Diary of Barrie Wade's Australian bike ride

Sponsorship Target = £30,000. Amount raised to date = £41,830.81

EPILOGUE

Well, George W Bush has gone home with his three Jumbos, transport planes, SWAT vans, entourage (including personal chef and four cooks) and 250 Secret Service Agents. It has stopped raining, Sydney is sunnier and now contemplating the APEC cost of $330 million. I decided my last photograph would be neither the Opera House nor Bondi Beach – both places made inaccessible by fences, dogs and security teams. Instead I cycled to the waterfront and Ann photographed me with the Harbour Bridge in the background.

Thus my journey from Indian to Pacific Oceans is complete. It has been unique, enjoyable and fulfilling. On behalf of the Alexandra Hospital and Mencap I am immensely grateful to all of you, my sponsors, for your generosity and for your faith that I would complete my challenge. Special thanks go to Ann for her back-up and to Maggie and Ian who have enabled you to follow my progress.

CONCLUSION

Along with the satisfaction of completing a challenge comes sobering humility, induced partly by pleasures of the journey. I have enjoyed the goodwill, company and support of many people en route at all stopping points, even if I did cycle alone. I had mainly good roads, good food and accommodation, plenty of water and Ann’s much-appreciated back-up. I even sampled the local, outstanding wines.

In the last stages, though, I have been thinking a lot about the achievements of those who undertook the first, big journeys in this huge country. I thought of Darke, speared by natives; of Sturt’s expedition into the centre; of Eyre and Wylie forging westward, enduring storms, cold, thirst and hunger, after Baxter had been murdered; of the journeys north, where Burke and Wills died in the desert so unluckily and how Stuart persisted after failures and eventually succeeded on his third expedition, of the many failed attempts to cross the Great Dividing Ranges, where valleys and hope always ended at sheer mountain walls, until Aboriginals advised Blaxland to keep to the ridges.

These names survive, significantly on the very roads I cycled. Thanks to the endurance of these pioneer travellers, the pastoral and mineral potential of Australia is being realised and, so far, its unique and incredible natural beauties remain for others to enjoy.

Stage 33: KATOOMBA to SYDNEY 90m / 56 miles

The morning began freezing cold with the mountains shrouded in misty cloud and rain falling sharply. I judged that, even with a rear light, it was too dangerous to cycle a busy, lumpy road until the gloom lifted. So in full waterproofs I set out the latest ever and only got a few kilometres before experiencing a scary wheel wobble. That really made downhill cycling seem impossibly dangerous, but I progressed steadily to the bike shop I’d seen when cycling the last stage to Wentworth Falls. There Tristan, owner of “BIKEMINDED”, a lovely, well–equipped, new shop, immediately balanced my buckling wheel, tightened all the spokes and would accept no payment

Confidence restored, I was able to enjoy the downhills to Parramatta, “the place of many eels” in Aboriginal, where saltwater and freshwater meet in the Parramatta River. I was able to take the M4 motorway right into Sydney itself. What is the hard shoulder on UK motorways is the space that bikes can use and there are marked crossings spaces at exit and entrance points for cyclists to cross with care. I felt safer than for days. At the Service centre, where Ann and I met up, the “Daily Telegraph” front page read: “Fortress Sydney last night went in the biggest security lockdown in the city’s history.” Fortunately we made it to our hotel without meeting any of the 750-person entourage the president has brought with him. Bondi Beach and its famous rip current exerts a call still. “Bondi” means “the sound of water breaking on the beach”, but the water will still be breaking next week when the Black Hawk helicopters, two-metre high fences, water cannon and security have gone

I am content to wait for a final few kilometres and a farewell photo.

Stage 32: BATHURST to WENTWORTH FALLS 105kms / 65 miles

This mountain section falls into two halves, each with serious hillclimbing over the Great Dividing Range and the Blue Mountains. There are steep, but manageable, hills as far as Williamsons Springs (where the Yetholm Crest is marked 1,180 metres altitude) and downhill plunges like the one into Meadow Flat. The road passes the Wallerawang and Mt. Piper power stations and rolls down into Lithgow, once the centre of coalmining and weapons and now a mining museum town with a visitors’ centre constructed as a huge miner’s lamp.

The toughest climb in the second half is that which ascends Victoria Pass, originally built by convict chain gangs, ascending in steep curves and where trucks in low gear descend as slowly as they climb. However, this lasts for only 3 kilometres and my practice in the Canadian Rockies stood me in good stead. Here now are a succession of holiday resorts set in the Upper Blue Mountains: Blackheath, the “Rhododendron Town”, Medlow Bath, Katoomba, the “Garden Village” of Leura, and Wentworth Falls.

There was little chance of sight-seeing today, though. Uphill climbing requires focus and effort and downhill plunges need careful checking of the surface ahead. Secondly, there was constant traffic to watch out for. Thirdly, the quality of the road surface demanded intense concentration. At the edges, the tarmac was frequently distorted and often there was no shoulder for safety or an existing two-foot strip would just disappear. Most shoulders were littered with glass, rockfall, gravel piles and some had overhanging shrubs, cracks and craters. Ironically some of these were marked as cycle paths. The worst stretch, either side of Lithgow, was a nasty road, built of concrete. Some blocks had developed long cracks, wide enough to swallow a bike wheel and some potholes at the joints were yawning bucket-sized mouths.

At Katoomba a whole new road system is being developed to cope with incessant traffic with proper bike lanes into and through the city. On the way out to Sydney road working continues past the hidden motels. By Wentworth Falls it became clear that it would be best to return to Katoomba for accommodation, so I’ll cover this stretch three times. Well that will make up for George W. Bush’s intervention. From tomorrow onwards, sections of Sydney are cordoned by high fencing, some roads will be closed (but Security will not say which) and Bondi beach, my planned destination, is out of bounds. Some say Laura is entertaining friends at the Yacht Club; others that it’s to stop the world seeing George in his bathers or falling from a surfboard.

Katoomba’s name comes from the Gundungurra tribal word for “falling water” and, as well as waterfalls and spectacular views, there are subtropical rainforests and hanging swamps round about. Nowadays it is a favourite national and international resort with hotels, spas, boutiques, cable car and high prices. Probably the most stunning rock formation is the Three Sisters. In the Dreamtime Tyawan, tribal witchdoctor, had three daughters. To save them from an aggressive Bunyip he used a magic bone to turn them temporarily to stone. Unfortunately, the Bunyip chased Tyawan, who escaped by changing himself into a lyrebird, but dropped the magic bone as he fled. So the Three Sisters are doomed to wait, until the lyrebird finds the magic bone in the bush. When he finds it, there will be nothing for tourist coachloads to photograph at Echo Point.

Stage 31: COWRA to BATHURST 108kms / 67 miles

After the early morning ice melted, the sun shone all day and the wind settled gently, but helpfully as a following assistant. It was a superb day’s cycling, despite fast morning traffic. The road switchbacks the whole distance between 1,000 and 3,000ft and the increased altitude made for cooler travelling. I have clearly become stronger as I have progressed and there seemed much more downhill than uphill! The countryside is glorious, through lush, hilly farmland with lazy, feeding cattle and plenty of lovely trees left for shade. There is no problem of drought here. Twinkling ponds and farm reservoirs are brimful, with ducks leisurely cruising, and the silver creeks, where the occasional ibis can be seen, run freely.

Carcoar and Blayney en route are old agricultural towns with well-restored buildings. Blayney supposedly gets its name from an Irish shepherd called Blaney who was responsible for what was, in the mid 19th century, an out-station. It has modern facets too, including a wind farm with its white towers dwarfed by the green, rolling hills.

I saw lots of rabbits on this route – healthy, burly and cautious. Perhaps they are rallying in this fertile, green paradise, readying themselves for another western invasion. I also witnessed a kangaroo bounding along the verge on my right apparently unable to get over the field fencing. Then it turned and bounced back towards, then past me, as traffic scared it. I lost sight of it, but hoped it hadn’t tried a risky dash across the road.

Bathurst (pop. 34,000) was founded in 1815 by Governor Lachlan Macquarie and is Australia’s oldest inland town. Macquarie selected and inspected ten men to make the initial settlement, giving each of them 50 acres, a cow, 4 bushels of wheat, a servant and 12 months provisions. It became a boom town in the 1860s and 1870s when gold was discovered in nearby rivers and creeks. It continues to thrive as a university city and is well known for the annual car racing that takes place on Mount Panorama. That is in October, but any time of the year a cyclist can enjoy the glorious downhill, past Mount Panorama, and into the city.

