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.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
To view something as a whole is to see it for its beauty. To change something, it can not be viewed the same. It must be broken down. From the ugly to the man-made flaws, they must be exposed and understood, then will they become vulnerable to change. If something is not simple it simply hasn't been broken down enough. Complexities only exist in the minds of those who want change yet view from a distance that is seemingly comfortable and safe but unknowingly uneducated. Complexities only spread to solutions when the tongues attached speak with uneducated haste. As those complexities rise slowly like a wave they eventually tumble with the faith of those who once believed in the removal of these flaws scattered upon beauty.
Now in Adelaide in the middle of a heat wave the cold, damp nights beyond Coral Bay, upon recollection gather as a not-so-distant memory that is hard to revisit. As I passed below the 'Tropic of Capricorn' the trip began to develop a rounded feel. Rejoining Hwy 1 I soon rediscovered the company of Matthias and Doris who were travelling slower due to Matthias' cold. A catch up and the second goodbye soon turned into a third as my rear tyre decided it was time to join the shredded truck tyres beside the highway. Following the road south the return of crops and the a store with fresh fruit towards Carnarvon was the most welcome of sights. To find out beyond Carnarvon that there was no drinking water until Geraldton was not the most comforting of news. The headwinds continued and I tried to look to the future. The light at the end of an arid tunnel. In one month I saw the Nullarbor-little consolation. Everyday I found myself dreaming of destinations. The journey had lost its place outside weary sunsets. The eternal longing of a cyclist for what is beyond reach had settled where I had wished it wouldn't (or maybe I am no cyclist if I was to think this). I had lost the sound of productive thought amongst the sound of headwinds and roadtrains. Car horns in this sparse land just sound like depression laced with unreleased violence. Car horns in city traffic sound like unnecessary frustration which sound like home. I needed something on my mind, just not this. When on such deserted roads the purpose of the trip was to fade and I was joining dots. The world moved by at 20km/hr, the things that suggested nothing had changed beyond the desert borders at 110km/hr. Headwinds became near unbearable and as I passed under the sign marking my leaving of the 26th parallel I though I was to be happy to be leaving the North for good. Progress. But all this graffitied sign meant to me was another average lunch. By Overlander Roadhouse the huge amount of goats beside the road (yes, the rare LIVE animal) were becoming out populated by sheep (no don't think green pastures-desert, dust, stunted trees, thorns and shrubs. Certainly not farmed for their wool now stained and littered with all). Another roadhouse, another loaf of frozen white bread. The truck drivers 'won't eat anything else'. For me this knowledge, along with the memory of a truckie starting to yell over no water to wash his face totally shattered the 'hardened aussie male' image associated with these men behind large, deadly bullbars and grills. I couldn't help but imagine whispered requests for removed crusts and little triangles. More roadhouses and with more water refused I went on the search for caravans and fotunately found some with spare. Denying myself a caramel slice was a silly idea and soon led to craving through passive addiction. Watching a caravan taking out its door on a tree while searching for the best campsite of a very limited rest area kept my mind from the whistling in my ears. Towards the beautiful town of Northampton I was overtaken by a caravan with duct tape for hinges. Being one day late for the 'Airing of the Quilts' in Northampton which Andy, an English turned Aussie said was 'more English than English', it was also now a Sunday, turning the town of a grand old church and quaint shops into more a ghost town, with only the sound of a wet southerly to fill empty streets. Geraldton came and with it what should (hopefully) be the final welding job on bob the trailer. Leaving Geraldton the leaning trees of Greenough highlighted what I didn't need to know-'The constant strong southerly burns off growth on the southern side of the tree...' On the way to Perth the road slowly threaded through greener fields with bursts of wildflowers. Unfortunately the roads also grew narrower, busier and more dangerous, making scenery harder to view. At the information centre upon arriving in Perth I once again saw Wendy and Wayne, who have been travelling on a similar schedule since before Coral Bay. In this city with it's 'large town' feel I stayed in the old hospital which had been very well restored into a hostel. After 3 days of running between bike stores, shops and the kitchen it was time again to hit the road. With a 5pm departure leaving Perth and headwinds seeming to push the sun lower faster than kms were expected to pass I met Bill-an accountant riding home from work. With the sun sinking an offer of a spacious backyard was too good to pass up. With he and his wife Dianne unexpectedly sharing their dinner with me it made for an easy departing of the city! With the buildings growing smaller and further apart I headed south along the amazing bike path which leads 70kms out of the city...
