SPOKE TOO SOON..

 

I was already awake by the time my alarm went off at 5 am and I had already started to pack all my gear in preparation for a long day to the town of Walgett some 130 kilometres down the road.It was still very dark and in the pre dawn stillness , I stood in the middle of the highway and looked up at the sky.Not since my ride through the Bolivian Andes in 2006 have I seen such an amazing display of stars covering the night sky.It was a great show only to be highlighted by the glorious pinks and oranges that grew out of the eastern horizon.It was great to see the new day start but the sunrise also signalled that it was time to get packed and moving before the heat began yet again.One little light show I really didn't expect out here in the middle of nowhere was the white pinpoint flashing light that was approaching me from the east.I stood there on the side of the highway as it came closer and I knew it was a strobe light that cyclists have and so I thought perhaps another cycle tourist was up for an early start but no,as he passed me it was a guy in a triathlon time trial bike,down on his aero-bars going like a madman.We said our good mornings as he flew by and I stood there thinking,"W.T.F!!!"

I packed all my stuff had a coffee and just after sunrise was off down the highway toward the town of Collarenebri about 50 kilometres away.This was to be my water restocking and breakfast stop before riding the 78 kilometres to Walgett to finish off the day.I didn't know very much about this town at all and would have left earlier but didn't know if they had a roadhouse or a gas station that would be open all night and delayed my start so I would arrive in town at the reasonable time of around 8:30 am.Surely by then the town would have started to come to life.

 The ride that morning was again flat with a gentle tailwind and I was enjoying the morning especially as it was quite cool and my legs weren't hurting too much,which had become my morning norm.One thing about this ride that did surprise me,not just on that day but for the past few days was that,even though I had done pretty much no training at all nothing hurt.I didn't have really sore legs,just the fatigue you would expect from riding when unfit.There was none of the back pain that had so screwed with me during the last few long races I had done.There was no sore feet and perhaps most importantly,my ass had adapted to sitting on the saddle almost immediately leaving Coolangatta.I was actually pretty amazed by all of that as I really did expect to be hurting from at least one of those issues .That day though I did have my first "issue" and that was mechanical and not physical.After about 30 kilometres I swore that I heard a loud metallic bang and looked down to see the bike rolling along just as it had all morning.I figured I must have kicked up a stone onto my frame and didn't think much of it until a few minutes later when I heard my front brakes rubbing.I pulled over, stopped and leaned over my handlebars to see my front rim hard up against my left brake pad.I stood,lifted the front wheel off the ground and spin it and sure enough it was wobbly,damn,must be a broken spoke.I got off the bike,checked my wheel and sure enough a loose spoke was hanging off the rim,snapped at the hub.

 Where I've been and where I'm going

    I had spare spokes for both wheels and knew I could fix it but really didn't want to do it here on the side of the road so I decided to ride on to Collarenebri 18 kilometres away and fix it there.For the next hour I babied the bike along the road,slowly dodging potholes and lumps as the wheel wobbled more and more.I was thankful that it was the front wheel as the back one would most likely been toast as the weight of the trailer would have trashed it just like it did as I rode through the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State the year before.That time the rear wheel was destroyed and I had to hitchhike with my bike to two different towns to find a new wheel,eventually picking one up in Seaside,Oregon.That wheel is still going strong on the back today.

    At about 8:30am I rolled over the bridge spanning the Barwon River,through the one street town of Collarenebri and into the driveway of the local gas station.I parked my bike in the driveway and went into the store and saw a real coffee machine sitting at one end of the counter.Real coffee,awesome!I odered a large Flat White and asked the two girls behind the counter if there was a campground around the place and they said yep but asked why I would want to stop so early in the day.I told them of my broken spoke and how I needed to stop for a while to fix the wheel and a campground might have enough space for me to spread all my crap while I did so.I was told pretty matter-of-factly that going back down the highway,over the bridge to the towns main oval where folks camped,unsupervised wasn't a really good idea considering I couldn't lock all my stuff away safely.I asked them if safety was really an issue and was told not really but theft is and one of them indicated to the window.Outside,on the other side of the street were a four young local Aboriginals looking toward the gas station and pointing.The older of the two girls said "They are checking out your bike."

   With that I took my coffee outside as the four locals came over and asked my where I was going,I told them, " To Walgett" and they shook their heads and the three boys walked off.The young girl stood their for a few seconds before she was yelled at buy one of the guys and she joined them sitting on the steps of a building across the street.

 Gas station and social centre of town for the morning

   I stood out there drinking my coffee slowly trying to make a decision on what to do while a few cars came and went,filling their tanks up for the days drive.It was a very interesting social experiment actually as I found the white folks who stopped all wanted to chat and asked me all about my trip and offered advice about the towns ahead,including warnings about the rough towns of Walgett and Brewarrina that lay ahead for me.There was a couple on a Harley Davidson who were off to check out the opal Fields of Lightning Ridge,a farmer who was very proud to tell me,when he had found out I had started my ride in Coolangatta,that he had been to the Gold Coast once."Too fancy.Too crowded.You can have it!" he said.One other was an old timer who had lost an arm in a farming accident and was now the local postman.We chatted for quite a while and if you want to know what "local" means around here,he told me that his mail run that day was going to be 515 kilometres long!

    He was a funny old guy and he had the perfect security system to protect the local mail.In his car was the most beautiful White  German Shepherd who was totally savage to anyone who approached his car but turned into a real softie once his owner turned up.The local Aboriginals who came to the store during our conversation must have known all about that dog because they gave his car a very wide berth with one girl telling him." I'll shoot that dog one day".That was what it was like,as I said the white folks were happy to chat but getting a "hello" or a polite conversation out of the Aborigines that walked by was like pulling teeth.On leaving the gas station,my new one-arm mate advised me not to hang around too long in public with all my gear and he told me that if I wasn't going to be able to ride for a few hours I might as well call it a day and get out of the sun before the expected heatwave hit.He told me to go down to the pub and ask about staying in  their motel.

 My lodge room.

   I thought about what he said for a few minutes and  as the lazy bastard in me kicked in I found myself riding a couple of hundred metres down the street back to the pub and around the corner to the motel section.As I turned the corner I found a guy bringing in the wheelie bins from the street and I asked him if they had any rooms for the night.He laughed and said "Mate,take your pick,there is nobody here". Ten minutes later I had unhooked my trailer and wheeled my gear up the ramp of the new, lodge like building and into my huge room that would have looked more in place at a ski resort in the Rocky Mountains than out here in the Aussie bush.I hadn't seen that much wooden panelling in a motel since I drove around the Rockies in Canada six winters ago.

   I showered ,washed my bike clothes, and set the air conditioning to sub-Arctic before settling into the couch to catch the end of the morning news on the television.It was still so early that I was told I would have to wait until the pub opened at 11am to pay for my room which left me an around an hour and a half to make myself a coffee and literally chill out feeling both happy and guilty that I would be doing nothing for the rest of the day.

   While I watched the news I took my wheel off and set about replacing the broken spoke.It didn't take long at all and after a few minutes the easy part was done and the new spoke was in.I decided to leave it until later in the day to do the tricky part which is "trueing" the wheel or put simply getting the wobble out of the rim.I am a crap mechanic at the best of times so I figured if I put it off long enough  the cycling Gods might strike me with a bolt of competence and I would be able to get the wheel rolling straight again with a minimum of fuss and colourful swear words.

