Thank You Bike South Australia

I've admired galahs gathered in a field at dusk - in their grey and pink gorgeousness. I've marvelled at a sun-dried snakeskin left in the grass exactly where the snake grew out of it. I have cycled in the early morning sunshine through an avenue lined with hundreds of glistening spiderwebs, each one a work of art and as unique as a fingerprint. I've borne witness to the heartbreak a physically harsh place like this can bring to farming families who have simply walked out of their homes and businesses. I've seen the kind of beauty in those big skies and open spaces no photo can really capture. I have listened to the most sincere, warm, heart-felt, proud - and yet notable for its word economy - welcome speech ever delivered by a cow cockie to a group of total strangers visiting his small town. (Yeah... welcome... how you goin' Orrright? Good.) I've warmed my hands over a roaring log fire while gazing up at the stars scattered like bright jewels on black velvet. I've met experts who have willingly and generously shared their knowledge of this region. I have experienced the rollercoaster of pain and releif, hot and cold, anxiety and peace of mind. And most of all I have had a lot of laughs.  Now I can look at my map of the Lofty Ranges, the Barossa Valley, the Clare Valley, the Flinders Range - and in my mind's eye run my finger along that ridge. From Adelaide into the bush straight towards the outback. Like running a finger along the rippled crust of a pie, I can now trace my journey on the map, feel it immediately take on three dimensions, and remember so many - too many to describe - special moments. What an adventure...!

Back to New Zealand

My flight arrived 45 minutes ahead of schedule due to a brisk tail wind - the same one responsible for the chill factor that kept us cold the whole time in South Australia - coming from the sou-west. Like a horse that knows its on its way home, the trip back happened all in a rush. This comes as a reality shock. Spent the day working out how to pick up the pieces of my business and social life sans diary after the smash and grab; no checkbooks, files and other important materials such as some recent drawings I had done for a client. That's life I guess. But suddenly I wish I was once again simply concentrating on the task of riding my bike from A to B for the hell of it, while someone else works out how I will be fed, sheltered, and where at the end of each challenging and eventful day.

Recovery In Adelaide

Glad we made the decision to take the shuttle bus back to Adelaide for the necessary rest, warmth, and some luxury. This was our only opprtunity to get transport back. Now or never situation. I tried to update the blog too, but the site has been off-line for a few days, plus access to internet cafes has been intermittent, the update remained overdue. Instead made a visit to the State Library. Read Mawson: A Life by P. Ayres. An excellent biography on the man after whom the trail has been named. In short, the Mawson Trail is named in dedication to one of Australia's most celebrated explorers.  Born in England in 1882, then moved to Australia at the age of two years with his family. Received an excellent education in Sydney where as a teenager one of his head masters, in 1898, made the prophetic remark "What shall I say of our Douglas as an acknowledged leader and organiser? This I will say: that if there be a corner of this planet still unexplored, Douglas Mawson will be the organiser and leader of an expedition to unveil its secrets." He became a qualified scientist specialising in Geography, Geology and Chemistry. A well respected man, and a natural leader. His fame as an explorer comes mainly from his Antarctic expeditions. Esp the expeditions of 1911 - 14 and 1929 - 31 which resulted in Australia claiming 40% of the 6th continent.  The sole survivor of a 300 mile trek, Mawson was a scientist of high stature, natural talent and - it seems - a man with providence on his side. These explorations were for British King and Country and to expand the Commonwealth. He was an Australian through and through -living in Adelaide most of his adult life from uni student days to his life as a married man with two daughters, until his death at the age of 76. He died in 1958 exactly 50 years to the day after setting out on his first explorations of Antarctica. Amazing!

Laura to Melrose.

