The legs were tightening, the tan fading, the stomach expanding and the hydration was back up. Sickness had put it off but it was Monday morning and time to leave. Avoiding peak hour traffic was crucial so the plan was for the train out of the city. My Uncle Will had once again decided/been convinced to join me and before peak hour we were being launched passed deadly traffic on a v-link train. Soon it was time to see whether my legs would remember the movement they had performed day in day out for the past 5 months. The slight tailwind was welcomed as we both struggled to keep the pedals turning. We discovered that between us we had ridden less than 10kms since arriving from Ballarat. The scenery of the Hume Highway was expected to be familiar, having driven this road countless times. However, it took on a new beauty and a new pace having slowed mine. There were hills that had looked flatter, and they wore colours that had previously looked duller. Simple lives were being lived off this piece of tar cutting with tunnel vision through an unappreciated landscape. A landscape that had just existed to divide the places I know. Sickness still churned slightly in my stomach. Chest pains made breathing more difficult than it should have been. But the kms were passing and the tough first days return to the seat was bearable. It was also of interest to both of us to travel through towns consistently bypassed when on the Sydney to Melbourne drive, guilty of fearing the addition of 20mins to a 9hr journey. Euroa was one of these which will be marked as a worthy stopping point from here on. We made it to Wangaratta before dark and eyed the impressive bakery for the morning. With two people to share the costs, a caravan park was within my budget. The luxuries associated were enjoyed, bar the shaded pool as the temperature was far from appealing.
The next morning we were headed for the border and the weather grew a little hotter. I thanked the timing of my sickness with each flooded ditch beside the road I saw. It had rained a lot the past week but all we saw were blue skies and all we felt was a slight tailwind pushing us on. As we neared the border I knew the flatter roads were ending, and with them we were also about to depart the widest emergency lanes I had seen the whole trip. My 6th and final border crossing and I smiled, my mind not capturing all I hoped it would. Surreal is still the only word I can place upon seeing familiar sites, smelling familiar smells and knowing where you head, unprepared despite months of longing. 20km/hr should have felt familiar however it led me too quickly towards what I should be aching for, just as it had towards Melbourne. I'm not sure what I expected. To feel so much wiser, so much more prepared for society. Something. Anything. To have felt filled with knowledge. I know I would have felt it if I had travelled straight from sickness on the Nullarbor to the comfort of the end. The comfort of bed sheets washed in the freshest scents. But I felt tired, frustrated by what I had seen and this society I was riding towards, mostly as oblivious as when I'd left. The hills soon pulled my thoughts away and placed them upon how to kill the flies on my face with my shoulders while staying on the road, while not swerving in front of oncoming traffic or more dangerously, the overtaking traffic. Holbrook and the well known bakery had been reached long before dark and dinner was enjoyed by us and just as equally by the flies it would seem. We then headed to the caravan park for a relaxing few hours of light where I braved this shaded pool for a whole 3 seconds. The relaxing evening was followed by a very sleepless night for Will, the trucks engine brakes letting Holbrook know of their arrival.
Breakfast of a bavarian ring (oh how I have missed bakeries in the outback!) and we were off again. The hwy took on more hills than any car I had driven ever noticed and the heat was building. As we headed for Gundagai (where Will was to turn around) I found the faster I attacked the hills the less flies I had. By early afternoon about 30kms south of Gundagai I found some shade to wait. Will soon arrived and suggested I push on as he was stopping in Gundagai anyway. Extremely grateful for the company he had provided I was glad to know only 1 full day of my own mind waited for me. We bid farewell and I rode on and straight past the town to the dog on the tuckerbox. A good supply of fruit later I was ready to tackle the a ride into the evening. There had been a few occasions on this trip where 200kms in a day had been close but just beyond reach. I had given up on the idea by the end of the Nullarbor knowing the heat and then hills that were to take over the rest of the trip. However this day I had done 120kms by 4:15 and the heat of the day was finally leaving. It was kept as a target in my mind however soon seemed unrealistic with the hwy shooting up beyond 650m altitude a number of times. But as i pushed on, some downhills towards Yass just kept me ahead of dark until eventually, finally, 200kms went by! I then kept cruising for another 15kms until dark when I rolled into the sth Yass service centre. Any chance of a decent campsite was sacrificed for a vanilla thickshake and an hour later found myself, not sleeping, but lying beside a petrol station sign. The trucks sung me to sleeplessness with their familiar yet forgettable song. This was the last night I would lie underneath the sky for what I felt could be a long time. I knew I would miss the comfort of my sleeping bag as the cold night consumed a day of over exercise. But right now, give me a real bed!
I woke up the next morning and packed for the final time. A fill of water at an inconveniently close petrol station and a homeless man asked me if I slept alright last night. 'Not particularly'. He then proceeded to tell me how well he slept in the local pub having found $300 besides the hwy. What he hadn't spent on the room and steak he lost in the pokies. 'But I don't care' he assured me. I thought of telling him that I ran money management courses for $300 but that would have been a lie, and unlike the school kids I had spoken to along the way, he had seen what I have called a bed for the past 5 months. All credibility was lost. I rode on past each sign counting down to Goulburn. One final rest 20kms before the big merino as yesterday had nearly destroyed me. Here I met Chris, a car salesman. He told me how he had '5 daughters, none of whom have the initiative to do what you're doing, or have just done'. I told him, as I have so many people this trip that not everyone is going to cycle around Australia. However people just need to talk about it. 2 minutes, 1 minute, even 30 seconds a day. If you spoke to one new person about Australia's Indigenous problems each day then who could ignore what is happening? Governments move with the people. When people care then people decide. A quote I read recently from an indigenous man was 'No one has ever lost a seat, let alone an election because my people live this way.' I know this country cares, I just don't know if we fully understand how the simplest words can directly drive the biggest cogs. I have asked Australians to please talk amongst themselves, talk to others and as they discover just how appalling it is that this situation exists within the country of Australia, write to politicians. I am not pushing for the unrealistic chance that something might change. It's the fact I know it can, I've seen it, and the fact that change is so accessible yet has been so consistently ignored or has just been thrown large band aids of ill-handled and resultantly problematic money should frustrate every Australian.
