Posts Tagged ‘BBQ’

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Familiar Faces in New Places

April 16, 2013

How lucky was I to run into Tony & Margaret last year (twice!) on some South Island backtracks, not only did they give me some useful pointers down that way, we also parted with the words; “If you ever get to Auckland….”

Auckland

So here I find myself, in Tony’s spare room while getting ready for the next stage.

Tony & Margaret

I try to stay away from cities, but Auckland with its many bicycle trails, hills and parks is a very pleasant place to be. Even more if you have a guide who knows how to get around and where to find good coffee, and the best bike shop in town.

Apparently you must grease some parts, especially after pushing a bicycle through dust and rivers for years. I just thought the creaking was the bike talking to me…

Navigating out of Auckland was easy with the wonderful directions I got from both.

Tony & Margaret are active members of the Auckland Cycle Touring Association, so loaded up with maps, ideas & routes I rode of towards the wild west coast.

The sun was shining, my bike rolled smoothly and my legs felt surprisingly good, after sitting still for a rather long period of time.

IMG_7488_edited-1

This part of the country has some hills, a few small quiet villages and lots of cows and sheep… Actually, the whole country does.

Cows

Last year with easter I met Rob & Jo at Fox Glacier, where they had ridden the Triumph and treated Harry & me on a wonderful feed.

This year they happened to be at home, not too far from where I was riding. So when John came along to say G’day we went for a ride and had a great kiwi-BBQ at their place.

Rob preparing a great Kiwi-BBQ

John and I worked together, 4 years ago, at Top Springs.

John

Now he’s back in his home country climbing trees for a living. He happened to have a few days up his sleeve so took me down to inspect some caves.

Stalactite

We saw a heap of glowworms, they’re actually maggots, but I guess ‘glow-maggot‘ hasn’t got the same ring to it..

Glowworm catch bugs

And a stroll through the woods.

Nice woods

We weren’t far off Harry’s new place. I met Harry last year, when we flew to Anchor Island to check out some Kakapo’s.

Harry & Anja

A lot can change in a year. He now lives in Middle Earth with his (Dutch) girlfriend Anja and spend his time building fences, driving tractors and feeding sheep.

Feeding Sheep

When I called ’round he took me for a ride on the tractor straight into Hobbiton.

Maybe it’s about time I check out that movie…

After easter, with the roads quiet again,  I continued my way further south along the coast. I ran into Kerry.

Kerry on the Road

We had already met. But only online :-)

And made  a small detour to see a tunnel to the beach at Waikawau. The tunnel was built in 1911 by three men with only picks and shovels because it was easier to drive cattle along the beach than through the hills.

Tunnel to the beach

These days it makes for a nice spot to have lunch.The Beach

I have been told along this road you come through the longest continues bend in southern hemisphere, I hadn’t noticed. And how do you find out about such things anyway?

View along the coast

I was very much enjoying the lovely quiet roads until I brutally got disturbed by a highway.

The nr.3 runs all the way to New Plymouth, and so did I. It rained. I  put on my Ipod, block out the noise, and ride.

I never saw the mountain on my way in.

“When you see the mountain, it’s going to rain. When you don’t see it it’s raining” 
Is what Greame, Neil’s brother, told me. He lives  in New Plymouth with Lynne and happened to be expecting me.
I stayed with Neill in Nelson where he took me kayaking and mountain biking.

This year he had a surf-ski race in Auckland and was going to stay with his brother in New Plymouth on the way up. Dinner in NPSeemed like a great excuse to catch up. I’m sure it won’t be the last time :-)

In the morning Mount Taranaki, showed itself.

Taranaki

Being one of the most symmetrical volcano’s in the world it’s a spectacular sight. I’d love to walk up that hill…

That’s when I got an email; “If you’re ever in Taranaki and you want to climb the mountain, give me a call”

I met Dan when he stayed at the hostel in Derry back in 2006… don’t you just love Facebook? ;-)

So a day later he picked me up and we walked up the mountain.

