...

....A night of rain and eating at Sth Mission Beach was left behind as we headed towards the walking trails through rainforest. Here Guus demonstrated how he would make living in the Rainforest stylish with the simple features of your average dried fern. (I'll have to get Andrew to post photos). With the Bianchi gears deciding here was a good a place as ever to give way I was limited on gear choices...fortunately I only needed one for the following hills. From Mission Beach the road wound its way along the coast before heading into countryside that rolled like Tasmania with hints of rainforest.






























A flat tyre for me and Andrew decided it was time to make a banana smoothie...this involved knives, forks and whatever other weapon could be found being thrown into a milk bottle and shaken with a banana. It worked suprisingly well (note:almost anything is impressive when cycling).

Back onto the highway for 8kms then onto Canecutters way, a quiet, winding, not flat (as promised by a man who's hair softly waved as it was graced with the presence of airconditioning) road which led us to Paronella Park. A night tour followed by the fascinating story of the day tour and we bid our farewells to Peter over our BYO food at a cafe lunch (the brush turkey had started on the loaf of bread without us the night before...just to add to the cheapness of the whole event). From here the only way was up and so we headed for the tablelands. The tough climbs made worth it from the spectacular views. As Guus took a canopy walk Andrew I took advantage of his absence and found the supply of choc chip cookies. As we sat waiting his return Karen and Bruce from the Marlborough petrol station walked past! A quick catch up on travels and Guus returned, unfortunately too alert to not see the small pyramids of crumbs that surrounded us.

We climbed again, and again, then once more up a 5km 10% hill to reach an amazing view point. Here Bob pulled up to see if we required any help...of course not. Bob drives of...I pick up my bike and bob the trailer snaps! A different place from last time but on the same piece of metal!

It was then to the nearest farm with a shed and we left the trailer behind and headed for the Millaa Millaa falls loop. I enjoyed watching Andrew and Guus ride up the hills with luggage (including some extra stuff of mine). This was how I imagined my time riding with them would be! This is the way it should be! The Millaa Millaa falls loop began and the best road I have ever ridden on stretched out before us down the hill. With a full moon rising on the right and the golden glow of a Queensland sunset from the left we had entered paradise. A camp at the first of three waterfalls and Andrew's trek to the top of the hill to call Paul (soon to be arriving in Cairns and hiring a car) to inform him of Bob's departure from our travels. The next morning we headed to the second of the waterfalls which was just as, if not more stunning and then back along the road of rolling green to Millaa Millaa falls. As Guus headed to the water the magic of motorised transport arrived with Paul behind the wheel. After Paul forced us into the icy water for a swim under the waterfall we headed to pick up the trailer for repair. A visit to the Dairy Centre nearby and we were headed for Cairns and comfort. Guus and Andrew's diving refresher course wasn't available so with the bends likely to occur in diving Guus booked skydiving for himself. He headed off the following morning as we prepared how to tell his parents. It was then to the bike store and welders. Extra metal for strength was added to Bob and then it was too the (very tourist based) esplanade to meet slightly alive, slightly more shaken Guus. Peter arrived that night at 1am and the next day the task of organising the chaos we had unleashed upon the hotel room began. Finally we are ready and it becomes apparent Peter and I are the only ones on the bikes today. With 150kms ahead of us a two man team time trial was in order and that's what we did. The stunning coastal scenery towards Port Douglas was still appreciated as we aimed for Mossman Gorge for lunch. The roads became quieter as we headed to the foot of the hills and into the Gorge. Once again our vision was consumed by rainforest. Towards the Cape Tribulation ferry where the road became a little narrower and a motorcyclist didn't hesitate to yell 'you're asking to be killed riding here' as he road past. Beyond the ferry the cycle of 2 mins of cars then 30mins of silent roads awaited. Unbelievable cycling! We made the camp ground and slept soundly. Peter woke to his own Birthday celebrations of sweet chili sauce on cheese. We later made it up to him as a feast was prepared...by the freezers icecream section at the supermarket. A walk to cape trib beach then it was to the ferry where all but I (catching up on diary) went on a croc tour. A little worrying to hear that saltwater crocs 'enjoy' fresh water occasionally. Then to Wonga for carbonara birthday dinner for Peter...though there was a problem. I had taken it upon myself to buy the ingredients, though without pasta it is a little hard to make it a meal. But sure enough the kiosk had pasta for sale. Tomorrow it was Guus's birthday so we rested our stomachs while watching the hilarious stance and dance of the peacocks.