Before I, or my legs knew it I was off the highway and had returned to the road where we had ridden beaten by headwinds that first day. All the thoughts of my mind were filtering out like the last grains of an hour glass. They slipped by no matter how hard I tried to catch them. It left my mind empty with nothing but the vision I had so frequently visited of turning onto the dirt road where it all began. Soon this vision fell out too as it all apparently became tangible. I felt if I stopped and touched something my hand however would pass right through. It wasn't until, back wheel slipping on the gravel climb of the driveway, my heaving chest hunched over the handlebars for the final time, I reached the house. I stopped pedalling and planted my feet on the ground. They didn't sink. The ground held me and the world stopped moving. Wait...so has my dog. 'Preston!' I yelled to the motionless lump on the balcony. To my suprise he woke and found interest in me, not knowing, caring or appreciating where I had been. Soon, he realised I had no food he would consider edible and lay down again, and inside I sat on the couch, looking around within unchanged walls wondering if I'd ever left.
It took me 153 days to do just over 15200kms. On the trip I realised that this was obviously the hardest 5 months of my life. I then realised that my life has therefore been relatively free from trials. Although I felt strongly enough about this to do something, in the end it was my decision to leave. People watch the news every night. They see the struggles of the third world. Placed along side these reports are the Indigenous problems. They have blended through their similarities to become so close to each other, so far from us. They seem unreachable and therefore helplessly unresolvable. Because of the massive gap in living standards we create distances in our minds. 'It's too big'. We shrug our shoulders as though symbolically removing the weight from our backs and placing it upon someone elses. When will someone stand up to the strain of knowing what we have caused? When will someone stand against the ignorant comfort in which we live and say enough is enough? I saw many people this trip who work everyday without an ounce of passion for what they do. I wondered in what their passion would bloom. I have soon however seen this work only exists in their lives to feed their bigger passion, family. I wonder why we can only hold such an interest in those related so closely. We see billions of dollars poured into space exploration and the search for other life. While this is wasted money I can see the benefit of believers to invest in such. If other life were found it would tear down the borders of these cities, provinces, territories, states and countries. Our borders would become our atmosphere and we would look within these borders to see a deeply flawed human race. Surely that would inspire an act of change so dramatic that we would not feel seperated from those on a screen anymore. This is unrealistic. And I feel through Governments and leaders that words in past years have lost potenecy. It's up to those who care already, even in the slightest, to spread a confidence in solutions. Oxfam's work is amazing and it has things moving in the right direction. However they are in a constant battle with the government for support. The Government says and does much with little research. Society needs to take a greater interest to insure that words cannot be spoken and moves cannot be made without knowing the long term plan and the possibilities. I have personally learnt that nothing is effective unless it has been asked for and is understood.
My motivation upon completion of this ride has not ceased. I find myself with a great desire to help further. For now I am researching where my life is to take me next however, still a way from answers I will post one more blog when things have become more clear and I know my direction. I would like to thank so much everyone who helped me to keep pedalling everyday. Whether it was the offer of a drink, a friendly chat, some food or advice it was of great benefit to my drive to keep riding! Of course a huge thank you also to everyone who donated! I have been overwhelmed by individuals generosity and interest in the cause. It was an incredibly difficult five months however incredibly rewarding. And also a huge thanks to Kerstin from Oxfam for all her help and support with the ride. I have to use a quote from Alastair Humphreys: 'Am I glad I did it? Yes. Would I do it again? No.' It is hard to remember now, from the comfort of a chair how difficult some moments, days or weeks were. 'You just had to pedal a bike' I say to myself. But a lone traveller leans upon himself when he is too weak to stand. There is the constant strain of an empty mind, no thoughts to vent creeping insanity. Not to mention pessimism. And of course just when it's all coming together you have a bike that breaks, a trailer that snaps, a tyre that goes flat and the performance of six million flies inducting you into an outback asylum. It all still seems slightly appealling from this chair.
Would I recommend a ride around Australia? Probably not. I recommend day rides and riding to work instead of feeding an addiction to fuel. But I do recommend travel. The type of travel where you see not only the landscape and culture, but the effects reckless power has upon these. Powers always searching to be stonger, more stable and striving to posses a greater ability to intimidate. Travel to learn from the mistakes of human history, the beauty of nature's own power, the generosity of people's hearts and the innocence of children while these lands still permit it.
My only other plea for people is to create moments, this world would love to host them.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Mean to an end
Beyond Perth came the magical town of Bussleton. Riding in to the scents of freshly cut grass then reaching a beach of the purest water. A swim and soon it was off to Bussleton High School to chat with students. It was fantastic to see this school already deeply involved the Close the Gap campaign! They filled me with a great optimism for the future. Soon it was back onto the bike and out of town to catch up with Sofia and Laurie's family. Hopefully I was to be of better company, having met them on the stretch between Broome and Port Hedland where I had become sick. They had loaded me up with food and drink and given me contact details for them here in Bussleton. Then my call out of the blue and they had once again given their time to me by helping organise the school visit. Now here I was eating their food while enjoying such a beautiful part of the world. In my mouth may have been full of food, however the back of my mind was filled with thoughts of the Nullarbor.
