The Cycling Adventurer

   Perth-Adelaide 1997

Day 16   

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Kindred spirits walk into my life... and out again

This was a short day that I promised myself to let my legs and backside recover from the gruelling riding of the past six days. My body felt good this morning to the point where I covered 26km in the first hour!

The second hour, however, was interrupted when I stopped and talked to two walkers.

I slept quite well last night, a legacy of the long ride yesterday and a hot shower last night. I was woken early by the caravanners, and when I emerged from the tent, only three vans remained in the park. I overhead a woman say she and her husband were glad to be leaving Caiguna. They had been there for a week waiting for a spare part to repair their car's carburettor. The part was ordered from Kalgoorlie, and sent by post, but the package went to Perth first, then back via Kalgoorlie to finally arrive in Caiguna. Its journey was interrupted by a public holiday on Monday. The rough idle of the car's engine indicated the replacement part may not have been the only thing needed, but the owner gleefully drove it back from the roadhouse workshop into the caravan park. Nothing was going to stop this couple from leaving Caiguna!

I had a lazy start, and I methodically assembled everything, had yet another shower, and took down the tent. Everything seemed to go smoothly and even though I was deliberately slow, I was on the road and pedalling at 8.45am. A tailwind veered to the side about two-thirds of the way through the ride, but I pedalled along at a fair clip anyway. I sat up on the saddle for most of the day, and used the inner elbow rests of the aerobars to rest my hands and ease the pressure on my backside and left arm.

I came across a walker heading towards Perth about half way between Caiguna and Cocklebiddy. Craig Brown is walking to raise money for Cancer Research and has been on the road from Sydney for 61 days. He has raised $15,000. He recently finished a stint with the British Army, but despite his training, said: "I'll be bloody glad when it's over".

About 15km later I met another walker heading westward, also English but this time female, Debi Reader, from the Lakes District. She also started in Sydney, on 1 August. She had trouble getting adequate publicity for her fund-raising for Multiple Sclerosis. First there had been a landslide disaster at the New South Wales ski resort of Thredbo, then the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, to overtake all other news events.

The two walkers have covered an average of 63 to 64km a day, with a 4.00am start. They have suffered various problems, including strained muscles, shin splints and infections of the feet. Craig undertook the trip because family members had died of cancer. Debi started because friends and one of her university lecturers have MS.

I asked Col Cooney, the support crew for Debi, what the fascination was for English people to walk across Australia like this. He said another woman, Fiona Campbell, set a record of 95 days for the crossing, and when she returned to England, she wrote a book for the mass UK market about the adventure. The book aroused a fascination with the challenge. At the rate both Craig and Debi are walking, they should break the record with times between 83 and 85 days.

For the walkers, the weather has been one of contrasts since leaving Sydney. There was sleet and snow in Bookhard near Gundagai, and again at Ararat near Melbourne. Temperatures on the Eyre Highway have been good. Col said both Craig and Debi had started a month earlier in the year than Campbell, who wrote in her book that the maximum temperature for her was 52 deg C. Col said water consumption had changed a fair bit since the start, when Debi would have taken in only a litre a day. Now she is having much more. He also observed that the wet weather they experienced was unpleasant because the moisture softened the walkers' feet and left them prone to blisters and other problems.

Debi raised only $5,000 in the UK, most of it from fundraising before she left for Australia, and has amassed a total $9,000. I gave Col the name of a contact at The West Australian newspaper and other media outlets. The two walkers had been a similar distance apart, sometimes closer, for most of their journey. I gathered that irritated Craig as a younger male!

I made up today what I missed out on yesterday with the roadtrains and semi-trailers. In a 20-minute stretch, 20 overtook me, almost in convoy. Several pulled out and passed others in front as they approached me, and I had to take to the gravel to keep myself out of strife. There really was only one driver who cut things fine, but most of the others gave me a wide berth.

Col said he had listened to a CB radio conversation several days earlier, and recounted how the drivers laid bets of $20 for the first driver to make a particular cyclist fall off. Amazing! And these drivers wonder why no-one respects them. Actually, used with a little care, the slipstream of a semi-trailer can lift me along momentarily. With a succession of trucks like the convoy today, the effect was quite handy. I have a habit now of waving if trucks pass me and give me a wide berth. I hope good manners like that and use of my rear vision mirror help to let the drivers know that I do not intend to impede their progress.

People come up regularly at my stops and want to chat. They are impressed that I am doing this trip by bike. I passed the 1500km mark today, which sounds impressive, especially with just over two weeks on the road. The people are simply full of admiration, and seem to be genuinely interested in why I doing it, what I have seen, and my progress each day.

I want to put in a few 125km days in the next week to move my daily average up to 100km. It is only 91km to Madura Pass tomorrow, so I might well go past and camp, then bypass Mundrabilla as an overnight stop to try to make Eucla. That would put me close to the Western Australian and South Australian border. The distance from Cocklebiddy to Eucla is 270km, and is well within my range over two days. The next big stretch is 198km from Eucla to Nullarbor, then comes a segment taking in the Nullarbor Plain itself, finishing 92km later at the Yalata Aboriginal Community. After that, I will ride 132km to Penong and then 72km to Ceduna. I can only hope the road and wind conditions continue as for the past two days.

