Tour Journal page 3

The Race Is On

27 February/04

Hello everyone! A quick note to let y'all know that I'm fine and healthy and happy.

I'm currently in Lakes Entrance, Victoria, a beautiful, but touristy, locale on the ocean close to the Victoria/New South Wales border. A number of lakes surround the town with a backdrop of forested hills. Nice place to spend a few days, if I had a few days to spare. But I don't.

I've been hauling ass over the past three weeks. Time is tight. I fly out of Brisbane on 21 March, and I currently have over 1700km to ride from here. That's 1700km in 23 days. I hope I have time to stop in Sydney. I had to bypass Melbourne. I'll see it on the next trip to Australia.

Let's see...After leaving Cowell, SA, the heat rose to over 40C for days on end. Very hot going thru Port Augusta and south to Adelaide. I was in Adelaide for one day. Then rode thru the Adelaide Hills (tough riding) to the town of Murray Bridge on the Murray River, Australia's longest river. It was here that I sent the BOB trailer back to Canada. My loving partner, the sweet and very cute Sara, had posted my front panniers and front rack to a hotel in Murray Bridge. The swap complete, the load lightened (somewhat), I rode into a 45C day and rattled off 136km!!

From Adelaide I rode south to Mt. Gambier, then over the border into Victoria and onto the Great Ocean Road. What a spectacular ride!! By far the loveliest road I've ever been on. Mind you, it was a twisty, hilly affair, but the sweeping, jaw-dropping views around each corner made up for the effort.

Next it was a bypass of Melbourne via a 40 minute ferry ride from Queenscliffe (south of Geelong) to Sorrento. Then I took back roads to Drouin where I rejoined the Princes Hwy.

It has been non-stop riding for almost the whole trip. I can only remember one rest day, in Denmark, WA, and even then I still rode 14km that day. It's been a tough slog across this big country. Other than the first week in Perth, I have not paid for accommodation during this trip. Except for the two nights that I spent in the Ranger's shed at Steep Point, and the one night I stayed at Colin Dymond’s house in Geraldton, I have been sleeping in my tent. 79 days in the tent, sleeping by the highway side, waking at 5:00am to ride yet another day. The lack of showers and hot water and luxuries are grinding me down. (Or are they toughening me up?)

So, the final race is on. The last challenge lies ahead. I have a self-imposed deadline and I am determined to meet it. I said to myself when I was planning this trip that 16 weeks would be enough time to complete a cross-continental journey of Australia. I will hold true to that statement. Fear is my stop sign. I hold no fear and I will not be stopped...

Well, I hope all is well in the place you call home, wherever that may be.

Keep checking back in the coming three weeks for updates as I close in on the goal: Cape Byron, the most easterly point on this big, brown land.

Love to you all.

Trip distance to date: 6718km

Pictures shown at right (top to bottom) include:

Morning Moon, Junction of Eyre and Lincoln Highways, SA
Manicured Cross, United Church, Crystal Brook, SA
Church, Adelaide, SA
Downtown Adelaide, SA
Doves, Adelaide, SA
Koala, Adelaide Hills, SA
Sunset, Near Murray Bridge, SA
Wellington Road Sign, Wellington, SA
Historic Building, Riddoch Highway, SA
Rod, Welcome To Victoria Sign, SA - Victoria Border
Another Broken Tent Pole, Tower Hill, Near Warrnambool, Victoria
Bay of Islands, Near Peterborough, Victoria
Bay of Martyrs, Near Peterborough, Victoria
The Grotto, Near Peterborough, Victoria
London Bridge, Near Peterborough, Victoria
The Arch, Near Port Campbell, Victoria
Lord Ard Gorge, Near Port Campbell, Victoria
The Island Archway at Lord Ard Gorge, Near Port Campbell, Victoria
Twelve Apostles, Near Princetown, Victoria
Rod at Maits Rest Walk, Otway National Park, Victoria
Rolling Green, Near Marengo, Victoria
Large Waves, Apollo Bay, Victoria
Submerged Rocks, Apollo Bay, Victoria
The Great Ocean Road, Victoria
Cockatoos, Aireys Inlet, Victoria

The First-Gear Coast

1 March/04

Hello ya'll!

I'm currently in Bega, New South Wales, a lovely place of rolling, green hills and shadowy, distant mountains. I am here only to write this blog and to grab some food and water. Then it's back to the grind of the highway.

I have come through some very hilly terrain full of rainforests and windstorms. Challenging riding. Towns ridden through: Nowa Nowa, Orborst, Cann River. Entering and leaving Eden is a hellish affair by bike. Crazy hills on both ends of town. I saw a semi-truck come to a complete stop ahead of me on the north hill. He had to gear down and use his brakes in order to not roll backward. I waited in the safety of the ditch while he got himself back on track.