Nullarbor comes from latin words basically meaning 'no trees'. Cyclists have evolved this definition to contain their own myths, legends and purpose. It is seen as the 'Ultimate challenge-the epitome of the Australian outback.' Perth to Adelaide was as common a choice of ride as any other in this land. A few weeks to spare and more than a slightly more comfortably moulded couch and fading t.v. to show for it. Those more pressed would choose Norseman to Ceduna. Simply riding the 'true' Nullarbor stretch. 1200kms awaits such riders. 1200kms of roadtrains, roadhouses, frozen white bread, scarce water and trees, and should the budget stretch so far, greasy meals and frozen milk. ($5 for 600mL-that'll teach temptation!) This, along with driver updates of other cyclists positions were to be expected. As for the tailwind I was 'likely' to receive I didn't dare expect. I could only hope. If the last few days had suggested anything it was that it wasn't promising. Norseman allowed for the replacement of water I had received from a driver I flagged down. 'Fresh rainwater from the Eyre Peninsula' he announced. He drove off. I looked into the water. I have never seen green clouds before but at least I now had something to expect above the Eyre Peninsula. With a fresh lot the Nullarbor journey began-the one I had refused to think about upon beginning this journey. Queensland had seemed far enough away. Throughout the day the bike had decided it had grown tired of the back wheels company and the bolts undid as it tried its second great escape of the trip...fortunately it was on an uphill and a bad crash was avoided. Fastened on again it was my chains time to leave with the bolts that keep tension constantly undoing throughout the day no matter how tight they were fastened. Not too far up the road I had caught Peter and Kirsty. They were headed from Perth to the East Coast. As we discussed our desires for either the road to turn or the crosswind to a brand new Mr Whippy van passed on the back of a truck-the Nullarbor obviously not feeling it had been quite cruel enough yet. I left their company for that of the slowly scarcing woodlands beneath the giant overcast sky. The wind continue to roll through from the south east making riding difficult and the days were long. Beyond Australia's longest stretch of straight road (90miles-146.6kms) I began to feel less than 50% (which was beginning to feel like normal) and food was running low. Cocklebiddy Roadhouse was to be a restocking point. However with the bread delivery late I resorted to rationing. The lady from inside the roadhouse said that the headwinds weren't so bad today. She then followed me outside for a chat. "Now that you mention it..." The cold gusts blew in off the ocean. That afternoon the heat grew as the clouds departed and my headache grew. My temples felt injected with putty, my throat became increasingly sore. I lay in the sparse shade from a dying tree and considered my options. To wait it out with little food or get a lift to the next roadhouse were the options. Luke and Pauline soon arrived with the prospect of a lift. The bike was loaded on and I was taken to the next roadhouse where Luke and Pauline soon informed me they probably have all the supplies I need...with food thrust upon me we all camped together that night a little further down the road where I was treated to some pasta! Feeling better lying down this is how I spent my evening and the whole next morning. I was offered a lift to the border one more time however refused with supplies to last my recovery. I rode off that afternoon towards the border however the sickness only became worse. Barely holding down food anymore I pulled into some bushes for an emergency stop. A flat tyre later and a car pulled up to see if I was alright. Sure enough it was Wendy and Wayne...our 4th meeting I believe! They didn't have enough room for me however a workers ute soon pulled up and drove me the 40kms to Eucla where the caravan parks kitchen provided my accomodation for a night of recovery (I paid for a tent site however the wind, rain and limestone ground were not appealing for my tent nor its pegs). Here I was looked after by fellow campers and was already feeling a little better. By morning the winds had turned and a tailwind was a temptation to leave before my body was ready. I forced patience by placing my camera batteries and ipod on charge as always when a power point is seen. Soon I was packed and ready to leave. As I returned to collect my freshly charged belongings they weren't there. I asked the nearby cleaner whether she had collected them. She hadn't. I realised a camper must have thought someone left them behind and handed them into reception. I tried reception. No luck. I tried the motel reception. Nope. My ipod, charger, camera batteries, cd's, headphones, sunscreen, pliers and long since washed underpants had all been stolen. A frustrating experience to say the least. I had been rewarded so often throughout this trip for my trust I placed in towns and with people. So many ill-informed warnings I had received only to ignore-here however, where no warning had been issued by any camper it happened. I knew one experience could change your opinion of a place and so I held nothing against Eucla, knowing that it was bound to be a traveller now in possesion. I just hope they like the music (and my cards that say the cause for which I'm riding...guilt? Probably not). An early start and my hope of acheiving a 200km day were obviously delayed but I rode on with the tailwind towards the border. South Australia was to change everything. The bunda cliffs began, providing among the most stunning scenery of the trip. With gates over closed, 'dangerous' lookouts the bicycle rolls around them and into the most overwhelming landscape and seascape I have witnessed. A campsite at what is normally the most popular lookout was all for myself as I watched the sunset below a landscape that dropped 90meters into azure oceans. A lot can change in 4hours. As I looked out upon the ocean that commonly hosts migrating whales I pity those who stole my things. To act upon beautiful, innocent instinct as such animals do would be glorious. But our minds are polluted by thoughts that shouldn't be our own. Thoughts that no one should own.
