Posts Tagged ‘adventure’

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A Wonderful World of Water and Wind

March 30, 2012

It now seems ages ago I shot down the rail trail. The original railway was completed in 1921. As it turned out the line was uneconomic. Lucky for cyclist young and old, the Department of Conservation (DOC) took over and transformed it into a perfectly enjoyable (and easy) bicycle ride between Clyde and Middlemarch.

I arrived in Middelmarch rather late because I just couldn’t find a camp spot along the last 25km or so. I stopped for a coffee and started chatting with the owner of Quench Cafe/Bar. He’s involved with the local rugby club and gave me the keys for the clubhouse so I could use the showers. After making sure the rugby team wasn’t gonna walk in on me I did. And managed to return the keys just before he closed. He told me I might as well camp at his place :-)

He’s also the one who told me there is actually another road to Dunedin, my next destination.

Tourist information and guidebooks will have you believe you must cycle on the main road, or take the train. It is not true!

There is a back road that crosses private property so it’s necessary to ask for permission before you set off. But if the sheep are not lambing and there is no other objection it should be fine.

So I rode to Pukerangi, where I was just in time to see the others off on the train, and kept cycling.

The country here is lovely. But the rolling hills have a few surprises. Without warning the road dips down into gorges to cross rivers and shoots back out on the other side. And rather steep too!

But the road down into Mosgiel was the funnest downhill, I was flying down it while singing my lungs out. It was great! I was told by a lady I asked for directions it was very far to my destination. (it was 6km)

Still, it was a little bit of a climb into Abbotsford, where I arrived at Brian & Gail’s house just in time for dinner. They were on the Cavalcade too. He is in search & rescue here in NZ and does a whole lot of other things. Like locking me up in the Dunedin police station

and showing me around town. I’ve learned as a kid that the police is your best friend, this is the first country I’ve been where it might be true.

(hi Brian!, hi Johnny!, hi Murray!)

It was once more confirmed when a few days later I got an police escort to a party in a wool shed during the Catlin Canter. When local policeman Murray let me stay in his house and even gave me a couple of beers to take to the party with me.

I caught up with some old friends from the Cavalcade. Like Sandy here.

An old time cowboy who’s even been in the Mount Isa rodeo back in 1962. He broke his ankle that year but that’s just about the only injury he ever got, a miracle, I’d say the least. It was there I first met Linda & Doug, who ended up being my adoptive parents in this glorious part of the world. But more about that in a little while.

I followed the coast.

Cris-crossing hills and farmland,

with great sea-views.

I made it through the town of Balclutha. As I stopped for a coffee (I do this too often, I got a perfectly good stove and a plunger in my panniers, still I stop at just about every opportunity to drink coffee. I’m getting lazy) I got chatting to Fiona, on her way to Japan, and her grandma Jenny, seeing her off. Jenny gave me her number in Invercargill where I was heading. To have another coffee when I arrived there. She also mentioned I must go and see Harry when I got there.

I cycled through the Catlins, where “the natural landscapes are enthralling and the wildlife is extraordinary“…. It’s true! It says so on the website… I did not see an awful lot of wildlife, bar some dead possums on the road. I did hear a lot of birds. And I saw a lot of water falling…

It rained quiet a bit as I cycled through, so things were wet, but wonderful.

I realised one evening I wasn’t going to make the next camp area in time. It’s all rainforest and uneven ground, but I happened to find one spot where my tent just squeezed in perfectly.

Well, almost perfectly. There’s so many different plants, one of which the fern. With the silver fern being New Zealand’s unofficial national symbol I’m keen to find one of them. I haven’t yet. Found a whole lot of others though…

Harry is the 150 year old Tuatara that lives in the museum. I didn’t know that and just before getting to the museum I ran into a person Harry in the street. He happened to work for DOC and gave me some very useful information about the road I was planning to cycle… Or planning to carry my bicycle, actually. Harry is based in Te Anau. So I told him I’ll come and let him know how the ride was when/if I make it there.

I found Harry the Tuatara.

He looks like a lizard but is actually a ‘Sphenodon’, they became extinct about 65million years ago together with the dinosaurs. Except here in New Zealand, where they survived. So there you have it. A real sort-of dinosaur kinda lizard-thingy.

In the same museum I found ‘The world’s fastest Indian’.

Who’d have known, the legendary Burt Munro came from Invercargill!

I cycled around the south coast. I’ve been warned for it’s notorious westerly winds that I would have straight against me.

Typically, on this one occasion the wind turned and blew me right in the direction of Aris.

A greek an a pushbike.

We talked for about 20min when he decided to come back to the last town with me where we had a beer to celebrate my 5-year-on-this-trip anniversary.

