff up on a truly massive scale tomorrow, the team has completed its final ferry crossing. We have crept into Singapore under the radar, as it were, and are lurking at the eastern tip of the island, girding our loins for our final ride across town to the Dutch Club tomorrow.
We have bade farewell to Mark, who had to fly out today. He left Desaru before dawn to cycle the last 30km and catch the 8.30 ferry and as far as we know, got himself and his trusty Apollo safely on the flight home. Post a reply, Mark, and tell us how you got on. 5000km without a battery is quite a feat - please give yourself a few days off before you start climbing the hills of the ACT again.
The rest of the team trundled along in his wake as we only had to catch the 4pm boat. Ree was in charge of the bags - what a way to spend your birthday - so one of our daily headaches was obsolete. As the taxi passed us en route she even jumped out with cold drinks!
We found out at this late stage that when Walter says there are no hills, he means no hills compared to Tassie. This explains a lot. There were hills today, and miles and miles of oil palms, but we left all in our wake. It rained. We got wet. It stopped. We dried off. At the ferry port it rained again, and a girl with an umbrella bravely tried to shelter each of us in turn as we trundled either a bike or a trolley full of bags onto the boat, and the boat boys helped us manhandle the bikes up steps. The team comprised 5/8 of the passenger list, so there was not a crush at customs - we were through in a flash, put Ree and the long suffering luggage in a taxi and rode a short way to Changi Village hotel where the bikes were ceremoniously wheeled through reception to the baggage room for a well-earned rest.