Travels to the Tropics

By the third day in Toowoomba the craving for adventure subsided and the comforts of four walls had set in. The hospitality of warm surrounds with the sound of company at Peter's place would have allowed for perfect recovery. That is at any other time of the year but this, for this was Tour time. Contador, Lance, Cadel, Schleck's one and two, the updates I had received had never quite been enough. To watch their pain was more enjoyable than ever. The daylight hours I saw were spent between my phone and the bike store. Andrew and Guus had now planned to hire a car and meet me in Townsville on the 2nd of August rather than Mackay on the 1st. 400kms further north. Ben's work had fixed Bob for free so again I heard the road conjuring a revised planned path to victory. The weather came into play as the morning I left the sunny skies gave way to a rainy, windy day. I had the pedals in motion by 10am and the rain cleared so I was off along another driver declared 'flat road' (I will stop listening one day...) Leaving the comfort became easier through an organised stay at the Greenhalgh's north of Gympie only 3 days away. My new cycling sandals that had arrived in Toowoomba felt amazing and hence were one of the simple things ones mind plays upon up hills. A nice campsite with lyrebirds was a welcoming return to life in a tent, with of course the all too common midnight high-beam curiousity. Nanango welcomed me the following morning with the advice 'Take a rest day today, these winds will destroy you'. Fortunately the winds were more in my favour than against so on I pedalled. That was for 300m until the peanut wagon called. There Barbara donated some sensational peanut brittle to the cause which, with all my restraint, was still gone by the following morning. Further into town I met Michael who also rode a bike with a trailer. Well, a 5 speed trike with a two wheeled trailer where over time rust had taken over the more reliable process of welding. As I complimented his 'scrap aluminium collecting' vehicle the conversation steered, uncomfortably for me, towards how much better his setup was. I really shouldn't have mentioned my trailer broke. The conversation then turned to health as he announced over his greatly protruding stomach how the diabetes figures amongst Australian kids 'frankly scared him'. As the morning air became increasingly lined with his alcohol tinged breath upon which words of terrible political advice rolled like a rusty 5 speed I bid farewell and headed for Goomeri. A bbq and a campsite 36kms away resulted in my biggest day yet at 140kms. It was then on to the Greenhalgh's where Darren, Melinda, Zolton and a late breakfast of bacon and eggs awaited! Having not seen Zolton in 7months he had grown a lot. Needless to say endless hours of entertainment where found in his company! With amazing soup for lunch and crepes for breakfast the proposed leaving time of 2pm soon became 4:30 as another lunch was offered down the road at Henry and Margaret's. The hospitality once again seemed insane to leave however after being loaded up with 3 containers of lunch left-overs it was now or never. Darren's company on his bike until the highway, a tailwind and great campsite that night helped. The next morning Maryborough was the target and with the tailwind having waited for me it was an easy one, leaving me enough time to chat to locals (one informing me of every possible way to beat a corrupt system-'fight corruption with corruption!' He announced in a chant that rang without repetition) and enjoy some shade in the park. Maryborough primary was then very welcoming, with even a donation of home cooking for dinner! The next day I headed for Bundaberg, passing through Childers where I was warned by a few locals I would 'never make it'. Upon mentioning I had already ridden so far and that 50kms wasn't too bad they were silenced for a moment before the shaking heads resumed. 