Rained during the night. But tent dry enough. Sleeping bag still a bit damp from previous nights where it had been touching the sides of the tent and attracting dew. Cold as usual. 57 Ks ahead of us today - should be easy. This morning's ride took us almost immediately off the town's asphalt road into a mire of thick red loam that was EXACTLY the consistency of biscuit dough. My front wheel clogged, then the breaks filled up, then immediately the forks jammed sending my front wheel into a T-bone siezure. Lept off before falling off and walked to the side of the track getting taller by the minute as my shoes collected inches of puggy red dough underneath. Of course I immediately headed back to the asphalt. WHY am i making things so difficult for myself, I wondered. Cleats were useless as they were filled with muck, making them difficult to click into place - or worse - impossible to undo when I needed to take my feet out of them. Rode without using them for the rest of the day despite many attempts at digging the stuff out with sticks and sharp stones. This is where the Lofty Range meets the Flinders, and the marshalls were saying the trickiest bit is yet to come. Wheat fields rolled away in all directions in these valleys. Huge grain silos reminded us of where we were even when baz and I cheated and took a smooth road to the nearest town, Willoughby I think its called, to do a bit of gift shopping (and avoid the rough). Even though it rained, the mess in my brakes caused them to rub and the head wind kept our pace down a bit we felt like we were flying compared to what we had been doing for the past 8 days. We crested the last rise in the road to see the town nestled at the foot of Mount Remarkable - a dark and brooding presence. Mountain Bike trails on this forested mountain make this a mecca for enthusiasts but its the last thing I will be doing on our rest day here tomorrow. My main priority is to get rid of this chest infection, and the infection developing inside my l. elbow. Baz also is struggling with his chest cough. So we discuss our options while we have some. We are told we have to make a decision tonight to secure the last 2 seats in the van. A walk to the local bike shop introduces us to the latest in mountain bikes - light weight, sleek, efficient with soft ride seats, soft shocks on the front forks and the latest in tyre technology to avoid punctures. I do the cyclists version of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" and receive the comment "you're doing it tough, girl. This bike weighs a ton". Well perhaps that was one more incremental shift towards reason, but discussions with a doctor on the ride convinced us we should take the bus out of here to R and R in Adelaide... Jan and everyone else in our group knows somethings up when we arrive for dinner in the hall, and I announce the decision to take a break from riding. They think we'll be resting for a day off the bikes, then resuming the ride after that. When I deliver the postscript there is a small silence. You could read a million shades of meaning into it. Some had a look of envy in their eyes. Others shock. You're giving up....? Now? When there's only 300 and something kilometers to go? (Precisely.)

Spalding to Laura

So many Aussie towns are named after women, and it seems impossible to find them. The towns, not the women.  As it happens, this ride is well attended both by men and women, but they are of the tougher variety than what I'm made of. I notice that many of them are lean, ultra-fit and sport skin-graft like patches on their thighs and calves where a spill has resulted in a severe case of gravel rash. Of the permanent variety. Not my idea of fun, really. But I'm here, enjoying the amazing scenery, and remind myself that I wouldn't be looking at any of this if we'd come by car. We are on a trail, very isolated from anywhere at times, and ever mindful of how easy it is to get lost. Today's ride was tricky in the sense that it was even easier than usual to get lost. The trail entered the forest and immediately there was confusion as to what bit belonged to the trail, and didn't. GPS once again saved us from possible disaster, and we could look up once in a while from the tricky terrain below our wheels and enjoy the scenery. Sun dappled eucalyptus trees to our left, sun bathed pasteres framed by the slender trunks of younger trees to our right. The wheat fields turned silver in places, with a tinge of blue as the breeze tilted them to one side, enabling them to reflect the perfect blue sky above. All this to the continual sound track of cawing crows and bickering magpies. We are still heading to the Flinders ranges which are darker and more sinsiter looking than the undulations of the lofty ranges we have been following till now. The countryside closes in a little more each time I look around me. For a brief moment the classic road cyclist indide me was indulged as we followed the asphalt for a few Ks. If road riding is a classic waltz then mountain biking is break dancing. And the analogy becomes more apt as I am reminded time and time again of the pain in my elbow from my fall. Lots to see but too nervous about getting lost so i don't stop to take photos. Moments are consigned to memory though. One particularly lively moment when a kangaroo hopped effortlessly over the fence, missed Baz by inches, bounded across the road without breaking stride, cleared the fence on our right and headed away at speed - biong biong... then watched us from a distance. Laura finally appeared from behind the trees. Tonight's dinner was another extravaganza of great food organised by the local community. we have been well treated and well fed every night so far. Ray recited a funny poem written by a local poet. Much laughter and fun - as usual - at the end of a good day's riding.

Tooralie to Spalding

Only 59 Ks today. Beautiful weather today, thank goodness. Woke up about 5 times in the night shivering from the cold, and so keen to soak up some sun, but this takes time with the temps so low every morning. 0 degrees when we got out of the tents, I was told.Chest cough is taking a turn for the worse for both of us. Easy riding though compared to other days. No wind, sun, a few challenging bits to keep it interesting, but mostly good terrain. Stopped to look at an abandoned homestead. So very sad. Someone's dreams lie in stone ruins. A drought, a plague or a flood who knows, but the decision was made to walk away from the farm. A couple of dead sheep dot the foreground as we apparoach the house, just to add further poignency to the picture. Pigeons and a barn own wheel out of the torn roof while we walk in the open front door. Lingered there for a while, and counted my blessings. The landscape became tame once again as we progressed towards our town for the night. Rolled into Spalding in time for lunch as it happened, a walk around the town then dinner in the town hall complete with cutlery, proper plates and serviettes. We could be turning soft!

