Bali,
Indonesia – Darwin, Australia - Darwin city centre – 14 km
The
flight from Bali landed in Darwin at three in
the morning. Following clearing immigration and customs, the time was four
o’clock and still dark. The Australians scrutinised me, opening all the panniers
and bike box, even checking the tent pegs! Once outside, we reassembled the
bicycles and as soon as daylight came, we headed into Darwin. One could tell Australia
was a first-world country as the countless early morning joggers, cyclists and
people walking their dogs never looked up to greet unless they were greeted
first.
Chilli’s
Backpackers made a good enough place to stay and had a communal kitchen and
outside sundeck sporting two small pools. The accommodation
was, nonetheless, costly at AU$30 a dorm bed, especially since becoming
used to paying around US$10 a double room.
The
conveniently located supermarket, next door to the hostel, indicated prices in
Australia. After buying a Stuart Highway map and a few other bits and bobs, I
returned to the ATM to restock the wallet.
I laughed
at myself being slightly shocked at the
morals of the western world. It seemed
the norm for inebriated people to go
about skimpily clothed. Girls in shorts and crop tops danced upon bar tables. It
all appeared somewhat immoral since
spending so much time in Africa, the Middle East, the subcontinent, and Southeast Asia. By the end of
the evening, I, nevertheless, felt comfortable enough doing the same. Well-organised
Australia was hard at work transforming Darwin from its wild frontier and hard-drinking-day image to a city more suitable to European standards. However, I thought
the authorities still had a way to go.
Undoubtedly,
Australia was a different country as that
evening, while having a beer at a pavement cafe, we met a professional rodeo rider.
I’d no idea one could do such a thing for
a living.
Darwin -
Adelaide River - 124 km
With dry
mouths from too many beers the night
before, time came to leave the party town of Darwin and get on the lonely
stretch of road to Adelaide. The time was past 10 o’clock before cycling out of
Darwin where a bicycle path followed the highway to Paterson. I thought it
amusing that the places that least needed a bike path had one - wouldn’t it
have been a novel idea in India or Java.
The Stuart
Highway was a motorway that ran 2,834 kilometres through the Australian outback from Darwin to Adelaide,
referred to simply as “The Track”. The route
was superb with a hard shoulder and the traffic light and
predictable, quite different from Indonesia. Our first day featured plenty of water
stops, and several places suitable to pitch a tent. The slight headwind was enough
to cool one down and keep the flies at bay. Where all the flies came from, was
a mystery, as there honestly wasn’t a great deal around.
Approximately
50 kilometres into the day, Ernest had
his first puncture in Australia. Soon afterwards, we found a massive bushfire
burning along the highway. Luckily, the section next to the highway was already
under control, but still a tad too close for comfort. I also spotted my first
wallaby. Finally, at around 6 p.m., when our shadows had grown long, we rolled
into historic Adelaide River which had a suitable campsite, excellent showers, a
kitchen area and a beautiful green lawn
with shady trees.
The village
was situated along the banks of the
Adelaide River, well known for its high concentration of saltwater crocodiles; fortunately, they didn’t visit.
The land around the Adelaide River was considered the traditional territory of
the Kungarakan and Awarai Aboriginal people. Today they are acknowledged as traditional
landowners. However, the predominantly
European place names indicated the early
settlers had little respect for this ownership.
14 August
- Adelaide River – Pine Creek - 120 km
The area was dotted by World War II memorials from old
campgrounds to cemeteries and airfields. Mercifully,
more than enough water points and camping were encountered en route to Pine
Creek. The road was perfect, though hot
and the heat dry but bearable. Many rest areas were suitable for overnighting, and a few had toilets and, at times, firewood.
Hayes Creek was the next water stop, after which the way continued to Emerald
Springs.
The
stretch to Emerald Springs had a few hills and a headwind. However, the headwind was a blessing in disguise as the
breeze kept the flies away and cooled us. The stretch between Darwin and
Katherine was clearly the luxury part of the outback as we encountered frequent
water stops as well as campsites. Pine Creek had great camping known as the Lazy
Lizard, which sported a lovely lawn and
good showers. After pitching the tents and a shower,
Ernest discovered his stove didn’t work and the adjacent restaurant and shop were
already closed. However, the helpful bar lady unlocked the adjoining shop and sold us Vegemite, crisps and bread. I was
starving as I’d nothing to eat all day, and the vegemite and crisps sandwiches
were, therefore, delicious. Good thing I loved Vegemite, and Australia had decent bread.
Like virtually all towns along the Stuart
Highway, Pine Creek was a gold rush town with a colourful and
historical past. I learned workers on the Overland Telegraph Line discovered
gold while digging a hole for a telegraph pole in the early 1870s. The
subsequent gold rush lasted the next twenty years.
15-16
August - Pine Creek – Katherine - 97 km
Not
surprising, breakfast was coffee and more of the same sandwiches. Our rushed
departure was due to the flies, which were
a menace and better to try and out-cycle
them. The darn things were irritating, and it seemed they preferred eyes and
nostrils. The air was
extremely dry, making my skin flake and
lips crack, and this was only day 3. The Track
stretched miles ahead; merely an occasional uphill broke the monotony. Water
breaks were usually quick as the flies
soon got the better of us. The lack of rest stops made us push onward to Katherine, the third largest
town along the Track.
Coco’s
Backpackers gave cyclists a discount and had an
intriguing set-up consisting of a ramshackle building, plenty of chickens,
and a unique owner. Thus, Coco’s made a
convenient place to have a rest day, and do the usual housekeeping. Ernest repaired tent poles and punctured tubes and got the stove working. He was offered a job of rounding up cattle by one
of the farmers who frequented the hostel for such jobs. Sadly, he was disinterested in such ventures (I bounced up
and down in the background, pick me, pick me).
Like the
other towns, the land around Katherine belonged to Australia’s indigenous
people, especially the Dagoman, Jawoyn and Wardaman. The area around Katherine is
traditionally considered a meeting place for these tribes. Therefore, I was
honoured to meet a few indigenous people and get a brief but fascinating
insight into their lives and culture. I
understood that their view of the world centres
around “The Dreaming”, a complex concept of the past, present, and future and
virtually every aspect of everyday life. It started at the “beginning of time” when mythic beings shaped the land and
populated it with flora, fauna, and human beings and left behind the rules for
social life. The same as virtually all
other beliefs.