 The pub and the main street with the motel to the left behind

  Just after mid-day I wandered out into the superheated air and into the pub to pay for my nights accommodation.That done it was off to see the local sights which comprised of and small park,the river and several abandoned buildings.The touristing done for the day I went to the grocery store and wandered around the isles trying to figure out what I felt like to eat for lunch and dinner that day.Fifteen minutes later I was all stocked up and it was back to my room to settle in,true my wheel and as there was no internet access,settle in for an afternoon of cricket on the television.Like I said,I felt a little guilty for being so lazy but that didn't last too long as I started to enjoy an afternoon evenly divided between bike related chores,cooking,watching television and napping.

   Maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all....

 He musn't have been home when I was there

 A little local history

 The very brown Barwon River

 Upstream from town

 You know you are in the bush when....

  

CHRISTMAS AND THE GHOSTS OF PAST AND PRESENT..

   My alarm woke me up at 5am and it was hard to get out of my sleeping bag.I could quite easily have rolled over and gone to sleep but I was keen to get to Moree and check into a motel for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.The main reason I wanted to get going was that even though it was only 80 kilometres to get to town,I wanted to make sure that I had time to check in to my motel and then find the local supermarkets and buy enough supplies for the next few days before the stores closed for Christmas.It was a little after sunrise when I rolled out onto the highway and was pedalling my way toward another new town.

   The morning ride was a pretty easy one as it was pretty flat but I had to constantly remind myself to slow down as I kept unconsciously trying to push the pace beyond my fitness level.It was weird as I kept having to talk to myself out loud to slow down before I blew up but there was an underlying anxiety in my head that was messing with me.I can't explain it but after about 40 kilometres I pulled over to a rest area and lay down on the top of a picnic table in the shade and forced myself to tale some deep breaths and calm the hell down.I lay there napping for about an hour before my heart rate dropped and my little anxiety attack was over.That was a first and I didn't like it.

  The heat of the day arrived early and combined with the remnants of the previous weeks floodwaters still covering the land on the side of the road,the humidity rose as well.It actually became quite oppressive,making the day seem much hotter than it actually was.I started to feel a little ill as I approached town and realised that I hadn't eaten at all that morning so I guess it was no surprise that I started to struggle.About six kilometres out of town I found a rest area and pulled in to get out of the sun and saw just how quickly a person can go downhill once the heat and dehydration set in.A couple at the rest area told me that it wasn't far to go and were surprised when I told them at the rate I was going it would take me another hour to get to town.I had consumed the last of my fluids and that six kilometres seemed like twenty as I finally rolled out of the rest area and into the outskirts of Moree.

  I made the turn off the highway and slowly rolled toward the downtown core before the touring cyclists oasis appeared before me,a gas station!I parked my rig and walked into the cool of the air-conditioning and went immediately for the rescue remedy of many a "bonked" cyclist,a can of Coke and a Mars Bar.Within minutes of consuming both I felt great and set about finding my motel.

   I had actually forgotten the name of the motel where I had made a booking but I knew the name of the street it was on and how to get there so when I rode past the huge Moree Aquatic Centre and Thermal Baths I knew I was close.The only thing to do was try my luck at each of the four motel on the street until I found my one.As luck would have it the first one I tried turned out to be the correct one and I checked into the Baths Motel,put all my gear away,had a shower and then set about walking through the towns parks about a mile to the "Mall" in town where Coles Supermarket was.

   I noticed that many of the stores in town had already closed for Christmas and as is so common in country towns in Australia these days,only the Chinese Restaurants,take away food stores and Subway were open.The rest of town was deserted and it was strange to walk the near empty streets of the three block downtown area accompanied by the sound of Christmas Carols blaring out of loudspeakers attached to the City Council building.Cole and the rest of the small mall were busy though and I bought enough supplies for three days,Guinness included.

   After loading up it was off to the taxi rank for the short trip back to my motel.My driver was a young Indian guy and I asked him how long he had been in Moree and he said he and his whole family had moved here two years before and that they loved it because it was a great community and so much cheaper than the big cities on the coast.It dawned on me then that this town.like so many others within a days drive of the coast had really changed.They were no longer iconic Australian towns anymore and were starting to look like the generic towns of the east coast where nothing really distinguishes one from the other.Chain stores,McDonalds,Subway,fancy coffee shops all have replaced the small family stores and Milk Bars and  in our ever increasing immigration expansion this town.like so many others, is starting to look like every other.

 Restocking for the road ahead

   The owners of the Baths Motel were Serbian immigrants who had moved west to join the thousands of others who had moved from Europe to work on the farms of inland New South Wales.There are many towns which have a distinct modern European history,some are predominately Italian ,some Greek and this one seemed to be Serbian as every room in the motel except mine was occupied for Christmas by Serbian families who were visiting for the holidays.They all seemed very nice and all seemed to be here,in part,to soak up the minerals in the Artesian Spas that Moree is apparently famous for.Quite frankly,the thought of soaking in a thermal pool on a 38 Celcius day wasn't my idea of a great way to relax so I turned down the air-conditioning and moved inside for the rest of the day.

  The rest of my stay in Moree was very relaxing and my Christmas very quiet,I didn't do anything really and kept to myself while catching up with folks all over the world online,distibuting what Christmas cheer that I could from my little room far removed from my and everyone else's life.I stayed a bit longer than I expected,part because of the stupid heat and part because I was kind of enjoying writing in my blog and hiding from the world in my room.I did wander around a fair bit and was impressed with just how much infrastructure there was in town for the people here.They have great parks with all kinds of awesome playgrounds for the kids,lots of sporting facilities and the Aquatic Centre and Thermal Baths were first class and quite the focal point of all the tourists in town.

  The owners of the motel were a lovely family and looked after me very well,even reducing the nightly rate by quite a lot after I extended my stay by two nights.I thought though that I had to make a move and so packed all my gear and was ready to roll out after three great days recovering from the heat and exploring the town.The next morning though my mind started playing its usual tricks with me and I struggled to get into my bike gear and roll my bike out the door.I had started to slump into the not unusual situation of feeling too comfortable and safe, hidden away from the world and so to get myself out of it I put on my "day clothes" and went to McDonalds for breakfast and to use their internet. It is this feeling that I need to hide away that has been the root cause of so much of why I have failed at pretty much everything I have tried over the last ten years.Day after day I can waste time by finding a safe haven from my imaginary demons and that time doesn't even register with me.I can, and have, gone for weeks without doing anything constructive at all and generally once the haze passes the harsh reality hits me that I have run out of time to do what I wanted to do.That is why it was so easy for me to do absolutely nothing over the last half of this year and totally blow out.That is why I forced myself out on the road.If I hadn't then heaven knows how bad a place I would be in right now.This ride is good for me.I might not complete the original plan, but I need to stay out here no matter how hard it is,no matter how much I want to stop.

 The river running through Moree

 It was just after 6am and I sat there for about two hours chatting to some folks on Facebook and checking out weather websites and online maps of the road ahead.I really didn't want to ride anymore and wandered slowly back to the motel thinking that I would be here another night and to be honest,also thinking that my ride might be over. At around 9:15am I went out to talk to the motel manager and he told me that they were full that night and that made my decision for me.I had to leave. I got changed,put my bike and trailer together and slowly rolled through the motel car park where the managers son stopped me and asked if I wanted to stay another night as his dad could fit me in.I was so,so,so tempted and wanted to so much but instead I said no,thanked hin and his family for all their help and rode out into the street.

   As I rode through downtown to hook up with my particular highway I was really struggling .I just didn't want to be on the road and not only that I was pissed off with myself because I had now given up the three and a half hours of riding that I would have put in if I had left when I was supposed to.Even the strong tailwind that hit me once I was out on the road didn't lift my spirits and I fought hard not to turn around and end my ride right there.I didn't though and rode on into the blazing heat and nothingness of western New South Wales..

