The Cycling Adventurer

   Perth-Adelaide 1997

Day 30   

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A rough but pleasant ride of survival to Wudinna

The day started quite well, and despite some little problems along the way, became better and better as it went. I felt much better physically. There was almost no wind when I left Port Kenny, a pleasant change from when I went to bed last night.

I had a casual start, leaving at 9.20am after I phoned to inquire about the time for Tuesday's job interview; I have to call again tomorrow to confirm the arrangements. The shower in the backpackers was next to useless, with almost no pressure for the hot water.

I left Port Kenny still unsure of what route I should take. I could continue riding south, or cut inland towards the Eyre Highway. I grappled with the problem as I passed a turn-off several kilometres out of town. At one stage, I turned back and intended to take the turn-off. The westerly wind of about 5km/h encouraged me to turn around again to continue on towards Elliston. But after 25km, I decided that if I wanted to be in Adelaide by Tuesday at the latest and Sunday at the earliest, I really had to be on the Eyre Highway today rather than four days later. I took the road to Talia, and eventually Wudinna, 74km away.

Unfortunately, this was the very same road Steve in the pub had told me about last night. I later found out that the gravel road I went past earlier was the better one; it came out about 6km further west on the Eyre Highway, and would have been only 40km to travel. By the time I had made my decision, I had already done 60km! Oh well, at least I got to climb to the top of Mt Damper to get a magnificent panoramic view of the lowlands from the coast through to the Eyre Highway on the far northern horizon.

I really was not sure what I was getting myself into when I took the turn-off from the Flinders Highway. Before leaving the bitumen, I heard another crack from the rear wheel. Sure enough, I had broken another spoke, and the wheel was out of shape. I figured I had come far enough that there was no point in turning back to Port Kenny. Anyway, I had left the gearset removal tool at Nundroo, so there was no way of effecting repairs on the move. And judging by the road over the first 5km, all spokes were going to get a workout and I might well end up with three or four of them broken.

To add a bit more spice to my situation, the first vehicle to go past me when I hit the dirt was... a bloody semi-trailer carrying sheep! The driver was not intent on slowing down when he went past, either, and left me squinting through a thick cloud of dust. I saw only four other vehicles on the remainder of the dirt section, so I could not complain too much overall.

Steve at the pub described the road well. I kept hoping the rear bearing, hub and spokes would stay together. About midday, I stopped when the wheel began to flap around inside the chainstays to the point where the tyre rubbed against them. I unloaded everything, took the wheel out and tightened up the axle cones again.The gears also had started to slip. The derailleur was not moving the chain up to the largest gear, plus the excessive movement of the hub was causing the chain to slip between the selected gear on the cluster and the one below it.

The bike made all sorts of nasty noises as I moved along the road. I tried to avoid potholes, the largest aggregate and the very tricky fine, windswept gravel deposits on the side of the road and on the crown. The last thing I wanted to happen was to lose grip with the front tyre and end up falling off at 15 to 20km/h. The road traversed mallee scrub for much of the way to the start of the climb up Mt Damper. By this stage, I had worked out the lowest rear gear was not available, and I walked up the hill for about 1½km.

Despite the unpleasant road surface under foot, I actually enjoyed the walk. As I climbed the mountain, the vegetation changed to cropping, wheat and barley to be specific, and at the crest were two towers that service radio, television and mobile phones. The day was sunny, and I presume the temperature was around 23 deg C, while the wind generally was light and behind me.

I resolved that when I reached the top, I would brew a coffee and take in the views. A four-wheel-drive had passed me earlier, and it came by again. The place where I stopped for coffee was at the entrance of the Mt Damper homestead, and the people in the vehicle were Bev and Dean Oswald, the owners. The property covers 1,600 hectares, but the Oswalds have other property in the area that grow wheat and coarse grains as well as raise sheep.

We talked about what I was doing, and I recounted my rear axle problems. They told me they had been north to the Simpson Desert on holiday when they discovered a friend, Leon Fischer participating in a desert marathon on a mountain bike. They suggested I should call Leon at Wudinna where he works for Telstra. I saw Bev later in the day, firstly just after I had finished the descent from Mt Damper, and again parked on the outskirts of Wudinna. She said she was waiting to help with directions if I needed them. In the end, I left things as they were without disturbing Leon at home, mainly because I felt embarrassed about my deficiency in mechanical knowledge.