We both set off in different directions the next day, I was heading for the Boreland road. I had seen it on my map and after many people telling me I couldn’t go there, and one person, Harry, telling me I could I figured I’ll give it a go.

I came across a little shed on the way,

Where this friendly gentleman was busy skinning possums he had just trapped. Possums are a pest in New Zealand. After being introduced by us Europeans trying to establish a fur-industrie (sorry). With no native predators there were soon too many and there have been attempts to eradicate them, because of the damage they do to native trees and wildlife.

He does his bit.

It took me three hours to climb up to the Boreland saddle, up through a valley with cliffs and power lines. The road is originally built to service the power lines. So I will not complain about them obstructing the views. The road wouldn’t have been there if the powerline wasn’t.

On the top I had a great view over ‘green lake’ a popular tramping spot. I noticed. There were a few vehicles on the road. None of them were expecting me there which resulted in a few near misses. I had been looking forward to the zig-zagging downhill. Sadly a grader was servicing the road! And instead of a nice hard track he graded it all to soft mush. So I still couldn’t go much faster than 10 km/h if I didn’t want to slide down the side or fall over.

The good people from DOC have made huts, shelters and little bivouac’s in the national park areas. I happen to come across one and stayed the night.

It was nice and warm, the mice had a great time running through my panniers too.

Next day the road took me (slowly!) to Lake Manapouri’s South arm. I couldn’t stay for too long because the sandflies made a meal out of me.

The very detailed map I had told me there was no track for about 3km. The very detailed map was right. It had started to rain and if I wanted to make it to the West Arm I would have to carry my bicycle and all my gear up a steep cliff. I could do that, it would take about 5 goes… but not in the rain :-(

I figured I would most likely slip, fall and break some bones.

So I turned back.

I mentioned Linda & Doug before.

They welcomed me with open arms when I finally did make it to TeAnau. They live just outside town and have the most spectacular view over the lake and the mountains. Having a daughter my age over in the UK, they looked after me, made me feel at home and are now my parents in New Zealand :-)

The morning I was planning to head off I farewelled Doug & Linda and called into the DOC office to let Harry know I didn’t make it across Percy’s saddle. After a coffee and a nice chat he convinced me to go and visit Milford Sound. I’ve had some pressure from Stuart and his dad to go and see this number one tourist attraction and after Harry telling me the same thing I figured I might as well check it out.

The 120km road there was spectacular to say the least. And the busy traffic I’ve been warned for wasn’t half as bad as people tried to make me believe. I found a great little campsite on the way up (I left Te Anau late afternoon) And started cycling at 6 in the morning for a change. It was pitch black and when I touched my headlight the batteries fell out. Darn. It took some scrambling around to locate them in the dark and when I did I could not get them back in. So I cycled by following the white line for about an hour ’till it got a little lighter. My headlight has cracked.

It was very foggy and I could only see the outlines of big hills shimmering through the mist. That and the moss-covered trees gave it all a rather magical look.

I climbed till I reached the Homer tunnel and from there the road dips into Milford Sound. The tunnel itself has a gradient of 1:10. Great fun on the way down.

Just after the tunnel I noticed a Kea, a parrot nicknamed ‘the clown of the mountains’ because of it’s overly curious nature.

They’re known to pick at and damage cars/tents/backpacks, one even flew off with someones passport once! I have had no trouble with them yet…

I rode down fast and stopped for a coffee at the information centre. It had started to rain. Still the view was spectacular,

Sheer rock faces rise up 1200 meter and more on either side of the fjord.

Apart from the beauty and the grandeur of the place it is a total tourist trap, where you can not do a thing without spending a lot of money. Even the walks are hard to get to since you need to cross water.

After being inside for too long waiting for the rain to stop I had to get outside where I ran into James. He came down from Auckland with his mate Charlie and were exploring this beautiful part of their country by boat.

 

Somehow we all ended up in the pub that evening and they took me out fishing the next day.

Miraculously the weather had made a 180 degree turn around and the skies were sunny and clear here in the place that’s known as New Zealand wettest inhabited place.

The idea was to catch a blue fin tuna. But the tuna was smarter than us.

Still, cruising around the ford was a great experience. We saw massive waterfalls,

and many birds. We didn’t get the boat stuck on the rocks at all… true! Charlie just thought it was a good idea to jump into the 9 °C water for fun…

I spent another night at the pub with those guys, and it’s thanks to them I had the greatest Milford Sound experience you can imagine! Them and the glowworms.

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About Climbing, Crossing Creeks and Camera’s

March 15, 2012

It was a bit of a climb out of Cromwell.