'Nup...not Bundy'. On the road north I crossed paths with southbound Andy, the first touring cyclist I had seen. As he rode unsteadily towards me down the highway I saw light puncture his silhouette between one arm and the handlebars, noticing he rode with only the one. 'Yeah I broke my arm so I'm riding from Gladstone to the Gold Coast to get the cast taken off.' Upon stopping he was attacked by cramps. 'I'd just been drinking and smoking too much. All that bad stuff.' Being a seasoned veteran of just over two weeks I assured him it gets easier. It was then on to Bundaberg into headwinds where too much icecream and of course ginger beer was consumed. As the sun departed from my vision which clearly hadn't been connected to my brain, or had been blocked by a haze of sugar, I realised I was in a park in the middle of town. The logical campsite then presented itself in the form of children's play equipment. After lying down then scanning around I noticed I lay perfectly within the vision of a security camera. I could only hope no guards saw, or thought it was too obvious to be any more than an early morning hallucination. Two hours into my sleep I was awoken by a familiar wurring sound. I seems I lay in the bmx arena for two teenagers. They seemed quite happy to ignore my silent presence as they jumped on the slides around me. I could only close my eyes hoping not to be run over. After an hour or so of practise they left, the sound of wurring wheels soon to be replaced by screeching bats. Sleep eventually came until I was awoken by a rooster from the 'free zoo' next to the park. I didn't mind, I wanted to leave on light anyway. However when I looked at my clock 2:30am glowed back and the roosters, not understanding the joke would have been equally as effective if they had stopped then and there continued until 6am. With this uninspiring night I felt less than prepared to talk at Bundaberg East State School that morning. Onto Agnes Water where a rest day awaited. At the campground I met Graham and Margaret who provided plenty of tea and conversation over the next day. With the local tavern unable to get sbs I was back to the unsatisfying updates of the tour. Then, with the much needed rest day over so soon it was to Agnes Water primary where, with much struggle I reached the place the children had gathered upon the hill. It was then for Calliope by 4:30 where I had planned to find a quiet place to plug in my phone for the pre-organised Koorie radio interview. Unfortunately I am not as organised and as I went from shop to shop trying to find one appropriate I finally reached Deslie and her clothes shop. Obviously confused by such a strange request she agreed and allowed me to plug in my phone in the back of the shop, next to her son on the internet. 'Fantastic' I thought, the relief obvious as I pulled out my charger. I plugged it in. Darkness. The power to the shop went out. We looked at each other confused, found the circuit breaker and flicked it back up. I plugged in my phone again. Darkness suddenly returned. Flick again, the till printing out coded receipts. A process of elimination revealed the power board to be the most likely source. I plugged my phone into another plug. The lights stayed on. I breathed a sigh of relief as my phone flashed 'charging', but only for a moment. My charger died. Deslie hunted for a charger she was sure she had and eventually found. It didn't fit. I decided to make the call anyway on the limited battery I had. No answer. Try again. No answer. Deslie in the meantime found the correct charger but mine had decided to start working. It was after 5 and time to close the shop. In desperation I tried the number once more. An answer! 'Could we do the interview tomorrow morning Stephen?'

