The Cycling Adventurer

   Perth-Adelaide 1997

Day 31   

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Bang! And I limp into half-way Kimba

The rear end finally screamed "Enough!" after the beatings of the past few days. It blew up in a major way late this afternoon. The bearings collapsed entirely. The mega-wobble in the wheel meant the spokes grabbed the rear derailleur, ripped it off the frame, and warped it out of shape.

The derailleur might be beyond repair. Fortunately, the big bang happened only three kilometres from Kimba, the halfway point between the coastal extremities on the Australian continent. Frankly, I am surprised I rode this far when I think back to the sounds coming from the wheel.

My sleep last night was interrupted by roadtrains that called into the nearby roadhouse. The most irritating noise was from the motors for the compressors on the refrigerated trailers. The temperature also dropped to its night-time lowest since I left Perth, and I am not expecting things to improve as I move further east and south.

I had a slow start this morning, a result of yesterday's effort. My back was okay despite my earlier fears, but later today, I started to feel sciatic pain down my right leg. Maybe I should have taken advantage of the spa before I departed the Wudinna caravan park.

The rear end did not behave from the start of today's ride. Before I hit the road, I took out the wheel and tightened the cones and attempted to get the wheel straight by removing another broken spoke, and generally fiddling with what I could.

I left Wudinna at 10.00am with the tyre lightly rubbing against the left chainstay, and with some rather nasty noises emanating from back there. I made Kyancutta and a right-angled bend across the railway line about 11km later. I stopped, removed the rear wheel and set about repeating all the adjustments. I lost my temper, and gave the rear wheel several almighty and well-directed kicks to push it away from the frame. I felt better and the heavy approach seemed to work to some degree as I rode another 40km without the wheel rubbing on the frame! I still could not get the chain into the big gear on the rear, so I was faced with walking some of the steep hills.

On the whole, the day progressed well. The climbs were not very steep after all, and the views from the tops of four hills were magnificent as they looked down on plains of pastures, crops, tree lines and various granite monoliths standing guard over them all. Even better were the downhills that were an enjoyable respite from the effort on the preceding side. They certainly were the best downhill runs I have experienced since that exhilarating night-time burst into the Phillips River valley near Ravensthorpe.

The traffic was remarkably quiet again today, with very few roadtrains and caravans. One car went past me at a sedate speed, and I thought I recognised it from the previous day. It pulled to the side of the road about 250 metres further on, and the driver's side window wound down. I was greeted by Patricia, who is retired, originates from New South Wales, and has spent the past four years travelling by herself to explore conservation areas or national parks around Australia.

She has spent some time in the conservation areas west of Adelaide, and saw me in Penong and again when I turned off the Eyre Highway to head for Streaky Bay. Patricia was very interested in my own adventure, and said she was delighted to have come across someone who shared her outlook on solo adventures. She told me she had been to the Northern Territory as well, and her main interest lay in flora. Coincidentally, we spied about half a dozen quandongs on a tree right next to where she was parked. Quandongs are a fruit that is tart when eaten raw, but are delicious when stewed or made into jam.

We chatted for about 35 minutes, and we shared similar views on the atmosphere in caravan parks. She probably feels it more so than I would because of the jaundiced attitude people have to single female travellers. She seemed to have a vigour for what she was doing and was enjoying life to the fullest in pursuit of her interests. She is a vegan, which helps with the food supplies when on extended stays in the bush. She has only a short time left in South Australia, and is on her way home in New South Wales to have her car re-registered and to attend to a few other domestic matters.

She appeared to be well equipped, with two spare wheels, and 20 litres of water capacity. She said she usually based herself in caravan parks from which she could make her trips into the conservation areas or parks. She's now contemplating camping in the parks. She keeps in touch with her 80-plus-year-old mother in Victoria by making postcards and sending them in the mail. The total is about 400 since Patricia started her journeys!

Our meeting was 25km from Kimba, and I rode 18km further down the road when things really started to get exciting. The rear wheel moved around excessively inside the chainstays, and I did what I could to stabilise it by tightening up the cones. But the right one just did not seem to put any tension on the bearing. I went another four kilometres and was making quite good speed, probably around 23km/h, when the whole lot seized up and I literally came to a grinding halt. Incredibly, the bike and I remained upright throughout the incident.

I looked down and saw the derailleur hanging forlornly down between the spokes and the top of the front derailleur. It was at that point that I realised my riding for the day was finished. I thought it remarkable that the alternator bearings had lasted so long. The weight they would carry in an alternator would be miniscule with almost no side pressure, so they did a sterling job to carry 90kg on the axle on some very rough dirt roads, and sustain the side tension from the cones.

I trudged the three kilometres into Kimba and collapsed at a table in the first roadhouse, and consumed my usual milk drink and ice-cream. I then dragged myself away and pushed the bike to the centre of town where I rang my father, and booked into a local hotel that had advertised backpacker accommodation. But because the backpacker section was used only as an overflow when the pub was full, I landed a single room with shared facilities for that same rate of $10 a night.

The pub is quite pleasant, and at the moment, I am in the coffee shop adjacent to the main bar and gaming area. I have finished off a couple of toasted cheese, ham and tomato sandwiches and a couple of Cokes. Now I am on to a relaxed beer before going off to my room to contemplate my repair options.

There is no bus service from the town during the day, only one that leaves at 11.30pm, and arrives in Port Augusta at 2.00am. It returns to Kimba at some other ridiculous hour. I am not keen on hanging around Port Augusta in the early morning, then wasting so much of the day before catching the return bus. I will try to get the spare parts freighted down or picked up by someone on their way west. Of course, first I have to find a bike shop in Port Augusta to call. So I will check the post office here in Kimba to find one in a phone book.

If I had any intention of chucking in this adventure, it might have been in the past week. I have had to put in a lot more effort than I would have because of the bearing problems, and the wobbly rim rubbing against the brake pads. My worry about whether the whole lot might collapse in a remote location has caused its fair share of stress, too.

My father suggested tonight that I load the whole lot into a bus, travel to Port Augusta, and forget about riding the leg. But I was adamant that having come this far, I would not finish in Adelaide with 150km missing. The cynics at The West Australian newspaper were still in the back of my mind. Anyway, if I can get a new rear end here, I probably won't know myself when I get back on the road. A ride of 200km might be an order of the day to get me into Adelaide by Sunday. However, I think that realistically, I will be in Adelaide on Monday.

I am back in my room now, and I have had another look at the derailleur. I think the movement of the wheel was sufficiently great enough to wear away the bolt retaining the derailleur plate. There is some damage to the derailleur frame, but I may be able to bend that back into shape without much difficulty. If I can do that, it certainly would save some money. In that case, I would need only a complete rear wheel. Roll on tomorrow!

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