   My issues with running low on water on the rode into Moree were sorted my adding a few litres the the amount I carried on my trailer and that meant I was carrying over 10 litres of water with me,which was to last the 93kilometers to that nights planned stop and then on to the next town a further 48 kilometres the next morning.That extra weight on the trailer could be felt as it bounced around on the rough road and I was very thankful for both the tailwind and the flat terrain.I was also glad that the highway was quiet as that allowed me to spend a lot of time riding in the middle of the lane while keeping an eye on my mirror for traffic coming up from behind.

 Heading off on the wide roads of town

  It was a pretty good first two hours and things got better when,out of the blue a sign saying "Café Ahead" came within eyesight.I couldn't believe it as there was no mention of anything between Moree and Collarenebri,an mostly Aboriginal community 140 kilometres away.I rode on around the bend in the highway and there it was,a great big barn that had been convereted into a café for travellers .I couldn't resist.

   I parked my bike against the fence in front of the huge building and went inside to be met by two young German backpackers having lunch and a very cheerful couple who were the owners of the café.I got myself a can of coke and a coffee and set about chatting to the Germans about their travels and the owners about the local district.It was just the thing I needed to lift my spirits and put me back in traveller mode.It is funny how things can change so quickly and after about an hour I left feeling much about things and rode on for almost another two hours to the planned nights pit-stop,a rest area 93 kilometres from Moree.
 
  Even with my late start I had made good time and I had lots of time to set up my camp,dry my clothes out and cook myself some dinner,twice.As I mentioned in a previous post,the mental benefits of being able to clean yourself out on the road are quite substantial and so instead of wasting precious water in washing myself like I did outside of Boggabilla I decided a different approach was needed and I had bought a pack of baby-wipes in Moree.Just the ability to wipe the days grime off my face,head, neck and especially crotch made carrying them more than worth it.Before long I was feeling squeaky clean and staring over a boiling billy ready to that nights pasta creation.

 The dry highway west

   The only company I had for the rest of the day was a truckie who pulled his road train into the rest area to take a break from driving and to walk his little Jack Russell.When the dog was let out of the truck he came racing over to greet my before busying himself with licking as much salt off my legs as he could.His owner came over and asked me about my trip and we chatted for a while before he said he needed to be on his way as he had a long night on the road in front of him.before he left though he insisted of giving me a supply of water.At first I told him that I was fine as I figured I had enough to get me to the next town in the morning but he just said "You can never have enough water out here".With that he filled up two of my big water bottles giving me a extra two and a half litres for the night,which I did indeed end up drinking.

    After his departure,things on the highway got very quiet and after watching yet another amazing sunset it was off to bed to reflect on a great afternoon to a day that had started so badly.I was hoping that trend would continue from here on.
 

 Random tree shot

 Ooops Skippy dropped his tail..

 Flies are my friends

 The Café!

 Resting by the Gwydr Hoghway

 Ready to cook dinner with tent in background

 I am having trailer envy

 Another sunset on the road

 Literally on the road at sunset

  

 

ON TO THE BUSH.

     That cool night gave my body the chance to recover from the heat of the previous two days and I woke up well before sunrise ready to pack up my gear and ride on through the day.By around 5:30am I was all packed and rolled my rig out into the pre-dawn light,anticipating a much easier day as the elevation maps had me riding a mostly flat course for the  days planned 137 kilometres.I was prepared for a gradual elevation change during the first 33 kilometres after which there was supposed to be a long downhill to my breakfast stop at the hamlet of Yetman around 40 kilometres into the day.That long gradual uphill felt very easy as the cool morning allowed me to push a little harder than I had been able to over the last days of riding.Funnily enough,I actually felt a little cold and was loving it.

 Breakfast stop at Yetman

    It seemed a short ride to the top of the long climb but before I knew it I had ridden over the top and rolled the few kilometres into tiny Yetman a true "blink and you will miss it" town which comprised of a school.a caravan park,an old garage, and a store.I made a beeline to the store and was thankful that it was open.Normally these places in tiny hamlets like Yetman are famously unreliable but as I walked up the ramp of the old building I could smell breakfast being cooked inside well before I opened the door.Once inside I was firstly greeted by a big fluffy cat blocking the way and after an appropriate amount of time getting his head scratched I was allowed to pass and order my breakfast which I took out to the veranda to eat.

   I love watching the comings and goings of the locals at places like this and always wonder,what the hell people do out here and what made them decide to live in the  middle of bloody nowhere.I often ask that very question,which generally surprises most but I really am fascinated in why people do what they do in this world.Today was no different and I chatted to a few folks about my bike,my ride and what brought them to Yetman that morning.More and more I was getting Christmas wishes from the folks I met but I must admit I wasn't feeling very festive at all.This Christmas was a little lost on me as,out here travelling alone,the holiday and religion didn't really mean very much.It would be just another day really.

   With my breakfast stop done I rolled out again and set myself the task of covering the next 70 or so kilometres of my ride before the heat of the day reached its worst.That would get me to the town of Boggabilla,just south of the famous cotton town of Goodiwindi where I would rest before turning down the Newell Highway and head south to my projected destination for the night,the North Star rest area a further 30k's away from Boggabilla.

 Out of the forest behind me

    I had thought that it would be flat from Yetman but I was soon riding through a series of longish undulating hills covered in a forest alive with the sound of buzzing cicadas.It was through this forest that I started to notice a lot more wildlife,especially kangaroos.There were lots of them hanging out in mobs on the side of the road only to get well and truly spooked as I crept up on them silently.

   Another strange thing started to happen with one section of the animal kingdom and that was the cockatoos which seemed especially rowdy every time I rode past groups of them sitting in the trees high above the road.Now anyone who has seen these birds knows how much noise they can make but generally they aren't really interested in people and go about their business.For the past two days though, they seemed unusually interested in me and particularly in this forest.As I rode by they would take off from their high perches and follow me very closely in formation screeching loudly,sometimes for as long as a few minutes before peeling off and flying away.I couldn't work it out as I had never seen that before and it wasn't until I had a rest about half an hour later that a theory started to form in my mind.As I flung my CamelBak to the ground I looked at the cover I had bought for it and realised that the yellow,sulphur coloured Hi-Vis,reflective material looked very much like the colour of the crest of the cockatoos after which they are named.I then looked at my arms which were covered in the white sleeves of my surf rashie that I wear to keep the sun off  during the day.Then it dawned on me that quite possibly,from above,these bloody cockatoos saw me, with my big white body,white arms extended to the handlebars with a sulphur coloured patch on my back,topped off with a white helmet and thought that I was the mother of all Sulphur Crested Cockatoos and I was flying low through their territory.Maybe they were trying to scare me off or maybe they were paying homage to the "Great Cockatoo" of parrot legend but whatever they were doing they continued doing it for the rest of the day.I was just glad they didn't launch a bombing raid.

 Into "The Bush"

   Another hour past before I finally made the last downhill coast through the forest to the bottom of the Great Dividing Range and out into the flat,near empty expanses of the Aussie bush.Seriously it was just like that,one second I was surrounded by forest and the next,I was in empty farmland as far as the eye could see.It was weird and as I stopped on a bridge just out of the forest I thought that there should be a big sign on the side of the road saying "The Outback Starts Here!" I had only seen this once before and that was on my ride in 2009 when I rode through a forest near tiny Goolgowi,west of Cowra and out onto the vast,mind-numbing, Hay Plains.On that bridge,as I was taking happy snaps and talking to the cows on the side of the road I noticed that my flag was fluttering madly westward.I had a tailwind!