17 August
- Katharine – Mataranka - 115 km
Approximately
28 kilometres south of Katherine a turn-off led to Cutta Cutta Caves. Formed
millions of years ago, I thought the Cutta Cutta Caves were over-regulated as by then featured walkways and
guided tours – which distracted from its historical past. After eating the pasta
sandwiches Ernest made from the previous night’s leftovers, we returned to the
road.
Fifty kilometres
south of Katherine was a rest stop with
water and toilets, but it was too early to call
it a day. Instead, we ate our jelly sweets in the shade of a massive tree
and then headed towards Mataranka. Apart from an occasional World War II site,
the landscape remained unchanged.
Mataranka
had a population of 420 and, surprisingly enough, a campground known as Bitter
Springs Campsite. The majority of the towns in the outback were established due to water availability, the
discovery of gold or the installation of the Australian Overland Telegraph Line,
and Mataranka was no different.
18 August
- Mataranka - Larrimah - 81 km
An early
morning walk led to a hot spring flowing along a clear stream surrounded by natural
bush. Swimming in this mineral-rich thermal pool was a pleasure before
breakfast, and making more leftover pasta sandwiches to eat during the day. Other
travellers left pasta and tinned food in
the camp kitchen for those who needed it, which came in handy.
The route
and traffic were excellent and consisted mainly of holidaymakers towing caravans or driving mobile homes. These weren’t
your ordinary mobile homes. Instead, they
were fantastic contraptions and more substantial
than many apartments. However, most motorists were in good spirit and gave a
little toot and a wave as they passed.
It could’ve
been a tailwind or downhill (or maybe the pasta sandwiches kicked
in). Whatever the reason, we rolled into Larrimah (population 200) before 15h00.
The tents were pitched at the Larrimah Hotel with its legendary Pink Panther bar. The town’s entire history was
learned before paying the camp fee. Larrimah was tiny and its single claim to
fame was the “Gorrie Airstrip”. The airstrip was
built during World War II, and is said the
longest dirt airstrip in Australia.
Ernest
was keen to service his bike’s front hub which had been making alarming noises.
So, in typical Northern Territory style,
I sat watching him in the shade of a colossal tree.
19 August
- Larrimah – Daly Waters - 104 km
There
were no water stops or rest areas between Larrimah and Daly Waters. The road
stretched into a hazy infinity. Nevertheless, we
pushed on, stopping at every “interesting”
spot or memorial - even the occasional road sign made us all excited.
The
legendary Daly Waters pub provided (expensive) beer and idle chatter to other travellers. It claimed it’s the oldest pub in
the Territory as its liquor licence had been in continuous use since 1893. It had an amusing ceiling of bras
and lots of memorabilia left by fellow travellers. The intriguing part was, in the early 1930s, Qantas Airlines used Daly Waters
as a refuelling stop on the Singapore leg of its Sydney–London run.
It must’ve been a big attraction when a plane landed, and I could imagine the
excitement.
We
pitched the tents a few kilometres away at the Hi-Way Inn amongst wallabies and
parrots. In the process, we encountered immensely kind and generous travellers
who invited us to beer, crab, and other delicious snacks. Their motorhome was awfully comfortable, and they
truly lived in style.
20 August
- Daly Waters - Newcastle Waters - 127 km
I woke to
the raucous sounds of parrots and
cockatoos outside my tent - not an unpleasant
way to greet a new day. Birds of all colours
surrounded us, which might’ve been why Ernest was ready at a decent hour. But, sadly,
little of interest happened during the day.
Newcastle
Waters was the next water stop and 127 kilometres down the drag. Many years ago,
Newcastle Waters was a thriving gathering place for
drovers and their overland cattle drives. However, following the
start of road transport in the early 1960s, it became a ghost town. During our
visit, no more than an old store and hotel remained.
Sleeping
at rest areas was fascinating. Not merely
was it free, but it often had water and toilets. As a result, these areas were
often frequented by “Grey Nomads” in campervans.
The people at rest stops appeared friendlier
than most, and overnighting in these places inevitably came with heaps of
socialising until late with fellow travellers, both foreign and local.
21 August
- Newcastle Waters – Renner Springs - 118 km
The wind
picked up during the night, and a long
haul into the wind was feared. Mercifully,
the wind was generally a crosswind and not as strong as foreseen. Nevertheless,
Dunmara came after approximately 45 kilometres and made a convenient place to
fill water bottles. While doing so, two guys travelling by motorbike also pulled
in, making it the day’s only excitement.
The
tarmac lay stretched out in front of us, and amusing ourselves consisted of picking
up all kinds of things and renaming the birds of Australia. The way to Renner
Springs was a lonely stretch where even less happened than the previous days, apart
from two tracks turning off to unknown
destinations, one repeater station and two cattle grids.
For thousands of years,
the Warumunga Aboriginal people lived in this area, enjoying the plentiful
freshwater and the wildlife attracted by the springs and lagoons. It’s estimated Australian Aboriginal people have
been in Australia for at least 45,000–50,000 years. According to historians,
Aboriginal people were hunter-gatherers who grew no crops and didn’t domesticate
animals (apart from the dingo). I thought this fascinating as it meant they
were directly dependent on natural resources in an area that offered little, agricultural-wise.
While nomadic, they seemingly had a strong sense of attachment to sites and areas. It appeared a considerable amount of
their hunting and gathering was done in
the same region, albeit a large one. I
only mention this as I think it marvellous
how people could live 50,000 years in a place,
scarcely leaving any evidence they were there. Yet, there I was, who could within
one day generate enough garbage to last many lifetimes. How sad is that? It’s
not something I’m proud of.
22 August
- Renner Springs Road House – Tennant Creek - 166 km
The Stuart
Highway was more of a tourist trap than wilderness and prices were utterly ridiculous. I guess the shopkeepers knew
travellers had little choice but to buy at their price or go without. Even Australians were surprised at the exorbitant prices. Along the track loaf of bread could often cost
AU$5. Besides the high rates, biking was
easy along an almost flat road and various opportunities to fill our water
bottles.
Banka
Banka came sixty-two kilometres south of Renner Springs. The lady at the campground
made sure we knew she was doing us a massive favour
by letting us fill our water bottles (which she was). After that, she allowed
us to sit in the shade of her tree while eating our sandwiches. Still, we were
told not to walk around. Being only a tiny site, I wasn’t sure where one could
walk. But that was what I liked about the outback. There were the most unusual
and remarkable people living in this sparsely populated part of the world.
