The Cycling Adventurer

   Perth-Adelaide 1997

Day 35   

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Celebrating an end to the roadtrain battle

I have arrived in Port Wakefield at the head of the St Vincent Gulf, on which Adelaide sits to the south.

But it was another monumental struggle against a cold wind that gusted to 20 knots.

Added to the challenge were some long hills that never seemed to have decently long descents on the other side.

The effort has made my backside very sore again, and my back is protesting with sciatic pain down my right leg, mainly because I sat at an angle on the seat to relieve the butt pain. My leg muscles are feeling stressed, too. It is all something I wanted to avoid. This was supposed to be an easy trip at my own pace, but the rear hub collapse and the need to be in Adelaide has put paid to that strategy in the past week.

I still did not make Adelaide as I had hoped, and I have to take the 8.10am bus that calls into the service station in Port Wakefield so I can accept the call in Adelaide for my job interview. I will return to Port Wakefield, hopefully in time for me to ride the rest of the way into Adelaide tomorrow night. I considered all the options while riding into the wind and over the hills, and keeping clear of other vehicles.

One option was to leave on the bicycle at 4.45am to arrive in Adelaide by 11.00am. At 90km to ride, that would need an average speed of 15km/h, but I figured there were so many uncertainties associated with the plan, such as wind, traffic, riding safely in the early morning dark, and even traffic lights. There was no way I could guarantee if I could achieve the target, especially when I had so much trouble averaging 12.5km/h just to get to Port Wakefield today. The stress also would not help me prepare for the interview.

The bus has its risks, too. It could break down, or become stuck in a traffic jam. But the estimated arrival time is 10.50am, and that gives me plenty of time to walk to the office for the interview. I sound negative, but cold headwinds like those in the past two days and on some parts of the Eyre Highway have taken the fun out of the ride and the shine off the life gems I have picked up along the way.

Today had its gems, too. The roadtrains are not permitted past Lochiel. The big sign on the side of the road said so. I stopped and kissed the sign! Yes, really.

The semi-trailers were still common as they did a shuttle service into and out of Adelaide for the roadtrain trailers, but at least I did not have to worry about nine or 10 sets of wheels rushing past me in quick succession as a full rig went past. I also rode past the Pink Lake, a very unusual natural feature.

I stopped at the Lochiel store for a milk drink, an early reward today.

The shopkeeper told me of a very steep climb about 3km out of town. He was most emphatic that it was so tough that it could sort out the prime-movers pulling semi-trailers. This news did little for my enthusiasm.

I left the shop anxiously expecting that this killer hill would leave me exhausted at the top and set for an early finish to the day. I trundled along and came to a hill no steeper than what I would have described as moderate coming through Ravensthorpe in south-western Western Australian, or the Fraser Range on the way to Balladonia. I just put the gears down to 1-and-1 again, and climbed to the top, thinking that this was the little brother of what was to come. But no. When I crested the rise, it was all downhill on the other side.

The Pink Lake — the colour is from algae that grow in it — caught my eye on the way towards Adelaide.

I hit the 3,000km mark right here. The "S" on the distance marker is for Snowtown which was later to achieve infamy
for the bodies of murder victims locked in a disused bank vault after they had been put in vats of acid.

I stopped for a breather and to look back at the view to the north and south as the lowlands spread out under the Flinders Range way over to the east. The view north was inspiring; I knew that I had conquered the climb, and the highway that split the hills in the distance. I had a quick run down the other side of the hill, and the road was reasonably flat from there to Port Wakefield.

Yet another campervan passed, then stopped ahead of me. This time two Dutch women in their 50s offered me a coffee. We sat in the back of the van talking of our respective adventures. They had already been to Australia in 1988, to travel the East Coast and the Red Centre. Then last year they returned for a month to plan their next adventure, to travel across the north of the continent through Mt Isa to Darwin, then south to Perth. They bought the campervan in Brisbane on their second visit. They intend to finish the trip in Brisbane and will sell the van then. They told me they had come across a few cyclists in their travels. I munched my way through half a dozen of their biscuits, and after about 40 minutes, bade them farewell. The stop was much appreciated because I was out of the wind, and I was able to regenerate my energy and enthusiasm.

I arrived in Port Wakefield at 7.50pm, by which time the sun was well and truly below the horizon. I was cold and tired and beyond trying to hunt for accommodation. I had picked up a timetable for bus services from the Lochiel store, and I found the bus stop outside the Port Wakefield service station. I inquired there about accommodation. The motel across the road had a tariff of $40 for a single, which I immediately took.

I believe that I need to be well rested for the job interview tomorrow. The one thing that I cannot do much about without spending unjustified amounts of money is clothing. I will front up tomorrow in my track top and bottoms because I have nothing else. Even though the interview is by phone, this is going to be a very strange experience.

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