  The next couple of hours were pretty dull as the wind blew me along the gently rolling farmland and I was able to actually start to believe that the worst of the ride was behind me and that I would be able to get through each day a lot easier without having to drag the weight of my trailer (and myself) over any more mountain ranges.I was massively behind schedule but that didn't matter so much,what did matter was the confidence I was getting from the realisation that I had been right all along and my predictions that my suffering in the mountains would be followed by my equally correct predictions that,even with all the excess weight and my huge lack of preparation for this ride,I would come good once I hit the flat expenses of the outback.The only issue I had was the heat but today,at least.the weather Gods had been kind and the sky was covered in light cloud keeping the temperatures down atleast ten degrees below the previous two days.

   I entered the nondescript town of Boggabilla at around 12:30pm and rode through the wide streets to the end of the Bruxner Highway and left onto the Newell Highway,one of the main road arteries connecting the towns from Queensland down through the centre of New South Wales.As soon as I made the turn I realised that I was in for a much busier time of it for the next two days as I went from a very quiet road to immediately facing a long line of semi trailers.I had planned a stop here and was glad of it as just after I pulled up at the truckstop just south of town the clouds vanished and the sun came out in all it's blazing glory.I had ridden around 107 kilometres and decided that with only 30 kilometres to go to my overnight stop,I would wait here at the truck stop until late afternoon when the heat had gone out of the day.I parked my rig and went into the gas station for something to eat.

  I spent more than four hours at that gas station camped out next to the unused restaurant area slowly eating my way through the hours while chatting to the assortment of motorists who had stopped for gas or some food.I must have looked sight as I was pretty filthy and was mostly lying on the ground like a homeless person.Spending time at places like this ends up being a large part of long rides like mine and I must admit that I do quite enjoy it.I like finding out where everyone is going and people watching.One amusing thing that kept me occupied was watching just how many people are oblivious to posted signs giving directions as it seems every 20 minutes or so at least one idiot would completely ignore the instructions on the driveway and enter the gas pumps from the wrong direction.Most seemed totally surprised by the fact that they were now screwing things up for everyone else who were trying to drive to the pumps,some just seemed not to care.Equally amusing was watching families,stressed by actually having to spend "quality time" together confined to their vehicles during their Christmas trip,arguing over the smallest of things.The classic was watching folks have a mini meltdown as the drivers of countless cars managed to park right next to the one puddle within miles of the town only to have the passenger step out and get their nice dry shoes wet.They say that the most stressful holiday of the year is Christmas and I can see why,just awesome!

 My camp at North Star

   At about 5:30pm, fully rested and entertained, I saddled up and rode into the cooling late afternoon towards the North Star Rest Area, 30 kilometers down the road.It was a fairly quick ride as the wind had picked up and by about 6:45pm I rolled into the rest area and looked for a spot to camp.I set my tent up,got my cooking gear out and started boiling some water.While that was happening I stripped off and had a wash right there in the back of the huge rest area in amongst the trees where I had parked.That wash cost me one of my 1.25litre bottles of water which I thought was a small price to pay for a clean nights rest.It is amazing the difference being clean makes you feel mentally during these rides.I don't know what it is but I always sleep better if I can get into my sleeping bag clean as aopposed to being covered in road grime.That day had been a particularly dusty one and I was filthy.I had only 80 kilometres to ride the next day to Moree so I figured I could afford to lose that much drinking water.

    With dinner on the go I wandered around to check out the area and found a Kangaroo munching away on what must have been some grain that had spilled off one of the trucks that had parked there at some stage.I watched the little guy for a while and then went back to my boiling billy and made myself some Red Thai Curry Tuna with Noodles.It was awesome and after the obligatory sunset photos it was into my tent to set the alarm for 5am and settle in for the night.It was a great 137 kilometre day and I was pretty happy as I drifted off to sleep.

 

 Skippy

 Sunset at North Star

   

DOWN THE OTHER SIDE...

I felt more than a little sad to be leaving Tenterfield as I had enjoyed my time wandering around the historic little town learning all about a few of the great characters of Australia's history.As is usual in most country towns the people were very friendly and none more so than James who,with his wife,own the Peter Allen Motor Lodge where I stayed for those few days.James is an avid cyclist and was very interested in my trip,my bike and my trailer set-up.I gave him the grand tour of all my gear and explained the why's and wherefores of all the gear and how it is used.We spent some time discussing races and the Tour Down Under,Australia's premier road stage race held around Adelaide in South Australia every January.He said that as it was kind of on my way that maybe I should detour from my route and check it out.It was the first time I had though of that but dismissed the idea pretty much immediately.

 Early morning outside Tenterfield

   It was then that he told me his wife was,at one time,a triathlete who had raced for around ten years.She loved the sport but sadly couldn't race anymore.I asked why,immediately regretting the question when he explained that a couple of years before while they were on a training ride,she had mentioned that she had a headache.About two minutes later.he said,she had fallen off her bike and was lying on the road motionless.It seems she had developed a blood clot in her brain stem and it rendered her partially paralysed.To this day she couldn't walk without her walker and her whole left side including her face would never be the same again.I guess the easiest way to describe it was,she had a stroke.

  A little later that day I met her as she was shuffling through the motel carpark and we had a little chat about my trip and her days as a triathlete.Here was a woman who had finished Ironman Bussleton and Ironman Australia in fine times, now finding it a struggle to walk across a parking lot.It just didn't seem fair and I thought again about the death of Craig Percival a few short weeks ago and how we really should try to make the most of our lives while we can.She actually asked me if I would like to spend Christmas with them but I said that I would have to move on in a few days as I was already,far,far behind schedule.They are a lovely couple and the "mates rates" at the motel were very appreciated as I think they both kind of understood what my trip was all about.I finally told James,after yet another day hiding from the storms,that he should kick me out and while he didn't do that he did make sure that he was around to say goobey and wish me luck.

  That mornings ride out of Tenterfield was awesome.Originally I had planned to ride to the next major town of Glen Innes but after checking out the elevations on my favourite mapping website, Ride With GPS , I realised that if I went an alternated route I would start to drop down the other side of the Great Dividing Range instead of climbing for another day.It was a no-brainer and it wasn't long before I was freewheeling down the mountains towards the little Queensland town of Texas some 140 kilometres away.A very ambitious goal considering the low mileage I had managed thus far on my trip.

  After two days of storms this was a nice sign

   The first 50k through ever descending rolling hills went pretty quickly and I was enjoying the morning when I came upon a group of people on the side of the highway who clearly weren't enjoying their day at all.I could see the group from a distance running on and off  the highway into the bush behind a truck and the weird thing was that they each seemed to be wearing the same outfits,overalls and a dark shroud over their heads.As climbed the small hill where they were stopped I could see another truck off to the side of the road listing at a very steep angle.The boxes scattered around the ground next to the truck gave it away and my guess was confirmed when I rode up to one lady and asked what had happened.It seemed that they were bee-keepers and were in the process of moving a bunch of hives when their truck got bogged in the road,sodden from the previous two days rain.The truck had shed a fair bit of it's load and there were angry bees everywhere.I was advised that it was probably a good idea to get going before I became the centre of the little buggers attention.I didn't need to be told twice and made my way up the rest of the climb to be greeted by nothing but what looked like a long downhill before me. I stopped by the side of the road as it followed a ridge downward and had breakfast while checking out the view of the farmland far below.Down and down and down I rode speeding along as the heat of the day grew.At this rate I thought I would be in Texas by 2pm and was in great spirits as I turned at the bottom of the ridge to join the Dumaresq Valley and follow the river of the same name ever downward for the next 20 kilometres.

 Looking back to the Great Dividing Range.Long downhill morning.