A further
50 kilometres of riding brought us to a rest stop, equipped with toilets and
water (where walking around was allowed). While filling our water bottles, an
Australian couple at the rest stop gave each
an ice cream cone. It sure was the most delicious ice cream I’ve ever tasted.
A stiff tailwind
pushed us right past Three Ways Junction and onwards to Tennant Creek, the
fourth largest town in the Northern
Territory, arriving at the campsite shortly
before 6 p.m.
23 August - Tennant Creek
A day of
leisure was spent in Tennant Creek. The campsite had an internet connection,
and the day became busy, uploading photos, posting updates, and stocking up with
foodstuff for the next few days. I wondered if I’d fit all the shopping into my
bulging panniers. The rest of the day was spent doing long overdue laundry and
fiddling with bicycles and tents. All typical rest day chores.
In the
process, I learned about the one-eyed Jack Noble’s history, who teamed up with his blind friend and financier, William
Weaber. Together they established the Nobles Nob Mine - a mine that, during its
productive life, produced over 32,500 kilograms of gold. I loved these tiny
settlements, with their tales and legends.
24 August - Tennant Creek – Wauchope – 120 km
The wind
picked up during the night, making a reluctant start to the day. Pedalling into
a headwind is never a pleasant affair, and thus 10 o’clock before two unwilling
South Africans got on “The Track”. Thank goodness, the wind wasn’t as bad as predicted.
Still, the road lay black and endless in front of us, forming a mirage on the
horizon, always a forlorn and desolate scene.
Towards
the end of the day, the scenery abruptly and unexpectedly changed. Huge rocks
stacked upon one another covered the area, a stunning sight at sunset. Known as
Devil’s Marbles, it made fantastic exploring, and was indeed a remarkable
place. After chatting to a cyclist riding around Australia, the sun was already
low, and the nearby National Parks campsite appeared a perfect overnight stop.
However, I already had my tent up when Ernest pointed out the lack of water, and
better to cycle the 10 kilometres to Wauchope Roadhouse.
The sun
had, by then, already started setting, colouring the sky bright red. At the
same time, a huge full moon rose to our left, a truly spectacular sight. A lone
dingo trotted past making it even more special.
25 August - Wauchope – Wycliffe Well – 18 km
Wauchope
was already quite far south, and it
became icy during the night; and for the
first time in nearly a year, I needed sleeves. We emerged to a howling wind,
and I was in no mood to cycle but loaded up and headed to Wycliffe Well.
Wycliffe
Well is said to be situated on a cross-section
of key lines or energy lines. I guessed it the reason why Wycliffe Well has
had its fair share of UFO sightings. The pub had a large collection of paper
clippings stuck up on the wall regarding UFO sightings in the area. I was keen
to see if I could spot one and decided to pitch the tent right there in their excellent grassy campsite. I kept my eyes peeled for a UFO but wondered if the
sightings could’ve had anything to do with the substantial selection of beer sold
at the pub.
26 August - Wycliffe Well
A howling
wind, and rain pattering on the tents, made me pull the sleeping bag over my
head and I loudly announced I was going nowhere. It wasn’t all that hard to
convince Ernest. The roadhouse made good French fries, had internet, and offered
bottomless cups of coffee. During the day, a cyclist heading north arrived and, would he not be South African? After coaxing
him to stay the night, he pitched his tent, and it became a pleasant evening.
27 August - Wycliffe Well – Barrow Creek – 94 km
It became
downright difficult to emerge from the tents as winter was setting in and the
weather was bitterly cold. But following coffee and toast (made on the fire), time
came to say goodbye to Clyde. The first
stop was Taylor Creek Rest Area where water was available to fill our water
bottles.
The day
consisted of pedalling into a slight headwind and,
upon reaching Barrow Creek, it was time
to call it a day. Barrow Creek was a bit of a godforsaken place with hardly a
campsite but a welcoming pub. However, Barrow Creek was where one of the outback’s most horrific and mystifying crimes took
place. So the story goes: on the night of 14 July 2001, Bradley John Murdoch stopped a VW
Kombi van. The van was driven by an English traveller, Peter Falconio, who was persuaded
by Murdoch to leave his vehicle. Murdoch then shot the visitor, tied up
Falconio’s girlfriend, Joanne Lees, who, miraculously, managed to escape after
hiding in bushes. She was eventually picked up by a truck driver who took her
13 kilometres south to the Barrow Creek pub, where the police were alerted. Unfortunately,
the body of Peter Falconio was never discovered.
Even though
still early, the nippy weather made early camping. Ernest cooked the usual
pasta, after which we crawled in.
28 August - Barrow Creek – Ti Tree – 93 km
Being ready
by 9h00 was an early start for Ernest, and it made an early arrival at Ti Tree.
All the talk about potato salad made us shop for potatoes, lettuce, vegetables
and mayonnaise.
Soon
after pitching the tents, a kind lady, offered us fruitcake which nicely complemented the coffee. The people in the outback
may be eccentric but are the kindest and most accommodating
people one will ever meet in Australia.
Our early
arrival further made me sit in the sun while Ernest prepared the much-anticipated meal. Ti Tree was a tiny settlement. Its single claim to fame is its
proximity to Central Mount Stuart, the geographical centre of Australia. The area was known as Anmatjere Country and
encompassed a region of approximately 4,000 square kilometres. At the time, an estimated
2,000 people lived throughout the Anmatjere region
and at least 60% of the population spoke Anmatjere as their first language.
29 August - Ti Tree – Aileron – 63 km
Being the
end of August and the weather still icy, I couldn’t drag myself out of the tent
before the sun warmed the air. However, a short ride from Ti Tree brought us to
vineyards and a sign to wine tasting where I splashed out on a bottle of port. The
first rest stop of the day came around 40 kilometres further, perfect to fill water
bottles and eat potato salad sandwiches. From the rest area, a further 20-kilometre ride led to tiny Aileron through
Prowse Gap and, even though early, time to sample the port.
The night
was freezing, and Ernest made “vetkoek”
(deep-fried dough balls) and soup which complimented the port. A zillion stars
lit the sky while I sat wrapped in my sleeping bag, but not even the port could keep the cold at bay.