Stage 30: WEST WYALONG to COWRA 166kms / 103 miles

This turned out to be a tough, long day. I started early to avoid the wind which is usually strong by 9.30am, but already at 7.20am there was a strong northerly and the first 35km to Marsden Intersection were hard against the force which almost blew me to a standstill at times. Just before Marsden I saw Rob and Hamish, with Kerry in his van protecting them, cycling back on the opposite side of the road. We waved, but traffic prevented talk, so I have no idea why they were not headed towards Queensland.

Soon after, I turned eastward on the Mid Western Highway and the wind became side wind and stronger and stronger. I overruled my backup who thought it too dangerous to continue (she has seen some trees blown over) and indeed I had little difficulty in avoiding the twigs and occasionally branches blown off trees. More problematic was the distorted state of the road and it required considerable concentration to negotiate the hills, valleys and riverbeds of the twisted road surface. There was less traffic now, but it was important to keep checking mirrors, because the howling wind cut out traffic noise from behind.

Caragabal, the planned morning stop, is a town in its death throes, with the hotel closed, the shop closing and no coffee to be had. We sheltered from the wind in the deserted children’s playground and drank apple juice. Soon after sad Caragabal, the Weddin Range of mountains and their foothills loomed ahead. In fact, the change of terrain and roadside trees gave more protection. Finally, when the road veered south-easterly to Grenfell, the wind ceased to be a problem. Arriving late at Grenfell meant no lunch, except that finally we found a Chinese restaurant prepared to serve after 2p.m. This was my first full meal at lunchtime, but I thought it was probably enough cycling for the day. Amazingly, though, after the meal, the wind had dropped and I decided to tackle the hilly section up into the Broula Range. The reward was finally a magnificent downhill from Broula into the Lachlan River valley. Actually this 20km of exhilaration was nearly my undoing. Ann had gone on to book accommodation, but I sped into Cowra so fast, she had not placed the car prominently outside the chosen motel by the time I passed. We then spent the hour until dark looking for each other up and down the road. Silly! At least I used the lights I had carried all the way from Fremantle!

Cowra, on the banks of the Lachlan River, originally was called Coura Rocks. Vines, vegetables and much more are successful in the region, which is lush and verdant. Cowra has a Japanese Garden to commemorate the breakout from Cowra Prisoner of War Camp on 5th August, 1944, when over 500 Japanese POWs attempted to escape. With improvised weapons they attacked the security fence and machine-gun posts, killing three guards. Their efforts were suicidal, but many POWs did succeed in breaking through the fence, though all were recaptured, killed or committed suicide. In all, 231 prisoners died and 108 were wounded. Another Australian soldier was killed in the prisoner roundup next day. The cemeteries are separate and both impressive in their simple grandeur, the campsite only has hut foundation ruins and is reverting to pastoral peace, but the memorial garden is a masterpiece. Designed by Ken Nakajima in the 1970s it uses natural granite boulders set into a hillside plus the native gum trees that Nakajima said represented Australian soldiers. On this base, he constructed a spiritual and aesthetic garden using the Japanese skills of setting stones, judicious planting, bridge building and directing water courses. All the garden paths are curved to induce relaxation. These curves are also designed to block the path of bad forces, since Japanese mythology insists that evil spirits follow straight lines. I thought of all the dead straight roads I had recently followed and let myself sink in the aesthetic pleasure of spring blossom, tinkling water and mind-relaxing curves.

Stage 29: GOOLGAWI to WEST WYALONG 148kms / 92 miles

Well the news is that the lamb is going to be handreared and has transferred its affections from me to the farmer in the red car. The road to West Wyalong is frequently distorted and without a shoulder, but there is light traffic. It passes through drought-affected farmland and is lined with trees, where a variety of birds sound their alarm calls. There is a long, steady climb to Ned’s Rock, then a more severe one up Tabbita Ridge before the dying town of Rourkins Springs. Many of the crops around here are clearly finished, unless there is rain soon and this is the sixth bad year out of seven, The town school now has only 12 children, whereas not so long go there were 90. Clearly it is a struggle for the town to keep going.

Other towns are even worse off. Euratha has disappeared save for the sign recording that the Public School closed in 1950. Weethale is sadly shrinking, though it honours its founding pioneers with its Pioneer Rock Fountain. Malgogrin has virtually gone, except for a memorial to the Payne family pioneers who arrived in 1891, but had most of their selection taken back by the government when gold was found there in 1893.

After a flat section, the road becomes undulating again before West Wyalong. The borders are ablaze with yellow-gold wattles and the paler gold of dandelion type flowers as well as clumps of silver-white daisy-like flowers.

The explorer John Oxley was the first European to enter the West Wyalong district in 1817 and he said that “from want of timber, grass and water, it would never be inhabited by civilised man.” The discovery of gold in 1893 changed this prophecy and the town was hastily developed. Its crooked main street follows the original bullock track that curved around trees and gold diggings. The productive gold field closed in 1920, but another discovery 40km away is giving the town a new lease of life.

There are delights here. One is the Colonial Motel where Geoff and Dawn Smith gave free accommodation and food as their contribution to the challenge.

It was another scorching day today with a strong wind becoming stronger in the afternoon. The whole country is on the alert for bush fires already, months before the usual time. There is another cloud on the horizon too – another Bush. George Bush is coming next week to the APEC conference in Sydney and the city, with 3,5000 police on duty and anti-Bush demonstrators being arrested already, is in the grip of high security stop and search. I hear my destination, Bondi Beach, is to be closed. The man has a lot to answer for.

Stage 28: HAY to GOOLGAWI 111kms / 69 miles

Firstly, the decision to leave the Sturt Highway direct to Sydney was taken easily. I thought I might have been tempted by the flatter route, but the desolation of the Hay Plain is making me charitable to, and optimistic about, hilly country. So Blue Mountains here we come!

This stage, though, carries on where yesterday left off, since after only a few kilometres out of Hay on the Mid-Western Highway, the fields cease and the flat land rolls off to the horizon through arid, low scrub. Signs warn of stock on the road and sure enough today meant negotiating two flocks of sheep and a herd of cattle. Grass in the gullies by the roadside is greener and sweeter, since it gets all the water off the tarmac, when it does rain. Cattle and sheep love it and so do the wild animals who so frequently come to grief.

It was a woolly day. The complete 111km was marked on both road edges by bits of fleece caught on plants and grasses like a paper trail, where it has continually blown off the trucks transporting it from the Hay region woolsheds. Then there was the lamb. As I cycled along, a scrawny lamb got up from the verge, bleating piteously and, obviously mistaking my blue helmet and yellow jacket for its mother, tried to follow when I set of again. There was nothing else in sight, but I took note of the position and 15km further on alerted Ann who went back for the rescue, despite the risk of being taken for a sheep stealer (In England, a while ago, that would have qualified for transportation to Australia!). Anyway, with the help of a motorist in a red car, the malnourished, lost lamb was captured and taken by the motorist to the vet in Goolgawi.

I had come all this way without meeting another cyclist on the road (Rob in the Nullarbor was recovering from sickness), but today I met two. Before reaching Goolgowi I caught up with Rob Fiedler and Hamish Carter of Radio CFM, cycling for a children’s charity 2000 kilometres from Adelaide to Toowoomba in Queensland. They had the protection of Kerry Cosgrove, driving his “Bikeline” van immediately behind them. We had a thoroughly enjoyable roadside chat, swapping information and impressions as well as addresses, and then Ann, my backup, arrived.

Goolgawi was first settled in the 1920s when the area was opened up for wheat farming. It was certainly a pleasure to see fields again and to leave behind the dry aridity of the desolate, Hay Plain. As if she sensed this, Marion, owner of the Goolgowi Motor Inn, provided complimentary cake and wine, just perfect for enjoying a late afternoon that had begun to lose the fierceness of the sun’s heat.

Stage 27: BALRANALD to HAY 132kms 82 miles

This stage begins and ends crossing the Murrumbidgee River which loops northward between the two towns. In Balranald it passes through a parkland floodplain full of beautiful gum trees and in Hay, another sheep town, there are irrigation systems at the town entry just before the river bridge with Kookaburras watching for prey.

In between is a wasteland with few fields. The low scrub stretches to the horizon, so that at least the emus are easy to spot. There are virtually no trees, so no magpies either. I almost missed them. There are no buildings apart from one woolshed, but it’s hard to imagine sheep obtaining much sustenance from this isolated wilderness. For the last four or five days the towns I’ve passed through have been recording their highest August temperatures for a century. The grasses here are baked and dried orange and the Hay Plain itself is brown, parched and interminable. Between the towns is a smart gateway, but no house in sight. The name is prominently painted “HELL’S GATE” and seems appropriate. Hay itself has a wide main street of well-stocked shops and serves a huge pastoral area. Special events and sheep sales bring in people from the whole district. The five museums demonstrate the townspeople’s enthusiasm for present related to past with emphasis on pastoral life and shearing. One museum used to be the gaol. Apart from 10 years use as a maternity hospital its fifteen feet high walls have, since 1880, incarcerated short-term offenders, the insane, prisoners of war and 13-18 year-old girls until 1974 when the Historical Society obtained it for a museum.