   One little highlight of the day was helping out a little soul who was wandering around where he shouldn't have been.As I came flying down one of the long descents I spied,of all things,a little turtle sitting in the middle of my lane.I slowed down,turned around and rode back to put him in a safer place but not before seeing a car miss squashing him by inches.I picked him up and put him on the side of the road ( in the direction he was heading I hoped ).I waited to see of he was going to poke his head out and perhaps wander off but he kept himself tucked into the safety of his little shell house and just peeked out at me from inside.I could relate as I often retreat to the safety of the indoors,away from the world and prying eyes,often not poking me head out for days at a time.My good deed done,I was off again for the ride down the valley towards Texas.

     At just over 80kilometres into the day I felt a little off and rolled to a stop at a shady spot on the side of the highway.I lay my bike and trailer down and sat on the ground and immediately though " I am going to be sick!" With that though still in my head I started to projectile vomit what must have bee close to a litre of fluid.I thought " Christ that was impressive" and continued vomiting until my breakfast had also come up and my stomach was empty.I lay there for about twenty minutes wondering what the hell was going on as I tried to get some fluids in.It was already starting to heat up and everything by way of my nutrition was now keeping the flies happily busy a few feet away.

My little friend peeking out from under his shell

    The town of Bonshaw was around 30 kilometres away and I set off with the goal of making it to there where I could have a rest and eat something.The road had flattened out and was now passing through a wide agricultural valley with very little in the way of shade and as it started to heat up I felt worse.I did stop for about thirty minutes and have a dip in a river that I crossed which helped a lot but I knew that now it was going to be a long day.

   I made it to the tiny hamlet of Bonshaw around 2pm,parked my bike and lay down on the long bench that stretched the length of the little country store, cum gas station, cum bottle shop. cum hairdressers.About ten minutes had passed before a little old lady came out and asked if I was okay.I said I would be fine in a while and I got up,went into the store and bought the only things that appealed to me at the time,a Coke and a Mars Bar.Once I started to cool down I realised that I had covered 110kilometres for the day and all things considered was pretty proud of myself even though by anybody's standards,for a seasoned cycle tourist, that isn't a long ride.While I was there I chatted to all the customers as they came and went and slowly but surely I started to feel better.By 3pm I bought another coke,ate a tin of tuna and a banana and was off again into what was now the blazing heat of the day.

   I figured that I would be in Texas,another 30 kilometres away by 5pm which would mean a lazy 15 kilometres per hour.How wrong I was!As soon as I rode off the heat overwhelmed me and I started to suffer.For the next four hours I rode slowly from shady spot to shady spot where I would lie down and try to lower my heartrate.Sometimes I rode 4 kilometres before a break and sometimes I rode to the next shady spot a few hundred metres up the road.Twice, the only way I could get up a hill without spiking my heart-rate was to walk.I had been in this situation before when I lived in Port Douglas in Far North Queensland when,on a particularly hot day I passed out on my bike and it took me two hours to ride the 16 kilometres home.This was twice that length and I was struggling.Now I could have camped anywhere on the side of the road but I was now dangerously close to running out of water and wasn't very well.Cramping had set in on both legs and I wanted to get close to town in case I was really sick.

 About to begin the last long descent of the Great Dividing Range

   At just before 7pm,almost 12hrs and 141 kilometres after leaving Tenterfield, I pulled into the rest area I had been trying so hard to reach all day.That final 30 kilometres had taken me four hours to ride and I was feeling very,very sick.I rode up to a nice patch of grass under a tree and lay down for the next 30 minutes.

   I was brought back into some vague form of consciousness by a guy who was parked in his caravan not far from me. He asked me if I was okay and I just said that I was really heat stressed and very dehydrated.He went over to his caravan and brought back a cold bottle of water and said if you need to fill up all your bottle just come and see me.I thanked him profusely as,out here,water is a precious gift,something that was not lost on me.I would have loved to relax and just lie there but I could see that there were some storms coming and in my fuzzy state I hastily put up my tent and covered it and all my gear with my two tarps.I grabbed some of my awesome Mee Goreng noodles and rushed off to the park shelter to cook myself dinner as the storm approached.

    By the time I had finished my noodles it was dark and all I could do was crawl into my little tent and lie there as the rain tapped lightly on my tarp, a light accompaniment to the crashing  thunder claps of the storm now drifting past the town.My longest day thus far was done but I really hoped that the days experiences were to be the exception and not the norm.

 Camp in Texas just before the storm

    The next morning I decided to hang out at the rest area in Texas and recover from the previous days illness.I hadn't slept well at all and was still feeling fried so I figured I should go check out the town and get something to eat.It was already hot as I rolled into the small main street of Texas and I was beginning to think I might be out of luck as it seemed that 8:30am was a little early for the population but thankfully one café was open.I locked my bike up and went in,asking if I could plug my computer in while I ate and thankfully the young girl behind the counter said yes.For the next two hours I tried to eat my way through one of the largest "Big Breakfasts" I have ever seen.I knew that I needed to eat but also knew I must have really stressed myself out the day before because just eating breakfast had me sweating and feeling a little light headed.I did manage to get some writing done and did my usual obsessing over the road ahead online.



Welcome to Texas

 Texas itself is like so many small country towns that are ever so slowly dying.The population of around 700 in town is mainly employed by the farms and associated industry such as the large feedlot just outside of town which employs a large percentage of the population.Again it is the Grey Nomads who provide a lot of the revenue for the local,businesses but if the ridiculously low house prices are any indication people are not in a hurry to move here.In Texas the average price for one, two bedroom apartment in Sydney will net you around five,two bedroom houses on a decent patches of land here in town.Just crazy!I heard a story of a lady who bought the old church in the town of Bonshaw and converted it into a two bedroom house for $50.000AUS, a third of what it would cost in Texas so I guess location matters in the bush as well.

  The rest of the day was spent lying the  river next to the rest area,sleeping and chatting to the other  folks camped out with me.It was a fun day but I was never really able to get away from the heat of the day until finally, just as the sun started to set,that the weather turned cool as a strong wind blew through camp dropping the temperature dramatically as a different weather system passed overhead.



 


 Some of the countryside reminded me of sections of Oregon

 I lay down in the "rapids" of this river to cool down

  

 My view of the world lying on the side of the road

 Well I am nearing Texas.

 Riding from shady spot to shady spot

 The bike with all the gadgets

 Late afternoon just outside of Texas..

 

THE GRIND



At Cape Byron looking at the endless beach

 TO LISMORE..

I finally managed to find some weather assisted motivation to move my lazy butt out of the campground at Byron Bay and on to the road west and the "real" start of my trip.I must admit I wasn't feeling the best as a few of my fellow campers decided to have an impromtu farewell session the night before and a bottle and a bit of red wine isn't the right kind of carbo loading for someone who doesn't drink much anymore.I must admit I had enjoyed my time in Byron hanging out and chatting with a few of the characters at the campground/RV Park.My neighbours were a young Norwegian couple who were based in Sydney studying and had taken some time off to go for a drive up the New South Wales coast.They were awesome company and I think they loved listening to this old guy talk about the "olden days" in the 80's when I first started backpacking and bike touring.Another resident of our little patch of ground in the park was an Aussie chef named Matt.He was in Byron working at one of the fancy restaurants in Wategos' Beach,where the rich and famous hang out.We had a lot in common as I had spent years working in major hotels and most recently in a place not unlike the restaurant where he worked.Unfortunately the nature of small.boom town,resort destinations is that affordable accommodation  is often hard to come by and so Matt was living in the campground full time.I could relate as back in '88 I lived in my station wagon for a few months while I was working at the Mirage Country Club in Port Douglas.Back then there wasn't much in the way of accommodation to fit all of the workers in town so a lot of us lived rough.If you can calling living on a tropical beach rough.