30 August - Aileron – Tropic of Capricorn Rest
Area – 105 km
Upon
departing Aileron, I first snapped a pic or two of the giant 17-metre-tall Anmatjere
Man, erected in 2005 and weighing 8 tonnes.
The rest of the day was spent cycling into the
wind. Ernest was energetic and led the
way while I sat in his slipstream. The
Tropic of Capricorn Rest Area made
perfect camping. Later a motorcyclist, who had been riding from Germany, rocked
up. It was interesting to learn he’d followed a near-identical route to us since
Turkey.
31 August - Tropic of Capricorn Rest Area – Alice
Springs – 36 km
Pitching
a tent next to the Tropic of Capricorn Monument was maybe not a good idea. Early
morning travellers arrived to take
pictures of the monument. I guessed they
would’ve to photoshop me out once home.
We
blitzed the last few kilometres into Alice Springs – mostly downhill, passing
the marker indicating the highest point along the route between Darwin and
Adelaide (a mere 727 meters). Afterwards, we biked into Alice, the halfway
point along the Stewart Highway.
I was both
in pressing need of a shower and a
dentist. The day was pleasantly warm, even hot and time to do laundry and air
sleeping bags.
1-3 September – Alice Springs
I searched
for a dentist as a loose crown was causing problems. The gory details I’ll
spare you. So off to the dentist, I went
and returned minus AU$180 and a tooth. There wasn’t a great deal I could do but
continue with a missing tooth until reaching a place where one could’ve such
work done. Never in my life did I think I’d be walking around with a gaping
grin. Best to keep my mouth shut –I guess
Ernest was happy about that. At least it wasn’t one of the front ones. I then
understood why numerous outback
inhabitants were missing a few teeth.
I was a
little disappointed in the Australian barbie, as it appeared the BBQing was
done on a gas-fired plate – not even a grid. But, at least Ernest was happy,
grid or no grid, seeing this was his first real meat-eating country since South
Africa (besides insects, dogs, and the occasional chicken or goat).
The
following day was spent shopping for foodstuff to see us through the next few
days. Ernest bought a new tyre and pedals from the bike shop, and I splashed out on a new bicycle computer.
The weather report predicted heavy storms, but nothing came of the anticipated wind or rain, only a sudden downpour towards
evening.
The plan
was to leave the next morning, but it started raining, and nothing came of our planned
departure. However, the reception/shop at the entrance had a small selection of
books to swap. I located an easy-to-read one
and crawled back into my sleeping bag. Later in the day I was tempted to
continue biking as the sun came out now and then, and the wind was favourable.
4 September - Alice Springs - Stuart’s Well – 95 km
The sounds
of birds chirping, and the sight of a perfect
blue sky were great ways to wake and start the long-haul south. However, I was
surprised at the vast number of colourful
birds. Parrots, cockatoos, and large flocks of bright green budgies swooped
across the way en route to Stuart’s Well.
Stuart’s
Well was nothing more than a roadhouse and grassless campground. One couldn’t complain
as it was free, and the dust made an extraordinary
sunset. The lack of light pollution brought about a clear night sky complete and
sightings of meteors (I prefer to call them shooting stars, it sounds far more
romantic). Warning signs told us not to leave anything near the fence as horses
around the perimeter had an appetite for things like towels, tents and bicycle
saddles. We understood not long before the seat of a Harley was chewed.
5 September - Stuart’s Well – Erldunda – 111 km
There were two rest stops with water en route to
Erldunda, and therefore, no need to carry extra water. The trees which accompanied
us since Darwin gave way to shrubs and grassland. Sadly, the meteorite
conservation was approximately 40 kilometres off our route. I would’ve loved to
have investigated. The Henbury Meteorites Conservation
Reserve contains 12 craters formed when a meteor fell there 4,700 years ago. Apparently,
the Henbury Meteor weighed several tons and travelled at over 40,000 kilometres
per hour but disintegrated before impact and the fragments formed the craters.
Instead, we continued to Erldunda Roadhouse, which had a
restaurant/pub, campsite and pre-fab motel rooms. Erldunda Roadhouse was also the
turn-off to Uluru (Ayers Rock), our next destination and a relatively long 500-kilometre
return trip to see “The Rock”.
The area was known as the red centre as the soil
colour was a deep red – especially stunning at sunset. It, however, didn’t
always make suitable camping as, by then, all our gear had a reddish tint. Even
the lone dingo spotted had a slightly red
back. I noticed a warning that poisoned
bait had been put out for “wild dogs”. I suppose “wild dog” sounded more
acceptable than “dingo”.
6
September - Erldunda – Rest Area – 135 km
I waited for the sun to defrost and chatted to the other campers before packing up. The
slow start didn’t affect us much as a good tailwind pushed us in the direction
of Uluru. Luckily, we encountered two rest areas that had water.
At the first one, we were entertained by Daryl
and Gloria travelling in a campervan. After chatting to them, drinking their
coffee and eating all their fruitcake, we
thanked them and headed to the next rest area. Never waste a tailwind, I say. When I say “rest area” I mean,
what I know as a lay-by, a dirt area next to the motorway where vehicles can
pull off.
7
September - Rest Area – Curtin Springs – 28 km
A strong wind picked up during the night, making
the tent flaps roar like a Boeing in the process of taking off. While having
coffee, Carson from Taiwan, whom we have heard from various people, also pulled
in. He was a day or two ahead of us and en route from Uluru to the Stewart
Highway. The chatter continued a while as all felt reluctant to leave the rest
area as, by then, it had started raining, and
the wind appeared to have gathered strength. Eventually,
all had to head off into the icy wind and rain.
Cold, wet and windswept we arrived at Curtin
Springs and, after a coffee, it didn’t take
a great deal of convincing us to pitch the tents. The camp emu wasn’t all that
welcoming, and I walked away quickly, but the emu followed close behind. I walked
faster and faster, eventually running flat out, emu still in tow. On the next round,
and with the smooth action of a well-trained Olympic diver, dived into the tent
and stayed there the rest of the day. I only once ventured out (checking
carefully for the emu) to get a loaf of bread from the roadhouse shop, this
time at AU$7. It must’ve been the most expensive bread in the world.
8
September - Curtin Springs – Yulara – 88 km
The weather cleared during the night, and a huge rainbow greeted us in the morning. Unfortunately,
the dreaded emu was back, inspecting everything and pecking on the tents. Dark
clouds gathered and kept us tentbound. But by 11h30 the weather gave us a break,
and packing up was at the speed of light. We hopped on the bicycles for the
last stretch to Yulara, fortunately minus the emu.