Well I have made Adelaide, having survived the Nullarbor so now all that's left is one more 41 degree day and then cool change riding to Melbourne! (then will I worry about Goulburn) I shall update this fully from there but for now it's bedtime with a before light start tomorrow...Mt Barker awaits! Apologies for the lack of updates and thank you to all for their support and good wishes (especially across the Nullarbor). Stories to follow of more headwinds of course, climbing trees, more sickness, stolen goods, heatwaves and scorpions. I shall also post photos if not from melbourne, then definately Goulburn!
Now in Adelaide in the middle of a heat wave the cold, damp nights beyond Coral Bay, upon recollection gather as a not-so-distant memory that is hard to revisit. As I passed below the 'Tropic of Capricorn' the trip began to develop a rounded feel. Rejoining Hwy 1 I soon rediscovered the company of Matthias and Doris who were travelling slower due to Matthias' cold. A catch up and the second goodbye soon turned into a third as my rear tyre decided it was time to join the shredded truck tyres beside the highway. Following the road south the return of crops and the a store with fresh fruit towards Carnarvon was the most welcome of sights. To find out beyond Carnarvon that there was no drinking water until Geraldton was not the most comforting of news. The headwinds continued and I tried to look to the future. The light at the end of an arid tunnel. In one month I saw the Nullarbor-little consolation. Everyday I found myself dreaming of destinations. The journey had lost its place outside weary sunsets. The eternal longing of a cyclist for what is beyond reach had settled where I had wished it wouldn't (or maybe I am no cyclist if I was to think this). I had lost the sound of productive thought amongst the sound of headwinds and roadtrains. Car horns in this sparse land just sound like depression laced with unreleased violence. Car horns in city traffic sound like unnecessary frustration which sound like home. I needed something on my mind, just not this. When on such deserted roads the purpose of the trip was to fade and I was joining dots. The world moved by at 20km/hr, the things that suggested nothing had changed beyond the desert borders at 110km/hr. Headwinds became near unbearable and as I passed under the sign marking my leaving of the 26th parallel I though I was to be happy to be leaving the North for good. Progress. But all this graffitied sign meant to me was another average lunch. By Overlander Roadhouse the huge amount of goats beside the road (yes, the rare LIVE animal) were becoming out populated by sheep (no don't think green pastures-desert, dust, stunted trees, thorns and shrubs. Certainly not farmed for their wool now stained and littered with all). Another roadhouse, another loaf of frozen white bread. The truck drivers 'won't eat anything else'. For me this knowledge, along with the memory of a truckie starting to yell over no water to wash his face totally shattered the 'hardened aussie male' image associated with these men behind large, deadly bullbars and grills. I couldn't help but imagine whispered requests for removed crusts and little triangles. More roadhouses and with more water refused I went on the search for caravans and fotunately found some with spare. Denying myself a caramel slice was a silly idea and soon led to craving through passive addiction. Watching a caravan taking out its door on a tree while searching for the best campsite of a very limited rest area kept my mind from the whistling in my ears. Towards the beautiful town of Northampton I was overtaken by a caravan with duct tape for hinges. Being one day late for the 'Airing of the Quilts' in Northampton which Andy, an English turned Aussie said was 'more English than English', it was also now a Sunday, turning the town of a grand old church and quaint shops into more a ghost town, with only the sound of a wet southerly to fill empty streets. Geraldton came and with it what should (hopefully) be the final welding job on bob the trailer. Leaving Geraldton the leaning trees of Greenough highlighted what I didn't need to know-'The constant strong southerly burns off growth on the southern side of the tree...' On the way to Perth the road slowly threaded through greener fields with bursts of wildflowers. Unfortunately the roads also grew narrower, busier and more dangerous, making scenery harder to view. At the information centre upon arriving in Perth I once again saw Wendy and Wayne, who have been travelling on a similar schedule since before Coral Bay. In this city with it's 'large town' feel I stayed in the old hospital which had been very well restored into a hostel. After 3 days of running between bike stores, shops and the kitchen it was time again to hit the road. With a 5pm departure leaving Perth and headwinds seeming to push the sun lower faster than kms were expected to pass I met Bill-an accountant riding home from work. With the sun sinking an offer of a spacious backyard was too good to pass up. With he and his wife Dianne unexpectedly sharing their dinner with me it made for an easy departing of the city! With the buildings growing smaller and further apart I headed south along the amazing bike path which leads 70kms out of the city...
