The Cycling Adventurer

   Perth-Adelaide 1997

Day 14   

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Unpleasant for more reasons than roadkill

Today was singularly unpleasant. It started with a thunderstorm that brought a short, sharp shower with huge drops of water. I did not need it as I was just breaking camp, and I packed away a wet tent.

Worse, however, was that the sandy soil became a red-brown paint that coated everything. The thunderstorm passed and left behind a headwind. I was on the road just after 7.30am. I was delayed slightly when I had to move the rear mudguard away from rubbing on the wheel.

The headwinds started as a zephyr but increased to about 20km/h, or gale strength in cycling terms. The distance I covered today was good considering the conditions, but I have slightly strained my left quadricep. The wind was cold and despite the sunshine, I didn't feel comfortable all day. My trackpants and windcheater would have made me too hot.

I finished riding at 5.15pm when I found a camp site a few hundred metres after the start of the 90-Mile Straight, the longest stretch of straight road in Australia. I passed a rest area earlier, but after investigating, gave up on it because of the disgusting rubbish around it, including a half-burnt double-bed mattress.

The spot I chose is about 200 metres further along the road near a clump of trees around a roadside clearing. I have gone in another 50 metres where there is a clear patch of ground. I put up the tent so it is sheltered from the wind, and built another fire. There is no shortage of tinder-dry wood and anyone given the old scout test of lighting a fire with just one match would have no trouble to pass it out here.

A fire provides a sort of security, a friendly warm glow to supplement the torch. I have eaten three tomato sandwiches and some instant chicken and corn pasta, and had two cans of beer. I am now having coffee. I am feeling comfortable at last. The soft, sandy ground at least allows me to make a hip-hole with a few scrapes of my shoe.

The roadtrains are becoming tedious. One late in the day almost brought me to a standstill as its wind-wash created a virtual brick wall in front of me. Generally, the other road users has been very good to me. The occupants of just about every car going in the opposite direction have given me a wave, the occasional truck overtaking me has given a friendly hoot of the horn, especially if the driver has seen me before, and most of the truckies heading west have responded to my waves. The danger cars, those that pass me with only a metre to spare despite a clear road ahead and other lane, seem to be Victorians in Ford Falcons and Holden Commodores... and none has been towing a caravan.

Of course, the dust clouds from the trucks meant I really looked forward to a shower when I arrived in Balladonia. Far from what I expected, the service station is basic and annexed to a motel that appears from the outside to be of a good standard, with a cafe at the front. The man in charge of the service station, Max, saw that I was a cyclist and gave me a $2.50 discoount on his $2.50 showers. Thanks Max!

I restocked my water and started to realise that out here, water is a commodity like gold. Despite good rains this past winter, everyone remains cautious about having enough water to last until the next big rains. The large, comparatively new dam I saw on the way into the settlement indicated how long the wait could be.

The service station had a very basic caravan park attached to it, but because the time was only 1.40pm, I chose to press on towards Caiguna. I called home and left a message on my parents' answering machine to allay any concerns they may have had about me camping out last night.

Max mentioned that the original Balladonia homestead about 30km down the road might be worth an inspection because of the owners' collection of art. He said he would call ahead to let them know I was on the way. When I went to leave, he still had not made the call, and I suspect that he forgot because the service station was suddenly swamped by business from the highway.

The house appeared to be deserted when I rode past; the gate to the property was securely padlocked. I did see someone in blue track clothes walking in the bush about 100 metres off the road and about 500 metres further on from the gate, and a woman went past me in a utility, then came back again in the opposite direction. I concluded they were the owners out on an inspection of the property.

This is cattle-grazing country. I crossed three grids across the highway near the homestead, although each had been filled in and overlayed with a sheet of bitumen that was now itself corrugated. These were not a great experience for my backside that undoubtedly is a red and angry location after a day of pressing back into the seat as I pedalled against the headwind and negotiated the rough road surface.

I stopped to take a picture of my bike under the sign marking the start of the 90-Mile Straight. I tried to set up another delayed exposure shot, but the sun was at an elevation where it reflected directly on the sign and back into the camera, obliterating what was written. So, I stood up and took the shot. After all, the bike is readily identifiable as mine.

I also did not want to hang around too long because the smell from the roadkill kangaroo across the road was overpowering. Since Balladonia, the roadkills have increased substantially.

The start of the 90-Mile Straight, the longest stretch of straight road in Australia.

Quite a few were emus, particularly early in the day, but the main victims were kangaroos. I counted three black snakes of various sizes up to 1.5 metres, a couple of birds and a few skinks among the carnage. There is not much left of a kangaroo after it has been run over for the umpteenth time. Just a battered skin, some bones to bleach white on the side of the road, and the inevitable stench of rotting death.

The countryside has changed, too. The mallee has started to disappear, to be replaced by plains of saltbush. Stands of mallee and spindly gums occur from time to time. If I am moving on to the plains, the daily grind should become easier. If the wind had not been on the nose today, I think I could have easily covered 150km. I still encountered plenty of hills that compounded the headwinds. Even in the first hour, though, I was astray of the 20km/h average by only 0.8km/h. Longevity was the name of today's game rather than speed, and I eased back the averages, especially after I stocked up on water supplies at Balldonia and added to the rig's weight.

I am still able to pick up the Esperance commercial radio staton. The clue that reception might be possible came with a sign for westbound traffic that indicated the frequency for the station, 6SE.

Having started the day with a thunderstorm, I thought I might have finished with one. I saw several flahes in the north-east sky this evening. But they eventually disappeared. The wind also has eased, and I hope it can stay this way tomorrow, or turn into a tailwind. It is just after 8.00pm, and I am feeling very tired. I am turning in for the night.

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