What a gruelling
day of cycling it turned out. A gale-force wind blew all day, and heads down and
windbreakers flapping, we stepped hard on the pedals to Yulara. Eventually, the Yulara Resort and my first
glimpse of Uluru in the distance came into view. By the time the tents were
pitched, the wind had subsided, and the cold weather seemed to have dissipated.
Yulara was the service village for the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, and I had to give it to the Australians, they can
market anything, even a rock. Yulara offered a wide range of accommodation, hot-air
balloon rides, dinner under the stars, camel rides, 4-wheel rides, helicopter
flights, and more.
9
September - Uluru – 37 km
Following the usual rest day chores, a leisurely
cycle led to the long-awaited rock. I was surprised at the size of Uluru; somehow,
I envisaged it as considerably smaller. The rock was quite a dramatic sight as
it rose 350 metres from the desert floor and measured 9.4 kilometres around its
base. Regrettably, the sun didn’t want to play along and scarcely came out to
give the rock its distinctive red colour. After snapping a few pics, we returned to camp for more idle
chatter.
In a way, I
thought it quite sad such a sacred site to the Aboriginal people was trampled
by tourists climbing it. Of course, notices were asking people not to venture
to the top, but still, many found this a kind of pilgrimage.
10 September - Yalara – Curtin Springs – 88 km
Ernest
changed his worn tyre, and therefore 12h30
before getting underway. Fortunately, it turned out a more relaxed day than anticipated. The wind wasn’t as strong and arriving at Curtin Springs was shortly past 5 p.m.
where one could buy wood to make a fire. Rudolfo from Argentina, who then lived
in Melbourne, also camped at Curtin Springs. It became a pleasant evening spent
around a fire with a few beers.
11-12 September - Curtin Springs – Mt Ebenezer –
107 km
After the
usual leisurely start, an additional day of grinding into the wind made us
crawl into Mt Ebenezer with its red, earthy campsite long past 5 p.m. I couldn’t
resist the French fries from the roadhouse and
devoured five dollars’ worth before setting up the tent.
The following
morning, I surfaced at 5h30 with rain pelting down. The entire area had, by
then, turned into a gigantic mud bath. There wasn’t a good deal more to do but
lay cocooned in the tents, hoping the weather would soon clear. Sadly that
never happened as it rained throughout the day.
Eventually, a break in the weather made me sprint to the roadhouse
pub/restaurant to work on the laptop and have a coffee.
13 September - Mt Ebenezer – Kulgera – 135 km
The
following morning, the weather had cleared, and an excellent tailwind helped us
along the 60 kilometres to the Stuart Highway junction at Erldunda. From there the
road beat a dead straight track south through
the desert. An additional 75 kilometres along the Stuart Highway brought us to
Kulgera, sporting a place to pitch a tent and roadhouse. However, Kulgera was nothing more than a pub and restaurant and had
a population of barely 40.
14 September - Kulgera – Rest Area – 61 km
An icy
wind blew, and I was reluctant to leave. Battling into the wind was one thing, but biking
into a freezing wind was another. Twenty-two
kilometres further south the route officially crossed into the state of South
Australia.
At the
border was a rest area where we ran into Gloria and Daryl, whom we’d met en route
to Ayres Rock. Once again, they invited us to coffee and cake. I wonder if
people realised what luxury it was to us.
Forty
kilometres further, we came across a rest area with water and shelter. A fellow
traveller at the rest area invited us to
share his campfire, and I was quick to get my billy on the fire for
my evening coffee. The people in the outback were extremely accommodating and
kind, and sharing food and water came naturally to them.
15 September - Rest Area – Marla – 125 km
Upon waking
up I could hear the unwelcome sound of
rain on the tent. The day was thus spent pedalling in icy conditions and a
constant drizzle. As a result, I was frozen stiff all day.
To make
matters worse, Ernest hadn’t one but two flat tyres - not a thing one wanted in
those icy conditions, although it didn’t seem to bother him. At the best of
times, I’m not good at handling cold weather. I was utterly frozen and thought I might’ve had a bout of hypothermia as
I was shivering uncontrollably.
On
the bright side, I considered myself
lucky to have seen wild horses and a giant kangaroo sitting in the middle of our
path.
I
was never more pleased to ride into a campsite. A quick cup of soup with leftover deep-fried dough balls and a hot
shower was what I needed to defrost. Marla was the first settlement in South Australia and nothing more than a small hamlet, gum trees and a camping area. With a
population of around 70, Marla wasn’t significantly more than a service town for
people heading along the Stuart Highway.
16 September - Marla – Cadney Homestead – 85 km
A signboard stated Adelaide a further
1,082 kilometres down the track.
Ernest repaired punctured tubes and once stocked up from the little mini-mart, the
time was already 12h00.
The day
turned out a cold and windy one. As a result, remote Cadney Homestead only
rolled into view past 5 p.m.
Cadney
was a favourite overnight stop along the
Adelaide–Alice Springs drive as it had
heaps of camping space as well as a roadhouse.
17 September - Cadney Homestead – Pootnoura Rest
Area – 80 km
The
section between Cadney Homestead and Pootnoura was a short distance. Still, it took
the entire day to cycle as the weather was bleak with low clouds and freezing
wind. Add to that the two blow-outs Ernest had due to his new tyre tearing along
the side wall, and it turned out a positively awful day.
Taking the
miserable weather, I stuck the iPod in my ears and battled on. Pootnoura Rest Area had both water and shelter and, as it looked like rain, I’d my
tent up super-fast, and by super-fast I mean SUPER-FAST, as by then I was
pretty good at pitching the tent.
18 September - Pootnoura Rest Area – Coober Pedy –
78 km
Making
coffee was a struggle in the windy conditions,
but, eventually, the water was boiling for an early morning cuppa. I wasn’t looking
forward to another stormy day, but we’d move on as supplies ran low.
Struggling
into the icy wind (sometimes from the front and sometimes a fierce crosswind), cycling
was barely ever at more than 10 kilometres an hour. Strong gusts from the road trains
practically blew me off my bike a few times but I clung on for all I was worth
and barely managed to stay on the road.