Well I have made Adelaide, having survived the Nullarbor so now all that's left is one more 41 degree day and then cool change riding to Melbourne! (then will I worry about Goulburn) I shall update this fully from there but for now it's bedtime with a before light start tomorrow...Mt Barker awaits! Apologies for the lack of updates and thank you to all for their support and good wishes (especially across the Nullarbor). Stories to follow of more headwinds of course, climbing trees, more sickness, stolen goods, heatwaves and scorpions. I shall also post photos if not from melbourne, then definately Goulburn!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Nearly two-thirds of the way through this ride and the end begins to feel within reach. I know it is where I want to be, but unsure for how long. As the scenery flattens to barren plains and the days headwinds persist I won't deny that the predictable is something to long for. However in the evenings, as the sun lowers to the right as a full moon rises to the left, there is nowhere else I would rather be. This is what I can be sure of, day to day. This is my predictable. As home draws nearer to my thoughts I think of what I will change. I think of what I'll remember. Does a trip like the truely give one new eyes permanently? I have photos to aid memory, but will I truely remember the beauty of the sun in Kakadu as it rises above a crocodile filled billabong before bright green floodplains which stretch until bordered by a sacred escarpment? Or having Jim Jim falls to myself as I tried to have the same respecis countries indigenous did for all they received? Will I be more accepting after the confusion as four inches of rain came down upon my head just outside Katherine where I didn't set up my tent as I was told it wouldn't rain until December? What of the overwhelming feeling of riding down into valleys of cliffs that fall away until caught by hills near Victoria River as the scenery grew more beautiful every metre into the Kimberleys? Will I change having known the generosity of the people on board a tour bus I met once at Victoria River then again at Turkey Creek? Will I have grown stronger in patience and will from crossing the border into W.A. in 44 degree heat with flies sticking to my face? There is everything to learn, but it takes more to change. I do however doubt there was much to be taken from the man towing a car and a dog with two camels he had very limited, well, let me be honest, no control over. "No Charlie, No!" He cried towards a camel transfixed on some flowers in the opposite direction. No words would have helped. The camel went, and with it took the other camel, a dog and a man full of useless orders. The Kimberleys breath hungry scenery of distant cliffs scattered with trees as soft, delicate shadows stole mine, but for moments only. Will it last beyond over exposed photos? The crocodiles are gone now, and Ravenshoe has long since been conquered. There are fears I now have, for such moments to have effect beyond short weeks of return.
Beyond the Kimberleys I arrived at Fitzroy Crossing to watch the preliminary final (afl). Here I met Meredith who is volunteering with the fantastic programs running within the community, and her daughter Emma. I was treated to lunch and a swim at the only pool in town! It is amazing to be in temperatures over 40degrees where no water restrictions apply as people casually hose cars, driveways, anything that doesn't move. The preliminary seemed to be decided by half time so my eyes claimed victory and I headed to bed. With headwinds that threatened to set fire to my skin I rode off the next morning with 23L of towns endless water supply from a river that flows with 8.25 million cubic meters annually which, at peak flood could fill Sydney harbour in 21hrs! I hope they didn't mind. That night I met a man who walked around Australia in 1948. I'm sure he'd have an incredible story, if only he could remember it! The next few days were spent growing tired of canned food, noodles and headwinds until...Broome! Here I spent many hours playing the German version of 'Uno' with Robert, Chris, Thomas (all German) and Katia (French). Explaining the game to Katia began with a certain amount of difficulty though. "It's 'Uno'" "You know what?" etc. etc. However within a few hours she had us playing the french version! The sunset over Cable Beach was more beautiful and rewarding than I could have ever hoped. After the Grand Final it was unfortunately time to leave and rediscover my own company. I left Broome and sickness hit, and hit hard. Barely halfway between the 600km ride to Port Hedland I could hardly ride anymore. Stitches, cramping and I struggled to hold any food down. A man who pulled up to see if I was ok turned out to be a commisioner of police and soon the local (by that I mean from an indigenous community within 100kms) police arrived and threw me in the back to Sandfire roadhouse. Here I was inspected by ambo Mick who gave me a check up and refused to let me ride to Port Hedland. The Royal Flying Doctor Service (no I didn't go in a plane) then had me in a curtosy bed for the night (with air con!) and the next morning was spent sourcing a life to Port Hedland. It seems I was hydrated enough but had sweated out all my sodium, potassium, magnesium etc. So it was off to P.H. in a caravan convoy where $35 for a tent site in the caravan park was sacraficed for another sprinkler soaked night in a town park. Headwinds out of town turned to crosswinds for a day (resulting in a sore arm from just keeping the bike straight) but then the tailwinds befan! Still not setting up my tent a spider bite was a little worrying at night, but I woke in the morning so that was ok. As I swam in the Robe River for a lunch break beyond Karratha two cyclists stopped on the bridge above. I didn't call out for fear of looking like a mad man