It was only the next morning, when I reached the top of Dufflers Saddle, that I realized I’d just cycled up the highest public road in New Zealand.

Well, that explains that then.

I had a pretty good campsite that first evening.

Just as I had left Cromwell, and I sat on the side of the road to enjoy an apple I bought at one of the roadside stalls, Bill pulled up on a little 4-wheel motorbike. He is a bit of a local legend, I met him on the cavalcade. He told me about places to go and people to see along the way.

A minute up the track I came across another little stall selling eggs. I bought half a dozen which, in hindsight, was not my smartest move as on the bumpy road the eggs busted in my panniers and made a big mess.

Lesson learned.

I rode down the spectacular scenic Nevis road till I reached a sign telling me I had 25 fords to cross in the next 24 km.

For the first two I took off my shoes & socks, waded through and put them back on. After this I couldn’t be bothered and left it all on to get very wet feet.

If I’d known it took 4 days for my shoes to dry out I might’ve changed tactics.

Suddenly I saw two bicycles coming around the hills! It was Tony & Margaret, the two who told me about this road in the first place :-) They also happened to be the only cyclist I would come across in the next two weeks or so.

After saying goodbye and see ya later we set off in opposite direction. I still had a bit of distance and a lot of rivers to cross for the day.

It all went well, apart from my map going for a swim and falling apart.

But that’s fine, I’m only on one bit at the time anyway.

But then, at the last crossing for the day (although I didn’t know it yet) I slipped and the bike fell over in the cold mountain stream. That would not have been a massive problem had I have my handlebar zipped up. This wasn’t the case and so my dear old camera and trusted phone went swimming and died on the spot.

I was severely annoyed with myself, this is the last picture I took with the canon eos 500d.

Just after that last and disastrous ford-crossing the road started climbing. I knew I had to make it over the hill if I wasn’t going to camp at the last river. But I wasn’t sure how far and high it would be.

I could hear this noise and figured there must be some 4wd’s coming up the hill, when suddenly this huge plane shot up from behind the hill and flew so close over me I could see the pilot blink. It looked like he was about to crash and I wasn’t the only one thinking so. The next day I read in the newspaper someone had actually rang the emergency services. But this Hercules C130 didn’t crash. It was a military excercise. And a spectacular sight. Sadly my camera had just drowned, so here’s a drawing of it instead.

As I came over the last hill the old ski hut I intended to stay at came into view. Together with a beautiful view over the valley. Lucky I saw it now, because that night I could hear the rain starting to fall on the roof and it didn’t stop for the next 5 days…

So I splattered down the mountain to get back onto the road on my way to Gore.

As soon as I got to Gore I got a cheap replacement.

Graham lives in Gore, together with Elza he’s got a lovely spot just out-of-town where they look after a whole lot of cows. And chooks.

As it happens Gore is the country capital of New Zealand and home of a big guitar. Just like Tamworth in Australia. I felt right at home ;-)

It also boasts to be the trout fishing capital of the world and has an enormous trout at the entrance of town.

And it happens to have the biggest inland boating-club in NZ, or so I’ve been told. Graham is a member of this club and they happened to organize a beer tasting night just when I was there. How lucky is that! Beer tasting is one of my favourite past times.

It was during this evening I discovered I am a Hop-Goddess. Obviously I knew this. Uhum.

While at Graham’s and Elza’s I took my camera and phone apart to see what could be saved. One morning the camera was making little noises and I did a little dance around the room saying things like: “yippie” and “hurray”. I celebrated too early though as a minute later it gave up steam altogether. Darn.

When the rain finally decided to give it a rest I farewelled the comforts of Gore and set off down the road towards lake Onslow.

Just cruising along, enjoying the meagre sun and lovely scenery, a car pulled up in front of me. “Hi cycling dutchgirl! … We met last August in the Simpson desert”…

Well there you have it. I am officially in this part of the world for too long now :-)

Every one I came across on my way to the lake Onslow turn off warned me about how remote it is. Pfff, I guess they haven’t cycled across outback-Australia ;-)  Also I got many warnings about the road conditions and weather.

There is a little bit of water damage.

Lucky I picked a fine day for the climb up. Roads, or actually the distances, keep surprising me. As my  map doesn’t show them.

So I climbed and climbed a little more ’till I came across a not-so-useful farmer who told me the road was just gonna be flat after the next turn-off. Yeah right.

I kept climbing, passing many cows and a few bulls on the way up. I like those a lot better when there is a fence between us. This is however, not always the case. Just hope my flapping red poncho doesn’t set them off.

Coming over the last bump I could see the lake and the barren hills around it.

Some nice considerate people have built little huts on the side of the lake.They’re all locked but have great little verandah’s . It’s a good spot to pitch your tent for the night.  Out of the wind at least.