The Mont Ventoux stage of the tour required a breaking of the budget in Rockhampton as I checked in to the YHA-filled with all the characters I had hoped for. It was however quieter than expected as I entered at 3pm to soft words and heads in hands. The night before seemed to have declared this a hangover hostel. Heavy heads declared me insane some period of time until finally sensible conversation (well as sensible as conversation was ever expected to get) was pursued. It felt good to alter perceptions on ways of travel. Two Irish guys commented "Now that's something you can talk about in 50 years time. We'll just say 'I dunno, I got drunk, I think I had a good time'". Shame I think they were too drunk to remember this moment of realisation. Most of the guys were there to find work, and as their conversation turned to farm employment such observations were made: "If you can't kill a cow and eat it you shouldn't eat meat. Besides it's the food chain anyway. We eat them, they eat us." You get the idea. In Alwin from Holland I found my helper in reserving the tv for Le Ventoux. We watched the stage while convincing another guy it is worthy of it's reputation. By the final kms of the climb he had agreed and we all went to bed in the early hours, tired but I was satisfied.
An early start and hills awaited. My first flat of the trailer tyre was downhill and resulted in some dangerous fishtailing. Changing the tyre was what I had expected from the bike tyres as I snapped a tyre lever. Further up the road I met Tom who was cycling from Cooktown to Canberra with a titanium bike and all the touring parts I didn't have. Onwards and the rain set in and the first offer of a lift was declined. Oh how I regretted that decision when 5kms down the road a rear spoke broke. 'No worries' I thought as I pulled out my tool kit. Spare spokes and spanners were removed from the tool kit but would not go in the wheel. It was a drive side spoke I had broken and didn't have the cassette breaker I needed. After hours of unsuccessful improvisation a lift was sourced through 'Shorty' to Marlborough service station where I was sure I could find a tool to do the job. Nope. A night spent sleeping out the back to the all too familiar sound of trucks and 5 hours of asking for a lift the next day resulted in suggestions such as 'If you're religious, pray!', meeting Bruce and Karen and then a lift through 'Damo'-searching for work driving trucks, preferrably road trains outside of a city. With a tailwind and perfectly sunny day it was hard not to wish to be on the bike. A bike that worked. As the outskirts of Mackay came into view Damo's dreams sunk with every foot that pounded a footpath. 'I was hoping for a main street with a shop and a pub and that's it.' He saw visions of an idyllic Queensland lifestyle dilute into a population already searching. I saw a bike store and a way out of this car. An expensive trip to the bike store and a bit of extra weight in tools later I was on the road again. Calen school was the next stop with extremely short notice. Here I was informed by a young student that I was riding a girls bike. "Is it a girls bike?" I asked clarifying for myself what I'd heard. "No" the girl replied "It is a girls bike." "Oh" Can't argue with someone of such certainty. With the next day bringing a 3 hour stop in Bowen with the very welcoming Bowen State School, the local paper and lunch I still managed almost 150kms-the tailwind helped to say the least. At Bowen for lunch I met Charles who now just travels around, correctly informing me 'It's so much better than waiting to die.' That night next door neighbours to my tent Debbie and Peter told me as most do "I admire you but I wouldn't want to be you." Then headed inside their caravan to roast pork and cake. I limp to Ayr State School with a flat tyre and after talking head out to fix by the school entrance near the shade. I'm not sure how I ended up with 3 leaks in the one tube but after fixing all of them the valve snapped off so I was left to face the stampede of the final bell. A few flats down the road later I decided to give up on riding for the day and found a camp site in a recently planted cane field, fixing flats by a setting sun. The next morning, putting the wheel back on the local farmer stopped as he passed for the 4th time and I really wanted to be on the road. Eventually I got there and was riding smoothly until another 2 flats closer to Townsville. With some caramel topping, milk, fruit cake and biscuits my worries were gone as I fixed punctures in the shade. Here my first opportunity to see harley tourers stopped was hopefully my last as conversation barely flowed over their bikes, struggling to find anything more in common than the fact they own vehicles too proud for silence and their combined vocabulary of 3 words. Riding into Townsville felt amazing and another flat tyre was fixed beside a manmade waterfall. A swim and talking to locals was a relaxing end to the day as I headed for a park the Information lady said I should be able to camp in after dark. Deciding not setting up a tent would be less obvious I rolled out the sleepmat, confident