and they soon rode on. Sure enough, a few kms down the road I caught them. They were Doris and Matthias, a German couple who spend their holiday time cycling between Australia and Namibia. We rode toether for the rest of the day which made the kms pass quickly though the scenery was quite well summed up by Doris with "only in Australia can you find so much of nothing!" The roads however were rather busy with mining cars and trucks (it must be company policy not to wave. After we departed company that evening the scenery began again and I camped amongst fields of spinifex as the full moon rose over distant mountains. The following evening Helen, an English backpacker stopped me with a present curtosy of Doris and Matthias...a cold bottle of soft drink! The ride to Coral Bay began with tailwinds then within 10kms had become crosswinds, then within 20, headwinds. Not your average headwind, but the worst I had ever ridden in. Out of the seat I battled with them for nearly 40kms until with 20 of Coral Bay. An early morning cruise into town awaited. However as I woke to a chilly morning with only a slight breeze in the air and packed up, before I even made it out of the field and onto the road, my trailer snapped for a third time! After the one hour cruise turned into a 3 hour, windy and rather cold wait (Do people really think I get up out of my seat, wave with two arms, point to my bike and then stick out my thumb as a way of saying hello? I would more likely be sending a coded message to UFO's saying I need a lift) I found my lift through a couple heading on a one day, 1300km trip home. (Almost all travellers I meet now are done with their holidays and rushing home, it's a strange way to finish such a relaxing time. Maybe we overstay our welcomes on holidays too). In Coral Bay it was off to find a welder. Fortunately I was put in contact with Bill-John and Albert (fixers of everything that goes wrong in the caravan park) who welded it up for free! After a snorkel amongst the beautiful coral and tropical fish I am as ready as I'll ever be for the road again. To learn, to discover, to teach, to suffer, to achieve...
As Helen had handed me the bottle of drink that evening she had said 'I will never complain again!' It would be easy for me to say I won't, that I have been tested to my limits. But limits are only discovered when exceeded, and maybe it is then that life isn't taken for granted permanently.
I will not forget what I have learnt of the problems within Australia, and my confidence in the solutions will only grow. It is everything else, unrelated, that I didn't expect from this trip. I know what there is to learn from all this, and I know what I plan to change, I just hope my new eyes do not forget or grow lazy upon return to a more sterile society.
Beyond the Kimberleys I arrived at Fitzroy Crossing to watch the preliminary final (afl). Here I met Meredith who is volunteering with the fantastic programs running within the community, and her daughter Emma. I was treated to lunch and a swim at the only pool in town! It is amazing to be in temperatures over 40degrees where no water restrictions apply as people casually hose cars, driveways, anything that doesn't move. The preliminary seemed to be decided by half time so my eyes claimed victory and I headed to bed. With headwinds that threatened to set fire to my skin I rode off the next morning with 23L of towns endless water supply from a river that flows with 8.25 million cubic meters annually which, at peak flood could fill Sydney harbour in 21hrs! I hope they didn't mind. That night I met a man who walked around Australia in 1948. I'm sure he'd have an incredible story, if only he could remember it! The next few days were spent growing tired of canned food, noodles and headwinds until...Broome! Here I spent many hours playing the German version of 'Uno' with Robert, Chris, Thomas (all German) and Katia (French). Explaining the game to Katia began with a certain amount of difficulty though. "It's 'Uno'" "You know what?" etc. etc. However within a few hours she had us playing the french version! The sunset over Cable Beach was more beautiful and rewarding than I could have ever hoped. After the Grand Final it was unfortunately time to leave and rediscover my own company. I left Broome and sickness hit, and hit hard. Barely halfway between the 600km ride to Port Hedland I could hardly ride anymore. Stitches, cramping and I struggled to hold any food down. A man who pulled up to see if I was ok turned out to be a commisioner of police and soon the local (by that I mean from an indigenous community within 100kms) police arrived and threw me in the back to Sandfire roadhouse. Here I was inspected by ambo Mick who gave me a check up and refused to let me ride to Port Hedland. The Royal Flying Doctor Service (no I didn't go in a plane) then had me in a curtosy bed for the night (with air con!) and the next morning was spent sourcing a life to Port Hedland. It seems I was hydrated enough but had sweated out all my sodium, potassium, magnesium etc. So it was off to P.H. in a caravan convoy where $35 for a tent site in the caravan park was sacraficed for another sprinkler soaked night in a town park. Headwinds out of town turned to crosswinds for a day (resulting in a sore arm from just keeping the bike straight) but then the tailwinds befan! Still not setting up my tent a spider bite was a little worrying at night, but I woke in the morning so that was ok. As I swam in the Robe River for a lunch break beyond Karratha two cyclists stopped on the bridge above. I didn't call out for fear of looking like a mad man and they soon rode on. Sure enough, a few kms down the road I caught them. They were Doris and Matthias, a German couple who spend their holiday time cycling between Australia and Namibia. We rode toether for the rest of the day which made the kms pass quickly though