The dog
fence, a 5500-kilometre long barrier
running across South East Australia to keep the dingoes out, wasn’t something I’d
ever heard of before until almost 40 kilometres north of Coober Pedy. Another
surprise was Cooper Pedy and the opal country and area featuring countless
holes and piles of dirt. Opal mining was alive and well in Coober Pedy. I then understood why Coober Pedy was often
referred to as “The Opal Capital of the World”.
19-20 September - Coober Pedy
Coober
Pedy was a typical small mining town dotted by corrugated iron houses, dirt
roads and eccentric-looking foreigners seeking their fortune. It had one more intriguing
feature – old, worked-out mines had become homes. Living underground made a lot of sense as the heat was scorching in that part of the world. Apparently, the temperatures underground
never rise above 23˚C. The surrounding
desert had attracted several filmmakers,
and old movie props were scattered around town. Tenting was at the Opal Inn
Caravan Park. Out time was spent doing laundry, stocking up with supplies for
the way south, and exploring all Coober Pedy had to offer.
21 September - Coober Pedy - Ingomar Rest Area –
94 km
Time to
leave the life of hanging around and get on with the task at hand. Luckily, the
day turned out more pleasant than anticipated. At last, the sun was out and the wind not too fierce. The area was
flat, and the landscape consisted of
miles and miles of nothing growing two meters high, apart from the occasional “molehills” where optimistic miners were digging
opals.
Before
leaving, I tried to draw money, but the bank was offline and set off without cash.
There would be no need for it within the next few days as a sign stated there were no facilities in the
next 254 kilometres. The rest area was (as always) interesting and had the
usual bunch of odd and unique people.
22 September - Ingomar Rest Area – Bon Bon Rest
Area – 79 km
I couldn’t
believe it became one more day of making our way into the wind along a pan-flat
road with scarcely a change in the countryside. On and on, “The Track” went, as
we headed south, heads down into the wind. I was close to getting white-line fever. Mercifully, the distance
between the two rest areas was short and once at Bon-Bon, we pitched the tents
and could take a break from the wind. The
most charming people were found at these rest areas. Jen from Adelaide was a
70-year-old lady who drove to Darwin to deposit her late husband’s ashes into
the ocean. She was a remarkable woman and had loads of captivating stories. The more red wine we drank, the more compelling
the stories.
23 September - Bon Bon Rest Area – Glendambo – 87
km
Ernest
and I weren’t on speaking terms; the wind was relentless, the route pan-flat, and
I couldn’t think of a worse situation, all I wanted was to get out of there.
Glendambo was an important stopping
point along the Stuart Highway. This was the last petrol for the next 250
kilometres when travelling north. With a population of around 30 and an annual
rainfall of barely 185mm, it will never, I
guess, become more than a roadside stop. Still, it had a campground, a hotel/motel,
a licenced restaurant, a roadhouse and a general store, and that was all I needed.
24 September - Glendambo – Woomera – 125 km
Thank
goodness, not all things are constant. Once
underway, a tailwind powered us south
past vast areas of nothingness until reaching Lake Hart, once Australia’s
prized salt deposit. Following good
rains, the salt lake was filled to the brim, making magnificent vistas and offering plenty of camping space. In fact,
the pan was so huge it resembled an ocean.
Like two
horses who smelled the stables, we nearly sped right past Woomera wasn’t it for me having a flat tyre. By
then, I think both wanted to get this trip over and done so each could go their
own way. Woomera had a tad of a dark history as Woomera was the headquarters
for experimental rocket and nuclear tests. I read indigenous people suffered greatly
from these nuclear fallouts. The village
centre had a rocket display, and I was surprised at how small some of these deadly
rockets were.
25 September – Woomera - Ranges View Rest Area –
120 km
Past more
salt lakes and a few dusty rest stops, we pedalled. I was surprised to find water
at Ironstone Lagoon Rest Area, almost 70 kilometres south of Pimba. Overnighting
was at Ranges View where the wind blew an
absolute gale - I honestly thought my
tent would take off with me inside, and I’m no lightweight!
26 September - Ranges View Rest Area – Port
Augusta – 66 km
The
following morning, came as a beautiful spring day - sun shining, barely any
wind and flowers everywhere. The Stuart’s Desert Pea flowers were in full bloom
and covered the soil almost as far as the
eye could see.
I
was relieved to roll into Port Augusta, which also marked the end of the exceptionally
long Stuart Highway and find myself in a more built-up area. The campsite was a
bit out of town but was inexpensive and had excellent
facilities.
27-28 September - Port
Augusta
The
wind picked up, and I was happy we
weren’t cycling. The routine tasks of
laundry, internet and stocking up on foodstuff kept us occupied most of the day.
While strolling about, I came upon an Aboriginal art display. I heard more concerning
the complex topic of dot art and Dreamtime
stories. What a fascinating culture, albeit far too complicated for me to grasp.
29
September
- Port Augusta – Port Germein – 70 km
After two
days of leisure, we resumed our quest. A strong headwind battered us all day,
but we struggled onwards regardless. In fact,
it became so intense I thought it outright dangerous. Trucks and buses blew one
all over the place and upon reaching the coastal community of Port Germein, I called
it quits. A cyclist, Grant from Perth, was in camp, trying to cycle home from Sydney in 30 days. The site opposite
the “longest wooden pier in Australia” wasn’t cheap but had a well-equipped kitchen and good showers.
Port
Germein was a forlorn-looking place with simply a few houses, a small hotel and
general store, a jetty and camping. The area was a crabbing one, and just about everyone in town had a crab net.
30 September - Port Germein – Snowtown – 98 km
The wind eased slightly, but judging by the windfarms
and mangled old windmills, the area was notoriously windy. Still, it remained a
picturesque ride as the fields were green and stretched for miles on end past quaint
towns like Waretown, Red Hill and Lake
View.
We pitched
the tents in Snowtown, sporting a community of 600, three churches, a hotel,
and a general grocer. The campground was in the Centenary Park recreation area and
had a perfectly manicured bowling green, tennis
court and, of course, a football oval that doubled as a cricket pitch in
summer.
1 October - Snowtown – Dublin – 89 km
Hallelujah, the wind was finally in our favour and the sky a
perfect blue. The weather was pleasantly warm resulting in an excellent day past
deep green wheat fields and yellow canola fields, vast salt lakes and delightful small villages with names like Lochiel, Wild Horse Plain and Windsor.
Tiny
Dublin had a convenient rest area. So we set up the tents and only the
following morning noticed the small “no camping” sign.
