Heat, hills and headwinds

The morning of Guus' birthday bought bacon and eggs and a swim. With that they were off riding as I attempted to update the blog. Paul informed me he was off for a run, then upon his return that his heart rate had peaked before he had taken the first decent stride. Onto the path had slid a 2m long black snake, raised it's head in approval of the petrified reaction, then continued into the bush. Paul then announced it to nearby campers who proceeded to fold up books and chairs. Eventually we made a move, Paul dropping me at the base of the climb before heading off for supplies. I eventually caught the others and we rode on until Paul arrived, my waterproof bag having been emptied of contents less important than the ice, dip, icecream and sorbet that now filled it and soon, filled us. As we rolled (with some added difficulty) onto our bikes the rolling of green hills and scattered rainforest were soon replaced by the flat and dry landscape around Lake Mitchell punctured by termite mounds. It was then up to the riders to relax in the local park of Mareeba while the car researched caravan parks. The answer was found in granite gorge, 14kms away along a road, slowly climbing above the amazing rocky landscape that surrounded. Beyond the scenery, the parks swimming hole was worth the extra distance. Andrew's tent, having been packed up a little wet was beyond the limits of what his nose could take, Guus obliged as Andrew found plenty of space within the safari tent Paul had booked. Happy birthday Guus. After discussion that night over pizza and (once again) coke, it was decided that poor old Bianchi just doesn't look like she'll last, so Peter kindly offered his Thorn. One problem, it had loose bearings in the back wheel allowing for a little play. With the decision to put Andrews wheel on from his almost identical bike we needed to change the sprockets. A borrowed shifter and a broken chain whip later and suddenely the play in Peter's wheel seemed less, and now quite acceptable (fix it in Darwin was the plan). Atherton then and the rainforest made a welcome return, bringing shade and a bbq lunch where Peter's demise began which fall in the gravel and ended with sunburn. Guus being one for twists in the tale suggested Lake Tinaroo rather than the proposed Undara Lava tubes some several hundred kms away and immediately we agreed. Here was the last night of comfort as Paul's lack of tent once again resulted in four walled comfort. The large air con system that may well be responsible for the Atherton Tablelands being cooler than Cairns went on and a swim in the pool found us freezing in our room when we got back. Peter's life was then put in jeopardy with Guus taking his chances lying on the broken bunk above. An uneasy nights sleep. In the morning we faced the daunting task of organisation with the crucial deadline placed upon our tastebuds by the map stating 'Gallo Dairyland' was onroute. After Guus nearly being run over on the way we made it and celebrated his second chance at life with cheese, chocolate and milkshakes. Andrew, having realised to almost die is a sure way to appreciate life more enquired about a cup of melted chocolate. Fortunately he survived by not purchasing it (though the price almost provided the initially desired effect). Rainforest once again was found beyond the 'Dairyland' and we arrived at Mt Hippapimee NP where a swim in the bitter water was braved by Peter and Guus only. We then climbed over 'Qld's highest declared road' and coasted into Ravenshoe. 'All downhill fromhere' I thought. Wrong again. With the bike swap and a tim tam competition (Paul had been discussing for quite some time-'it's impossible to eat in under 30secs'-it was gone in 15) we bid farewell and my own company was reinstated to the position of bearing my singing. A night at Millstream falls, though beautiful, did not promote sleep through cars driving through with spotlights (why was I of more interest than the wildlife?) and the sounds of animals attacking each other. Either that or too much coke. With a visit to the Oxfam office in Normanton planned for the 19th I had some fairly serious kms to do. A planned filling of water bottles at Mt Suprise was turned down by locals telling me I would become very sick from the untreated water. Fortunately after explaining I was on a push bike I was pointed in the direction of one of the only rain water tanks in town. A 180km day of hills that rolled out into the outback put me on target for Normanton though not eating enough that night, kms the next day came slowly. The roads narrowing to one lane made concentration more important, looking out for road trains, cars and caravans approaching from both directions. I was extremely grateful for Peter's bike and the wide tyres as I fear my riding onto the gravel may have been the straw that broke the Bianchi's back. Hills and heat persisted until Georgetown where at least some holiday makers provided me with some amusement. 'You should camp tonight at the place we did last night. Beautiful!' 'Oh ok, excellent. How far was it?' 'Oh wait, it might be a bit far' They thought again. 'I think it was about 300kms...' I found a camp all the same. The next day wasn't off to a good start as I rode through a swarm of flying ants. Fortunately no one was around to see the insane movements of this cyclist in the middle of nowhere but after some kms of hitting myself finally the stinging stopped. A few kms later the holder for my solar charger snapped and sent bits a pieces scattering across the road. The charger was still ok though. At Croydon in time for lunch it was time to do some shopping. 