Pambula and Merimbula are both located in fine coastal lushness. Unfortunately, the former is a full-on holiday town, so I split the scene in a hurry. Unfortunately for me, I also split my time this morning fixing two flat tires, bringing the grand total of flat tires to 14, an average of one per week! Add to that the fact that the left side of my front pannier rack has cracked and broken off at the place where it connects to the end of the fork. I discovered this little annoyance only 10 days after I made the switch from the trailer to the panniers. Hose clamps and duct tape are holding this trip together.

Okay, I will now attempt to smile (nice try), and get back on the road. At least it's not snowing!!

Trip distance to date: 7024km

Pictures shown at right (top to bottom) include:

Welcome To New South Wales Road Sign, NSW
Distance Sign, NSW
Towamba River, Near Eden, NSW
Lake Tabourie, NSW
Another Broken Tent Pole, Near Nowra, NSW

Bites, Burns, and Gorgeous Views

12 March/04 (Pt.1)

I am currently in Nambucca Heads. It's a beautiful sight to look out on the brilliant blue waters as the Nambucca River flows into the ocean. The town is located above the liquid action below, affording a stunning view. And, it happens to be sunny today as well!! I've seen a lot of rain lately, including some constant downpouring in Sydney. A tropical storm rolled ashore in northern Queensland, and Sydney got the tail end of it. All of my gear got soaked, including both the still digital camera and the digital video camera. Neither are working properly. So it goes. I hope the video cam dries out before Byron Bay. I want to get some footage of the endpoint of the trip.

Consider this just a little note to let y'all know where I am. I will go into details of the past two weeks at a later date.

I am approximately 350km from Byron Bay/Cape Byron, the most easterly point in Australia. I plan to arrive there on Monday 15 March. If I have time I will ride to Brisbane. If time is tight I will go to Brisbane by bus, and take the bike as luggage. Either way, the trip is almost over!!!

I feel good. I'm warm, dry, and healthy. The bike, on the other hand, is coming apart. The chain broke yesterday. Shifting is now a little stiff; a few less links in the chain. The grand total for flats is now 21. I'm getting sick of changing the rear tire. I had two flats the day I left Sydney, then none the next day, then two more the day after that. My patience is running low. But, everyday is a new day, a clean slate, and I continue to make the best of it. "Fix it and move on."

That's it for now. Moving forward...always forward.

Trip distance to date: 7970km

12 March/04 (Pt. 2)

Thirty minutes after sending that previous blog from Nambucca Heads, a fierce flank of storm clouds rolled over the town, split open their bellies, and let loose an unwelcome deluge of Biblical proportions. Bye-bye blue sky.

I stood under the café’s awning cursing the (now) marred day and rubbed the red swollen spider bite on my right hand. Having no desire to venture out into this latest torrent, I made my way to the nearest chemist (pharmacist) for some arachnid-afflicted advice.

Emerging ten minutes later, clutching my newly prescribed tube full of hydrocortisone cream, and nursing an empty reservoir of precipitation-patience, I donned my Gore-Tex cycling suit, cursed the rain again, and set off into the anti-drought.

Upon arriving in the small town of Urunga, 21km north of Nambucca Heads, the sun decided it was going to make a fiery return and proceeded to turn the place into a sauna. I peeled off the Gore-Tex suit and slumped against the wall of a closed petrol station. The highway was littered with tourist vehicles on their way to their dry motel rooms, and I sat, soaked and tired, cursing each one of their passing cars. As the bitumen dried, I found a tap to fill my water bottles. I straddled the saddle again and made off to find a place to camp.

It was another sticky night in the tent. All my cycling clothes were soaked with no chance of drying. In the morning I would have to slide into them again, just as I had for the past week. The thought of it gave me a headache.

The sky went black again and threatened to unleash another downpour. Taking no chances, I scrambled out and secured the rain fly on the tent. Then it was time to cook dinner.

Now, cooking dinner in a tent in 25C heat and 100% humidity is no fun. As if sweating out enough body fluid to fill a child’s play-pool during one day of cycling wasn’t enough, I thought I might just sweat out a bit more. I reclined back onto my slick sleeping bag and waited for the water to boil. I’m not sure who was more cooked in the end, me or the pasta. Who would think that preparing a dinner of canned baked beans and pasta could damn near kill a person? When you’re as exhausted as I was, anything is possible.

As I laid naked that night, listening to a million mosquitos serenading me to sleep, a tinge of sadness shivered through me. I realized then that the trip would soon be over. Everything I had worked so hard to achieve was now history. No more would I see large black parrots soaring in slow motion above my head as I cycled through their rainforest home. No more would I hear the nightly laughter of the kookaburra or the morning screech of a pink galah. Soon I would be returning to Vancouver. Returning to routine. Returning to the mundanity of a work-a-day world.