Going There!

On the Top of the Big Hill

That sounds a whole lot easier than it was.

View from Taranaki

I could hardly walk for three days. lucky I had no trouble cycling. The next day I took Dan for a bike ride around the mountain. We almost made it too…

But the wind had other plans and tried to blow us straight back where we came from. So when the sun started setting and we twice rejected the offer of a ride, (by the same guy!) We had to face the fact we were not gonna make it to Stratford. Only about 15km short we stopped at Kaponga hotel.

Kaponga Hotel

So the next day it was a short leisurely ride through beautiful autumn colours

Autumn

towards Stratford.

Strathford

Stratford has the only glockenspiel in NZ and how lucky were we to just catch it.

Tacky? nah..

And not tacky at all at all. It plays a scene from Romeo & Juliet 4 times a day. Stratford is named after the birthplace of Shakespeare, a lot of the roads have names of characters.

Sheila & John, friends of Dan, are in the middle of a move. Still they had a spare room for me to stay in. The house hadn’t always been in this spot though, it was moved in one go from a different location!
Moved in one go.

Hard to imagine. It’s pretty big.

I just can’t believe my luck with the weather! There has been a drought for months. It’s no good for the farmers. But it’s perfect for anybody riding a bicycle out here.

Lunch time

Happy and well rested I headed off towards the forgotten world highway.

Not too busy

Not a very busy highway.

Local Traffic

But a lovely ride through the odd little town of Whongamomona.

whongomomona

In 1989, when the district boundaries where set to change by government, they declared themselves independent and have since been known as “The Republic of Whongamomona”. With a population of 40 that increases to about 4000 on their annual independence-day.

In 1999 they made the news when Billy the Goat won the votes, by partially eating the opponents ballots. He was president for 18 months before dying. and since there’s been Tai the poodle, and Murt ‘Murtle the Turtle‘ Kennard, a local garage owner who won from the old president and a cross-dresser called Miriam…

A funny place indeed.

View

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About Traffic and Termites

September 13, 2012

Where my road met the Peninsula developmental Road the track became a little less funny.

I found that a lot of people heading North on this large and long dirt track ride with a ‘highway mentality“, as I call it.

It means people are in a hurry to get somewhere, the top of Australia in this case, and don’t want to spent too long getting there.

For me this means dust. A lot of dust.

I did come up with a pretty good way of slowing vehicles down.

I ride in the middle of the road.

It confuses the drivers and they slow down wondering what’s going on.

Not everybody thinks it’s funny. The facial expressions ranged from shock to surprise, from horror  to amazement and anger to total confusion.

But it did work.

Every single time :-)

And so I made my way North of the old Telegraph Station of Musgrave towards the small town of Coen.

I passed some road works, friendly as ever the watertruck driver directed me to the homestead a little further up the road. “Make sure you call in and ask for Sue! “

As it happens a whole lot of people were around at Yarraden station, first I ran into two little kids on a quad who directed me to the main house,

where a warm welcome awaited with cold drinks, hot showers, a meal and even a proper bed on the upstairs verandah.

It was lovely!

It still seems odd to me how the people here seem to find it perfectly normal to be living in such a remote place with the next door neighbours 100km down the track.

For me those homesteads and stations have been a blessing in Australia. Always a friendly smile and a warm welcome. Like an oasis in the desert.

And not just the people living in those remote places.

Even though on this busy dirt road most people are in a mad hurry to get to the tip and back in as little time as possible, some still slow down.

A wave and a smile, sometimes a request to take a picture.

Once in a while they would pull up and have a chat and give me food!

Like two Swiss couples I met them on their way up. And when they passed me again on their way down we all set on the side of the road having lunch and a coffee. They left me with stacks of food and even cleaned my coffeepot. It has never been that shiny before!

The Telegraph Line, established back in 1885 was for a long time the only method of communication for those living on the Cape York peninsula.