'Where's the best place to buy groceries here?' I asked the man at the information centre. 'My wife usually finds the supermarket best' came the reply. Obvious, yes...however it had become, and was to remain more common for service stations to sell the groceries out here. In the park for lunch I met Kevin and Lydia from Bribie Island and was treated to a cold coke! Down the road, a blown trailer tyre and I made camp. The next day I was headed for Normanton (1 day early) where I met Steve, a man looking for his dog that had run off 2 days ago. A little worrying with the Norman river nearby. He suggested in Normanton I camp the other side of that same river. 'And no crocs there?' I asked as though expecting some other answer to the 'Crocs everywhere up here!' I recieved in reply. In Normanton I asked about a new map. 'I think you need a new pair of shorts before a new map' I was informed. Rightly so, my shorts were rather ripped to shreds. Outside the shops I was eating my latest purchase when a lady asks if I'm riding around Australia. It was Carol from Oxfam. She then mentioned that she had just been given keys to a fully furnished house if I would like to stay there the night. I couldn't resist. I wasn't even game to try, for regret is a horrible thing. Surely enough the house was furnished. Luxuries such as a couch, bed, fridge, freezer, washing machine and an air...wait, no two air conditioners had me already wondering how I was going to leave. The tv was then shown to have unlimited movies and when Carol announced she would bring me back some fresh fruit I had to try and draw a line. That night I went to the weekly local disco where the kids of Normanton were witness to my very average touch football, basketball and soccer abilities. The next morning Carol explained to me all the amazing programs Oxfam Australia have running through this office and it was inspiring to see the success of these as a result of her hard work. Then Carol offered to shout lunch with Lil (who has since begun work with Oxfam) and despite the overwhelming hospitality so far I couldn't say no. As we sat eating lunch at the pub the weekly fruit truck pulled up and Lil insisted she buy me some fresh fruit (I did resist while the fruit was bagged, until I looked into my wallet). A cruel addiction to banana chips began with the inability to buy them for hundreds of kms. As I barely needed convincing to stay another night Lil put out the invitation for a barramundi feast at hers that night. So it was off to Bill and Lil's where I stocked up the stomach, then upon leaving was given a lunch box with more for tomorrow. I know I use the word a lot but...Amazing! Despite all this I did manage to leave the next day, however hard. When driving it is usually an hour or so before you are fuelling up and back in some form of society. However ahead of me I had over 2 days and 400kms until the next town. Though flat, these kms didn't come easily. The scenery remained similar, the dust slowly by the km becoming a slightly deeper red. Termite mounds began to rise from the earth to highlight these subtle changes in what seemed like small monuments to minor victories of height on a country of flat, dry grassed plains. I eventually arrived at Cloncurry and after nearly 3hrs of sitting in a park recovering left towards Mt Isa. A flat tyre on the way, with no shade around and the day grew hotter (I was later to discover it was Mt Isa's hottest August day on record, 38 degrees or so). That night was spent in an overnight rest area to the sounds of campervan sattelite dishes repositioning themselves. After avoiding the last hot part of the day I headed out of Mt Isa, meeting along the way 5 people travelling in cars and on motorbikes who were 'sick of the isolation, sick of the outback'...encouraging words were beyond them. The next day the slight headwinds eased as I headed for Camooweal then, after a month and a half of Qld, the border! As I rode for the border, approaching from the otherside was a reflection of my silhoutte. It seemed to turn as I turned, approaching at the same rate. But no this reflection didn't have a trailer. As I slowed at the border, at exactly the same time Kendall slowed his bike and we shook hands at the Northern Territory sign. Incredible timing-I hadn't seen a in thousands of kms! He began his ride in Sth America and came through Indonesia. Sam and Bronwyn, a couple travelling in a campervan then shouted us both an ice cold solo from their campers fridge and we were two happy cyclists. We departed ways and I headed into the Northern Territory and for Avon Downs, home of a police station hundreds of kms from the nearest town. No police dogs to look after however there was a newly recruited police cow. Barkly homestead then provided the only signs of life moving below 130km/hr in the next 400kms. While filling up water bottles I met Terry who has been on the road 5 months with his family in their campervan. That night for dinner I had a great test of patience-trying to seperate tortillas while 43 flies try to seperate sanity from my mind. The next morning was a lucky escape as my back axle decided it had had enough and undid itself, attempting