A day that had begun with me fixing a flat tire ended with me wiping a tear from my eye.

Trip distance to date: 7970km

13 March/04

Well, my tears must’ve drowned the alarm clock.

I snapped awake, bolting upright, wide-eyed and sweating. The sleeping bag came up with me, stuck to my back. I reached for the little black clock. Dead.

“Shit.” I muttered.

Daylight was everywhere, but how long had it been light out? I guessed it to be around 7:00am.

Sometime during sweatfest, (sorry, I mean breakfast) the clock started working again. I finished my meal of rolled oats, nuts, and spirulina, packed up the gear in a cloud of mosquitos, and left camp at “9:15am”.

I checked the time at a grocery store in Coffs Harbour (20km north) and surprisingly, the clock was dead-on. (I guess it needed some sleep too.)

I ate lunch in the shade of an Evangelical church and pondered the idea of asking Jesus for some help. Guessing that He might be preoccupied with the situation in Iraq, I decided to put off the prayer and go back to riding.

Coffs Harbour was a myriad of malls and mad motorists. In contrast to the glitzy playground of the “Gold Coast” to the north, the region around Coffs Harbour is known as the “Banana Coast”. Banana plantations abound. It’s possible to go from fruit to fantasy in the space of a few hundred kilometers. A quick trip to the “Banana Coast Credit Union” will ensure that you will have all the funds necessary to live out your wildest dreams.

Not to be out-done by the overhyped, Disney-stylings of its northerly neighbour, Surfers Paradise, Coffs Harbour has its own “Big Banana”, a sight so inane it was once voted “Australia’s silliest attraction” by a travellers’ poll. Fronted with a huge banana, the place boasts an ice-skating rink, a toboggan ride, and a mini-railway that runs through the plantation and theme park.

I couldn’t get out of town soon enough.

A string of beaches with names like Emerald and Sapphire lie 6km north of Coffs Harbour. By 1:00pm the temperature had soared over 30C again and I badly needed to cool my body off. These gems sounded too inviting to turn away from.

I turned off the highway at Woolgoolga and was surprised to see the impressive Guru Nanak Temple, a place of worship for the local Sikh community. Also in town was another Indian-style temple, the Raj Mahal, complete with two huge elephant statues out front. I’ll take swords and elephants over bananas and ice rinks any day!

But wait, I went there to swim. And swim I did. There’s nothing like a refreshing plunge in the ocean to put a smile back on your face. I stayed at the beach for two hours, amusing myself in the waves. Small children were having less fun than I was. I dried in the sun while watching the flea market venders pack up their wares.

Following a quick trip to the grocery store for some orange juice and a chocolate bar, I was back on the bike and heading north.

At Corindi Beach the highway turned inland. Immediately the road started to switchback. Although I knew that anytime one ventures away from the coast they immediately encounter the coastal ranges, it still came as a surprise to me to be climbing. In no time I was up to an elevation of 110m, sweating all the while. And what would the day be like without a good thunderstorm? As George Dubya would say, "Bring it on!" I was drenched in sweat anyway.

In a virtual repeat of the day before, the grey and black clouds swallowed the sun, threw down a few bolts of lightning, and commenced to pour down feral cats and dingoes. I barely had enough time to put on my (still) wet Gore-Tex raingear. Grumbling to myself as sheets of rain made visibility difficult, I pushed on through to the servo (service station) at Halfway Creek.

Halfway Creek was now a full-time river. I took a long break, walking around under the awning at the servo, my shoes squishing and squeaking. The rain didn’t let up a bit. After half an hour I struck out again. It was still 25C outside and I was starting to smell like an ice hockey player in June, if you get my drift.

At 5:30pm the daylight started to fade. Riding on the highway was becoming too dangerous. I still had 20km to go to reach the town of Grafton. Cars raced by, their headlights reflecting in the curtain of falling water. I was keeping a watchful eye out for a place to camp but everything was covered in water. It seemed like the ground itself was moving in all directions. Any higher ground I found was either sloped or inaccessible.

At 5:50pm I had had enough. Jesus Christ was nowhere to been seen, even though I yelled out His name countless times. I came upon a highway operations gravel dumpsite. I rode in to investigate. The site was flat, but completely water-covered. Then I spied a barbed-wire fence atop a small rise at the back of the site. One of the fence posts had been torn down. On the other side of the fence was a flat spot to camp. Overall, it was pretty grim, but it was the best that I was going to get. I lugged the bike and gear onto the private property and set up the tent. If there were a million mosquitos at the previous night’s camp, then there were two million at this one! Their incessant buzz continued all night long.

Trip distance to date: 8061km

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