2-5 October - Dublin – Adelaide – 62 km
On a breezy
but sunny Saturday afternoon we rode into Adelaide, and I could say I’d crossed
one more continent. The streets were quiet,
and Adelaide was undoubtedly the most accessible city
I’ve biked into in a long while. Roads were wide and traffic orderly. There
were no hooting, traffic jams, or strange one-way streets; simply a plain and comfortable
ride right into the city centre.
Adelaide Caravan Park was ever so orderly, to such an extent
I couldn’t make up my mind if boring or peaceful. Located along the banks
overlooking the Torrents River, the park had a beautiful location but was relatively
quiet. Sadly, the numerous rules didn’t leave a great deal for spontaneity.
People, on average, seemed to hide in their
mobile homes, and I missed the rest areas and their eccentric
travellers.
Nevertheless,
Adelaide remained a pleasant, spacious city with many parks, river walks and cycling tracks. Indeed, a very liveable city, apart
from its 750 churches (I believe), which I thought enough to put a damper on any
city. We strolled endlessly around city malls and
along scenic river paths. We ate pizzas and drank beers at sidewalk cafes, ate their famous chocolates and,
in the process, entirely blew the budget.
I felt ill-suited for city life as I merely possessed one pair of worn sandals
and a few pieces of tattered clothing.
Possums
came to visit, black swans floated
downriver, and in the morning, were woken by parrots. I bought a new rear hub which
Ernest fitted but it cost me a set of
tyres for his bicycle.
I finally
decided on my plans for the near future.
The plan (which changed daily) was to cycle to Melbourne and then fly (via
South Africa) to South America to start
the long haul north in summer.
6 October - Adelaide – Mt Barker – 40 km
What I
first thought was a boring, dull town
turned out a great city. Our path led over the Adelaide Hills along the Crafers
Bikeway, past Stirling, Aldgate, Bridge Water and Hahndorf, Australia’s oldest
remaining German settlement. It turned
out a fantastic ride, through forested areas and quaint villages. Regrettably,
what started as a beautiful morning, became an icy
cold, cloudy, blustery and drizzly day.
Mt Barker
made an excellent stop to get out of the weather and enjoy their lovely red
wine. Not a bad day at all. A South African family who’d newly immigrated lived
in one of the cabins and was still house-hunting– good luck to them.
7 October - Mt Barker – Tailem Bend – 79 km
The
weather was bitterly cold as our path followed secondary roads past
Littlehampton, Nairne, Native Valley, Callington, and Murray Bridge. These tiny
villages were picture-perfect, neat, orderly, and had lovely old, restored
buildings. Therefore, the ride was pleasant past farmlands and horsey areas,
and the llamas spotted didn’t look too out of place.
From
Murray Bridge, a path ran south along the
west bank of the Murray River. The headwind made me lose my sense of humour somewhere along that stretch. I wondered
what I was doing out there on a bicycle. At Jervois, a motor pontoon took people across the river to Tailem
Bend. Once the tent was up, and following a hot shower, a glass of excellent
Australian red and an enormous bowl of
pasta, my sense of humour returned. Things
didn’t look all bleak after all.
8-9 October - Tailem Bend – Meningie – 63 km
Our first
stop was at “Old Tailem Town”. A pioneer’s village consisting of 105 old structures
dating from the 1800s - uplifted from their original places all over South
Australia to form an authentic looking pioneer’s village. The village consisted
of houses, a church, school, movie house, bank, shops, and a railway station. The ride to Meningie was windy. Luckily
it was only 63 km away.
Meningie, situated along the shores of Lake Albert, had
beautiful vistas over the lake. The wind subsided, the sun set over the lake and pelicans drifted past while terns ducked
and dived in search of their evening meal. A
perfect ending to what was a rather unpleasant and windy day. So lovely was
it the following day was also spent in Meningie.
10 October - Meningie – 42 Mile crossing – 83 km
From
Meningie, the route to Melbourne ran along the Coorong National Park, a ride that
became an excellent biking day. A slight tailwind
and magnificent views of the famed
wetlands and their abundant birdlife made
it a pleasure out on the bike. I loved the place names encountered as the route
led through Policeman’s Point and Salt Creek to 42 Mile Crossing, where tenting
was at a park camp. The water tank was dry, the “kitchen” home to a swarm of
bees, and flies and mozzies attacked simultaneously. However, I wasn’t
complaining as I thought it was part of everyday life’s ups and downs, which
general life was peppered with.
11 October - 42 Mile Crossing – Robe - 112 km
Loading
up, I was bombed by a magpie - he, apparently, thought I’d overstayed my welcome. Powered by a strong tailwind,
we flew past Kingston, but not before tasting their famous and delicious pies
and then to picturesque seaside Robe.
Camping
right along the ocean is always enjoyable. A stroll into the village revealed a
restaurant serving veggie burgers, and I was delighted by the change of
cuisine. The French fries were such a huge helping it bordered on rudeness.
Along the
road, we met a Dutch lady (Anneke)
cycling in the opposite direction. She came to visit her daughter and was riding
back to the Netherlands. Anneke had no watch, no odometer and no cycling
partner. As she said, all she needed was a credit card, passport and water. She
cycled when daylight and slept when it became dark. Way to go, Anneke!
12 October – Robe
I was
woken by the unwelcome sound of rain upon the tent. A steady drizzle settled
in, and it didn’t look like the rain that would soon clear. I was thus more
than surprised to see Ernest already packed, and that for someone who couldn’t get
going even at the best of times! However, there was
no getting me out of the tent in such foul weather and I stayed put.
13 October - Robe – Millicent - 81 km
The next morning,
I listened carefully for the sound of rain but, mercifully, didn’t hear the
tell tail drip-drip. The lack of rain made a hasty departure. Still bitterly cold,
I dressed for the Arctic. During the day
we met three other Australian cyclists, en route from Adelaide to Sydney, and I
looked at their bikes and gear with great envy.
14-15 October - Millicent
– Mt Gambier – 53 km
The map
indicated a short distance to Mt Gambier and, therefore, no rush in packing up.
Fortunately, a tailwind made effortless biking and an early arrival at Mt Gambier.
Unfortunately, no sooner were the tents up than the weather came in. A steady
drizzle accompanied by a strong and gusty wind brought freezing weather, enough to send me shopping for warmer clothes.
By the
next day, the weather deteriorated even further.