The next day the tailwind remained for the morning when I left the cliffs behind to ride onto the Nullarbor Roadhouse and the true Nullarbor by lunch. Here I was approached by a lady. 'I have to take a photo of you...you're memorable' she said of my state and sandwich. This was Lucinda, a lovely Canberrian who spends 6 months of every year travelling this large land. A block of chocolate and a stack of fruit otherwise soon to be declared from her later and we were both on our way...same direction-90km/hr difference. As I pulled out of the Roadhouse I announced to a 5km/hr travelling (or more waiting) 'oversize pilot' car that he was the first car I had overtaken in nearly 14000kms! He felt privaleged, soon blasting his horn for kms as he re-overtook me. An hour or so later...having not seen a car or a tree for a long time I was overtaken. Not a car, caravan or roadtrain but a Bentley limousine. Don't ask, for I don't know either. By that evening the Nullarbor felt it was coming to an end as I returned to woodlands. The hills began again and soon the woods were cleared to make way for endless fields of wheat I hadn't expected to see until beyond Ceduna. The marchflies that had been so common across the Nullarbor were now back to normal flies. As I tried to spread honey on bread for lunch flies were caught with each spread of the knife. A towel over the head was the only way to stay sane...or to keep the little that had remained. As the headwinds became near unbearable again I couldn't help but blame our unnatural desires to transport strange, excessively large objects upon the back of trucks for these walls of pain. What a uselessly empty swimming pool is being carted across the Nullarbor for is beyond me. The wheat radiated the warmest gold in the brilliance of the setting sun as the most beautiful birds flew beside me. Locusts diving towards my rims for a tone deaf musical death. With my arrival in Penong I saw a store! Cereal! Milk! Fruit! Bread! Wait...Wholemeal bread! The new owner of the shop told how he was longing for a ridiculously hot day just to prove to himself, or maybe fulfill his dream of wearing shorts, singlet and thongs to work. His wheatchange, it seems had paid off. That and the fact his car was still going, despite the odometer reading 790,000kms. I rode on for Ceduna, the headwinds growing stronger still as the coast returned. They made the rewarding destination of Ceduna just seem further from the east coast. A boy asked me where I was headed. 'Sydney' I said. 'Woah' he muttered. To him Sydney seemed an eternity away. To me it seemed like two. A good chocolate and icecream fest later and it was off into scenery I was told 'out bores the Nullarbor'. I disagree whole heartedly (maybe the dying winds have something to do with this) for every colour the wheat held was beautiful. The sense of deja vu increased with each town along the stretch from Ceduna to 'Port Agutta' as some call it (Augusta for us tourists). A railway line on the left, a silo between the hwy and town and one shop within the town filled with incredibly friendly and helpful people. The heat began to pick up over the next few days as I headed into the Adelaide heatwave. I didn't need to worry though, if I was not feeling the 40 degree heat people were sure to remind me how positive they were that they would never be riding today. Maybe a rest day would have been a good idea if the heat wasn't predicted to climb over the next week. Resting in the middle of the day at a rest area I met 2 truck drivers. They would travel 'a cool 7000-8000kms per week'. Not cool. Not great for the faith a cyclist tries to place in them. Not human. Despite my best efforts hydration became a real battle. It was impossible to stay on top of. It was at this stage I noticed my sunscreen had been stolen. I baked. As I neared Iron knob the scenery returned to Nullarbor treelessness. A flat trailer tyre, not enough water to check it, no shade and four billion flies for company had me trying to fix it. Then my pump broke. The trailer was pulled apart to find my spare, my skin burning. Eventually the tyre was fixed and I rode on into my momentum's breeze and into the evening as the stunning flinders ranges silhoutted against the horizon. Come morning it was the usual process. Let down sleep mat to encourage the getting up process. Pack up sleeping bag. Roll up sleep mat. Put on shorts. Scorpion in shorts. AH! Fortunately it was seen before pulling them on...otherwise my scarring saddle sores might have an unwanted edition. Port Augusta was next and chatting to the locals...first I had to provide the reasoning for why I had just purchased a dozen donuts for $1.30 and only then could I talk about the reasons for my ride. It all worked out that temperatures casually in excess of 40degrees and donuts create a horrible ridingg experience. On the way out of town I met a cyclist headed in the opposite direction however it was another conversation cut short by the attention seeking swarms of flies. The names of 'Port' towns always tempted for a swim and Port Germain won...I pulled off the hwy and headed the 5kms in. As I stopped for a cold drink on my way through to the beach I was informed of a recent shark and that the tide might be out. My 'no worries' reply to the tide was soon found to be a silly thing to say. An incredibly unsmooth ride down Australia's longest wooden jetty later and I reached the water. A beautifully warm swim revived my body for the couple of days to Adelaide. Interesting vision-a 3 wheeled bike and trailer performing a U-turn on a 2 metre wide jetty with the ocean below. It was then on into the middle of the heatwave until a couple of days later and Adelaide was within sight. Closer to my sight however was Richard, who had pulled over to offer ice cold water, and even the drinkbottle it came in. A fellow cyclist he knew the satisfaction it would bring and soon I was back on the bike and riding into the evening. The ride into Adelaide city was by far the most picturesque entry into a city of the trip. Maybe it was the parks, most likely the down hill. After a few hours walking the city streets it was time to head to Henley Beach. A 'trendy' area of Adelaide I was told and it had become so with good reason. Beautiful beaches of clear blue water with a jettys stretching out, one per suburb. Here I was reintroduced to the scarcely missed modified car. I have a new fascination with these. They must be so fixed to impress 15 year old boys who are yet to be able to have a car. For if anyone else thought it looked, or sounded so