The settlements marked on the Eyre Highway maps as "towns" are only roadhouses, occupied by 10 to 20 residents. Their role is to service travellers and transport on the highway. Cocklebiddy obviously is doing well enough to have a block of motel units, a bar as well as a store and dining area adjacent to the basic garage.

The Cocklebiddy caravan site is terribly open to the elements, and even though I've arrived early, I will delay pitching my camp until late afternoon because of the strong winds sweeping across it. I am in the bar now, having just had a can of beer, and I will be slow-drinking until I get the tent erected.

My water management from Caiguna to Cocklebiddy was excellent. I drank three-quarters of a 1.25-litre bottle of Coke to conserve my water. I now have a collection of small bottles up to one litre, plus 1.5-litre bottle. I decant big bottles of bought water into smaller bottles. If a leakage does occur, the nett loss will be minimal compared with that from the large bottle.

I have put a one-litre bottle either side of the rear wheel. The 1.5-litre bottle is retained by the elastic strap over the sleeping bag. Two 600ml bottles are on the front rack, and a 500ml bottle is on top of the front pannier bag. The weight therefore is evenly distributed over the bike. Of course, there are the "active" 750ml drinking bottles on the frame that I refill in turn as I empty them. If I were to set up the bike again, I would attach another bidon carrier on the downtube to increase the capacity to three 750ml bottles.

I have worked out why my left knee touches the frame, and my right knee hits the armrest on the aerobars. The pedals are offset. The left pedal crank is closer to the frame than the right, because of the chainrings. This also may contribute to my left thigh problems, but there is really nothing I can do about it.

The dust that was a creamy colour in the caravan park last night, has started to ingrain itself into the panniers and tent. The maroon panniers look well aged and are fading rapidly in the sunlight. I have been wearing a cotton Tasmanian Devil Club T-shirt that was birthday gift from my mother. It is comfortable, and displays my allegiances to my home State. Everything needs a wash, but out here, laundries are hard to find, as are flowing streams, so I may have to wait until at least Ceduna if not Adelaide to get it all clean again.

The flies have become a nuisance since Caiguna. They are a small, black species and are very persistent. Even Rid has not had a great effect on keeping them at bay when I am stationary or riding. The tailwind for most of today helped them to catch a lift. Their presence is an indication, I suppose, of human habitation and the roadkill.

The roadhouses are not grand compared with similar facilities elsewhere, such as on the Hume in Victoria and New South Wales. But I imagine they are a haven from the heat and monotony in high summer. I was told in Perth that the roadhouses sold only takeaway food, but this is not true. The three I have seen have substantial menus that provide nourishing meals without loads of fat. I have tried to get some sort of meat into my diet every day. This might be a Chiko Roll or sausage roll, or as last night at Caiguna, a steak burger with the lot, something that I consider a generous meal complete with greens and other vegetables.

The operators of the roadhouses or attached service stations are very guarded about their water supplies. At Caiguna, the sign said: "Please don't ask for water as refusal might offend". The sign, very similar to a no-credit sign, shows that the value of water in this part of the world verges on currency. The sign on the door of the donga that houses the toilets and showers here in Cocklebiddy says $2.00 for a shower. The price is included in the $7.00 tariff for a tent site. I will use the shower twice, don't worry.

The roadhouses generally are equipped with EFTPOS and seem to have cash readily available. Telephones are plentiful enough, but I have come across four that do not work. Radio reception during the day is now zero, so I pedalled from Caiguna without even trying to tune a station.

I arrived at Cocklebiddy about 12.30pm and was immediately offered a can of Coke and a sandwich by some South Australians who had passed me shortly before in their large, late-model sedan. They had been in Western Australia to see wildflowers from Dongerah north of Perth to Esperance in the south-east. They did have one critical observation: "We won't come back to Western Australia if they are going to turn it into a rubbish tip", a reference to the proliferation of roadside garbage in many parts of the State.

When I booked a site here and paid for it, the service station's duty manager said the caravan park would be full by 6.00pm. I have picked a site behind one of the few small shrubs around here, and it should provide some shelter from the 20km/h cold, southerly seabreeze. My tent site is on the highway side of the shrubbery, so it is open to the noise from passing vehicles and those pulling into the roadhouse.

Another couple have suffered problems with their caravan. It needs a new wheel and tyres. The spare wheel, attached to the van, would not fit! The couple are marooned here only until tomorrow when they hope one wheel arrives from the west. The guy said the van's wheels were very rusty before the trip, and when they arrived in the service station to get fuel, they noticed a substantial bend in one of the rims. I saw the wheel later and the inner was breaking away from the rim. A day's delay out of two months of travel doesn't seem to be crippling, but I still haven't resolved why the couple set off with wheels in such bad shape.