I lay wrapped in my tent, listening to the wind and rain the remainder of the
day. Luckily, I uncovered a few girlie magazines
in the kitchen
and a packet of chocolate-coated peanuts
in my pannier. That, and numerous cups of coffee, kept me occupied for much of
the day.
16-17 October - Mt Gambier – Portland - 106 km
Dressed
in my new winter woollies, I got on the
bicycle in freezing weather, accompanied
by occasional rain and high winds. Not the best day of riding – and I could’ve
sworn I was in England.
The
coastal route continued past Nelson and
through large sections of state forests; we rode up and over the hills in
freezing weather. For the second time on the trip,
I was attacked by magpies. I read spring in Australia was magpie season, and
breeding magpies often became aggressive and attacked those who came too close
to their nests, especially cyclists! Good thing I’d the helmet I was required to purchase in Adelaide. I was more than happy to reach Portland. In
fact, so miserable was it, I opted for a cabin at the campsite, and what
a good idea. The cabin came equipped with a TV, microwave, kettle and toaster. So good was it, we also stayed the next day. I
was warm as toast and comfortable on a bed.
18 October - Portland – Warrnambool – 105 km
Eish, time
to get going. Back on the bicycle and out in the weather once more. Conditions weren’t all horrible as it only
rained once or twice and the stretch to Warrnambool came with a slight tailwind.
Enough time
remained to explore quaint and historic Port Fairy. The town had an ensemble of
old buildings and a pretty harbour. It surely must be a popular summer place. Warrnambool was considerably
larger than expected and had a campground right in the centre of town and easy
walking distance to shops. It was a hot shower, hot chocolate, and choc-chip muffin
weather and I did precisely that.
19 October - Warrnambool – Port Campbell - 71 km
The sun
came out for the first time in days, making relaxing in the sun before leaving.
The route continued past numerous dairy farms, cheese factories, and miles and
miles of picturesque pastures. I even spotted a few black swans.
Eventually, the road spat us out at the coast and the
renowned Great Ocean Road. I wasn’t disappointed. This scenic and dramatic
coast draws thousands of tourists and has prices to match. The wind and ocean had eroded the limestone to form spectacular pinnacles, coves, caves and arches.
A truly magnificent sight, and we turned off at every chance to admire the scenery
and snap a few pics.
20 October - Port Campbell – Lavers Hill – 52 km
Luckily, the
weather remained sunny with little wind. Our first stop was at Loch Ard Gorge,
another dramatic viewpoint, and the
famous 12 Apostles. Soon, the route left the coast and climbed through
eucalyptus forests to Lavers Hill, a small settlement perched atop the Otway
Ranges. En route we saw the three cyclists from Adelaide from time to time. In
Lavers Hill, I was hoping to see the glow
worms, but none came out and it became too cold to explore.
21 October - Lavers Hill – Kennett River – 73 km
From
Lavers Hill, the road descended sharply, reaching speeds of over 50 kilometres
per hour. But unfortunately, our joy was short-lived. Soon the way climbed
through the Otway National Park, a dense forest with lovely fern gullies ending
in a nice descent into Apollo Bay.
From
Apollo Bay to Kennett River, the path ran along a magnificent stretch of coastline.
The night was spent at a site across the street from the beach. The place was
close to a paradise with koalas in the trees, ducks, and colourful birds. Also,
camping was Alan and Heather from
England, who had been cycling for the past nine months (on that trip). The incredible thing was we previously met them at
Kannur in India two years before.
Ernest cooked a massive pasta dish, and too substantial to finish, leftovers remained
in the pot. The next morning, we discovered
the lid under the tree and the bowl empty.
Sadly, Ernest heard his mother had passed away the
previous day. RIP Mrs Markwood.
22 October - Kennett River – Anglesea - 56 km
After chatting to Alan and Heather, it was midday
before departing and the first warm day in ages, making biking enjoyable. The coastline
was stunning, as the route ran along the shore past Lore and Aireys Inlet. The
weather came in. Fortunately, Anglesea rolled into view shortly before the rain
came.
23 October - Anglesea – Rosebud – 80 km
Instead of biking via Geelong on Port Phillip Bay’s
western side to Melbourne, the ferry from Queenscliff across the bay’s mouth to
Sorrento looked a more novel way. From Sorrento, one could cycle to Melbourne
along the eastern shore.
The path to Rosebud ran alongside the coast and, while
built-up, biking was effortless. Instead of cooking, I splashed out on pizzas from
the shop across the way, a welcome change to our regular diet of pasta.
24 October - Rosebud – Melbourne – 80 km
I was concerned (as usual) about cycling into a
big city, as traffic can be hectic, making finding a hostel even more
challenging. However, my concerns were unjustified as not only was it Sunday, but
the route leading into the city had a bicycle lane - how cool is that? What an organised city
Melbourne was. Once across the famous Jarra River,
the path spat us out in the town centre.
It didn’t take long to spot a backpacker’s hostel
along King Street, aptly named King Street Backpackers. But, of course, nothing
in Australia was cheap. Still, the accommodation was comfortable and featured
neat, clean rooms, a kitchen and a big
communal area. Although being in a place where everything was closed and locked up made me feel a tad claustrophobic.
25 October – Melbourne
A great deal of the day was spent organising a flight from Melbourne to Cape Town,
South Africa (where I intended to spend time before flying to South America). Getting
a bike box and arranging a taxi to pick
me up and take me to the airport the next day took up the remainder of the day.
That was Australia done and dusted. Albeit I didn’t see half the country, I thoroughly enjoyed my time, and to
think I wasn’t even all keen on going there in the first place. This experience
confirmed I should never judge a country before I’ve visited and impressions
from the media and “friends” are often warped. I by no means claim to know a
country I’ve cycled. My reports are far from factual and I only dot down what I
“thought” I saw and my experiences have a lot to do with my state of mind, the
weather and the company I’m in.
26-27 October - Melbourne, Australia – Cape Town,
South Africa
A long and tedious
flight took me from one end of the world to another. I was happy to have the
opportunity to stopover in Cape Town instead of flying directly from Melbourne to Buenos Aires, Argentina. In those days, the
flight was a direct one with a refuelling
stop in Cape Town, and passengers could break
their journey in South Africa at no extra cost. It was great to see my family.
We wasted no time and immediately brought out the wine and ordered pizzas. Certain
things never change.