Burra to Tooralie

After a quick bike check, we made a start on the 69 Ks to Tooralie Station where we will camp out once again. After 2 nights in a beautiful cottage including a laundry we will be coming right back down to earth. Our coughs and colds have improved slightly after those nights in the warmth, and we set off full of energy after our rest. We rode up into the Lofty Range further, and the terrain changed from farmland to scrub. We began to realise how isolated we were when we looked down and could see only one farm homestead for hundreds of kilometres in the valley below us. Looked onto the furtherest possible distance imagining I might see the next city - Melbourne. But the horizon simply dissolves into a blueish haze. I am reminded I'm in Australia, not New Zealand, where from a lofty vantage point like this you'd be able to see the next town, and the next, and the next city beyond it. As we turned our backs on the vast but empty view scrubby low lying trees (don't know what they're called, but I'll refer to them as Lavatrees because they're handy like that) made the surroundings feel closed in compared to the open wheat fields we had been passing through.  Baz noticed he'd left his back pack behind somewhere about ten minutes back where we'd stopped for a quick rest and a bite to eat, so he went back to look for it while I rode on to morning tea where we agreed to meet again. I waited and waited but no sign of Baz. He had left it back in Burra, as it turned out. But someone (Justincredible as it happens) saw it and had it with him in his ute. With that in hand, we carried on without it knowing we'd get it from him at the end of the day. Called in to Sir Hubert Wilkinn's childhood home, which is being restored at the moment. He was an amazing character known for his intellect and explorations. I can imagine that living in that desolate, cold and isolated place anyone with a curious mind would be driven to explore other horizons.Too cold to linger long though so we kept riding to warm up, and rolled into Tooralie Station in time to set the tents up, put on as many layers as possible and eat dinner with the gloves on. Pre-dinner drinks were enjoyed on campstools in the dying rays of sunshine, but as quickly as the light faded were seeking warmth inside the big marquee. Dinner conversation lingered briefly in the form of vapour as the words left our mouths, but soon the tent warmed up with the aid of big gas heaters, hot food, and lots of happy people seated at cosy distances around tables adorned with assorted bottles of velvety red wine - from South Australia of course.

Rest Day in Burra

This would be a good time to describe the beautiful scenery we have seen so far. Rural South Australia has put on a special show for us after the recent rains have nourished the soil; as if an artist has touched in a landscape painting rimming edges with black where crop stubble has been burned off and touching the hills with shades of silver, blue-grey and green. Immaculate... Add twisted gum trees of a venerable age to the foreground and you have an interesting vista each time you care to look up from the handlebars. Rounded clouds cluster like sheep in the distant sky, casting deep and dramatic shadows on the low hills that form the horizon on each side of us. Burra signifies a change to the landscape as huge modern windmills of the power generating type march across the ridgeline like massive wind-up daddy longleg spiders. New to the landscape, alien to look at, apparently necessary as we run out of fossil fuels - and controversial. They turned at a steady pace, as if marking time and progress itself. Personally I don't mind them, but others do, and have moved across Australia, selling up to live out of their range. Apparently they create a low hum in the ground causing headaches and other symptoms of ill health for those living within a few kilometres of them.

We're In Burra!!!

It's beatiful here. Historic, picturesque all with a rural backdrop. Old stone buildings - exquistite!  After getting off the bikes the first challenge is to get our bags and bikes from the oval to our accommodation up the hill. Luxury after freezing damp tents for the last few nights!  Mmmm a hot shower first..  but Peter and friends have our key and they are nowhere to be seen. Pretty soon one of our group appears telling us that Pete has got chatting to an older lady in her front garden. Long story short, she has offered the use of her car to solve our transport problems. Pete arrives with the car, but within minutes he has been summoned back with it because her son has hit the roof about her being "sweet talked" out of her car by a total stranger.  So Pete delivers our bags on the way back with the car. Fun while it lasted, but a little foreshortened as he had also been offered the use of it for the next day as well. Our rest day so we can look around the town. Oh well. Nice while it lasted.  A night's luxury... dinner, bath, bed. Couldn't stay awake. Next day: rest day in Burra. Priority, a hot shower, and a stroll into town for brekkie. First car that passes us is the same one Pete had borrowed. Pete's in the back, being chaffeur driven around town by the lovely lady herself! Even better! Next year she 'll probably have a fleet of cars. In a town without competition she will do well. When Russell our tour manager heard the story he just shook his head... "Been coming here for years with this tour and never before...". According to the Historic Guide of Burra there are 43 places of interest but the only place of interest to me is right where I am at the moment.  It's nice to stop. For once. So I'm in total relaxation mode: a little coffee, T.V., reading and an afternoon nap. And I'm happy.