Untill 1962 it operated with just two wires sending morse codes via repeater stations and homesteads along the way.

The line was upgraded to radio in WWII and was still used for telephone cable untill 1987 when it was finally dismantled.

But a lot of the original poles are still there.

And the original track it used to follow is now a paradise for 4WD enthusiasts and adventure cyclist alike.

Some of the stations are still around.

But now they’ve transformed into road houses and places where the weary dusty traveller can put their feet up and enjoy a cold beer and a burger. If you like.

Other places that made a good stop were along water crossings and rivers.

I pulled up at Archer river roadhouse one afternoon, not realizing I was still going to be around 3 days later.

With its shallow and cool water its a lovely spot to have a refreshing beer and a chat to people passing along.

So what was once known as the last frontier is now a not all too difficult, but very long and corrugated bike ride in the dust.

Untill you reach Bramwell Junction.

I was happy to turn off the dusty highway into the Bramwell station grounds and have, at least for the next 15km the track to myself.

And a few animals.

I enjoyed the scenery with massive termite mounts along the track. They are no ants, they’re closely related to the cockroach and they’re rather active in Northern Australia, building mounts as high as 5 meters!

All peace and quiet was gone as soon as I got to Bramwell. I had chosen the same night to camp there as 130 people on a charity run for children. All decked out 4WD vehicles and characters in funny dress. Ah well, if you can’t beat them… :-)

Here you have got the choice of following the PDR or head up the much quieter, scenic but pretty rough OTT, or old Telegraph track.

It was lovely!

Although a little slower.

This is the track I’ve heard everybody talking about.

It started out wonderfully.

Because it’s a narrow single lane track vehicles have to slow right down and there’s no dust and gravel spitting in my face.

It also has a lot of river crossings that any sane person in a vehicle would not attempt. There’s few sane people up this far north…

The first one, still easy to reach and thus quiet busy, Palm Creek, is a steep muddy slope down a not so very deep creek.

But with so many people around everybody gave me a hand carrying some stuff across and by the time I reached the other side with my bicycle my gear was already neatly piled up on the side of the track.

I spend another hour or so watching the entertainment of vehicles and motorbikes getting themselves bogged and helping each other through.

Just when I was to set off I noticed Marty on the other side, I’d met him days earlier at Archer river where he and his uncle cooked up a storm and shared some alcoholic beverages. (one of the reasons I stayed there for three nights..) They were now on their way south again.

The next creek, only just down the track was a little harder. No people around this time so it took a fair while to get everything across. No crocodiles in sight. So that’s good news.

I pitched my tent at another lovely creek crossing together with some guys & girls who’d helped me across the first one.

It seems I’m not travelling much slower than any one else. So you keep meeting the same people over and over.

It’s also nice to have a chat with people along the way.

Most people would pull up and say something like; “You’re keen!” or, “You’re crazy!” One man though, pulled up and just informed me about the condition of the track ahead, and I did the same for him. Like I was just another driver. I thought that little exchange of information was the most surreal conversation I’ve had on that road.

As I set off the next morning I figured I’d see them all again that night a mere 46km up the track. Not knowing that day was going to be one of the hardest I’d done.

A lot of sand, and no way I could ride my bike through it. I would sink straight in so instead I pushed.

Pushed through the sand,

and up some hills,

through the creeks.

Untill I reached the main drag again. It was not far to my destination, but when a lady in a car pulled over and invited me to her camp I wasn’t going to say no.

The work on these roads is never done. So a bunch of workers live in the camp where Mary (on the right) happens to be the cook :-)

Not far from their camp to the Twin Falls.

One of those glorious places along the way where you can have a dip without worrying a crocodile is going to chew your foot off.

Also the spot where I met a lovely couple from New Zealand who offered to carry some of my gear a little further North. This made the next few days a lot more enjoyable. I’ve never been an extreme lightweight freak, as you can tell from the amount of rubbish I drag around, and only in a place like this do I really notice the difference.