Stage 26: MILDURA to BALRANALD 162kms / 101 miles

After a few kilometres into and through Mildura, it was goodbye again to the Murray River and its pelicans and into the state of New South Wales. Scrub and farmland alternate along the gently undulating road to Euston and its little service station where the manageress treated us to lunch. The Murray loops up north to Euston and again there are vineyards and fruit trees. The mainly flat road then passes Benanee Lake, which you might easily miss, thinking it a paler than usual wheatfield, except that its billiard table surface is dotted with the white of pelicans.

This surrounding scrub and woodland of Deadman Plain is home to the endangered Mallee Fowl. I reckon I saw two, heading deeper into the bush.
The next town is Balranald (pop. 2000) set in this remote, desert area. Sheep farming predominates here, but the Murrumbidgee River and its irrigation schemes allows for a variety of crops. Today was sweltering, though, as the afternoon progressed, a strong wind developed and cooled things down. Apart from two half-hearted attacks in the early morning, the magpies behaved well today. I am becoming reconciled to them. Sometimes known as the Flute Bird, in groups or duets they can be really musical. It’s just that I’ve had enough of their rasping, harsh Stucca notes and menacing swoops.

Stage 25: RENMARK to MILDURA 145kms / 90 miles

It was hard to leave the tranquillity of the Murray River at Renmark with stately pelicans cruising between the gum trees. The Sturt Highway to Mildura has an excellent shoulder for cycling safely, which is just as well, since magpie attacks redoubled. As the temperature soared, so did the birds, jealously protecting their nesting sites, swooping in to attack with zest. I may always associate Linderman’s wines with magpie harassment near Lake Cullulleraine. Fortunately there has never been a bird swooping at me as I have struggled uphill and it is relatively easy now to deal with them on the flat. That’s what this road mainly is, with some gentle undulations through farmland and some uncleared bush as well as vineyard and orchards.

Twenty or so kilometres out of Renmark the road enters Victoria. There is a federal road safety scheme to attack the main killer – fatigue – and Victoria takes this seriously, imprinting the message with variation and imagination:
"A 15 minute powernap could save your life."
"Yawning? Take a powernap"
"A microsleep can kill in seconds."
"Open your eyes. Fatigue kills."
"Drowsy drivers die."
"Only a galah drives too far"
"Stop. Revive. Survive".
"Break the drive. Stay alive".
"Only sleep cures fatigue".

Mildura (pop.24000) is a city surrounded by dry grassland and was named after its original sheepstation i.e. “sore eyes” or “red sand”. To the north the Murray and Darling Rivers join and this as the area of arid bush that was rejuvenated in the 1880s when the Canadian Chaffey brothers cleverly developed the first Murray river irrigation scheme. Mildura has become a culturally-rich oasis and popular for holiday-makers and is the site of Lock 11 on the Murray which has lifted water levels 12 feet, so killing off the river red gums that found themselves in deep water. Since the Chaffey’s, irrigation has been a blessing and a curse. At least it is possible to be a tourist and to dine on one of the nineteenth century paddle steamers, while cruising the Murray amongst cormorants, pelicans and black swans, as well as gum stumps. The Victoria side is mainly untouched bushland, while the north bank in New South Wales has a long strip of manicured lawns to the water edge and palatial houses of the rich offering themselves for admiration.

The Arts Centre is beautifully situated near the river in a sculpture park, houses a permanent exhibition as well as showcasing local and national artists and occupies Rio Vista, the house built for William Benjamin Chaffey in 1889. He died in 1926, but his second wife lived there until 1950. This house is a work of art itself and no expense was spared bringing in Italian tiles and marble, Chinese rosewood, English stained glass and wall coverings and the best Australian hardwoods for floors, walls and ceilings. The brochure suggests Rio Vista “symbolises the dreams of the Chaffey brothers.” In modern political speak they would have said: “Irrigation. Irrigation. Irrigation.” Tragic death and financial problems clouded their dream of prosperity at the turn of the century. Today the spectre of dominant drought and the nightmare symbols of cracked mud, dead reeds, salinity and dying vines point to a new reality.

Stage 24: WAIKERIE via KINGSTON-ON-MURRAY to RENMARK 84km / 52 miles

The gently rolling road, following the Murray River, was made exciting by magpie attacks. In the morning sunshine the attackers swooped in as if they knew my shadow was behind me – one actually contacted my helmet. Anyway, I survived three attacks on this busier main road.

This Riverland area is (and has been) in crisis. Frequent river floods used to leach salt out of the land, but now 80% of Murray river water is pumped out for irrigation the floods are rarer, making plant and fish regeneration difficult. Presently there is severe drought and the vine growers are only allowed 11% of their water allocation, so that they have to decide which vines to allow to die.

We spent several hours at Banrock Station (having drunk several (!) of their bottles in UK). The winery is restoring 900 hectares of wetlands and floodplain and rejuvenating 600 hectares of Mallee woodland with native seedlings of eucalypts, wattles, cassias etc. This is not merely a customer exercise, for something had to be done after early 20th century clearing produced erosion and aridity. Also early irrigation schemes induced salinity. Banrock Station now uses a dripper system for its vines and ensures no drainage reaches the river, so effecting zero salinity. We walked to the wetlands and found them dry. The Station has drained water back to the river as part of a regeneration project to save water, improve the wetland habitat and remove pests, such as the European carp. I was so pleased that I had enjoyed Banrock Station wines in the UK and resolved to carry on supporting them.

The road to Renmark through Barmera and Monash gave occasional views of green Murray water with hunting cormorants and pelicans sailing lazily. Just before Renmark there were a dozen or more kites spiralling above roadkill. Renmark (pop. 8,000) is situated on the Murray banks. Though the climate is semi-arid and the town is surrounded by mallee scrub, a system of open channels from the Murray allows fruit growing. The town has wide, elegant streets, a profusion of orange trees and vineyards, as well as macadamia, pistachio and almond cultivation.

Renmark derives from the Aboriginal “red mud” and there is a local Shiraz of the same name which is worth cycling a continent to reach.

Stage 23: BURRA via MORGAN to WAIKERIE 129km 80 miles

Warm sun melted early morning ice and the day was crystal clear and calm - ideal for cycling. The road climbs 5km out of Burra, then settles to flat or gently undulating all the way to Morgan. The fertile lands soon give way to rocky, sandy ground, so that 15km out of Burra the terrain is back to scrubland. Kangaroos abound, bouncing rhythmically away, holding their paws up delicately. Emus too displayed their trotting skills in little groups, strung out one behind the other. This road has little traffic so there is opportunity to observe. Morgan is in the fruit fly exclusion zone, so all fruits have to be eaten or discarded before then.

At Morgan begins Riverland and the road to Waikerie has magnificent river scenery with tall river red gums and constantly changing water scenery from wide flowing stream to lagoons to still lakes in the riverbed. Pumping stations are at intervals and water from the Murray supplies a good deal of South Australia.

We crossed by ferry to Cadell (pop. 650), a settlement established in 1919 for soldiers returning from World War 1. Citrus and other fruit trees occupy a vast acreage, the orange and mandarin trees loaded with fruit in early springtime, so that the strong sunshine highlighted masses of orange in the dark foliage. Trellised grape vines are planted in huge, prairie-like fields stretching to the horizon, so it is easy to see how Australia's wines have become dominant. Oxford Landing and Wolf Blas are en route to Waikerie ("many wings" in Aboriginal) which does seem alive with birds, both on and off the river.

Stage 22: CRYSTAL BROOK to BURRA 92km 57 miles

Neither the longer, more severe hills nor a contrary wind can spoil the delight of this beautiful road as it winds through the South Flinders Ranges. This is emerald country with farmland a rich, luxuriant green. As well as wheat, the fields have peas, beans, barley and canola (oil seed rape). There is an air of profit about the farmhouses, set in tree plantations and with avenues of firs and eucalypts leading to them. There is a softness and gentility about the rise and fall of these hills and some of the towns have girls' names - Laura and Clare, for example.

Some places are shrinking, though. Gulnare (pop. 31), with its hotel and shop closed and its motor business abandoned, seems a relic of days when farming would have required more labourers and more local support. In the countryside are empty houses too, some with walls standing, but roofless. Here there was a tax on tin roofs, so it became the practice to take the roof with you when you moved. Burra is a thriving town. Its days as a copper mining boom town are over, but it has successfully turned itself into a museum. Peacock's Chimney is splendidly restored. Originally it was erected by Cornish masons in 1855 and its boilers drove a Cornish winding engine. The open-cuts, where copper was extracted, are vast and now have 50 metres of ground water in the bottom. The town is full of antique and gift shops, so that tourists can combine a visit here with wine-tasting in the Clare Valley.