There’s two roads after the lake. The high road and the low road. I took the highroad, I guess it took me about an hour longer, but the views are just wonderful.

I love the outstretched hills with nothing but tussocks…

The road dipped into a valley and I kept cycling when I noticed a sign on a shed saying “Stonehenge”.

I remember that name, Bill had told me to call in here and say hello to Jim, the owner and Sandy, Bill’s son.

So I walked into the shed and was surprised to see a shearing gang shearing sheep twice the size of the shearers themselves.

They were massive! They were Merino-rams. Jim told me, when I located him. He sent me down to the house to see Sue. Who immediately took care of me and showed me a room where I could stay. I was only slightly overwhelmed. The room was massive! And the house was gorgeous. It even had one of those windows you can sit in and stare into the distance like some princess in a fairy-tale.

Sue and Jim have two sons, they both play rugby. That explained the birthday cake Sue got just a few days earlier on her 60th Birthday surprise party. It had a rather rugby-related theme. Her son, Andrew, is an ”All Black” (that’s him in the middle)

But her real birthday isn’t untill today. Happy 60th birthday Sue!

When Sue mentioned she was heading to Dunedin for the day it seemed like a good idea to tag along and organize some bits and pieces I needed to do into town  (pick up stuff from bank & post office) It would however have been much more productive if I didn’t leave my wallet at home. Little chance of picking up anything without ID. Dumb.

But at least I got the chance to catch up with Johnny (cavalcade again) and drink lots of coffee…

So I got to stay another night at ‘the palace’ as I now call it, and before I’d set off  Sue had already rung her sister-in-law, Mary, who happened to live exactly down the road I was taking.

At a very convenient distance for one day cycling.

So one glorious day across the Danseys Pass later,

I arrived at yet another sheep station in the hills where Mary & Nevil set up home and welcomed me with lovely meal and a warm bed.

There was one more port of call not far past their house.

John & Josh, father & son, who left mum/wife, Doreen, at home to join the cavalcade where I met them. Own a farm 22km down the road.

I thought I’d call in for a coffee, say G’day, and move on.

Instead I called in for a coffee, then lunch, shifted some lambs,

went up to the lake to go fishing

And admired their deer,

cows, chooks, sheep, horses and ostriches (yes, ostriches!).

In the morning John was even so kind to drop me off where I wanted to be, so I didn’t need to ride the same (busy) highway twice.

Yes, I found myself back at Omarama. The exact same spot I set off from on the cavalcade a few weeks ago. But this time I was headed up the hills on my bike. And so I did.

The day wasn’t as glorious as I hoped but at least it didn’t rain (to start off with)

I was pleased to still get the chance to cycle (push) up the 1280 meter high Omarama saddle. From where I had a view as far as Mount Cook and surroundings.

It was only slightly disappointing to see the road shoot down straight into the valley of the Oteake Conservation Park on the other side instead of going along the mountain tops for a little bit. But it was nice getting out of the wind.

I came across ‘Top Hut’, one of the huts maintained by DOC (department of conservation)

A little sign told me there was another hut just 8km down the river.

Easy, I thought.

I’ll be there in no time, I thought.

Not realizing the track will cross the river many, many times in this little distance.

I realized quickly that the Nevis had been very easy.

Here the river was a little deeper, a little faster and a little rockier.

So after taking all my gear off the bike and carrying it all across carefully the first three times I went for the option of pushing the lot across. Thinking a heavier bike would keep me steady.

It did work! Although my panniers are not as waterproof as they used to be, and when it gets deep they float. Taking the bike (and me) along. Still I didn’t fall and my shoes did not get wet. ( I decided to go barefoot this time)

I did get very tired and a little worried looking at the sky as it started to drizzle a  bit…

I was very happy when the hut finally came into view and I made it there just before dark.

Enjoying being inside and dry I tried to light the fire which resulted in me smoking myself out of the hut. I was surprised to see a car pull up. Three men from a nearby station had gone pig-hunting and beer drinking and invited me to come along. But the most I’m likely to shoot is a picture of the pig they had on the back of the truck . And thanked them kindly for the invitation.

They asked If I had seen ‘snowman’. I had not, I did see some rain however. But no, Snowman was a mate they’re supposed to catch up with. He had taken a different route but had planned to stay at this very hut. This very night.

So it wasn’t surprising when he showed up about an hour later.

It was nice to have some company, and a first for me to have a man blow a horn outside a hut in the middle of the night in the hope to attract stags.

Snowman himself, who’s real name is Karl, said he thought the other guys were joking when they told him ‘there was a lady in the hut’ In all his years of hunting in the hills of NZ he has never, ever, come across a lady in a hut… I guess there is a first for everything.