One big advantage of being on a pushbike, I don’t get bogged easily;

One of the most disastrous moments came up just as I crossed Nolans Creek.

The last Creek on this track and the reason why 62 cars this year didn’t make it home. It’s a little deep. Not a massive problem for me, and with some help of bystanders I got my gear across the other side dry in no time. Only then I realized there is actually a small bridge for motorbikes and bicycles. Oops.

But the disaster wasn’t in crossing this creek. It came with the realisation that I had run out of coffee, and still more than a day to go to Bamaga where I’d be able to stock up on supplies.

A few people were hanging around drying out their vehicles, most of them half drowned crossing this creek. I wandered up to Mark & Alex’s camp. And asked if they wouldn’t happen to have, by any chance. Some coffee. And imagine!

Not only did they indeed carry coffee, it was even proper real ground coffee.

Oh my luck… :-)

The next day, when I tried to get to the Jardine river ferry before they shut down for lunch, will go down in history as the day I did not meet up with Greame.

I met him last year on the Great Central Road.

And we both knew we were on the Cape and most likely to run into each other at some stage. It was not to be. This is what he wrote about us not meeting a 2nd time….

It was not far after the Jardine river ferry when I hit the bitumen. There is just under 30km of bitumen on the top of Australia,

and from here it’s only a hop-skip-jump to the tip…

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Shows and Showers

June 15, 2012

If you follow this road and turn left at the end, you get back to the main track. A friendly man painting his fence told me.

So I followed the road. But there didn’t seem to be an end to it. So I turned left at random. But in this state forest all tracks look the same. I figured if I keep heading north I should meet the main track. But before I could prove my theory the sun went down and I had to stop for the night.

A forest is a very noisy place. I’m used to the total quiet of the Outback, but here there were boar scrambling around, and deer and a whole lot of critters I couldn’t place.

It didn’t take me long the next morning to find my way out of the forest and onto the main road.

My theory did work! It was a fairly long stretch passed road workers and trying to avoid the rain,

But I got to Maryborough, where I ran into Kevin.

Kevin lives just out of town where he helps his dad to build a house, it is not ready yet, but there are walls, a roof and a great big verandah. A good spot to spent a day or two, or three…

Not just because of the great big verandah. It was a good chance to fix some broken pieces of gear. Well, actually, Kevin fixed my broken pieces of gear :-)

Also Kevin thought it a good idea to show me around in his car … Bad-Ass-Truck.

My timing was pretty good since the Maryborough show was on.

A show in Australia involves a whole lot of different things, it’s a rodeo, an art and craft show, an agricultural show,

and a fun fair. There are displays of fireworks and monster trucks. Enough to spent a day wandering and taking pictures.

We even had a ride in one of the spinning-around-kind-of-crazy-machines. Because, as Kevin mentioned, I should ‘live a little’. And I haven’t been in many of these things before.

I ate an toffee-apple (they look better than they taste) And Kevin won me a little cuddly lion by shooting four ducks in a row (metal ones, not real ones)  I was suitably impressed. The little lion now sits on the back of my bicycle.

We discovered we were born just a few hours apart. Which practically makes us twins. :-)

But I must keep moving north. So that is what I’m slowly doing. I tried staying away from the coastal highway. There is a track a bit further inland called the bicentennial, or national track. It’s a horse route, but bits and pieces are fine to take a bike down too.

I haven’t got a very detailed map, so finding my way is not always easy. But as long as I keep heading north, I should be fine.

I really noticed I was getting further north when I started seeing the crocodile-warning-signs at river crossings. Like at the Fitzroy river, where I thought it would make a great camp, not so if you get dragged out of your tent by a croc in the middle of the night…

So I kept riding into the sunset when a house appeared on my right. The young couple already knew I was coming. Some one had phoned them to say I was on my way and for them to make sure I wouldn’t camp on the riverbanks… Who this was I don’t know, because I hadn’t spoken to any one that day.