Stage 21: PORT AUGUSTA to CRYSTAL BROOK 110kms 68 miles

The Adelaide road out of Fort Augusta travels south with the creased and folded hills of South Flinders Ranges on the left and blue water of Spencer Gulf occasionally glimpsed on the right. Pipeline and railway also travel down this down this flat strip of farmland, past Mt. Brown, then Mt. Remarkable, the pretty seaside town of Port Germein and the iron-smelting town of Fort Pirie. The growing wheat also began to look healthier, its increased height and deeper green shade suggesting more rain and absorption of nitrogen. The road itself felt safer with an adequate shoulder all the way to the Crystal Brook turn off

At this very point I had two encounters. Firstly, a pair of magpies attacked me by divebombing as I cycled. I knew that nesting magpies were likely to do this (though I had previously passed thousands unscathed) and so I steered a straight course, enjoyed watching their shadows zooming in to skim my head and occasionally I waved an arm in retaliation. They pursued until the second encounter. Just along the turn-off was parked a car and a trailer; it turned out to be the farmer and his wife from Victoria that we had previously met in Nundroo. They had stopped to say G'day and check my progress. My magpies immediately transferred their attentions - probably since the others were not wearing crash helmets! The wife fetched magazines from their car to swat the birds, while the farmer told me how he had had to use his cap to swat while riding his horse to school as a boy.

Crystal Brook, named by Eyre in 1839 because of its stream of clear water, is a pretty town which knows its exact population (1259). It is crisscrossed by the railway and claims to have more trains passing through than any other place in the Southern Hemisphere.

Stage 20: 30km beyond KIMBA via IRON KNOB to PORT AUGUSTA 129km / 80 miles

An icy morning began with thick mist filling the deep valleys and hanging over the eucalypts of Lake Gillies Conservation Park like steam over a tropical forest. Roadkill returned for the first time in several days, since farmland across the Eyre Peninsula had been fenced. Scrub and bush predominate as the wilderness returns. The pipeline disappears underground; the sandy soil here makes this possible whereas, granite and limestone previously would have made this recent improvement too costly.

Iron Knob announces itself by its enormous flattened spoil heaps. This is where the Australian steel industry began, when iron ore deposits were discovered in 1894 and supplied steelworks on the Spencer Gulf, until mining finished here in June 1998. A sad, huge, open-cast digger stands as a reminder of past prosperity, while the town slowly dies and traffic hurtles past. We had arranged to detour and meet here, but the roadhouse was boarded up, many houses were locked up or abandoned, derelict trucks and cars lay rusting in streets and driveways and, symptomatic of decline, even the pub was closed.

So it had to be onward on the flattening road through more scrubland fenced for sheep grazing. Here it was that I had my first bike race. Cycling along steadily, I became aware of movement on my left. Only a few yards away, an emu had broken into a steady trot. With one eye ahead and one fixed on me, it kept pace. Only when I fumbled for my camera did it seize the initiative, lengthen its stride to forge ahead, then turn, cross the road in front of me, squeeze and scuttle through the opposite sheep fence and scamper away until its camouflage merged with the bush. Six feet tall and plump-looking, emus have learned to compress themselves through the square divisions of wire sheep fences at speed.

At the intersection with the Lincoln Highway, which runs down the eastern side of the Eyre Peninsula to Port Lincoln, the road into Port Augusta requires caution and rear-view mirrors. Traffic is increased as is its speed on the arrow-straight highway, but the shoulderless road is no wider and there is no place for a cyclist when on-coming vehicles pass each other.

Port Augusta (pop. 15,000) calls itself the Crossroads of Australia and used to be one of the major ports for wheat, wool and minerals. Now it is a tourist and Flying Doctor base as well as a centre for Aboriginal culture and learning. The Spencer Gulf snakes through the city northwards to the salty Lake Torrens and it was up this gulf that Matthew Flinders sailed on The Investigator in 1802 to confirm that Australia was one land mass, not two separate parts. With him came Roger Brown, a brilliant botanist, who named and classified many plants of the arid lands. Several of the species he collected are in the exceptional Australian Arid Land Botanic Gardens, notably the varieties of Eremophila ("desert lover" in Latin) species, otherwise known as the Emu Bush. Here, amongst indigenous dryland species, Crestel Pigeons, Chirruping Wedgebills, Singing Honeyeaters, White-Browed Babblers and many other bird varieties are at home.

The fruit of the Emu Bush is poisonous to humans (but loved by Emus!). However, Aboriginals used the leaves for medicinal purposes and indeed they are supposed to encourage deep sleep and pleasant dreams.

As well as enjoying the exhibits of the Wadlata Outback Centre and having Cambell at Apollo Cycles look over and lubricate the bike we use a rest day to explore the Flinders Ranges by 4wheel drive. We set off North East following the Pichi Richi narrow gauge railway to Warren Gorge and returned via Quorn, the unspoiled outback town, scene of many movies. At Warren Gorge as well as seeing lots of bush doves and corellas we saw a friendly bearded dragon and two very rare Yellow Footed Rock Wallabies. This was once a boom area for agriculture until dust storms and erosion ruined the dream. Now there are just ruins at Simmonston "the town that never was" since the decision to route the railway east of the ranges was taken soon after they began to build the hotel. At Kanyaka are the ruins of the homestead and shearers sheds where in 1864 40,000 sheep were shorn by hand. The only unchanged tranquil place is Kanyaka waterhole where the underground stream surfaces and Death Rock nearby which is a sacred Aboriginal site. This is where they used to bring dying people, so their last moments could be spent in peace overlooking the water. Returning to Port Augusta, I noticed that the smoke from the power station, which burns 14,000 tons of coal per week, was drifting north; but what matters a head wind after a lovely day in the outback!

Stage 19: WUDINNA to 30km beyond KIMBA 129kms / 80 miles

The road undulates to Kimba and beyond with some long, testing climbs. On either side are extensive wheatfields, leaving just a wild roadside strip of shrubs and trees; eucalypts are common and wattles are in full, sunny bloom. As well as crows and magpies, the verges have lots of birdlife, including galahs, Port Lincoln parrots, grey cockatoos, honeyeaters and Willie Wagtails

Kyancutta (Aboriginal for "water in rock holes") is known for its weather station and 20km further on is Waddikee Rock at Koongawa. Here is a roadside memorial to the explorer and surveyor, John Charles Drake. He reached this granite outcrop on 22nd October, 1844 and was "speared by natives next day." I didn't rest there for long. Kimba (pop. 800) is famed for its 7metre high statue of a galah at the roadside to mark the halfway point between east and west Australian coasts. It also has a recently renovated community hotel. We opted to stay there and were allocated the Old Post Office, converted into a distinctive suite and with our own payphone booth right outside the front door.

Stage 18: WIRULLA to WUDINNA 120km / 74 miles

A morning of rainbows and waterproofs, but only one brief, heavy shower. A sense of deja-vu prevailed; pipeline and railway became constant companions beside the undulating road to Poochera. The pipeline to Minnipa was completed in 1925. Before then, farmers had to do their best by storing rainwater and relying on the train's arrival for topping-up supplies. Minnipa and larger Wudinna (pop. 600) are in the heart of granite country. Huge monoliths in wondrous shapes rise like giant creatures waking in the earth. One outcrop we explored near Minnipa, called Pildappa Rock, has spectacular wave formations curling skywards, its pink granite shelled by greenish skin like a surfer's huge breaker.

On the way to Yaninna's silos a school sign stands where the pipeline has been painted and decorated, presumably by the pupils, - not so much a mural; maybe a tubal. Each township announces itself from a distance by its gigantic, white silos. Wheat production runs right across the country - admittedly with a huge Nullarbor gap - and it's easy to understand why wheat is Australia's major export earner; just so long as it rains.

Stage 17: 37 km before CEDUNA to WIRRULLA 134km / 81 miles

Just before Ceduna is the fruit fly checkpoint, but my dried fruit and nuts were OK to pass. Ceduna has a population of 3,800 and abundant tourist facilities since it's at the gateway to Streaky Bay, Smoky Bay and the delights of the Eyre Peninsula. Its name is developed appropriately from the Aboriginal name "Chedoona" meaning a place to sit and rest. It has a museum, art gallery and a wide range of shops. The sea food here is world class. The King George Whiting is superb, but the oyster farms are doing so well that folk come for seafood all year round, not just at the annual Oysterfest.