fantastic then they would own one themselves. However, those who already own one so modified do not stare with an impressed expression, they stare to compare and as a result comment on how theirs is better, resulting in being less impressed than those who don't own one and as a result don't care. It's a shame that the blocks they should be lapping have a 40km/hr speed limit in the most efficient ego boosting hours. Anyway after a much needed swim it was off to the Miller's! Here, where I hoped for the luxury of some grass instead of dust and thorns I was sent to sleep out the back. Sound bad? One would think so until one realises he has his own double bed with ensuite, kitchen and musical instruments! Oh, not to mention the airconditioner during one of Adelaide's record heat waves. Then you unpack before heading to the beach for a swim and fish and chips as the sun sets over the ocean. I bribed some weather reporters to say the heat wave was to continue and as a result my stay extended until finally I could bribe no more and decided to leave Ian, Helen and Edwards company on the last day of the heatwave. Having met up with cousin Meg in some of her final days in Adelaide, and her being a bike rider, I was a little worried over the look she gave me when I asked about the climb out of Adelaide...I shouldn't have asked, after all I could see it over her shoulder. I left before light loaded up with water but a tent lighter (Meg kindly drove it back to Melbourne) and by dawn had reached the bottom of the climb. As far as cycling goes though it could not be better. Not once do you ride on the road, the hwy is forbidden so a cycle path takes you up the hill until the hwy starts to curve down. That's where you keep riding up as the hwy disappears down. On the way to eagle-on-the-hill I saw the best wildlife of my trip. Onto the path in front me had walked a koala, baby clinging to it's back. It casually/gingerly walked on and off the road. (I have a video however with my cable having been stolen in that bag I can't put it on the computer just yet.) At the top of the hill a gathering of cyclists recovered. It was suggestion I couldn't ignore. A cyclist pulled up and asked where I was headed. 'Melbourne's next' I replied. 'You're not by any chance the guy riding around Australia are you?' 'That would be I'. This was Marty. It turned out Richard had emailed quite a few people my blog address, Marty being one. Marty and Richard had ridden together in Cycle For Sam, a charity ride in memory of Marty's son Sam a few years previously.
http://www.cycle4sam.com/
I suggest you have a read about this journey of a family that has discovered that life is about appreciating the moments you have.
Small world. It was then through the confusing turns of the stunningly beautiful, and thankfully shaded Adelaide hills. Before the true heat of the day I reached Mt Barker where I met Mick who shouted me to a bag filled with all the fruit I couldn't afford. Cherries, grapes, peaches, apricots etc! The following hills were made that bit easier however the heat didn't relent. Sweat dripped freely and eyes stung. Near the end of the day another out of place car as a stretch hummer performed a lap of a rest area. I then continued on until the evening, the scenery having changed so much throughout the day it could well have been a week. The next morning as I picked a rock out of my trailer it moved. Oops...spider. Into Victoria and the emergency lane improved in width and smoothness and I averaged over 170kms per day through the towns of beautiful goldrush era buildings of Horsham and Ararat and then eventually Ballarat! Being 10hours earlier than I said I was lucky to find anyone there but fortunately Aunty Jenny and Olivia had not yet left for Funbugs while Abbie was having her gromits done. So I enjoyed such luxuries as a shower and a stocked pantry before I became just as keen for Funbugs as Olivia. Soon we arrived and the chaos of a factory converted into a children's play equipment area consumed us...fortunately such reliefs as being shouted a slice and a milkshake allowed me time to actually be able to realise that this was the same day that started with a sleep mat, sleeping bag and a bike. Society doesn't take long to soak in when it's what has constructed you. Bronwyn and Blake kept us updated on Abbie's operation which was all going smoothly so we headed to eat some more with a beautiful lunch where Olivia ordered what she soon didn't feel like. I had to promise to Aunty Jenny I didn't force her to order it as I cleared her plate. It was then back to the house where unfortunately Abbie felt rather awful being sensitive to the morphine from the operation. Olivia offered the support of stroking her head while stating 'She's still my sister.' This soon turned into squirting water into her mouth (in all good intention) which soon had an adverse effect which led to Olivia having to re-state 'She's still my sister.' The next morning it was an early leave, headed for Ballan to meet Uncle Will, some cycling company until Melbourne! As I left the Peck's house that morning and the multiple offers i had received to be shouted a new pair of shorts the previous day I rose out of my seat with confidence for the day at the first roundabout to the great ripping sound of a pair of shorts beyond their last legs, let alone mine. Melbourne would just have to welcome me in derelict state. A suprising on time arrival by myself at Ballan and Uncle Will and I set off! The company was great as the kms flew by. To home it was to be 140km day...a target I thought reachable by that night. Without a break the kms kept flying and by mid morning found myself riding over a hill to the surreal and long wished for view of a distant melbourne skyline. We powered on with a slight tailwind and more downhill than up run. The city gave me the perfect chaotic welcome return to society with fire engines, ambulance and police sirens coming from every direction. I knew there was still 4 or 5 days riding beyond Melbourne but this was long hoped for. The signage grew more familiar at a rate at which my minds acceptance couldn't keep up. Melbourne, S.E. Suburbs, Burnley Tunnel, Chadstone, Ferntree Gully Road and I was back. Riding down the street I left more than 5 months previous. I knew before I took the last turn nothing had changed. I knew this from Cairns. I knew it from Darwin, Broome, Perth and Adelaide. But I didn't want it to have. This was comfort. This is comfort. Knowing. It has it's beauty. I will grow tired again, but for now this holds everything I need.