As I peddled my way up the old Bruce highway a car passed me, turned around and stopped. “Don’t you know the reputation of this road?” … I did not. I was rather enjoying the quiet stretch of bitumen where I made camp at fittingly named ’camp gully‘ the night before

Apparently people have gone disappearing here in the past.

There is some old fallen down road houses and a memorial for the olympic torch that has passed through here in 1956.

And not a lot else.

But since he mentioned it, it was eerily quiet and the drizzle didn’t help.

One morning as I was coming up to my Nebo-turn off a loud bang startled me. My tyre blew! This is the first time that ever happened and Bob heard it too. Bob just passed and pulled over to see if I was ok. I was fine.

Even better when he took me into Mackay and bought me lunch :-) (Thanks Bob!)

Bob lives with Tracey in Mackay. I hadn’t planned to go to town, but as it was raining anyway I figured I might as well stay a day.

It’s a mining centre. A lot of coal mines have sprung up over the last 20 years or so and every one moved into Mackay, taking their big cars with them. Everything is expensive and there is not much space on the road for a pushbike. But I managed to have a look around.

Hakan happened to move to Mackay years ago and opened his own cafe, next to the IGA on Evans Avenue.

I got chatting to him and discovered I really need to brush up on my Turkish. But he reckoned it was fine and, in true Turkish style, wouldn’t let me pay for breakfast. (teşekkür ederim!  It kept me going all day!)

I was headed to the Eungella Dam. There’s platypus out there, or so I’ve been told. All I needed to do get up to the range. I never made it that day.

Happily going along between cane fields and electricity lines a little car pulled up in front of me. Or actually a normal car, but after all the massive mining vehicles in Mackay it seemed only little.

Hi! I’m Tracey’s mum!

Tracy’s mum happened to live just up the road, accompanied by peacocks and colourful birds.

I called in for a cuppa and ended up staying the night.

Everybody warned me for the climb to Eungella. It’s only a hill.

You cycle up the range and climb about 4,5km (of 12%incline) into the small town. Where Wendy just took over the grocery shop a few months ago. I just bought my most important dietary need (chocolate) and sat on the doorstep enjoying it when she came out and offered me a coffee. So I enjoyed that as well. Before I set off she stuffed my panniers with cup-a-soups and cans of food!

It was still a little way to get to the dam, but the campspot, the view, and the company was well worth it.

It was a full moon and as Stephen and I watched it rise,

and saw a partial eclipse,

he told me how very lucky he is to be Australian;

“We have five of the most deadliest snakes in the world!

He excitedly told me;

“We have the most deadliest jelly fish, the box jellyfish.

We have the most deadliest spider, the funnel web.

We have the most deadliest fish, the stonefish.

We’ve got crocodiles and great white sharks!….

We are just so lucky!”

He’s been travelling around the country for the last 20 years. He heads out to remote places and catches snakes and lizards to take photo’s of them.

And he is still alive!

It amazed me.

I never did see the platypus there, but even this mammal is venomous! Like just about everything in Australia.

I took the back road from the dam to catch up with the national trail once again.

Towards Collinsville.

I cycled through cattle country and found some lovely spots to camp before  cruising into Collinsville around coffee time (it always is coffee time)

I never saw Collin. I did meet Cleve though.

Cleve Smith was just enjoying a quiet cuppa when I decided to join him there. He escaped his wife and kids for a week and was on his way to a rodeo up the road.

We had a chat and he told me in detail how to castrate a cow by cutting a hole in the side and pulling out the ovaries. “There is hardly any blood at all if you do it right” He reckons he’s done 1000′s in his life…

The things you learn on the road.

We decided to meet up over the rodeo weekend and I jumped on my bike to keep riding north.

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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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Along The Old Ghan

August 25, 2011

The Old Ghan, originally called the Great Northern Railway, is a tale of the triumphs of pioneering Australians in a landscape of extremes.