Gale force winds had been forecast and the bypass alongside the airport proved exacting cycling with gusts threatening to blow me into the road and twigs and bark flying off the roadside trees across me. Later the wind dropped somewhat, but settled mainly as a tailwind to Wirrulla. The rolling countryside is mainly stock and cereal land and I saw the first cattle. I also saw my first snake , its brown shiny body coiled at the roadside , about 1½ metres long I guessed, but I didn't inspect closely. The rural township of Wirrulla is on the brink of the Gawler Ranges National Park. At the centre of town is a jetty and a boat advertising trips whenever the tide is high. Well the tide never reaches this far inland and the jetty is the result of a jokey conversation between two residents who decided the only difference between Wirrulla and the coastal towns was that they had jetties. So has Wirrulla since 2001. And only Australian humour could put the first golf course tee on top of the jetty!

Stage 16: NUNDROO to 37km before CEDUNA 116km / 72 miles

A long day's cycling and hard-won progress, battling the strong wind through rolling pastureland. Some fenced areas actually contained sheep flocks, but there was a sense of dereliction up to and including the township of Bookabie, which has virtually disappeared apart from a couple of ruined houses. Some of the huge farms are for sale. Others seem abandoned, the rusted skeletons of Artesian well towers symbolising demise. Closer to Penong smooth, jade wheatfields join the pastures and the farm buildings have a more cared-for look.

As the two grain silos in Penong grew nearer, it was odd to think that this little place has the first shops (only one, as it turned out) since Norseman almost 1,200 km away.

The still narrow road, leading to Penong and beyond, has been resurfaced in maroon tarmac and widened with the addition of a grey shoulder, without which cycling in a high wind and sudden gusts, would have been more difficult. This was a day to value respites from the wind in Ann's back-up car and transport to the hotel at the end.

Stage 15: 41 km past NULLARBOR to NUNDROO 105km / 65 miles

A slow progress day cycling into a full-blast headwind. The road traverses the Yalata Aboriginal Reserve, first with ubiquitous saltbush and bluebush, then lovely woodlands and shrubland. The road, now with a tarmac shoulder before the gravel, knifes straight but with increasing undulation and some long, steepish inclines before Yalata itself.

The British made the arid Nullarbor even more inhospitable when they started their nuclear tests at Maralinga in the 1950s. Aboriginals were shifted from a wide area to allow rocket testing at Woomera to the east and many were resettled at Yalata Community. Sadly the roadhouse there is closed up and there is no local outlet for selling their artefacts. The Community has about 400 Yalata Anangu, who still make trips to their tribal lands, but it is closed to visitors without a permit

Early in the morning a beautiful dingo trotted across the road just ahead. He was in lovely condition - much better than the mangy pair that frequent the Nullarbor roadhouse. He stopped, when I did, and turned his wild, fearless eyes in my direction before disappearing in the bush. He will probably be the last I see. On the road to Nundroo I crossed a huge grid which is part of the Dog Fence - reputedly the longest manmade structure (5,400 kilometres) in the world. It winds from the Bunda Cliffs that I left yesterday right up to Queensland and keeps the dingo out of the main sheep-rearing country. Soon after the grid, fenced pastures replaced forest, but oddly there were no sheep. Maybe the dog fence works as well as the rabbit ones did!

Stage 14: 101km beyond BORDER VILLAGE to 41km beyond NULLARBOR - 126km / 78 miles

At one point in the morning I couldn’t remember when I had last seen a tree; then a few reappeared before a sign indicated the Western Limit of the Treeless Plain. This stretch of road crosses a fraction of the true Nullarbor – a harsh environment where heat, lack of water and poor soil deny a hold to much other than the flat-leaved Bladder Saltbush and several varieties of Bluebush succulent. The shrub cover, at this the of year, is attractive, but rabbits ravaged it, until the 1950s myxomatosis outbreak. The rabbits recovered and the scrub declined until the recent calici virus clobbered the rabbits, though the one rabbit seen near the Nullarbor roadhouse may indicate that the pendulum swings again. The girl behind the bar gave me a splendid, vernacular welcome: "You must be buggered, reaching here. Have a free latte."

The plain has its own beauty of brown and green shades, silver-topped grasses and a few flowers, but there was no sign of wildlife and the cathedral silence was only interrupted by an occasional lark-like bird ascending the colossal sky with scratchy, twittering song.

Across the flat land past Nullarbor a minor road runs south to the Bunda Cliffs. This is Head of Bight in Yalata Aboriginal Land and probably the best place to see Southern Right Whales. Luckily this is the time of year they gather to give birth, mate and to enjoy water warmer than the Antarctic. These placid creatures were hunted virtually to extinction in the 19th century, but are increasing strongly now they are protected. From the cliff boardwalk we saw about ten close to shore, including two sets of calves and mothers swimming alongside.

Stage 13: EUCLA to 101km beyond BORDERVILLAGE - 113km / 70miles

Emus and kangaroos were evident again this delightful morning. The first place of interest is the quarantine check (which was only working in Western Australia) at the border. Once past the huge statue of a daft kangaroo holding a beer can, the South Australian Road becomes tricky. While the surface is good, it is narrower than in WA and there is no shoulder – only deep gravel at the side, likely to bring down an erring cyclist. It was imperative to keep a watch for approaching road trains and to ensure that I was never at a point where two approaching vehicles passed each other – simply because there was no room. Fortunately there was sparse traffic all day.

A main compensation too were stunning views of the Southern Ocean – a belt of bright iris blue on the right. I ventured down one of the several lookout posts at the cliff edge to see wide, scrub-covered beaches and sea spray curtains hanging like mist.

Every kilometre is marked after BorderVillage, so progress on this road is easy to check. I became elated about my progress. Today most motorists hooted or waved; some passengers applauded. At one point an airplane, approaching low from behind, flew over the road ahead and waggled its wings. Waggling is difficult on a bike, so I waved back.

Stage 12: 57km beyond MADURA to EUCLA 126km / 78 miles

Last night at the roadhouse we met another cyclist – Rod – attempting to bike from Perth to Adelaide. He’d had two setbacks – a broken back wheel near Merredin and illness which had kept him at Madura for a week. An experienced camper, he was reassuring about snake bites. Apparently Australian snake venom travels in the lymph glands, not the bloodstream; so compressing the unwashed (for later medical analysis) wound, immobilising the limb and getting to hospital should see you right – unless the bite enters an artery

No snakes on the road today, but lovely sightings of kangaroos close by. By late morning there was a helpful tailwind, which resolved another question. It is impossible to outrun the most persistent flies even at 20mph. I have schooled myself not to swerve, while swatting, but at the end of the Roe Plain and sweating up the hill of Eucla Pass, I rode one-handed and swatted with the other.

From the Hampton Tablelands at Eucla is a splendid view of shoreline dunes and beyond the deep sapphire of the Southern Ocean. Eucla is the most easterly town in Western Australia and with 50 inhabitants, is the largest settlement on the Nullarbor. In the 1890s the area was plagued by the western spread of rabbits which ate the dune vegetation, causing massive sand drifts over the township.

At Eucla now is a Travellers’ Cross and a granite memorial not only to Edward John Eyre and Wylie, who succeeded in reaching Albany, but also to Baxter and to the two Aboriginals, Joey and Yarry, who killed him. It took 2½ years to construct an east-west telegraph line, but finally in 1877 wires were joined here at Eucla and the first message to Perth on December 18th 1877 said, “Eucla line opened. Hurrah.” By the 20th century Eucla’s population was 100 and, apart from state capital cities, its telegraph station was the busiest in Australia, until it was abandoned in 1927. Now its ruined walls, eyeless windows and chimney stack are partly covered by the shifting, silencing sand.

The telegraph station, sand-muffled now, is a symbol of how communication was so crucial and how the link that Eyre made fired imagination. The railway across the country took the telegraph lines further north through the Nullarbor, but the road I am cycling is basically the original track which became a gravel road when the Federal Government feared a Japanese invasion after Darwin was bombed. Now it is well-sealed and surfaced and the symbol for that is in the tiny Eucla museum – a shiny steel shovel signed by state commissioners and a replica of the one used by Sir David Brand, Premier of Western Australia, to shovel in the last bit of aggregate completing the road surfacing across Australia on17th October 1969.

Stage 11: COCKLEBIDDY to 57 km beyond MADURA 150km / 90miles

The wind blew itself out overnight and, in early morning calm, cycling became easier. The road continued mainly flat and straight through scrubland and occasional well-wooded areas with eucalypts and shrubs, many of which flowered yellowgold. Silver seeds of grasses shimmered in sunlight. Having looked for days, I finally saw the first live kangaroo – a big adult, bouncing away over the grassy plain. Soon after, I saw two large awol rams, huge woolly animals with curly horns, which hadn’t seem a shearer probably ever. This is a productive wilderness, if water can be found, and clearly many creatures survive in the wild. Camels do particularly well because they enjoy the desert acacia that most other species will not eat.