Just Incredible

Day 4. Riverton to Burra. 87 Ks. The nights are getting more chilly, A mouse scurried out from under the tent as we packed it this morning. The weather has totally cleared and we have a day of hard riding ahead, apparently. Justin, our ride mechanic has worked wonders on Barry's bike, as he's had one problem after the next with it, eventhough he had it checked and serviced before the ride. His visit to Justin's van is turning into a daily habit. When we were introduced to him as Justin our tour mechanic I quipped "Justin case" ha ha ha. Two days later I have renamed him "Justin time". His overnight efforts have given Barry a new lease of life on the bike today. I am however not feeling so good. Justin asks me if I'm OK and I tell him not really. He has the knack of taking an interest, and offering good advice at the same time. I have now re-chrsitened him "Just incredible". Without his amazing input at luuchtime I possibly wouldn't have got through this afternoon. But I'm glad I did. The downhill run into Burra was amazing fun - even if I have shaken every part of myself and my bike in the process. And the views! Just gorgeous. I love this part of the world. It really is beautiful. But the personal highlight today was a morning tea stop in Clare which is where Barry and I almost-met 13 years ago on the Great South Australia Bike Ride. Long story - won't go into it now. But ahhh the memories. Baz once more put foward for Mawson Man award. Instead presented with a pair of cute rabbit's ears - to be worn under the helmet - the ears poke through the gaps - until passed on the following evening to another desrving recipient.

Invisible Trail Signs Cause Havoc

Day 3. 78 Ks Tanunda to Riverton. Chateau Tanunda is gorgeous and we don't want to leave. Left with confidence on the bike telling myself I can do this I can do this I can do this, but many moments of indecision caused a loss of momentum over and over as we took wrong turns repeatedly. The trail signs are the size of a $5.-- note, the colour of dust and placed in long grass. They are a joke. This ride is turning into a game of Where's Wally, not a cycling trip. Ride 5 minutes, check the ground for bike tracks, look for a sign - oh there it is right there hidden in the grass... Many times over several intelligent people were gathered looking around and unable to see the signpost that could make the difference between getting there or getting lost. The writing on the signs is the size of my credit card signature - I'm not kidding. Figured out the best solution was to keep an eye on a rider with a GPS system. The only sure way. Even so Barry and I did get lost, and were spotted in the distance by friends who raced on to others with a cellphone who could call us back. Anyway now I'm here in Riverton, the sun is on my back as I write, perched on a camp stool on the grass on the edge of town. And once again I am happy to be here. So all is well. 

Forest, dirt, and ruts

Day 2 Lobethal to Tanunda. 73 Ks Woke up this morning with tears streaming from my eyes. Wasn't sure if I was weeping from anticipation and pain or from the headcold I'd developed. While putting my hemet on I noticed it was looking fine on the outside but broken on the inside (I know the feeling!) from my fall. Still no sympathy !!! Rode into impossible terrain again. Mountain bike skills are building but I am most definitely a road cyclist not a mountain biker. As I was feeling a bit sore, and it was raining and its well known I can get lost anywhere - even in the campsite - I decided to stick with a ride marshall. Barry had promised to stay behind me all day so if anything happened to me he'd find me and fix it. The flaw in that plan of course was that if one us accidentally left the trail then we'd be in deep trouble. Well put it this way, I left Lobethal at 8 and then I left Lobethal at 9. Meanwhile Barry is powering ahead trying to catch me. I was a bit deflated at the realisation I'd wasted so much energy so i just went into automatic. Today's ride summary: long periods of close inspection of clay, sand, and gravel with intermittent periods of magnificent scenery. Ab-so-lutely beautiful. Found Baz at lunch. He'd already been to Tanunda to look for me, and come back. We are both coughing now, so that was a big effort for him too. Stories all round of riders getting lost, so I'm not the only one. But we are here at Chateau Tanunda now in the big dining room having a lovely Black Tie dinner - so all is forgotten for now. Tonight is the night The Mawson Man is introduced to us all. An award for feats of bravery and or stupidity on the trail. The vote is for Baz - overwhelmingly. His reward - the macho looking doll called the Mawson Man. There is also the Wilkins Woman - the female equvalent. Baz gets the vote because of his extreme bad luck with flat tyres; the final straw being the new one - after so many on the trail - put in at camp just before dinner which immediately exploded with a resounding BANG!!! as he walked confidently away from his bike. Plus of course his bright ideas about keeping me safe on the trail by staying behind me all the time... say no more.