A planned leave 2 days later was abandoned when at 2am the night of arriving, sickness swamped me in the form of gastro. Not pleasant. The recovery process led to over a week before I could leave. Welcome home said Melbourne.
Nullarbor comes from latin words basically meaning 'no trees'. Cyclists have evolved this definition to contain their own myths, legends and purpose. It is seen as the 'Ultimate challenge-the epitome of the Australian outback.' Perth to Adelaide was as common a choice of ride as any other in this land. A few weeks to spare and more than a slightly more comfortably moulded couch and fading t.v. to show for it. Those more pressed would choose Norseman to Ceduna. Simply riding the 'true' Nullarbor stretch. 1200kms awaits such riders. 1200kms of roadtrains, roadhouses, frozen white bread, scarce water and trees, and should the budget stretch so far, greasy meals and frozen milk. ($5 for 600mL-that'll teach temptation!) This, along with driver updates of other cyclists positions were to be expected. As for the tailwind I was 'likely' to receive I didn't dare expect. I could only hope. If the last few days had suggested anything it was that it wasn't promising. Norseman allowed for the replacement of water I had received from a driver I flagged down. 'Fresh rainwater from the Eyre Peninsula' he announced. He drove off. I looked into the water. I have never seen green clouds before but at least I now had something to expect above the Eyre Peninsula. With a fresh lot the Nullarbor journey began-the one I had refused to think about upon beginning this journey. Queensland had seemed far enough away. Throughout the day the bike had decided it had grown tired of the back wheels company and the bolts undid as it tried its second great escape of the trip...fortunately it was on an uphill and a bad crash was avoided. Fastened on again it was my chains time to leave with the bolts that keep tension constantly undoing throughout the day no matter how tight they were fastened. Not too far up the road I had caught Peter and Kirsty. They were headed from Perth to the East Coast. As we discussed our desires for either the road to turn or the crosswind to a brand new Mr Whippy van passed on the back of a truck-the Nullarbor obviously not feeling it had been quite cruel enough yet. I left their company for that of the slowly scarcing woodlands beneath the giant overcast sky. The wind continue to roll through from the south east making riding difficult and the days were long. Beyond Australia's longest stretch of straight road (90miles-146.6kms) I began to feel less than 50% (which was beginning to feel like normal) and food was running low. Cocklebiddy Roadhouse was to be a restocking point. However with the bread delivery late I resorted to rationing. The lady from inside the roadhouse said that the headwinds weren't so bad today. She then followed me outside for a chat. "Now that you mention it..." The cold gusts blew in off the ocean. That afternoon the heat grew as the clouds departed and my headache grew. My temples felt injected with putty, my throat became increasingly sore. I lay in the sparse shade from a dying tree and considered my options. To wait it out with little food or get a lift to the next roadhouse were the options. Luke and Pauline soon arrived with the prospect of a lift. The bike was loaded on and I was taken to the next roadhouse where Luke and Pauline soon informed me they probably have all the supplies I need...with food thrust upon me we all camped together that night a little further down the road where I was treated to some pasta! Feeling better lying down this is how I spent my evening and the whole next morning. I was offered a lift to the border one more time however refused with supplies to last my recovery. I rode off that afternoon towards the border however the sickness only became worse. Barely holding down food anymore I pulled into some bushes for an emergency stop. A flat tyre later and a car pulled up to see if I was alright. Sure enough it was Wendy and Wayne...our 4th meeting I believe! They didn't have enough room for me however a workers ute soon pulled up and drove me the 40kms to Eucla where the caravan parks kitchen provided my accomodation for a night of recovery (I paid for a tent site however the wind, rain and limestone ground were not appealing for my tent nor its pegs). Here I was looked after by fellow campers and was already feeling a little better. By morning the winds had turned and a tailwind was a temptation to leave before my body was ready. I forced patience by placing my camera batteries and ipod on charge as always when a power point is seen. Soon I was packed and ready to leave. As I returned to collect my freshly charged belongings they weren't there. I asked the nearby cleaner whether she had collected them. She hadn't. I realised a camper must have thought someone left them behind and handed them into reception. I tried reception. No luck. I tried the motel reception. Nope. My ipod, charger, camera batteries, cd's, headphones, sunscreen, pliers and long since washed underpants had all been stolen. A frustrating experience to say the least. I had been rewarded so often throughout this trip for my trust I placed in towns and with people. So many ill-informed warnings I had received only to ignore-here however, where no warning had been issued by any camper it happened. I knew one experience could change your opinion of a place and so I held nothing against Eucla, knowing that it was bound to be a traveller now in possesion. I just hope they like the music (and my cards that say the cause for which I'm riding...guilt? Probably not). An early start and my hope of acheiving a 200km day were obviously delayed but I rode on with the tailwind towards the border. South Australia was to change everything. The bunda cliffs began, providing among the most stunning scenery of the trip. With gates over closed, 'dangerous' lookouts the bicycle rolls around them and into the most overwhelming landscape and seascape I have witnessed. A campsite at what is normally the most popular lookout was all for myself as I watched the sunset below a landscape that dropped 90meters into azure oceans. A lot can change in 4hours. As I looked out upon the ocean that commonly hosts migrating whales I pity those who stole my things. To act upon beautiful, innocent instinct as such animals do would be glorious. But our minds are polluted by thoughts that shouldn't be our own. Thoughts that no one should own.