It was lucky he was there. Because in the morning the rain was at it again. This made the river rise quickly and if he wouldn’t be there I would probably be still stuck in that hut. Instead he gave me a ride out. And after a shower & a good sleep I’m fully organized for the next part of the trip.

Starting to like this country. Yay.

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Just a few hours ago, my sister in the Netherlands gave birth to a perfectly healthy little baby boy. Welcome to the world Siem!

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Yes I ride, but my horse is a bicyle.

March 1, 2012

After leaving Christchurch I found myself cycling through a lot of low hanging clouds. It made me think this should be named ‘land of the low white cloud‘.

Since the roads were pretty flat to start of with, and on either side of the road  I saw fields full of cows and farms with Dutch names, I thought I might as well stayed in The Netherlands. This was soon to change. Not the drizzle mind you. Just the flat bit…

The first four days on the road I met approximately the same amount of cyclist as the past 2 years in Australia.

I met two lovely couples from Belgium, Celien & Jeroen and Tine & Wim.

A couple from Swiss, two Germans ( Gunther & Wolfgang), two Canadians, a couple from Peru and an Australian.

I also met Richard & Stani, who happened to be my facebook friends for ages, we nearly met over a year ago in WA.

Then I came across Tony & Margaret, from New Zealand, who instantly became my hero’s for just having cycled through some extremely tough country on private farm tracks. They gave me some useful tips and good information about places that, despite of what ladies in tourist info’s might say, are great for bicycle-travel.

But even more than bicycles I saw motorbikes on the road. Chatting to two friendly blokes one morning I discovered there was a motorbike rally down at Hororata. I just came from there and it didn’t seem like a bad idea to head back and hang out with the motorbike-crew for a day or so.

As expected it was all fun and games, and a fair amount of alcohol thrown in.

One of the games I joined in was to try and punch each other of little bicycles with a boxing glove on a stick. I had momentarily forgotten that I bruised a rib not long ago.

I lost.

Lucky I lost from Phil, who ended up being the overall winner. So the embarrassment was little and easily washed away with Speights. The local brew.

(On being asked if we drink Speights in Holland I replied with; “No, we usually drink good beer…” Sorry NZ. But true)

We even got a visit from the “woodstock-girls’ A bunch of scantily clad girls giving away stuff to who ever drinks Woodstock, looking at them I’m pretty sure they never touch it themselves. As I happened to stand next to a bin I quickly grabbed an empty can and ended up with t-shirts, hats and wristbands. Score!

But after this weekend it seemed a good idea to climb back on the bicycle and right off into the drizzle. I discovered poncho’s are a great idea. As long as you have a tailwind.

But to my surprise and amazement I turned of on the Hakataramea road (yes, it took me a while to remember that one) and the sun came out! And all of a sudden the country was beautiful!

I rode up the hill, past a death roo…. a roo?? I thought they were only to be found in Australia. So I turned around and discovered after a close inspection it was in fact a wallaby. They do roam those hills but are, like many animals introduced and not overly welcome.

On top of the pass I couldn’t make out what my height actually was because someone shot the sign.

But heading down I found a most excellent camp spot next to the river.

Looking for my sunglasses the next morning I discovered I rolled them up in my tent. Again. I do need to stop doing so they do not seem to enjoy the experience too much.

The road was just lovely with rolling hills,

wineries and lots of sheep.

I actually had half a plan of where I was heading. My Aunt Mary in Christchurch has pointed me in the direction of Omarama, where she had a good friend whose name is Mary as well.

At first I didn’t see anyone as I arrived at Tara Hills Station where Greg & Mary run cows and sheep. I did however found a peacock and her chick running through the house in a panick. Mary showed up shortly after trying to get them out while looking after the dogs, horses, ducks and the rest. A busy operation.

She did get the chance to take me up to the woolshed where a gang of shearers where shearing.

I didn’t know it yet, but as it turned out I learned a whole lot about the quality of New Zealand merino wool over the next week or so.

I had planned to do a bit of a loop and cycle a few interesting looking roads on my map when I picked up a newspaper on saturday morning and read about the cavalcade.

The Cavalcade is a yearly occurrence on the south Island, it’s organized by the Otago Goldfields Heritage trust. About 13 trails with walkers, horses and wagons start at different points to retrace the routes of Otago goldminers back in the 19th century.

As it happened one of the trails started just a few km’s down the road. So after seeing horse-floats passing by all day and cycling past their camp Mary took me down to have a look and maybe take some pictures.

That’s when I got chatting to Alastair, the trailboss.