The roadhouse at Madura Station is also self-sufficient, producing generated power and water by reverse osmosis desalination. The descent down Madura Pass to the Roe Plain is an enjoyable 2km of free wheel. Then the road towards Mundrabilla is truly flat except for one rise at Moodini Bluff. This lovely road is highly scenic and accompanied on the left by a wooded escarpment much more interesting even than a pipeline.

Stage 10: CAIGUNA to COCKLEBIDDY 66km / 41 miles

It was a good idea to bow before the wind and accept a shorter distance today. The well-organised Cocklebiddy roadhouse turned out to be a friendly, comfortable experience.

Earlier the ride on a recently upgraded road was fairly strenuous in the tearing wind, except for the last 10km or so when the road veered southerly and the resulting crosswind felt as if it were assisting. The mainly flat route traverses grassland strewn with boulders, where crows sound exactly like bleating lambs. En route clocks advance 45 minutes to Central Western Time. This unique shift comes from the operational days of Eucla Telegraph Station, where West Australian and South Australian operators, sitting in the same room, had a time difference of 1½ hours. It was decided to equalise the difference to their respective capital cities – thus this halfway shift.

In the Nuytsland Nature Reserve is Cocklebiddy (32km from the sea) where Aboriginals brought shellfish. Their word for water is “biddy” and excellent drinking water is obtained here from bore holes. Here we saw the first stub-tailed lizard basking in afternoon sun out of the wind. With dust and grit swirling and lashing about, that was definitely the place to be.

Stage 9:76 km to CAIGUNA 76km / 47 miles

It took the morning sun only an hour to melt the night’s frost, but underlined how this challenge so far is more about keeping warm than cool. The fierce crosswind prevailed all day slowing progress, but giving time to observe the panorama. Spring cycling in England is a sensory experience of verdant hedgerows, birdsong, grazing animals and a lush variety of yellows, blues and white as cowslips, bluebells and stitchwort mix. Early Spring on this limestone plain has equal impact. Hawks and eagles replace skylarks and there is a variety of birdcalls. Trees are sparse, but still in evidence and the range of green shades, even on the tablelands, is marvellous. Shrubs are beginning to bloom pink and yellow and wildflowers display purples, blues, white and pale pink at the roadsides.

In places vegetation shrivels to saltbush and bluebush scrub, but, well before Caiguna, the shrubs and trees return. The roadhouse here is at the first curve in the road for 90 miles. Nearby is an interesting blowhole – a reminder of the inner life of limestone, which varies in depth from 15 to 60 metres. Blowholes have been formed by erosion and lead to cavities underground. Some of the cave systems underneath have kilometres of passages linking waterfilled tunnels and underground lakes. Caves breathe according to air pressure at the surface. Today this blowhole was breathing out cold air quite steadily

Stage 8: BALLADONIA to 76 km from CAIGUNA 106 km / 66 miles

The timeless magic of the plain presented a sparkling, cold dawn and an orange-pink sunset to frame a day of superb vistas of forests, tableland and grassland. Morning cold was intense, but by midday it was hot, though a keen wind kept it cool on the road for cycling. Sod’s Law dictates that, cycling on the longest straight road in the world (146.6km or 90 miles), you are unlikely to have a back wind. The strong crosswind did slow progress, but still the day was satisfying on the flat road.

The Nullarbor Plain was a seabed millions of yeas ago. Marine life died, compacted and formed the world’s largest area of limestone – almost a quarter of a million square kilometres. It stretches 1,200km from West to East and literally means "no trees" (Latin). Many people think the word is Aboriginal, but the natives called it “Oondiri”, meaning “the waterless”.

After crossing the Nullarbor in 1841, Edward John Eyre described it as, “a hideous anomaly, a blot on the face of Nature, the sort of place one gets into in bad dreams.” Maybe he should have had a bike! Today I have so enjoyed this unspoiled wilderness, the azure sky and 360degrees of horizon as well as the straight road ahead disappearing into a water mirage.

Stage 7: NORSEMAN – BALLADONIA 194 km / 119 miles

After minus 2 degrees during the night, the morning’s bright sun and gentler wind made for good cycling on the Eyre Highway and the start of the Nullarbor crossing. Edward John Eyre was the first European to cross in 1841, but a sealed road has only been in place since 1969. A profound early stillness intensified the clarity of birdcalls from the bush; the easterly part of Lake Cowan on the left actually held water and the rocky outcrop of Mt. Jamberlain towered on the right. The whole morning was sociable because 45km of road up to Fraser Ridge is being rebuilt. I spoke with lots of road workers during delays and at one point, near the Heartbreak Ridge, I and bike had to be transported 3km by pickup because the works supervisor deemed it too dangerous for a bike and road trains to be on a single coned carriageway

After the steepish climb up to Fraser Ridge with its tussocky grass and rocky hills, the newly upgraded road falls 700ft to Balladonia. It was a dramatic afternoon: a dignified emu strolled across the road ahead; then later a couple of camels crossed to join a herd of about forty at the roadside. My silent arrival caused panic and some skittish charging off into the scrub. Human drama matched the animals: Ann repeated her trick of not knowing whether I was ahead or behind (we have now initiated a fail-safe system) and covered an extra 80km searching for me. I had no alternative but to push for Balladonia before dark settled. This is the closest I will come to sprint cycling – standing on pedals up hills – but I made it with rear light flashing just as gloom closed in at 5.20p.m. Ann caught up 4 km before. So, although I had planned to end this stage 30 miles from Balladonia, I had a full day’s biking, exceeding my expectations.

Balladonia is Aboriginal for big red rock. It is only a roadhouse, but became famous in July 1979 when the Skylab space station left a trail of debris across this area as it re-entered the atmosphere. Bits of the debris are displayed here.

Stage 6: COOLGARDIE TO NORSEMAN 168km / 105 miles

Beautiful eucalypt woodlands enhance this south-easterly road, though one 5-mile swathe of charred trees shows what ugly destruction bush forest can inflict. This is a mining area (mainly nickel) with mine sites signed from the highway. Road kill tally today added emu and wildcat. Very much alive, though, were the ubiquitous magpies and ring-necked parrots, as well as wedgetailed eagles majestically soaring. I stopped to watch one nonchalant giant gliding low over the treetops being harried persistently by a crow.

The only rest area en route is the Widgiemoothla Roadhouse (where we had considered staying); presently it is for sale and wanted by a mining company for worker accommodation. Maybe future cyclists will have no choice but to do the whole leg to Norseman. That’s what I did on a road where hills became tougher in a strong, veering wind. Ann’s support and occasional shelter in the car was much appreciated. The last 10k into Norseman is mainly downhill across Lake Cowan, a waterless, orange expanse of salt lake which remains from a long-gone river system.

Norseman has been the second richest goldfield in Western Australia (its yield is over 5million ounces), but the town itself is in decline. The boom began in 1894 when Laurie Sinclair, a prospector, tied up his horse, Hardy Norseman. Overnight Norseman pawed the ground, unearthing a nugget of goldbearing quartz. General prosperity seems to have gone, even if the mine prospers. Some shops are closed; others are for sale; some of the temporary-looking bungalows are abandoned.

Nevertheless, public buildings are well-cared for, lovely borders and gardens proliferate and the town’s history seems a solid foundation for new tourism. If only something could be done with the manmade mountain of waste left over from extraction of mineral ore. Elephant grey and deeply wrinkled, it soars hundreds of feet and covers acres. Maybe tourists could be persuaded to take home souvenir chunks.

Stage 5: 110km to COOLGARDIE 110 km / 68 miles

This stretch is undulating and delightful, graced by the beauty of roadside eucalypts, though there are parts where the scrub is regenerating after bushfires. After the storms the road was wet, but it soon dried in the keen wind. The sandy verges remained soft and sodden, but the miniature orange volcanoes that are ants’ nests stayed undamaged. The pipeline continues, but white, not silver. The Bullabulling roadhouse en route would have been the scene for an Agatha Christie drama had she ever visited. Truckers go elsewhere and casuals often leave because food is not immediately available. With an hour to spare, as we had, excellent toasted bacon sandwiches can just be made – if they have bacon.

Coolgardie, in 1898, was the third largest town in the colony with 25,000 people in its environs. That was during the gold rush, but now there are only 1,400. On 17th September 1892, Arthur Bayley and William Ford discovered gold here. Bayley rode the 120 miles or so into Southern Cross with 16.8kg of gold that they had found in one afternoon just with the aid of a tomahawk. Thousands rushed to make their fortunes and Southern Cross began to dwindle. Coolgardie also has dwindled, almost to a historical site. Its stately hotels and theatre are closed. However, the Post Office and old gaol are being restored and once again mining is doing well, both here and in neighbouring Kalgoorie. I met friendly, chatty Aboriginals, probably descendants of those who showed the first white prospectors their waterholes, without which they would surely have died.