The next day the tailwind remained for the morning when I left the cliffs behind to ride onto the Nullarbor Roadhouse and the true Nullarbor by lunch. Here I was approached by a lady. 'I have to take a photo of you...you're memorable' she said of my state and sandwich. This was Lucinda, a lovely Canberrian who spends 6 months of every year travelling this large land. A block of chocolate and a stack of fruit otherwise soon to be declared from her later and we were both on our way...same direction-90km/hr difference. As I pulled out of the Roadhouse I announced to a 5km/hr travelling (or more waiting) 'oversize pilot' car that he was the first car I had overtaken in nearly 14000kms! He felt privaleged, soon blasting his horn for kms as he re-overtook me. An hour or so later...having not seen a car or a tree for a long time I was overtaken. Not a car, caravan or roadtrain but a Bentley limousine. Don't ask, for I don't know either. By that evening the Nullarbor felt it was coming to an end as I returned to woodlands. The hills began again and soon the woods were cleared to make way for endless fields of wheat I hadn't expected to see until beyond Ceduna. The marchflies that had been so common across the Nullarbor were now back to normal flies. As I tried to spread honey on bread for lunch flies were caught with each spread of the knife. A towel over the head was the only way to stay sane...or to keep the little that had remained. As the headwinds became near unbearable again I couldn't help but blame our unnatural desires to transport strange, excessively large objects upon the back of trucks for these walls of pain. What a uselessly empty swimming pool is being carted across the Nullarbor for is beyond me. The wheat radiated the warmest gold in the brilliance of the setting sun as the most beautiful birds flew beside me. Locusts diving towards my rims for a tone deaf musical death. With my arrival in Penong I saw a store! Cereal! Milk! Fruit! Bread! Wait...Wholemeal bread! The new owner of the shop told how he was longing for a ridiculously hot day just to prove to himself, or maybe fulfill his dream of wearing shorts, singlet and thongs to work. His wheatchange, it seems had paid off. That and the fact his car was still going, despite the odometer reading 790,000kms. I rode on for Ceduna, the headwinds growing stronger still as the coast returned. They made the rewarding destination of Ceduna just seem further from the east coast. A boy asked me where I was headed. 'Sydney' I said. 'Woah' he muttered. To him Sydney seemed an eternity away. To me it seemed like two. A good chocolate and icecream fest later and it was off into scenery I was told 'out bores the Nullarbor'. I disagree whole heartedly (maybe the dying winds have something to do with this) for every colour the wheat held was beautiful. The sense of deja vu increased with each town along the stretch from Ceduna to 'Port Agutta' as some call it (Augusta for us tourists). A railway line on the left, a silo between the hwy and town and one shop within the town filled with incredibly friendly and helpful people. The heat began to pick up over the next few days as I headed into the Adelaide heatwave. I didn't need to worry though, if I was not feeling the 40 degree heat people were sure to remind me how positive they were that they would never be riding today. Maybe a rest day would have been a good idea if the heat wasn't predicted to climb over the next week. Resting in the middle of the day at a rest area I met 2 truck drivers. They would travel 'a cool 7000-8000kms per week'. Not cool. Not great for the faith a cyclist tries to place in them. Not human. Despite my best efforts hydration became a real battle. It was impossible to stay on top of. It was at this stage I noticed my sunscreen had been stolen. I baked. As I neared Iron knob the scenery returned to Nullarbor treelessness. A flat trailer tyre, not enough water to check it, no shade and four billion flies for company had me trying to fix it. Then my pump broke. The trailer was pulled apart to find my spare, my skin burning. Eventually the tyre was fixed and I rode on into my momentum's breeze and into the evening as the stunning flinders ranges silhoutted against the horizon. Come morning it was the usual process. Let down sleep mat to encourage the getting up process. Pack up sleeping bag. Roll up sleep mat. Put on shorts. Scorpion in shorts. AH! Fortunately it was seen before pulling them on...otherwise my scarring saddle sores might have an unwanted edition. Port Augusta was next and chatting to the locals...first I had to provide the reasoning for why I had just purchased a dozen donuts for $1.30 and only then could I talk about the reasons for my ride. It all worked out that temperatures casually in excess of 40degrees and donuts create a horrible ridingg experience. On the way out of town I met a cyclist headed in the opposite direction however it was another conversation cut short by the attention seeking swarms of flies. The names of 'Port' towns always tempted for a swim and Port Germain won...I pulled off the hwy and headed the 5kms in. As I stopped for a cold drink on my way through to the beach I was informed of a recent shark and that the tide might be out. My 'no worries' reply to the tide was soon found to be a silly thing to say. An incredibly unsmooth ride down Australia's longest wooden jetty later and I reached the water. A beautifully warm swim revived my body for the couple of days to Adelaide. Interesting vision-a 3 wheeled bike and trailer performing a U-turn on a 2 metre wide jetty with the ocean below. It was then on into the middle of the heatwave until a couple of days later and Adelaide was within sight. Closer to my sight however was Richard, who had pulled over to offer ice cold water, and even the drinkbottle it came in. A fellow cyclist he knew the satisfaction it would bring and soon I was back on the bike and riding into the evening. The ride into Adelaide city was by far the most picturesque entry into a city of the trip. Maybe it was the parks, most likely the down hill. After a few hours walking the city streets it was time to head to Henley Beach. A 'trendy' area of Adelaide I was told and it had become so with good reason. Beautiful beaches of clear blue water with a jettys stretching out, one per suburb. Here I was reintroduced to the scarcely missed modified car. I have a new fascination with these. They must be so fixed to impress 15 year old boys who are yet to be able to have a car. For if anyone else thought it looked, or sounded so fantastic then they would own one themselves. However, those who already own one so modified do not stare with an impressed expression, they