   

  Farewell drinks with the neighbours

As I rolled out I met a couple of young Canadian cyclists who were heading the same direction as but as we swapped stories about our travels, I secretly hoped that they wouldn't ask me to join them as I had steeled myself to a day of quiet suffering and didn't want to have to try to keep up with a couple of fit young dudes.Thankfully they told me they were going to the beach first so as we rode out of the campground and into downtown Byron I was happy to see them turn left towards the beach while I made the right hand turn to join the coast road,through the beach suburbs,down to my turn at Bangalow Rd.

   It didn't take too long for my extreme lack of fitness to become plainly obvious as on the very first short sharp hill I slowed to a crawl and thought to myself "This isn't good".I struggled on though and slowly made my way up the coastal range that borders Byron Bay to the west.I had a great photo opportunity at the top of what is known as Hayters Hill as there was an awesome view of Byron Bay,it's lighthouse and the sweeping beach that stretched north, as far as the eye could see.Unfortunately it was at that moment that I realised the battery in my camera had gone flat at the previous nights gathering and the realization that there would be no photo's that day left me feeing a little disappointed.Hayters Hill was a good name for that place as it was not only was the first time I couldn't get some happy snaps of some really beautiful contryside it was also the first hill I walked my bike up on this trip.

  The next few kilometers were easy rolling downhill to the funky town of Bangalow.It is one of those tiny out-of-the-way places that are the highlight of most tourist drives on the east coast of Australia.Old world charm mixed with new world hippies and upmarket cafes make for interesting viewing but for me,on that day,I was more a nusance than an addition to the quriky little village .The main street was so narrow and situated on a steepish hill that my turtle-like progress was causing the morning tourist traffic to back up behind me.Instead of having the time to look for a cafe for a morning coffee I felt pressured and rode on over the top of the hill and out of town.

   From Bangalow it was a nice flat section before yet another pitchy hill loomed in front of me.I was finding that anything up to 7% grade was okay but once the road pitched up past 9% I was struggling.The next hill topped out at around 11%.Ordinarily these sort of hills wouldn't be too much of an issue but I was woefully unprepared for this trip and hadn't done any bike training in months.Add to that the load of around 40kilos I was dragging along behind (not to mention the 20 kilos attached to my frame by way of pudge) and it was always going to be a tough grind.I remember speaking to my friend Keith in Coolangatta about trying to physically appreciate just how much weight I had put on and when I broke it down and asked him to imagine the 10 kilo weight vest I used to have in Surfers Paradise he shook his head.I then asked him to imagine doubling that weight and that was the extra I was carrying on my body.So the next time you check your bags at the airport just think of me carrying the equivalent of your 20-25 kilo checked bag evenly distributed around my carcass....Fucking ridiculous!!!

  It was on that hill that my game plan for the first few days changed a little.I pulled over and sat myself inside one of the roadside fruit and vegetable stands that are so common on the side of the road on the east coast and thought about a new plan of attack.It was obvious that I wasn't fit enough to pile on the miles that I had wanted to each day during the first 300 kilometers that it would take to crest the Great Dividing Range and so that section would have to be spread out over five days or so if I were to remain uninjured.I had to check out of the miles per day attitude and form a new attitude that these hills,while super hard could be just what I needed to get my strength up for the rest of the ride.With that I hopped back on the bike and slowly made my way over the climb to the town of Clunes.

  Riding through Clunes was the second time that day when I wished my camera was working as in the main park of that tiny town was a Christmas Tree made out of old kids bicycles.It was about three metres high with all the bikes painted white with the occaisional red,green and blue handlebars and wheels.I have no idea how many bikes where part of the tree but I decided that I liked the little town of Clunes and that tree put a smile on my face, for a little while anyway.

  Not long after Clunes I was through the coastal range and on the plains heading into Lismore.I hadn't planned on staying in Lismore at all but after the morning I had gone through,hangover and all,I rolled into the first caravan park I saw.It was only just after 1pm and I had only cycled 47 kilometeres in just under four hours.I couldn't believe how hard it had been and thought that surely things would pick up from here.How wrong I was!

   After setting up my tent and having a shower I went for a walk to bet something to eat and was surprised to see so many parks around the little section of Lismore where the caravan park was.Even more surprising was the fact that they were all being used at that moment by what must have been the local cricket league.The caravan park had cricket oval on three sides and so,after finding myself some lunch I sat down and did something I had not done in a long time,I watched a small town cricket match.Don't know who was playing but it was pretty entertaining watching the locals do thier thing.There wasn't the finesse of the international standard that we see on the television here in oz all summer but I must say some of the tantrums I witnessed that day would make for great prime time viewing.

  After the cricket it was off to my tent site where I started chatting to the nice old Swiss lady who was living there in her caravan.She was part of what we call "The Grey Nomads" here in Australia and they comprise of a multitude of retired folks who travel the country for months on end,in some cases all year.We were joined by her neighbour and the three of us sat there for a couple of hours discussing our various travel stories with both ladies giving me all kinds of advice on the road I was soon to ride.We even saw those two Canadian cyclists ride by and I imagine that, unlike myself they made it to Casino that night as scheduled.

   I had a great time talking to those two women and it reminded me why I was out here in the first place.Meeting people was half the fun.


TO CASINO...



Casino

The next morning I struggled to get up and pack up my things having not had a very good sleep.I had been sunburnt pretty badly the day before and was feeling the effects of sunstroke.Even though it was a cool morning I had been burning up all night and was feeling a little sick.It was about 7:15 when I said goobye to my Swiss neighbour and rolled out of the caravan park and through the quiet Sunday traffic of Casino.

I knew that the 30k from Lismore to Casino was pretty flat and thank heaven for that as I wasn't feeling good.The nice morning and lovely views of the wide expances of farmland were lost on me as I rolled along dreading the coming heat of the day.The temperatures in the region had been around 36 celcius which means a radiant heat off the ground of much higher temps and today would be no different and the morning heat had already started to take its toll.

It was just before 9am when I rode into the outskirts of Casino and pulled into the carpark of a truckstop.I parked my rig and went inside immediately buoyed by the refreshing cool, blasting out of the airconditioning vents.I wandered around aimlessly with the shop assistant asking me a couple of times if I was okay.I bought a couple of things and went outside.In the heat,I immediately felt ill again.Then I saw a caravan park across the road.I packed up my stuff and rode over stopping at one of the small cabins to ask the young girl making up the cabin if there was any room.



  My little cabin in Casino

She asked if I meant in the tent area and I said that I wasn't really that well and wanted something with air-conditioning.With that she waked me over to the small office that was thier reception and said that they did have a couple of cabins empty right then.I asked her the price and she said that they were $70 but before I could even tell her that it was too rich for my budget she continued by saying she would be able to give me one at the $50 price of the budget cabin as I would have to wait a couple of hours for one of those and I didn't look that good.She asked what I was doing and after chatting for a few minutes was more than happy to help me out and I couldn't thank her enough.She walked with me as I rolled my bike over to my cabin,locked my bike up and hauled my trailed inside.I turned on the aircon,had a shower and fell asleep for about 5 hours.

I didn't leave my little cabin for the rest of the day and spent my time either eating,watching tv,internet surfing,drinking coffee,napping or any combination of the above.By the time the evening movie on the television had finshed I was feeling much better and prepared my things for the morning before going back to bed.

TO TENTERFIELD...


I rolled out of Casino at about 8am feeling much better but still wary of the heat I knew would come during what was looking like a hilly day.