Stage 4: CARRABIN to 110km from CALGOORIE 153km / 93 miles

A treeful of galahs outside our cabin welcomed the early sunlight with whistling screeches. However, the day also contained gale-force winds and, at the end, torrential electrical storms that blacked out towns.

The road that climbs out of Carrabin for 6 miles or so continues undulating through marvellous scenic National Park and Nature Reserves. Eucalyptus, bottlebrush and wattles line the roadside with dozens of other shrubs. The variety of eucalyptus is amazing: pale ghost gums and rust-coloured stringybarks are much in evidence (the latter with bark ribbons almost horizontal in the wind) and occasionally a stately, robust version with pink pearlised trunks. Grey and Sulphur Crested cockatoos seem rarer here than the huge and stately Black Cockatoos that formed large flocks as dusk approached.

Unfortunately the verges are graveyards for roadkill – kangaroo especially. Litter on the verges is predominantly beer bottles and cans. While the towns have campaigns against drinking and driving, there are clearly also those who still drink at the wheel. The roadtrains take no prisoners. Massive vehicles of over 50 tonnes and 46 wheels (since Northam they are allowed an extra trailer), they thunder past. The rotting kangaroos are a constant reminder to take care. So are the blankly dazed faces of some drivers as they enter roadside bars. Boredom, summer heat, straight roads and maybe the contents of discarded cans must drench their minds to delirium. Most are extremely courteous to me as they overtake, but I take no chances.

Ann’s support was invaluable today. It allowed me to continue beyond Yellowdine (where I had intended to stay before discovering that the accommodation there no longer exists) then be picked up and returned to Southern Cross. Named after the constellation, this town’s streets all have star names – Polaris St., Sirius St., etc. This was where nineteenth century prospectors first mined gold and there is still one active mine amongst abandoned shafts and spoil heaps.

Through Yellowdine towards Coolgardie the eucalypts seem to shrink and the undulating road cuts arrow-straight through the vegetation. Today was superb, if exhausting, but may mark the limit of what I can achieve in available daylight hours. Dusk creeps in soon after 5.00pm (earlier if overcast) and then it is not safe to cycle or even to motor without reinforced animal bars. Dusk is when unpredictable wombats and kangaroos become active. Soon there will be wild camels

Stage 3: KELLERBERRIN - CARRABIN 100km / 62 miles

A fine, windy day made the farmland attractive with emerald wheat shoots decreasing in size over the day’s journey – presumably an indicator of the drier the climate the further East one travels.

The first town, Merredin (pop. 3,600) originally served those en route to the goldfields, but now, like Kellerberrin, its focus is on agriculture. There are Military and Railway museums on the main street, the latter with a gigantic locomotive water filling tank. Nearby are huge silos that transit over a million tonnes of grain each year.

Burracoppin, the second "town" is virtually non-existent, but here the first rabbit-proof fence was erected in the early years of the 20th century. I passed the line of the second rabbit-proof fence yesterday at Cunderdin – which shows how ineffective they were!

New distractions en route today were the first dead dingo, Willie Wagtails that dipped and hopped and fluttered on the verge and small flocks of galahs, the pink and grey parrots that squawk with such idiocy. At times, the strong wind made progress tough, especially on long inclines. Then the Carrabin Roadhouse had rebooked us 9km off road at Westonia because “the sheep-shearers need to stay longer.” As it turned out we had comfortable, scenic and, above all, quiet accommodation.

Stage 2: NORTHAM – KELLERBERRIN 106km/ 66 miles

A rainy start in full waterproofs gave me the ironic reflection that the last time I wore the yellow trousers was three years ago on my wet and windy ride to John O’Groats. Then, in sheeting rain, when I was fantasising about tumble-dries, I had the first idea of crossing Australia – a dry place for a change. Well, plus ca change! As well as the kayakers, the farmers here are now ecstatic, for hitherto there have existed drought conditions and this is planting time. Yellow also made me think of the yellow jerseys that Michael and I wore as we cycled across France during the Tour. Today Cadel Evans is poised to become the first Australian to win the Tour de France.

Despite rain at start and finish, I made good time, since the mainly headwind of yesterday had veered to side and sometimes rear. Whole sections of this part of the Great Eastern Highway are benefiting from the Ribbons of Green project to regenerate roadside vegetation. I had time to enjoy the scenery and the cheery waves and hoots of a few motorists. Roadtrain drivers usually passed me leaving lots of space. It seems that these monsters are now limited to 35 metres – only two trailers. However, I constantly check in my mirror as well as listening and I ride on the hard shoulder where one exists.

I cycled through sodden pastures and the towns of Meckering (where signs proclaimed its devastating earthquake of 1968) and Cunderlin (whose sign boasted its Easter Air Show). These little towns have immense pride, though Tammin is sadder and silent, verging on dereliction. Kellerberrin (pop. 1,000) has more to offer, including its magnificent 1910 Post Office and farmers’ cooperative. Prosperity here depends on wheat, but frequently, when drought causes crop failure, sheep are allowed to eat the remains and belts are tightened. Our late Saturday afternoon stroll found the place deserted and ambiguous. I couldn’t even settle the name’s derivation with certainty. “Berrin berrin” is Aboriginal for the rainbow bird – and indeed lorikeets were much in evidence en route. “Kalla” means a place to camp. So this is the place of the rainbow bird. However, contrary information at the town centre claims the name derives from a nearby hillside full of furious, giant ants.

Our roadside window looks onto the main road and beyond it the railway line and the silver water pipeline that started yesterday at Mundaring and stayed alongside virtually all today. The pipeline is the glorious result of the engineering brilliance of Charter O’Connor and has carried water 600km to the goldmining towns of Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie since 1903. So these wheat belt towns exhibit a kind of transience. Road transport, trains and even water pass through. So does the occasional cyclist (though I have yet to see another). What matter! The roadside proprietor has offered to cook us fish and chips and she has promised to serve them in our cabin.

Stage 1: FREMANTLE – NORTHAM 72 miles

Fremantle (or Free) stands at the mouth of the Swan River – named because of its native black swans. The town still has many colonial buildings, graceful and some with beautiful ironwork tracery. Its original prison, The Round House, was built in 1830, but miscreants are now incarcerated in Acacia Prison or the Farm Prisons that I passed later in the day. My start from the Indian Ocean at Bathers Beach is the bay where whaling operations used to be conducted in the 1800s. With my back to the ocean, I crossed the railway line, heading towards the Canning Highway and Bridge over the Swann, then to the great Eastern Highway, route 94, which I would follow for days. This cycling through Perth suburbs was very tricky in heavy showers and heavy traffic. I frequently took advantage of attractively built bus shelters when rain showers became torrential. Perth is green (not surprising), but it is the world’s remotest city. Most Australians have never been here.

Beyond Midland (a suburb and township of Perth) both traffic and weather moderated. The sun shone as I negotiated the stiff 7km climb up into the granite outcrops and green, well-wooded Darling Ranges. The eucalyptus forests are extensive, laced with acacias and lower Black Boy trees (more like punk girls in hula skirts). Huge trucks made a thunderous roar as they descended this hill in low gear using engine braking. I toiled even more slowly upwards then through the little town of Mundaring, noticing the start of farm land and paddocks, the first sheep, cockatoos dipping over the road, woodpeckers drumming and other birds calling melodiously. Our destination of Northam (pop 7,000) is a railway town and commercial centre for much of the western wheat belt. I arrived in a downpour, but everyone else was jubilant about the weather. At Northam the River Aron provides what is reputed to be the most important white-water kayak event in the world. Today, because of the volume of rain, the kayak championships had been spectacular in the swollen, speedy river. It was a learning first day for both of us. Despite practice back-up, Ann only caught up with me in the deluge just before Northam. I did 118 km in the day, but Ann clocked 179. Apparently I had made better progress than she expected so she had back-tracked looking for me!

8 June 2007

Just returned from a six-day cycle ride over the Canadian Rockies with snow at the sides of the roads, but glorious sunshine. This road, the Icefields Parkway, is probably the most wonderfully scenic route in the world and full of interest. It made me think constantly of the barren, empty landscapes that lie ahead in the Australian Nullarbor! I did this ride for Mencap to test myself for the big ride ahead and I think I came out with flying colours. Anyway I’ve now booked the tickets etc. and plan to leave for Perth on July 24th.