And after a short chat he agreed on me coming along. Not on a horse (remember my last experience?) but as an extra hand, setting up camp and shifting gear. An excellent way to meet new people, see a different side of the country and work on  my horse-skills. Yes she did :-)

Sarah was so nice to lend me her horse for a little while. But after it jumped a ditch within the first minute, I wasn’t too comfortable, I have to admit. In my defence, I didn’t fall off and I didn’t even scream. Which, surely, must’ve made me look like a pro to the rest of them (… yeah right)

The only reason I didn’t scream was because I had lost my voice. I think it’s because I’m usually by myself, and suddenly surrounded by this crowd, I talked a lot (I know, it’s hard to imagine). So after 3 days of non-stop talking my voice disappeared all together and all I could do when the horse jumped was a little yelp. Lucky me.

Or as Johnny put it; ‘You sound like a squeaky toy…’

Johnny likes taking pictures too, like this one of me.

It was a rather eventful week, while most people got up the hills on their horses, I drove 4wd-vehicles (with heavy floats) over little muddy tracks. Enough to get the adrenaline pumping.

I did get the chance to get up the hills one day to see what it’s all about.

Graham let me have a go at riding his horse,

It was only later he told me his horse doesn’t actually like girls much and has a habit of nipping them. It hadn’t happened to me, but only because he let me ride after the horse had a full day in the mountains so was probably too tired to care…

Some evenings we camped and others we stayed in woolsheds on different properties where the owner would come and have an informative talk about the size of the properties, the amount of sheep they have and the quality of wool. There, I remember some of it. (13 micron = good)

Every day it was quiet a mission to set up the kitchen and ode to the cooks for managing excellent meals with the limited facilities!

The last night we had a dance in one of the woolsheds where even the woolpress danced along.

I took about 6million photo’s during my week on the Cavalcade and as promised here’s a link to the webalbum, where you can find most of them. Or check out my Facebook page.  If you were there, go and have a look. And if you were not, but you got about an hour spare and nothing better to do… you could have a look at them too.

All the different trails ended up in Cromwell where a massive tent was set up for the ” Gold ‘n’ Hoedown” another big party with the likes of Marian Burns. I thought her name seemed familiar and then she mentioned she was at Tamworth a month ago. I must’ve seen her there.

I had a wonderful week and made some great friend. And I’m sure I’ll meet some of you along the track. Thanks to all involved!

Hug

Mirjam

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Cross Country. Finally!

December 9, 2011

 

You can’t accuse me of being fast. Never have been. Never will be.

But after two years skimming around the edges and occasionaly fluttering inland I’ve finally managed to cross this country East to West. Yay! This brings my grand total to about 50.000km. Not that I’m counting…

The last 2000km I’ve been cycling with Stuart and despite a few mishaps we (almost) made it back to the west coast…

But let me take you back to Leonora where Stu, after a bout of Swine flu, managed to finally change his backwheel. He’s been cycling with a cracked rim for the last 1500km so it was nice to be able to set off without a wobble in his wheel. There is still a good bit of fun to be had with a useless rim, as some of our campground friends show here;

The enjoyment of problem-free cycling didn’t last long, a day after we set off from our campsite his derailleur snapped…

When a mining vehicle pulled up to check on us we were tempted to give in and chuck the whole lot on board. After being pestered by flies all day the enthusiasm started to falter. (See Video on last update)

But then Stu came to the genius idea to make his a fixed gear bicycle. And a coffee.

After all we were nearly at our goal of Geraldton. (only another 800-odd km’s)

So we kept plodding along.

You might think after about thousands kilometres of dusty red dirt roads things might get boring.

This is not so.

We manage to keep ourselves entertained with deep and meaningful conversation (“so, how was the consistency of your stool this morning?”)

And Stuart is happy running after, and catching, all sorts of wildlife while I rather just get the picture.

But of course just when everything seems beautiful and perfect (except the flies, damn those flies!), something will snap. In this case it was Stuart’s chain.

Because surely, we can not cycle more than 100 km uninterupted..

Lucky we weren’t far off a 5 star campingspot, requirments for 5 stars are:

* A clear spot with no ants or prickles.

* Shade.

* No wind.

* Wood for a fire.

* Water.

If you get all of the above it is definitely 5 stars

And there is nothing like the screeches of galah’s around a windmill to wake you up in the morning.

After long and slow going for many many miles it seemed rather sudden we turned a corner and hit the bitumen,

I usually don’t like paved road because the traffic and, like every other cyclist would know, the stink of roadkill. Well… every other cyclist except for Stuart. He jumps of his bike at the sight of a carcass to check out how fresh it is and if he gets the chance he cuts of bits and pieces to make a stew… or steak, whatever is available.