stare to compare and as a result comment on how theirs is better, resulting in being less impressed than those who don't own one and as a result don't care. It's a shame that the blocks they should be lapping have a 40km/hr speed limit in the most efficient ego boosting hours. Anyway after a much needed swim it was off to the Miller's! Here, where I hoped for the luxury of some grass instead of dust and thorns I was sent to sleep out the back. Sound bad? One would think so until one realises he has his own double bed with ensuite, kitchen and musical instruments! Oh, not to mention the airconditioner during one of Adelaide's record heat waves. Then you unpack before heading to the beach for a swim and fish and chips as the sun sets over the ocean. I bribed some weather reporters to say the heat wave was to continue and as a result my stay extended until finally I could bribe no more and decided to leave Ian, Helen and Edwards company on the last day of the heatwave. Having met up with cousin Meg in some of her final days in Adelaide, and her being a bike rider, I was a little worried over the look she gave me when I asked about the climb out of Adelaide...I shouldn't have asked, after all I could see it over her shoulder. I left before light loaded up with water but a tent lighter (Meg kindly drove it back to Melbourne) and by dawn had reached the bottom of the climb. As far as cycling goes though it could not be better. Not once do you ride on the road, the hwy is forbidden so a cycle path takes you up the hill until the hwy starts to curve down. That's where you keep riding up as the hwy disappears down. On the way to eagle-on-the-hill I saw the best wildlife of my trip. Onto the path in front me had walked a koala, baby clinging to it's back. It casually/gingerly walked on and off the road. (I have a video however with my cable having been stolen in that bag I can't put it on the computer just yet.) At the top of the hill a gathering of cyclists recovered. It was suggestion I couldn't ignore. A cyclist pulled up and asked where I was headed. 'Melbourne's next' I replied. 'You're not by any chance the guy riding around Australia are you?' 'That would be I'. This was Marty. It turned out Richard had emailed quite a few people my blog address, Marty being one. Marty and Richard had ridden together in Cycle For Sam, a charity ride in memory of Marty's son Sam a few years previously.
http://www.cycle4sam.com/
I suggest you have a read about this journey of a family that has discovered that life is about appreciating the moments you have.
Small world. It was then through the confusing turns of the stunningly beautiful, and thankfully shaded Adelaide hills. Before the true heat of the day I reached Mt Barker where I met Mick who shouted me to a bag filled with all the fruit I couldn't afford. Cherries, grapes, peaches, apricots etc! The following hills were made that bit easier however the heat didn't relent. Sweat dripped freely and eyes stung. Near the end of the day another out of place car as a stretch hummer performed a lap of a rest area. I then continued on until the evening, the scenery having changed so much throughout the day it could well have been a week. The next morning as I picked a rock out of my trailer it moved. Oops...spider. Into Victoria and the emergency lane improved in width and smoothness and I averaged over 170kms per day through the towns of beautiful goldrush era buildings of Horsham and Ararat and then eventually Ballarat! Being 10hours earlier than I said I was lucky to find anyone there but fortunately Aunty Jenny and Olivia had not yet left for Funbugs while Abbie was having her gromits done. So I enjoyed such luxuries as a shower and a stocked pantry before I became just as keen for Funbugs as Olivia. Soon we arrived and the chaos of a factory converted into a children's play equipment area consumed us...fortunately such reliefs as being shouted a slice and a milkshake allowed me time to actually be able to realise that this was the same day that started with a sleep mat, sleeping bag and a bike. Society doesn't take long to soak in when it's what has constructed you. Bronwyn and Blake kept us updated on Abbie's operation which was all going smoothly so we headed to eat some more with a beautiful lunch where Olivia ordered what she soon didn't feel like. I had to promise to Aunty Jenny I didn't force her to order it as I cleared her plate. It was then back to the house where unfortunately Abbie felt rather awful being sensitive to the morphine from the operation. Olivia offered the support of stroking her head while stating 'She's still my sister.' This soon turned into squirting water into her mouth (in all good intention) which soon had an adverse effect which led to Olivia having to re-state 'She's still my sister.' The next morning it was an early leave, headed for Ballan to meet Uncle Will, some cycling company until Melbourne! As I left the Peck's house that morning and the multiple offers i had received to be shouted a new pair of shorts the previous day I rose out of my seat with confidence for the day at the first roundabout to the great ripping sound of a pair of shorts beyond their last legs, let alone mine. Melbourne would just have to welcome me in derelict state. A suprising on time arrival by myself at Ballan and Uncle Will and I set off! The company was great as the kms flew by. To home it was to be 140km day...a target I thought reachable by that night. Without a break the kms kept flying and by mid morning found myself riding over a hill to the surreal and long wished for view of a distant melbourne skyline. We powered on with a slight tailwind and more downhill than up run. The city gave me the perfect chaotic welcome return to society with fire engines, ambulance and police sirens coming from every direction. I knew there was still 4 or 5 days riding beyond Melbourne but this was long hoped for. The signage grew more familiar at a rate at which my minds acceptance couldn't keep up. Melbourne, S.E. Suburbs, Burnley Tunnel, Chadstone, Ferntree Gully Road and I was back. Riding down the street I left more than 5 months previous. I knew before I took the last turn nothing had changed. I knew this from Cairns. I knew it from Darwin, Broome, Perth and Adelaide. But I didn't want it to have. This was comfort. This is comfort. Knowing. It has it's beauty. I will grow tired again, but for now this holds everything I need.
A planned leave 2 days later was abandoned when at 2am the night of arriving, sickness swamped me in the form of gastro. Not pleasant. The recovery process led to over a week before I could leave. Welcome home said Melbourne.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
