The Cycling Adventurer

   Perth-Adelaide 1997

Day 34   

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An ally becomes the frustrating enemy

What a bitch of a day. My ally yesterday, the wind, was my enemy today. It increased in strength with gusts to 30 knots, and so was more vicious than any other headwind I have experienced on the journey.

The roads in South Australia are also crook if the one I was on today is any indication. They often have a rough surface, are narrow or have a non-existent shoulder, and have drop-offs of 50mm or more to verges with coarse, tyre-destroying aggregate. In turn, this meant little margin for error with the vehicles passing me. For some reason after leaving Port Augusta, drivers showed a reluctance to move over to the right when passing me and no traffic was coming in the opposite direction. The roadtrains were less forgiving than on the Eyre Highway, which largely has to do, I think, with the number now coming in from the Northern Territory where no speed limit exists and these types of vehicles reign supreme.

The wind made progress painfully slow for me, and quite dangerous at times as it pushed and pulled at me as though I was a piece of paper. The situation sometimes became so serious that I got off the bike and walked it alongside the road. Eventually, I think I walked about 10km, maybe more, during the the day.

In some ways, I am surprised I covered over 80km at all. I had a 40-minute nap on the side of the road to try to regain my energy. Earlier when I stopped to eat, a small truck with "POLICE" written along the side, pull over. Two guys in casual clothes walked back to me. They offered me a lift because they thought I might have had problems with the bike. I explained what I was doing, and they in turn told me they were the instrument and equipment van drivers for the South Australian Police Band. They were returning from a successful tour that ended last night in Whyalla. Shortly after, a bus slowed, obviously carrying the band members, and it was waved on.

Later, while I napped propped up against the left rear pannier on the bike, a Toyota van stopped and a guy who looked like an ambulance officer checked with me that everything was okay. I was sound asleep, and it was odd to be woken by someone on the side of the road with traffic speeding by only metres away.

But apart from those inquiries, the traffic on the highway seemed to be unfriendly. In fact, this was the first time since leaving Perth that I felt lonely. There is nothing profound about it, but the feeling was enough to be unnerving. I am moving closer to a major capital city, and I can sense that the casual country lifestyle is being left behind to be replaced by the frenetic "got to get there as fast as I can and I don't care who I trample over" outlook on life. I am now just another cyclist who might have been doing a day trip around the Flinders Ranges. No longer am I a "hero" on a great adventure in the Nullarbor wilderness.

Port Augusta is a town I can honestly say that if I ever visit again, it will be too soon. It was grey and cold when I arrived yesterday, and it was cold again this morning when I departed, although of some consolation, the sky was clear. The run towards Port Pirie was marked by several bright spots other than the two inquiries about my welfare.

After seeing so much railway line but few trains in the past month, I was delighted to see four very long freight trains today, including one that scared the living daylights out of me. I was riding along when I heard an extremely loud horn. I jumped because I thought it was a semi-trailer bearing down on me, except the sound had not come from my right side, but from the left instead. I did not know what to do, until my confused mind worked out that a train was passing on the adjacent track.

I stopped to watch three of the trains. Tonight I watched the fourth from the door of a cabin in which I am staying. I was impressed by the length of each, and I estimated the last one was about 1km long from locomotive to the final wagon. These train experiences reinforced my view that the sooner arterial rail systems are improved to world standard for freight transport, the better off everyone will be, including ordinary road users such as cyclists.

The cabin I am in is attached to a Mobil Service Station just before the turn-off to Port Pirie. I could not justify the extra eight kilometres into and out of the town after the tough run today; I felt I needed a comfortable tonight. The going rate per cabin per night is $35, but I have this one for $30 because Stephen Roger, the guy I dealt with, is a keen cyclist, too. He has a dream to cycle around Australia, and we chatted for some time when I arrived. I invited him to the cabin after he finished work at 10.00pm and we continued to talk about various aspects of cycle touring, including equipment to take, the lessons I had learned, and some of my experiences.

Stephen has been involved in competitive cycling, but now has a motorcycle. He also does some bushwalking, so he seems to be well equipped and has some of the experience required for touring. I felt good chatting with someone who was interested in what I was doing. Stephen said he planned to start his own adventure in about 12 months, but he had to sort out a few things with his wife.

I had a chance today to offer assistance in return for the help I have received over the past week. As I passed a station wagon parked on the side of the highway about 14km from the Port Pirie turn-off, the woman driver wound down her window and asked: "Can you make a phone call for us, mate?" The car with her children and friends aboard, had broken down. She gave me some small change and a telephone number to call her mother, and to ask for someone to come out of Port Pirie to help. I dutifully made the call at the service station, but the boy who answered said his grandmother had already left. I was not sure if the people in the car had lost patience and asked someone else with speedier transport to make the call. Anyway, I had followed through the with request.

Stephen suggested that Lochiel was my most likely destination after tomorrow's ride of about 100km. Lochiel still leaves me a long way from Adelaide, and the job interview is scheduled for the following morning. I would have to leave the bike in Lochiel and catch a bus to Adelaide, and return to Lochiel that evening. It's going to be messy, but hopefully there will be gold at the end of the employment rainbow that will make it all worthwhile.

The best indication I have of how torrid things became today is the broken stem on my rear vision mirror. I am sure a gust of wind from a passing roadtrain buffeted the mirror so much that it broke. I hope to find some Araldite or instant glue to mend it, but at the moment I am wrapping the break with my extra-sticky gaffer tape. Fortunately the stem has not broken all the way through yet.

The unfriendly nature of this part of the world was epitomised today by a sign outside the front of a property that clearly stated no phone, no fuel, no tools... it might as well have included "no goodwill!" to cap off a miserable attitude to others.

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