Or so the information sign says. It continued by telling me;

The Ghan opened the way into Australia’s remote interior. Unofficially called ‘The Ghan’, it provided isolated residents with a physical and emotional link to civilisation. During World War II the railway was pushed to its limits, yet barely a decade after peace resumed in 1945, it was rejected.

I’ve been cycling along the old railway line since I left Lyndhurst.

Just out of Lyndhurst a car pulled up to ask if I was ‘the Dutch girl‘ after confirming this they handed me a little envelope. An amulet, made by Talc Alf.

Talc Alf had shown me around his place the previous day. He’s discovered the secret of letters and has explained me what my name means.

(it was something about a journey and the sun rolling over hills..)

He must have set out to carve my name in stone straight after I left, it’s now dangling of my handlebar-bag.

When the railway line was first build in 1878 there was need of constant maintenance, so every 15 or 20 km they build a little house where 3 or 4 man would live to look after the tracks. In places the only job they did was shovelling sand off the lines from dawn to dusk and do it all again the next day. Some of these old railway sidings are still standing in various states of decay. They make for a nice shelter from the wind.

It’s been busy on the road.

With ‘busy’ I mean about 20 cars a day. This is because there is water in Lake Eyre.  Having water in a lake might not seem like a very unusual thing to us Europeans… But out here it is a big deal. The last time this lake, wich lays 15 meter below sea level and is with that Australia’s lowest point, was full was way before I was born. From the road I could see Lake Eyre South. It’s huge. Most people would take a flight to be able to see it properly. I asked what it was like, apparently it’s like a big lake with water in it. Didn’t overly surprise me. Still, it’s special.

Because there is so much of not a lot out here every little thing is a sight.

So it happened I came across a pole. Now, this is not a normal pole, it is part of the overland telegraph line, Australia’s first telecommunication  link to the outside world. Between 1872 and 1896 it connected Darwin with Adelaide and ultimately London. Very little remains of the original line, but here is one of the Cypress Pine Poles…

Another famous piece of wood stands just north of Oodnadatta, the Angle Pole is the point where the telegraph line changed direction.

Another time I was rather surprised to see a big thing on the side of the track waving at  me. I waved back and continued along my way.

With so few things around it seems I have become a bit of a sight myself, I might be the most photographed cycling Dutch girl on the track this month. Sometimes I don’t like it when big cars just slow down and take a snap shot without even saying hello, or without even slowing down. Mostly it’s fine when they stop and have a yarn on the side of the road.

I really don’t mind at all when they then offer me water…

Or a tea with blueberry muffins…

Or a cappuccino with chocolate on top and a chocolate…

Or pork chops for lunch…

Or fresh fruit…

Or a cold can of coke…

Or a cold beer and air for my tyres when the pump broke…

Or a feed at the end of the day :-)

It all happens along the Old Ghan.

A funny thing I found is that men often ask about my gear where the ladies ask how I keep my hair looking good :-)

The Old Ghan travelled past the William Creek and Cowards Springs sidings, during the war the stops were reduced from 10 to 2 minutes due to the amount of alcohol consumed on the train… The hotelier complains were ignored. In 1945 the trains were ordered not to stop at all anymore. However, the train would travel very slow, the passengers would jump off the train before the station, sprint up to the pub, buy their drink and run after the train. Lucky I had a little more time to enjoy a beer in the iconic William Creek Hotel.

I didn’t plan to have dinner there as well, but three nice gentlemen from Melbourne invited me to have some kangaroo with them. It sure beats pasta & tuna!

It gave me so much energy that I cycled/pushed 100km the next day, a bit of a feat for me on these roads where my average is around 70km a day.

Barry Tydeman and John Glover’s are scientist who came up between ’69 and ’71 to study the desert Goby, a small endemic fish found only in the waters of the Lake Eyre Basin.