I knew the gravel road was going to be a long haul, but I must admit my morale dipped sharply when Dean told me I had another 16km of gravel left. A consolation was the run down the other side of Mt Damper. Then the road to the Eyre Highway undulated without any major climbs.

I set off down the road, again picking my way through the corrugations, potholes, and slippery fine gravel, and the rear end shook and squealed in protest. I made good time in the conditions. I rode on the far right of the road for some distance as the sun had moved into the west, and cast long shadows across the left side to disguise very rough patches. I tried to pick the smoother "alley" between the wheel tracks and the ridge of fine gravel, but even that often deteriorated and I had to move back to the centre to seek the most comfortable route.

I still maintained some good touring speeds, and one check on the speedo showed 23km/h. I was elated when I made the bitumen, an elation that overtook my disappointment at seeing a sign on the alternative route saying Port Kenny was only 40km away! The protests from the bike were just too much, and I stopped about five kilometres after the sealed surface started to have a look at the damage. I hesitantly checked to see if the hub and bearings were still intact. They were. I fiddled with the mudguard and stay and finally eliminated both sources of the noise. I repositioned the axle to prevent the tyre from touching the left chainstay, but left the cones as they were.

I had a reasonably quiet ride into Wudinna. I even reached 38km/h on a downhill just before the Eyre Highway junction, although it was far from comfortable. At that speed, the wobble in the rear wheel translated to a wobble in the whole bike! But I couldn't care less at that stage, because I was almost at my destination.

I did start to feel fatigued at this point, and walked the bike up one long steep hill. The Eyre Highway was a sight for a sore body, even though the first couple of vehicles, of course, were roadtrains. Even at 5.50pm, it was surprisingly quiet on the highway. Wudinna was only 5km further down the road. It also had a caravan park. I stopped to say hello to Bev at the tourist information site, and she told me how to get to the park. I then bought a drink and snack at the first roadhouse before calling my father to let him know I was all right.

The caravan park was at the other end of town and formed part of a motel complex. The park was quite pleasant with large shady trees, a fence providing an effective windbreak along the property boundary, and an ablutions block with a free laundry. The restaurant for the motel welcomed park residents. The campsite cost $8.00 and the marinated steak I had in the restaurant $9.00. I think the whole lot represented good value. I am even tempted to use the heated spa and pool tomorrow morning to sooth my muscles. To cap off a satisfying and satisfactory day, I found my old pair of gloves wrapped up in the floor of the tent. I had left them inside the tent when I quickly packed up at the Bookabie school ruins.

Port Augusta is now about 250km away, or two days of riding. That means I will camp out probably for one night. I want to get as close as possible tomorrow so the following day, I can arrive early in Port Augusta and sort out the spare parts for the bike. That most likely will include a complete new rear wheel. If an entire replacement is needed, I will send the original on to my parents in Hobart by post so I can either recondition it or at least salvage some of the parts as spares.

I will restock my food supplies in Kimba, 105km from here, although I want to keep the weight to minimum for the last run into Port Augusta to save stress on the rear end... and on me. Then again, after today's punishment, I have probably done as much damage as I can. One of my concerns is how my lower back is going to fare in the morning. It received a beating today thanks to the corrugations and potholes. I will have a hot shower tonight and see what happens tomorrow morning. I hope the sleep tonight on hard ground does not aggravate it.

I am disappointed at not making Port Lincoln, but I was always in two minds about the extra distance and time, especially after I lost almost two days at Bookabie with the rear hub. But Port Lincoln will still be there for the future. Ultimately, I have not interrupted the flow from west to east, and I hope the prevailing winds to Port Augusta will be kind. Dean up on Mt Damper warned me of a succession of long, steady climbs after Kimba and near Iron Knob.

I will tighten the cones on the rear end again tomorrow morning and I may try to find a circlip with an external diameter of 30mm that I can slip it in between the bearing housings and the ridge on the hub to reduce the amount of lateral movement and noise of metal grinding on metal. I also think I can get away with the broken spoke until Port Augusta if I also adjust the tension on the others tomorrow morning.

My mechanical knowledge of bikes has not been particularly brilliant so far on this trip, but it is improving. It would be even better if I could get a gearset removal tool and replace the spoke entirely, but such an acquisition is not likely out here. I also will examine the derailleur to see if I can adjust it to provide me with access to the largest rear cog to assist me up the hills.

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