the great escape. It failed as it fortunately stayed on. Further down the road Terry pulled up bearing Gatorade and starburst treats (note that nothing comes cheaply out here)! It is thanks to these that my biggest day was ridden of 187kms...too far on a bike for my liking. Just before dark I arrived at three ways and stocked up on food. As I prepared to head down the road just on dark to sleep the lady from inside approached me "You shouldn't ride down there, the caravan park is cheap here..." Thanks but no thanks. As she went back inside I went to ride off. Flat tyre. Caravan park it was. A swim and fixing the tyre fortunately revealed it did have a real puncture and wasn't let down! In the caravan park I lay listening to those fellow campers who wish their woes to those who would struggle to care less. The listeners however remain polite enough to shake their head in a movement of slight disbelief during the pauses that promise to last an eternity-these silences are not to broken, for any words from you would only suggest you've seen similar troubles and would then result in further telling of woes of previous travels-these silences are just used for effect. My woes involved being woken the next morning by campers using lights and packing up annexes at 4:30am. The ride north involved facing brutal headwinds, resulting in very slow passing kms. Slight hills provided more of a challenge until Banka Banka-a property of 3.5million (yes, Million) acres. Banka Banka means 'lots of water' and so I filled up my drink bottles and rode on, not seeing one of the 65 000 cattle they have upon the property. From this property I discovered the cows are driven hundreds of kms to Darwin and then placed live upon a boat holding 40 000 and shipped to Jakarta. Not good. The riding grew easier towards the end of the day as rocky outcrops popped up and the sun departed the day in an brilliant explosion of red and yellow across the sky. The next morning at Renner Springs in search of amusement I found the unfailing source. 'Any idea how far to Newcastle Waters?' I asked a campervan driver. 'Couldn't be more than 40kms' 'My map says it's more than 100kms so I was actually just wondering how much further'. Turned out about 130kms further down the road so that's where I headed, into the headwinds. Lunch in Elliot and I met another cyclist named Peter. He had just ridden the dirt Savannah Way, incredibly hard! Here as we shopped I offered Peter a banana smoothie (Andrew's style) which he agreed sounded pretty good. As I made the smoothie, he purchased chocolate however when the local kids drank half my milk I was with a chocolate and Peter without a smoothie. I made it to Newcastle Waters rest area that night where I met Dave and Shelley, an English couple who I was saddened to hear had heard a lot of the stereotyped opinions from many Australian travellers who have never seen Indiginous australian life beyond their tinted windows and airconditioning. The type of travellers whom exclude me from conversations on headwinds for I'm not 'paying $1.77 a litre for fuel'-ok-Fade back. At Dunmarra I met Jorgen and Eiloner (definately spelt wrong) and their two young kids who were headed south and had some good recommendations for up north. Further down the road at one of the many WWII memorials that had begun to appear on the roadside Norm (after mentioning I hadn't set up my tent in weeks) informed me of snakes travelling at night and that he has heard cane toads can squirt you with a poison that kills crocodiles. Hmmm...Nothing yet. It was then to the classic Daly Waters pub where I met Mark the chef who is planning a round the world bike trip himself! Earlier the next day I met the new record holder of my trip-a man who was driving from orange to darwin (over 3500kms) in less than 3 days. Ouch. With the headwinds finally easing I made it to Mataranka and Bitter springs. A natural oasis of a thermal pool surrounded by ferns and palm trees. A few hours of swimming, recovering and talking to Graham and Anne-Marie, a couple with a refreshingly optimistic view on Close the Gap and the things Oxfam is trying to achieve I headed down the road. The next morning at a rest area a camper had his angle grinder out in what seemed an attempt to destroy his trailer and the sounds of nature. Via Pine Creek and sitting beneath the mango trees in the park and wishing they were riper it was onto Emerald Creek roadhouse and the best homemade ice cream I've ever had! Cherry ripe! Come morning I met Yuki, a japanese cyclist who is on the same route as me, I may catch him eventually. Then through Adelaide River as the scenery turned from the shaded woodlands that had appeared since Newcastle Waters and turned into tropical ferns and greenery. The last 60kms into Darwin came painfully slowly, and though it was good to run into Norm by the road again I felt my body had decided to give up. Now I sit in the hostel in Darwin with legs I fear won't recover, along with the two numb fingers that haven't had feeling since Ravenshoe. A break in the budget with a trip to Kakadu should be well worth it though!

Thank you so much to all the recent donations and the support! To have seen the work that Oxfam is doing was an amazing experience and their programs are truely working thanks to everyones support! Please keep helping raise awareness on the issues and speak to those who don't believe change is in sight!