no one had seen my movements as I lay behind a toilet block. The grass was so soft I barely needed my sleepmat and I lay drifting, watching the last of the colour fade from a beautiful sunset. Sleep consumed me. at 12:20am I was woken by a 'Psssss!' It returned to silent so I ignored it. This time something hit me 'Psssss!' I looked up...nothing. Something wet hit me and the noise didn't stop. Townsville's 12:20am sprinkler system had started, though it was closer to a fire hose. The dampness left for 5 seconds and a tired mind barely had to convince a drained body that it wouldn't return to this angle. Wrong. This time a proper soaking. Maybe it was a complimentary rinse this city provided for those who wash their clothes in the ocean. Maybe not. I had to move. A piece of dry concrete looked appealing and with an awkward shuffle I was there. Nope...The angle widened and I was soaked again. On the other side of the toilet block wall I found my shelter, but as the wind picked up and drops were blown over I could no longer care and sleep came again. Now the temptation lay in whether to tell Andrew and Guus of this 'magnificent campsite' and stay awake to watch the midnight commotion. They were to arrive that afternoon and the lack of riding to be done that day bought the temptation of Castle Hill. It loomed over Townsville city in a defiant stance ready to acquire new knowledge. The knowledge of whether I had yet become an insane cyclist. I had, for something left me no choice but to ride up it. I don't know why I didn't leave the trailer behind, maybe that's more to blame on genuine insanity rather than that of a cyclist. Either way the view was as rewarding as I had hoped. Back in town I met a man on a bike, who upon asking many questions about touring informed me he was also going to ride around Australia. His trailer however was home made from steel and 'plywood to make it waterproof'. The connection on his bike for his trailer gave more than enough indication of the quality of the construction and I could only hope he was of strong character. Two hours of waiting at the airport that evening saw Andrew and Guus arrive, 2 bike boxes within the smallest car available. With a 20 minute setup declared ridiculous by a setting sun we left by dark, Guus without helmet or lights, on the wrong side of the road, with his face being attacked by a map. I enjoyed drafting them all the way to a campsite on the other side of the city, a supposed 'industrial area with fences'. When we arrived at this area to discover it was farm land we rode down a dark road, only avoiding creeks for campsites. Guus saw a gate and announced for the second time 'Here! There's a fence!' 'What is it with you and fences?' 'Crocodiles don't go through fences' With that we set up camp and andrew cooked. The road we were told by a local to have 'nothing there, you don't want to go down there' seemed, after 10pm to become one of the busiest roads in Townsville, with more than its fair share of cars with midnight high-beam curiousity. The next morning we headed through town and for rollingstone for lunch. After deciding a hat would be a good idea Guus soon found one beside the road. As we closed in closer on rollingstone talk of food and all Guus must try took over. There it was a swim in the river as the temperature of the day rose. After telling Guus he must try beetroot we opened some at lunch. 'Oh is that the red one? We have that, we call it redroot.' What a shame they don't have pavlova, lamingtons and our favourite types of icecream. Only they are allowed now. Later that afternoon Guus declared a rest and we agreed, as Andrew pulled down a side road out of some sugar cane walked Peter, a 19 year old cyclist from Melbourne. After some rockmelon Peter decided to ride with us for the rest of the day. Stunning scenery, the first crocodile signs and a furious pace finished the days riding. We arrived in Ingham and proceeded to use the one free electric bbq in town. Only it was situated in the middle of the main divided street in town, upon a hill, with a light just for extra attention. It was then to the sports ground where a grandstand provided well sheltered sleeping. The next day again had the scenery but this time with the hills. A 12% pushing the limits of the Bianchis gears. Peter decided to abandon plans of Wallaman falls to join us to Mission Beach. A two hour lunch stop that day at a fantastic spot before heading for Tully and of course, rain. After all this town had 7.9m in one year! It was then onto Sth Mission beach and passing hilarious cassowary signs. The undercover bbq area hosted us that night as Peter slept in the roof........

Apologies for the lack of updates, things have been slightly chaotic since Toowoomba. In the past two days we have been to Cape Tribulation and are now headed west until Peter, Paul, Andrew and Guus depart on the 14th. I will fill in up to that point asap with stories of more broken trailers, the best cycling road ever, Guus' rainforest outfits and now Paul returns to tell me of his epic staring contest with a snake. For now we have 900m to climb today which sort us all out. Until then!