Going smoothly down the road a multicoloured windmill marked the entrance of the pretty little town of Sandstone.

Being the first town in 5 days we made a beeline for the pub and were very pleasantly surprised when we found out that they make the best burgers in the whole of Australia! Its true, I’ve tried a few… the worst one was at Warakurna roadhouse… in case you care.

That burger kept us going a good while.

It was strange to turn onto the Geraldton-Mount Magnet road. It felt like being back on home ground as it was here I spent more than 4 months two years ago working on farms and stations. Only thing was the Geraldton-Mount Magnet road is 490km, so we weren’t there quiet yet…

It was about 11.30 and 36degrees celcius when we rolled into the tiny little town of Yalgoo. It was small but had all luxuries you can imagine, rainwater, a little shop, BBQ-area and a waterpark! Ok, it’s probably meant for under 12′s only. But I couldn’t let this opportunity go. So while Stu got himself busy cooking up a feast on the BBQ I ran across the road and got a little to excited running around, which resulted in injury.

I can’t remember the last time I slipped and fell like that. I must’ve been about 8 years old…

But even on this ‘home stretch’ things didn’t run smoothly.

Stu got a flat tyre.

Not a major hassle, you might think. But after going through all spares, and mine, it got slightly frustrating. So with no spare tubes he didn’t really have a choice when a road train pulled up and offered us a ride.

The driver was surprised I didn’t want to jump on, but after all those km’s I really wanted to cover the last stretch on my own power. Stu did too, but sadly his bike did not. You never guess. Another cracked rim!!!

He didn’t find out until getting to Mullewa where he noticed the tiny crack just near the valve.

By the time I made it there, two days later, Stuart was already well settled with his new mates in a house with an unusual pet.

Meet Tony the Roo

From there it was just a short stretch ‘Home‘.

Where I celebrate, today, my 32nd birthday. Oh dear. Time to do something with my life…?

nah. I rather cycle.

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About Rainbows, Random Encounters and the Royal Flying Doctors

October 27, 2011

Warburton is one of the Aboriginal communities in the shire of Ngaanyatjarraku. Yes… I’ve been trying to pronounce that too.

This shire is rather unique in the fact it has a whole 12.6 km of sealed road in an area of 159,949 sq kms. Next to this it also has 1,444km of unsealed roads. Which really appeals to me.

We arrived early in the morning after a mosquito-riddled night in a clay-pan just before town only to find warning signs everywhere saying Murray River Encephalitis and Ross River Virus are around.

Diseases carried and transferred by mosquitos. Oops.

We also ran into a group of guys we met a few days earlier at Warakuna.

Nabarlek  and the Sunshine Reggae Band are from remote aboriginal communities in the Northern territory and happened to be on tour.

They were going to play in Warburton on Wednesday (this was Monday) . What better excuse for a break do you need?

So we cleaned gear, fiddled around with the bikes and drank coffee. A lot of coffee. Under ‘normal’ circumstances I would’ve enjoyed a pint or two as well. But we are way in the middle of Aboriginal lands, where alcohol, petrol and porn are prohibited. (I didn’t mind the last two too much)

It’s still odd to see how, also here, the bowsers are locked up in cages and there is a massive fence around the campsite (broken in many places). And notices urging you to lock up petrol if you are carrying any.

Troy , who arrived on a postie-bike and was heading to the west coast as well found out how true when he saw his fuel tank open in the morning. But he had Opal. No petrol to be found for 600km either way.

Some of the band members went out hunting one evening so we found a freshly killed rabbit in the fridge that morning. Stuart got all excited and decided to gut, skin and cook it.

Sadly who ever shot it didn’t gut it immediately so it was unpalatable (Stu won’t let me say rotten, and credit to him he did eat his share…).

We went down to the main park in Warburton on the evening of the concert.

I really enjoyed watching the girls and guys dance.

I didn’t join in because I’d feel ridiculous. Wow, they can dance!

Girls and boys would gather in two groups on either side of the stage and would take turns running to the middle, shake their hips (girls) or do some other cool moves (boys) for about half a minute and run back out. When the music was really pumping the older crowd, who’d all sat around the sides well away from the stage would do the same thing. Run in, move like crazy,
and run back out. A fascinating sight.

As we rode out of town the next morning we came through a beautiful little creek with water!

It may not seem weird for us Europeans, but again, this is Australia and like lakes, creeks are often dry in this country. It would’ve been a great place to have camped these few nights and it also explained the overwhelming presence of mozzies in the town.

Yet again water was the issue. By now we had our system so advanced that we could carry 54 litres all together.