the scenery was quite well summed up by Doris with "only in Australia can you find so much of nothing!" The roads however were rather busy with mining cars and trucks (it must be company policy not to wave. After we departed company that evening the scenery began again and I camped amongst fields of spinifex as the full moon rose over distant mountains. The following evening Helen, an English backpacker stopped me with a present curtosy of Doris and Matthias...a cold bottle of soft drink! The ride to Coral Bay began with tailwinds then within 10kms had become crosswinds, then within 20, headwinds. Not your average headwind, but the worst I had ever ridden in. Out of the seat I battled with them for nearly 40kms until with 20 of Coral Bay. An early morning cruise into town awaited. However as I woke to a chilly morning with only a slight breeze in the air and packed up, before I even made it out of the field and onto the road, my trailer snapped for a third time! After the one hour cruise turned into a 3 hour, windy and rather cold wait (Do people really think I get up out of my seat, wave with two arms, point to my bike and then stick out my thumb as a way of saying hello? I would more likely be sending a coded message to UFO's saying I need a lift) I found my lift through a couple heading on a one day, 1300km trip home. (Almost all travellers I meet now are done with their holidays and rushing home, it's a strange way to finish such a relaxing time. Maybe we overstay our welcomes on holidays too). In Coral Bay it was off to find a welder. Fortunately I was put in contact with Bill-John and Albert (fixers of everything that goes wrong in the caravan park) who welded it up for free! After a snorkel amongst the beautiful coral and tropical fish I am as ready as I'll ever be for the road again. To learn, to discover, to teach, to suffer, to achieve...
As Helen had handed me the bottle of drink that evening she had said 'I will never complain again!' It would be easy for me to say I won't, that I have been tested to my limits. But limits are only discovered when exceeded, and maybe it is then that life isn't taken for granted permanently.
I will not forget what I have learnt of the problems within Australia, and my confidence in the solutions will only grow. It is everything else, unrelated, that I didn't expect from this trip. I know what there is to learn from all this, and I know what I plan to change, I just hope my new eyes do not forget or grow lazy upon return to a more sterile society.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Halfway/halfmad ponderings
Hello from Karratha! Thought I would post a short one to let all know that I'm still alive and pedalling. I am now well over halfway having covered over 9000kms. Just beyond Kunanurra I realised I was around halfway so thought I would write down some quick thoughts on travel, it may be interesting to compare to my thoughts when I return home.
Despite times (or weeks) of difficulty, frustration and exhaustion I am still of the opinion to yes, travel. But I would suggest to find the ones you love and travel. Not together, but let your paths intertwine like loosely plaited rope. The knowledge travel brings can then be shared between you, for it is the fellow traveler's ears who are open. What you believe of others stories and what you agree upon is of little consequence as there is still knowledge to be gathered from the vast plains of INFORMED opinion. As for mode of transport, to discover a place you must not fly. You must not drive, sail or even ride or walk. You must sit. For alone you will find time. In that time you will find silence, and in silence you will hear the whispers of all the truth, knowledge and beauty that the land holds. The whispers of all that's larger than our moments. But one will always return home surer of why they called it such.
Despite times (or weeks) of difficulty, frustration and exhaustion I am still of the opinion to yes, travel. But I would suggest to find the ones you love and travel. Not together, but let your paths intertwine like loosely plaited rope. The knowledge travel brings can then be shared between you, for it is the fellow traveler's ears who are open. What you believe of others stories and what you agree upon is of little consequence as there is still knowledge to be gathered from the vast plains of INFORMED opinion. As for mode of transport, to discover a place you must not fly. You must not drive, sail or even ride or walk. You must sit. For alone you will find time. In that time you will find silence, and in silence you will hear the whispers of all the truth, knowledge and beauty that the land holds. The whispers of all that's larger than our moments. But one will always return home surer of why they called it such.
Friday, September 4, 2009
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!
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!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
...
....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 ra
inforest.
A flat tyre for me and Andrew decided it was time to make a banana smoothie...this involved knives, for
ks 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 d
ay 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 cookie
s. As we sat waiting his return Karen and Bruce from the Marlborough petrol station walked past! A quick catch up on travels and G
uus 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.
inforest.
A flat tyre for me and Andrew decided it was time to make a banana smoothie...this involved knives, for
ks 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 d
ay 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 cookie
s. As we sat waiting his return Karen and Bruce from the Marlborough petrol station walked past! A quick catch up on travels and G
uus 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