Rolling hills with the Great Dividing Range ahead 

The first hour or so was great with rolling hills and lots of great views of wide open farmland full of cows and cockatoo's screaching above.It wasn't long after that when the hills started getting a little steeper and a little longer.I had originally thought that I might make it to the town of Drake,some 80 kilometres away as I was feeling better than the day before but my legs didn't react well to the steeper of the hills.


About 30 kilometers in I rode past a traffic construction stop which was on an uphill (making everyone wait an eternity) and when I passed the "stop and go" guy he said,"Mate,wait 'til you see the bloody hill that is just around the corner". Sadly he was right and about a kilometre after passing him I started climbing.At first it wasn't too bad but then the legs started to die and the heat started to tak its toll.I ended up breaking the climb into sections and riding to reach one point before stopping to catch my breath.That little, high intensity workout, lasted a full hour and by the time I reached the top 4 kilometers later I was fried.It was cool to stand at the top looking back at the country I had ridden through and way off in the distance I could see Mt Warning past which I had ridden on my first day from Coolangatta to Wooyung.I hadn't really ridden very far but it sure looked a long way fro the top of this hill.

At the top looking back toward distant Mt Warning

The long descent down the other side was fun if not a little scary with the trucks overtaking me on the narrow roads but I managed to make it down and was greeted by some flat roads for the next few kilometres.It was during that time that I met a cyclist going to other way.he was an Englishman named Alan who had been on the road in Canad,the USA and Australia for about eighteen months and man did he look it.He was wearing his helmet like the Japanese students here in Australia do and that is loosely tied so it sits on thier back.That kind of gets around the helmet laws but won't help if you hit your head.He wasn't wearing a shirt and was lean as can be an dark brown from weeks in the Australian sun riding up from Melbourne.In other words like the famous "Mad Dogs and Englishman out in the Mid-day Sun".

We chatted for a while about our trips and gave each other tips on everything from equipment, to diet, to budget,to wild camping and he gave me some great info about what was ahead for me.After that he was gone,off to Brisbane and then home to get back to his "real life".

I was glad I bumped into him and as always it lifted my spirits to meet another cyclist out there in the middle of nowhere.Unlike him though,I wasn't flying around the place but crawling and about 5 kilometres later crawled into a rest area on the side of the road the meagre total for the day hitting almost exactly 50k's.I had taken the best part of six hours,half on the bike and half off, to cover the distance I used to be able to run in much less time.



 An old homestead

It was about 2pm by the time I had all my stuff sorted out and my tent up for the night and I spent the rest of the afternoon,eating and drinking about 4 litres of water to replace what I hadn't been able to out on the road.I chose this rest area because it had toilets and running water,the tables,chairs and general awesomeness of the place was just a bonus.I did though enjoy chatting to a bus driver who was hanging around waiting for the local school busses to arrive during the post school childerens home delivery.Seems the busses from Casino or smaller schools would ferry some kids to this rest area and then two other busses would haul them home to the farms in the local area.Life in the bush!

That bus driver and I chatted about all things to do with travelling around the Aussie Outback and we swapped stories about our travels and even came up with one coincidental fact that we had both driven across the country to be in perth for the America's Cup back in '87/'88.We talked about how so much has changed in what for us back then were small "nothing towns" that are now tourist hot-spots.He assured me that the next month of my trip would see me pass through many town that were falling victim to that development as so many people walk off the land and relocate on the coastal resort towns down the east coast.I had seen a bit of that during my long ride in 2009 and I was sure it would be no different in the part of Oz that I was going to see very soon.It is a shame that more folks don't make the trip out into the bush to see some of the famous country towns that are so much a part of Australia's modern history but sadly the tourist dollar doesn't find its way out there too much.If it weren't for the Grey Nomads I'm sure things would be a lot worse.



 Just in case I was lost,a big friggin map

Once the sun started to set I got myself ready for bed and took my mind away from the next days concerns by watching a movie on my laptop.Oh, how touring times have changed!

I had fully intended to get up before sunrise to get a start before the sunrise but the fog covering the area put paid to that plan.It wasn't until about 7 am that the fog lifted enough for me to head out and about 3 short kilometres down the road my legs started to hurt.The bus driver the night before had told me that the town of Tabulam was only about 9k's away but what he didn't tell me was that there was a great big hill between the two.After a 3'k climb it was straight back down to the tiny town where I turned off the hwy to go to the local store to buy some fruit and eat my breakfast.I really wanted a nice coffee as I was a little sick of the instant stuff I was carrying but it wasn't until I was just getting ready to pedal away that the Tabulam Cafe started to open.Too late!
  

 Had the place all to myself

There are a few things in this world that scare me and heights off structures is one of them and when I came across the bridge leaving town which crosses the Clarence River that fear gripped me.It wasn't such a high bridge but the fact that the deck was made of old boarding covered in tar is what got me rattled.There was no riding across as there were too many wide gaps between the boards and this was recognised by the sign asking all cyclists to dismount.That would have been great if there was a footpath but this was a 200 meter one way bridge which I was now picking my way along while semi-trailers thundered by.Not much fun!   I survived though and pedalled on like I had cheated death,well in my eyes anyway.

  Very soon after the road tilted up and stayed that way.In my head I was supposed to climb a hill and then descend into Drake but the hill never ended.On and on the bloody thing went as the sun rose and started to bake me.I had earlier that day decide to trade in my t-shirt and put on my full sleeved ,white,surf rashie and it worked a treat on my burned arms and neck but meyface was getting brutalised,even with 50Plus sunscreen.

   The ride became a bit of a joke as I went back to the system of riding seated as long as I could before switching to standing and then stopping for a rest.Every now and then I would reach a flatter bit thinking this would lead to that descent I "knew" was there but it never came.Twice I lay on the side of the road to recover in the shade one of those times was to eat some more and have a nap.That ended up pissing me off because as I was napping my rear tyre went flat.So back to my resting spot to change tubes and get attacked by a persistant horsefly.

   I knew that the village  of Drake was only 31 kilometers away from where I had camp the previous night but it was taking forvere to get there.Five hours in fact and it was just about noon when I finally reached the little village and lay down in the shady park in the center of town.I had ridden 31k's in five hours!! Are you kidding me?!
  

 The Lunatic  Hotel Drake

As  lay there I realised my face had copped a hiding in the sun and I now had a blister on my nose which was a bit of a concern.Last thing I wanted to get was an infection on the road.I washed my face in the public toilets but it didn't help and it just stung.Across the road was the infamous Lunatic Hotel/Motel Drake and I wondered if something I had read was true.I wandered over and left my bike(with another flat tyre)in the park and asked the lady behind the bar if they had campsites of cheap accomodation at the hotel.She said there were no campsites but they did have four bunkhouse rooms at $25 a bed.She said that I would most likely have a room to myself as it was mid-week.I said "Sold!"She showed me where the bunkhouses were and within an hour I was unpacked, showered and in the pub having lunch.

 Win a generator at the Christmas Raffle,Of course!

   After lunch I went straight to bed to escape the heat for a couple of hours and then resurfaced for a little walk around town.As expected the walk didn't last long and after ten minutes it was back to my dorm to do some laundry and do some work on my bike.The bunkhouses were actually two shipping containers that had been fitted out pretty well to house four separate rooms,two for two people and two for six people.Over the top of the containers was a huge insulated shed the back of which housed the bathrooms and showers.It was a pretty sweet set up really and I understand that they are very popular with the biker (as in motorbikers) crowd .Apparently they consider this part of the world awesome riding country.My legs told a different story.With my chores done I went to the pub to check out the cricket on the television and make use of the hotels WiFi to update this blog.
  
    

 The container bunkhouse all to myself..