It’s still nice to get a top-up from friendly passers by…

You can imagine this heavy load on the corrugated and sandy roads asked a lot from the bikes. But yet again, my bike passed all tests with flying colours while Stu’s bike…. ehm, well… Did not.

It is great that he’s as good with wire as he is. Since the whole bike was by now held together with the stuff.

With his hunting background and a very keen interest in everything crawly and moving he tries and catches everything we see, like innocent little lizards.

Lucky for most of the little creatures he caught they were either too small,

or we weren’t real hungry at the time…

Or the night he called me to say:” Get out of your tent! Here’s the biggest crazy looking spider you’ve ever seen! “

And me replying by making sure my zippers are all firmly closed, no thanks, I rather keep it that way at night with massive spiders around…

That evening, as we noticed dark clouds rapidly closing in, we dived into the scrub and pitched our tent just in time to keep dry during the night of thunder and downpour that followed.

It seemed very strange to me to have so much rainfall and even hail in the middle of the desert. It does make for some stunning views and rainbows!

Lucky all had cleared the next morning.

And we rode untill we spotted a cave on the side of the road. Upon closer inspection we found a little waterhole and a pretty good spot to sit around for a while.

Which we were forced to do since Stuart’s legs stopped working. He had said his head was a little sore but I hadn’t paid too much attention ’till he started shivering and had a temperature.

We figured best thing to do would be to flag down the next car so he could go ahead into town, have a few days rest and I’ll catch up later.

4 hours later.

The first car that came along told us the road had been closed for all traffic due to the rain. They happened to be the people who publish “Camps Australia Wide“, Australia’s premier guide to free camps in Australia.

They took Stuart to Cosmo Newberry, a community 150km down the road.

His gear didn’t fit in their car but a work ute pulled up right behind them and managed to throw all his gear on the back and off they went.

And I was on my own once again.

A little longer than I expected to be.
Apparently there was a little more wrong with Stuart than I’d thought. A big fuel truck pulled up the next morning to tell me he had been taken out by the Royal Flying Doctors and is now in Kalgoorlie hospital… and if I wanted a lift in.

Brady drives his Big Mack up and down between Kalgoorlie and Warburton and his family was spending the school holidays with him on the road

I figured there wasn’t an awful lot I could do about it now so decided to keep cycling. The same truck passed me again the next day and stopped to see if I was doing alright and hand me a few cold drinks.

Suddenly I saw something unusual appear over the hill, I wondered if it was a camel or a cow, but as I got closer I noticed it was Graham!

Of course I only found out after we introduced ourselves… , although he seemed to know me already… “You must be the cycling Dutch girl!”. Turned out I knew him too, his excellent website  about cycling dirt roads in
Australia has been in my favourites for yonks. It’s both hilarious and informative.

We sat on the side of the road and yarned for quiet a while.  About life on the road and smashed up cars.

There’s a lot of them along this road, I guessed about 1 every 5km. Graham already counted 14 in his first 20km that day. For a final count check out his blog… 

Rina is the practition nurse in Cosmo Newberry and as soon as I arrived she handed me a cuppa and told me how very very sick Stuart was. She then told me I could stay in the guesthouse and plucked a handfull of fresh veggies from her own garden because I need fresh food :-)

She was lovely.

She also passed me on the road the next morning and stopped to show me what other plants I can eat out here, and to check if I was drinking enough water… (I was.)

As  I pedalled further towards Laverton I noticed the road was in excellent condition.

Just a minute later I saw a grader coming towards me. Barry jumped out and told me I am mad.

He’s not the first one to tell me this and I doubt he’ll be the last. Fine, I might be mad but I’m happy :-)

I thanked him for grading the roads and continued riding.

It was a little bit odd riding into Laverton, apart from smashing it the last 20 km to try and avoid the rain I could see falling in all directions around me it is the very same place I skidded to a stop 16 months ago when I ran into that exploration job.

So as I arrived I closed the gap I left when I set of cycling in SA back in
January…

The only gap now is roughly between Adelaide and Darwin (via Cape York) I might get to close that one some day too…

It was nice to see a statue of a bicyle in the middle of town.

Well, it was actually Dr Charles Laver, who arrived here on his bicycle a few
years before me, in 1896 to be precise, to check out gold mining opportunities and set up a practice. It’s him the town is named after.

While trying to find out what happened to Stuart and sorting out his gear I
got a big surprise when I got the message Linda was just down the road. I spend last Xmas at Linda’s place in Adelaide! She’s been busy touring around Australia in her campervan and happened to be in Leonora. Only 100km down the road. She decided to come out, have lunch and help shift Stu’s gear to Leonora.

Where I could do very little but wait.

So that I did.

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