I am 16 days out of Perth and about 100km behind my target average of 100km a day. Everything seems to be under control. I stopped at Cocklebiddy because the wind made riding uncomfortable. My fluid intake presents no problem, and the only physical concerns are muscle soreness. Every day, I meet people who have some story to tell; the bike has been reliable; and the big thrill has been going without any punctures. I have a routine on pitching and breaking camp, whether in the bush or caravan park, and the weight I am carrying now seems to be good.

I cannot measure my fitness, but I think it has improved since I left Perth. There have been days when I was disappointed with my progress, but when I look at some of the conditions, I am doing quite well. I would like to be able to average 150km a day without stress or pain, but I think that with the load I am carrying, the target is beyond me. An average of 130km a day is marginally within my reach, and probably 110 to 120 is the most comfortable to set and achieve.

Often the hardest part when camping out in the bush is finding a suitable site, and getting the timing right. I need about 45 minutes to pitch camp, that is, smooth out the surface, scoop out a hip-hole, erect the tent, and put the gear inside. Conversely, breaking camp starts after I shower if I am in caravan park, and can take up to 90 minutes because of the packing. Generally, I try to keep things stress-free, which enables me to check and double check everything. Then I can enjoy getting on the road.

I am meticulous with the tyres, and any time I have been off the bitumen, I check each carefully for thorns. My "best friend" so far has been my cap, which I acquired when I organised a major international squash tournament in Perth. The cap stops sweat running into my eyes, and protects my face from the sun. My shoes, smelly as they are, have given great service, on the bike and in clearing tent sites.

When I look at the past four days, one of the most amazing impressions is the amount of traffic on the road. Even discounting the freight traffic, the number of caravans, cars and bikes shows the Eyre Highway no longer holds much fear for travellers. In fact, to drive the road by car must be boring. The 90-Mile Straight can be done in half a day, the Nullarbor section, it seems, in minutes.

The adventure that intrigues me now is to ride along the railway line service road well to the north. Some have done this journey on bicycle or motorbike. This is not to downgrade what I am doing, but it is a different type of challenge. I am still taken aback by the hero status in which people hold me because I am pedalling across the continent on a sealed road. I have been lucky to do this when the weather has been almost perfect. But I believe that people in air-conditioned cars and towing caravans still have a fear of breaking down in the middle of nowhere.

Before I departed Perth, more than a few people were concerned about me camping in the bush. Safety from other human beings was their main concern. I think that their concerns sell short country people. The likelihood of someone stopping to cause mayhem in the middle of nowhere is as likely as in a suburb of Perth. In fact, the probabilities of it happening here would be in the millions-to-one range. My personal concern is not humans, but insects such as mosquitoes that carry diseases such as Ross River virus.

On the road, the dangers come from roadtrains and often single vehicles with NSW or Victorian number plates. They pass without leaving much room between them and me. But I try to anticipate and avoid trouble, whether in choosing a camping site or riding along the road, and I have stayed out of harm's way.

Tonight was not an outstanding success. The wind has only just abated, and I was quite nervous about tearing or breaking something on the tent when I put it up. Still, it all went together without difficulty. I had a shower, but I could not get a comfortable balance between the hot and cold. It is just as well I was not looking desperately forward to the shower after a long day.

The Cocklebiddy ablutions block is another that comprises dongas, or portable buildings. When I had my shower, someone insisted singing out of key and when I got to the hand basins and mirror, a young guy was busy cooking spaghetti in an electric cooker plugged into a power point on the wall. When I returned to the tent, I made dinner, a soup and spaghetti, but I burned the rice in the soup mix on the bottom of the saucepan, then scraped the black bits up into the rest. I had about half before I threw the vile mess away. It was my first cooking failure of the trip. Oh well, I'll just have another beer!

The caravan park is almost full, as predicted. I am surprised at the number of women travelling either alone or with children. Most seem to be moving with their small amount of worldly possessions. I think one has parked near my tent, and she will spend the night in the car. Cocklebiddy does not seem to be as popular as Caiguna as an overnight stop for trucks... and that means I don't expect to be worried by roadtrains and semi-trailers calling in tonight.

My backside is still sore and could probably do with another day off. I think the soreness is more from where I pulled the hairs out of their follicles. My knees also are still a bit sore, but I am hoping they will be okay to continue tomorrow.

I have to check the bike very carefully tomorrow for thorns. When I pitched the tent, I discovered that one of the screening shrubs is a dougle-g plant. The plant is as nasty with its spikes as its seeds. I have decided that Cocklebiddy is an awful place, right down to the noise of the diesel generator that produces the roadhouse power. I suppose its only saving grace is that the ambulance is based here, but that's not much use if I don't need it. Anyway, the area is serviced by the Royal Flying Doctor Service, and odd markings are placed on straight sections of the Eyre Highway to indicate touchdown and take-off points for the planes.

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