I hope you’ll be able to keep up to date after then. I will send brief progress reports whenever I can use internet connection

14 May 2007

Although it has proved difficult to get enough biking practice in the recent blustery and wet conditions, I am reasonably optimistic about Canada and the ride through the Rockies - so much so that I have booked our flights to Australia for the later part of July. I have at least been doing short cycling distances throughout the year, so I am fairly fit. I go to Calgary at the end of next week for what promises to be an exacting Mencap bike ride up through the icefields, lakes and mountains to Jasper. It's just the test and training that I need, getting on the bike every day for a week and cycling longer distances.

I am nowhere nearer deciding which bike to use for Australia, but, since Emirates Air are allowing me to take both bikes, that is probably what I will do. I'll then choose the most appropriate bike for the conditions on a daily basis and Ann will carry the other in the support car.

You will see I have readjusted the sponsorship target - originally £20,000 was planned, but that figure has already been exceeded. £50,000 is unrealistic now the Alexandra is not doing some of the things we once envisaged (raffles, dinners, pubs and clubs involvement, etc); but it would be brilliant to reach £30,000. Individuals and schools have, so far, been the main contributors, but my thanks and those of Mencap and the Alexandra League of Friends go to all those who have given their support.

22nd March 2007

At last I’m back in the saddle after a chest infection delayed training. It’s still very cold, but I’m doing short runs. Also, thanks to Paul Moore, who gave me an old frame and John Perks who transferred equipment from my Dawes bike, I have a new lightweight bicycle. I may eventually use this instead of the heavier tourer for the Australia crossing. Family have decided, after my accident, that I am no longer safe to be allowed out on my own!! So Ann will come to Australia with me to drive a support car, which means that I won’t need a bike capable of carrying all my luggage plus two gallons of water. I’ve also been persuaded to ride in August and September when it should be cooler in the Nullarbor.

At the moment there are unanswered questions about my fitness and how the various bits of me will hold up to the strains of the challenge. I hope to start more regular practice in our three week break in Spain and I have also committed to a charity ride for Mencap through the Canadian Rockies in early June. After that I should have more answers and they should help me decide which bike to use.

9th November 2006

This diary is in danger of having an overlong introduction to the main event of cycling across Australia, but I wanted to tell you that today I have cycled again for the first time since August 24th. Truly I was apprehensive, but the day was brilliant and sunny, my confidence grew and I cycled 10 miles with only a few twinges during and no painful after effects. I am persuading myself that my shoulder now needs strengthening exercise, since my dramatic recovery continues and I have already exceeded the 90% mobility that my surgeon promised within a year. The pain roller coaster also seems to have levelled out into tranquillity. I have a further hospital appointment at the end of the month, when I confidently expect to be discharged. Soon I will begin to think about my training schedule again!

5th September 2006

In August I had done about 600 training miles by Thursday 24th and, one day, almost 100 miles, so that I was becoming proud of my progress and more confident of my stamina.

So you know about pride coming before a fall.

The fall I had on that Thursday afternoon landed me in Accident and Emergency and the next day in Fracture Clinic. Unfortunately, I didn’t do anything simple like fracturing the collarbone or dislocating the arm joint. Instead I dislocated the right shoulder’s acromio-clavicular joint and destroyed the ligaments that hold the collarbone in place. However, I had wonderful care and advice and the surgeon guided my decision not to have immediate surgery to refix the bone with screws or a plate, but to wait and see how natural healing would take place. This usually takes a year, but he reckoned that my level of fitness might see a maximum 90% of mobility return within 6 months.

Anyway I am making astonishing progress, after starting physiotherapy at the hospital on day 2. Now about 10 days on, I am fairly well pain-free and have about 75% mobility already.

I can live with a permanently protruding collarbone and also with the disappointment of having to postpone the challenge ride, probably until next year. It’s too early to say exactly when I will be ready to begin, but begin I will. Setbacks are there to increase determination.

So to all those of you who have already sponsored me and were waiting for the day by day account of my progress, I’m sorry but there will be a longish pause; but watch this space.

10th August 2006

Things were going reasonably well in June and I managed to do 550 training miles in the month. Most of July we spent in Canada visiting our daughter, Miranda, and her family. Wherever possible, I took the opportunity to cycle, if only for a short time. So the runs I managed varied between 8 miles and 60 miles (one day!). I borrowed Miranda’s bike with its slipping gears, clanking crankshaft and handlebars that actually came dangerously loose on one return ride. Even so, I had good training. I exchanged the June English lanes, threaded with honeysuckle, for July’s straight Canadian roads between forests of maple, aspen and pine. Sumac with its pale burgundy antlers grew prominently at the roadsides and huge Monarch butterflies were much in evidence. I saw occasional squirrels, deer, chipmunks, racoons and once a skunk passed in front of me, fortunately without getting too alarmed.

Since returning to UK I have managed to adapt the bike further. Paul’s persistence at Alcester Cycle Centre finally paid off and he managed to obtain and fit just the right kind of butterfly handlebars, which I hope will be easier on wrists because this kind of bar offers more positions for handholds. He has been able to fit bell, computer, front light and bracket for front carrying bag and still leave lots of space. I’m also experimenting with a rear-view mirror attached to the front forks and from now on I will get used to cycling with panniers and front bag as well as the camelbak drinking system, which holds 3 litres of water, on my back. The only problem remaining is to decide finally on the saddle that I think will be most comfortable for long days of riding.

From a distant speck on the time horizon 18 months ago, this Australia venture has begun to loom ever closer, but I remain optimistic. August is the time for riding most days, some longer runs and also some back to back days of maybe 75 miles or so. Then I think I’ll have the confidence to do the rest.

June 7 2006

May was mainly wet and cold. Consequently I did less cycling than I had done in April and only achieved 346 miles in the month. I reckon at that rate it would take me until half way through 2007 to get from Perth to Sydney! Also my orthopaedic surgeon confirmed I need new wrist joints. He is content to wait until after the Australia ride, since I can’t damage them further – and so am I. However, I have decided to modify the bike further by using “butterfly bars”. These are handlebars in butterfly or figure-of-eight shape. Their main advantage is that they should give greater comfort by providing a variety of riding positions and this will prevent a lot of pain, stiffness and general discomfort. I’ve also been experimenting with my new Brooks saddle (which is taking time to break in and feels a bit like sitting on Ayers Rock), but alternating with the very first saddle I used in Costa Rica 5 years ago. That is more comfortable, but is wearing away and probably won’t survive the whole Australian crossing. Watch this space!

I am trying to do a few Audax rides of 100 km. These are events put on by local cycle clubs and give a very good focus to achieving 100km in a specified time as well as navigating a particular route. I remain optimistic and am thoroughly enjoying our wondrous English countryside. This week I have shared the country lanes with fox cubs, hares, rabbits and a variety of nesting songbirds.

May 10 2006

Here is a brief report to update you on my progress and preparations.

During the winter I spent a lot of time working in schools encouraging and inspiring children with their writing. This was both exhausting and deeply satisfying because some of the results were outstanding and schools and their communities became more involved in the work done by both Mencap and the League of Friends. So far, together with some individual sponsorship, the money received totals more than £7,000. This good beginning has encouraged us to aim high and make £50,000 the target for the Anniversary Challenge (the Alex’s 20th and Mencap’s 60th) I’m convinced that with everybody’s help and contribution we can reach this significant total that will really make a difference. See the sponsorship update on this site and also the way contributions can be made.

I didn’t take up cycling until I retired and am still a “fair weather” cyclist, but I started training, after a winter lay-off, in mid February. My first long ride of about 60 miles was up to Dunkery Beacon on Exmoor with 4 inches of snow either side of the road and in sub zero temperatures. I began to believe what a few people have hinted about my sanity! Certainly Australia seemed a long way off. Since those painful, freezing beginnings I have become fitter and am now achieving up to 70 miles once a week. I realise I will have to do 120 miles some days in Australia and 100 miles most days, so I still have a long way to go. However, I’m optimistic about the new bike I have bought for the trip with its specially enclosed gears. You can see it on the posters that will shortly be appearing in the hospital and on the pictures soon to be put on this web site. It is heavy and will be heavier with my luggage and all the daily water that is essential, but it is durable and comfortable and I am having it adapted further for my needs.

I have just decided to bring forward the ride by about 2 weeks and to leave for Australia in mid September. The main advantage is that the Nullarbor Plains should be a few degrees cooler on average at the hottest part of the day. Forty Celsius is infinitely preferable to forty-five!

Finally, if you know of a school that would like to participate in the scheme of free author visits, (See the relevant section on this site) then ask them to contact me. Also, do you know any celebrities – famous people in any walk of life? Could you persuade them to do a piece of postcard artwork, even doodles? We can the auction the results. Further information and cards from Gill Griffin, Secretary of League of Friends – or from me.

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