“Then we came up. It was a bit wet and we ended up on the tracks because it was too boggy along the road so we were riding along the sleepers on top. John’s driving and we’re riding -boom boom boom boom, like that. I just had this uneasy feeling and I looked around and there’s this bloody great locomotive right behind us! I don’t know how long he’d been there, hadn’t said a bloody boo you know, and I said to John; ‘I think we better get off the track’. He said; ‘Why?’ I said; “Have a look behind you”. He looked in the mirror and panicked and went down the side… The locomotive came past and slowed right up and he slid the window back and this guy said;”You guys alright?” and we said “Yeah… we’re trying to keep out of the water along the track” He said;”OK, no worries” and boom, boom, boom off they went and that was the Ghan.”

Every now and then I get the idea the universe must like me. Like the day I lost my little camera…

The handle had snapped and looking back through pictures of that day (on my big camera, got two ‘just in case’) I realized it must have happened over 30km ago. The Creek where I was when I discovered was very salty,

So with the amount of water I had going back wasn’t an option…  I kept going. When I stopped a car about an hour later another coming from my direction stopped as well. They had my camera! Two men had found it and given it to them, after snapping a pic of themselves.

So thanks random strangers and thank you universe!

Another example is my 16gig memory card breaking… just after I uploaded (almost) all my pictures!

I would have hated to lose the pics I took only the night before when I pushed my bike to the top of a hill only to be able to see the full moon rising (and setting) over my tent.

A magical night with a 360 degree view of surrounding hills and a crystal clear sky with Dingo’s howling down in the valley…

And a big water tank conveniently located only a km away on the next hill-top…

Thanks again…

Adam & Lynnie Pink Roadhouse in Oodnadatta is, as the name kinda explains, very pink. This is good because I like pink. (my toothbrush is pink, and my towel too)

And so I liked this roadhouse, but that had very little to do with the colour.

More the very friendly welcome I got. A group of 10  travellers who passed me on the road 20 km’s earlier offered me breakfast. (thanks guys!) And I spent the next 4 hours or so charging things, cleaning clothes and myself eating chocolate and drinking coffee. All clean and satisfied I rode out-of-town while a little boy shouted;” Hey! Where’s your man??” …. Now, there’s a question ;-)

The very next day the wind was against me. And believe me, in these parts if the wind decides to be against you, you do not move. A lot.

After a windy night at a windmill I made it 15km up the road to Hamilton Station.

Where a sign told me Junk Mail and Jehovah’s are not welcome. Since it didn’t mention cycling folk I called in and didn’t leave for two days.

I was welcomed by Warren the owner. Together with Josh he was the only one around at this time and the were busy with jobs around the homestead.

He gave me a room in the girls-quarters where I could recharge and clean both my gear and myself. It was an oasis in this barren country side.

Just after climbing on top of a water tank to get a good shot of the station Warren mentioned I could get a bit higher up for a picture. Only seeing flat plains around me I asked where…. He then took me to the shed where he pulled out a small yellow plane… And he flew me over the property :-)

Four of Warrens friend came up for a night on their way cross the Simpson Desert. A good laugh, BBQ and reciting poems later I decided to catch up with these fellows one day later at Dalhousie Springs.

This water comes from the largest Artesian ground water basin in the world (lying underneath 1/5 th of Australia. When it rains up in Queensland the water filters through this basin and comes up in places like here and Coward Springs around  two-million (!!!) years later… But where as Coward Springs had just a little luke-warm bath of about 2square meter, here a huge 37 degrees pool appeared out of nowhere. A great relaxing dip. And when you sit real still the tiny little ‘Dalhousie Goby’ comes and nibbles on your toes.

I did spend the night camping with my four new friends and after jumping in the hot water at sunrise I set of on my tredly while they packed up and got ready to make the Simpson desert crossing.

At my next destination all my carefull planning and timing suddenly got thrown upside down.

But more about that next time.

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