I sat at a table in the main bar near the T.V and got to work adding the days misadventures to my blog but it wasn't long before one of the locals came up to me and asked if I wanted to join them outside.I had met Steve earlier in the day when he came to fix the broken light bulb in my dorm and I thought it was nice of him to ask me to join "the locals" out on the back patio of the pub. As I followed him outside I braced myself for the inevitable.There is one thing that never changes with time and that is the insular, closed minded attitude of many folks who have spent most of their life in isolated rural areas.Australia is not the only place that this happens but it is where I have experienced it far more than anywhere else.Today would prove to be no different.

    

Steve set about introducing me to the assorted group of locals who had clearly started their pre-dinner drinks,post lunch and along with the introductions came the usual "what do you do for work?" and "what are you doing here?" inquiries. As I have worked in many and varied fields over the years I often tailor my answers to fit in with the "mood" of the group.I figured this lot would be much happier with a guy who is a "Hotel Guy" as opposed to a " Massage Guy" so I went with that and it was well received.Unfortunately the matchy-matchy,colour co-ordination of my Australian Green and Gold shorts and Salomon trail runners had a couple of the folks offside immediately.Wearing the white ankle socks was just like poking a bear. When Steve mentioned I was riding my bike across the country,two of them got up and walked away.I'm not making this shit up! Hell,when I first moved to Australia to go to boarding school in Sydney when I was 11 years old,I used to get beaten up because I wore white socks.This was nothing new to me and I had expected it.   

 The container bunkhouses with the pub in background

The best crack was one old guy saying,while staring at my shaved legs,that he was sick of cyclists slowing him and other truckers down on the narrow roads around the district and that he had no sympathy for the ones who get hit.I just said "Well mate,why don't you just go grab yourself a nice crowbar from your truck right now and come hit me in the back of the head with it." to which I added " or do you only feel really fucking brave when you are in your truck and attacking us from behind?" Steve cracked up laughing and a couple of the others loved me giving it to him but the old bloke wasn't amused and joined the others at the cool kids table.I thought it best to make a hasty retreat , excused myself  and went to the dining room for dinner.

The rest of the night at the Lunatic Hotel went well with an awesome pub meal and some great conversation with some of the less ignortant locals who were very interested in what I was up to including the young publican who asked all kinds of questions about how we cycle tourists do our thing.He was amazed that I knew so much about the route and roads that I had never been on and I showed my the website I follow that has all the details on it.He couldn't believe it, when after he told me that Drake was only at 400 metres or so and that I had still to climb another 400 metres  to get to Tenterfield,I told him I knew that but did he know I had already climbed 2,000meters to get to the 400metres of Drake.I said there is a big difference between driving and riding a bike and each little hill adds to fatigue of the day especially when you are dragging as much weight as I was.He laughed and said he had seen many fancy caravans blow their radiators trying to get over the last steep hill into town.I told him that I knew exactly how they felt.    

As I filled up on a great dinner I heard the crowd getting very rowdy in the main bar as a pool competition got into full swing.I thought that maybe it was time to get the hell out of there and the piercing drunken screeching of a couple of the local indigenous ladies only confirmed my thoughts.I had spent a lot of time in country pubs in Queensland and even worked in one at the rough , bauxite mining town of Weipa in the Gulf of Carpentaria and so crazy behaviour is nothing new to me but it is always a bit of a shock when you hear it again after a long time away.I any bar in the city most of the patrons at the Lunatic Hotel would have been kicked out but here,in the small town Australia,the rules are different.I was wondering exactly how many times one  of the women could call her pool partner a "Useless fucking cunt" at the top of her voice before anyone even really noticed.I mean,not even the parents of the kids sitting in the dining room (which had an open bar to the pool area) seemed to blink at what was going on.I left them to it and walked the short distance to the bunkhouses as the racket of what sounded like two drunken Cockatoos fighting, echoed into the night.

     

 Sunrise over Drake

I woke up very early the next morning having organised myself the night before.I wanted to get out of town and up the steep range that started just outside of town and the best plan was to start before sunrise.When I was in Casino I had read the elevations a little wrong and was expecting a hellish time of it on the ride into Tenterfield but when I checked at Drake I realised that the worst was almost behind me and that the first 10 kilometres would be the worst followed by 40 kilometres of rolling uphill into town.It was my plan to push on past Tenterfield and climb even more towards Glen Innes some 90 kilometres further along the range.

 

 Halfway up the range out of Drake

I was really surprised how easy that first 10 kilometres were and I even had the chance to chat for a while with a trucker who was having his breakfast,standing on the side of the road next to his truck.He shook his head at me when I rode up to him and even offered me some cereal.I declined the cereal but happily stopped for a while to chat with him.It was a nice break and even nicer when he told me that I was nearly at the top and the worst was behind me.Ten minutes later I pushed off up the hill to Christmas wishes from the truckie,thinking to myself that this would be a great day.It was also the coolest day of my trip with full cloud cover and light mist through the range.Bliss!!

 

 Farmland that goes on forever

The rest of the ride into Tenterfield was exactly what I though it would be,just a lot of rolling hills and with my legs starting to come good I was finally starting to enjoy myself.The cool weather and change of elevation also saw a couple of changes on the road beyond the temperature.For the previous few days the heat exacerbated the almost constant smell of death on the coming from the side of the road.Rotting corpses of Australian wildlife litter the verge of country highways and while the "big kills" can be smelt from vehicles,on a bike every single little creature can be noticed in various states of decay.I will say though,it is far better than the smell of urine,which was the most common smell on the highway down the coast during my last long ride in Australia.

Top of the Great Dividing Range

The sounds were now different too.Gone was the incessant drone of thousands of Cicadas,a deafening hum that sounded like powerlines at full charge,replaced by the orchestra of Bellbirds sending each other melodic Morse-code through the forest.If it weren't for the bloody Horse-flies the ride through the forest of the range would have been almost perfect.Almost perfect isn't too bad though and I was a very happy boy to roll through the wineries on the outskirts of town and find myself over the top of the Great Dividing Range and in Tenterfield by around 9am.


         

  Once in town I found myself sitting with a cup of coffee by my side in the driveway of a local gas station.It wasn't long before people started asking me what I was up to and such was the interest that two separate people asked if they could take photo's of my bike and trailer.One lady walked by,into the store and I joked that we modern homeless people were well equipped these days and she saw me drag my laptop out of my bag.When she came out she stood by me and asked what I was doing and I told her about my trip.Eventually the subject of why I would want to do it came up and when I told her it was for not only my physical health but my mental health as well she told me that she was a local Pastor and that she wished me all the best of luck on my journey,with that she placed her hand on my head and gave me a blessing right there in the driveway.That was a first!

  While I sat there on the kerb,finishing my coffee, I happened to glance up at the sign of a motel next to the gas station, it was the Peter Allen Motor Inn and suddenly I remembered where I was.This was the home of the Tenterfield Saddler,grandfather to the great Australian entertainer Peter Allen.Not only that but the town which is known, thank's to one of the greatest political speeches in Australia's  history,as "The Birthplace of Our Nation". 
  

There was so much more to this town than just a short stop on a highway to somewhere else.This town actually means something to our nation and to blow through it without exploring it would be a great loss.I can ride a rotten highway anywhere in the world but there are only so many historic towns like this one and only so many chances to take the time to learn about the part they played in our nations develpoment.I would be a fool to just ride on for the sake of "adding miles".I am not that guy.

An hour later I was rolling my gear into a room at the Peter Allen Motor Inn.I had finished "The Grind" up to the highest point on my ride and now it was time to soak in some of our past before I dropped over the other side and into my future.