Posts Tagged ‘company’

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Eat Pray Love… or something along those lines.

March 18, 2013

After staying in far North Queensland for way too long the best plan of attack was to get back to Brisbane before my ship sailed.

But having cycled up the whole way I decided a different form of transport was to be taken back down.

Part of the way anyway.

This is where Adrian came in. Being a friend of a friend of a friend of mine he offered to take me down the coast to Bowen from where I would get back on my bicycle.

Adrian

On the way up I’ve been taken the backtracks, so it was good to see what I missed out on from a different perspective. Not Much.

My View

The Bruce highway is a narrow road, most of the way without shoulder and a massive amount of trucks.

From up high in the comfy and dry cabin I did actually feel sorry for the one cyclist we saw along the way. Although if it would’ve been me, I know that I usually feel sorry for all those people stuck behind their little windows.

So I guess I do well on both sides of the fence…

After a night at a ridiculously expensive backpackers in Bowen (44$ for a dorm bed..) I finally managed to get back on two wheels and started peddling up the road.

I knew I’m a bit out of shape, I hadn’t actually done much cycling at all for about 6 months!

But I didn’t remember it being this heavy.. until I realized I might help if I put some air in my tyres. It did :-)

Next hurdle was the range, I came in from a different direction last time and kinda forgot about the great dividing range… And the narrow road crawling up with trucks and mining vehicles flying by. Oops.

But all went fine, until I found out there was no way I could take a break because the second I stopped riding the march flies came down to attack, they don’t just bite like a mosquito, no they just chew off half your arm.

Not that I’m complaining.

Time to cool down

I would not do such a thing. But after 110km in 36 degrees, no wind and 60% humidity I was very pleased to find a little waterhole (crocodile free) where I could cool down a little before riding back through the gates of Strathmore Station.

Strathmore

The very place I spend a whole week on the way up when the Bowen River Rodeo was on.

As it happened Paul & Sally where just leaving for a few days, so I waited for their return before heading off. That wasn’t a problem since there is enough to explore around the historic homestead and surroundings.

Black Cockatoo

This is the wet season but there hadn’t been too much rain yet. This all changed when I showed up and it started pissing down…

One other minor detail was that my knee had started making funny noises and wouldn’t bend for a day or three.

All these little things together made me decide to jump back into the truck with Adrian and head a little further south…

A little became 1000 km as I didn’t get out in Rockhampton, as planned. Or Maryborough, as back-up planned.

Instead I got all the way to Gympie where Adrian owns a property and lives, whenever he’s not on the road, with Leanne and his two daughters Kayleen and Daina.

Adrian, Leanne & the girls

They showed me around and took me to the local Barrel Races,

Australia you think?

Barrel Races

Daina’s passion.

Daina

Across the road, in another one of those typical Queensland houses lives Mick.

Mick told me to crash at his place since there is more space. And he was heading off the next morning for a week run-around outback Queensland. Mick is a truck driver too.

Mick

He used to be a helicopter pilot up in the Territory and has many a story of remote area’s and outback adventures. A delight to listen too.

Mick also has a bunch of horses, cows, dogs and pigs who kept me company during the stay in his house.

Mick & his Mate

As he left he showed me the fridge, “Help yourself to anything”, the car “Here’s the keys”, and the house “Make yourself at home, see you in a week!“

Mick's Place

He left me slightly stunned. In most places it would be un imaginable your neighbour turns up with a stranger and you leave them after chatting for a couple of hours, in charge of everything you own…

It was very lucky. As the rain had set in and every exit road had flooded.

Road flooded

I wasn’t all alone as Leanne insisted I come across the road and have dinner with her and the family. And the other neighbour, Linda, would call around , feed the pigs and have a coffee and a chat. Nice to see neighbours helping each other out.

After a week I felt pretty much at home…

But it was time to move on.

Bridge

No matter how much I enjoyed the house and the riding lessons Daina took it upon herself to give me…,

Still Trying

more rain had been predicted and I’d better get out before it flooded again if I wanted to get to Pomona.

Which I did.

I had signed up to go and sit on the floor for 10 days and not speak.

Which is an excellent passing of time when its raining all the time.

I’ve heard about ‘Vipassana meditation‘ from various people over the past 12-odd years.

It’s a meditation technic passed on from teacher to student over 2500 years since Buddha told people in India back in the day.

It wasn’t a run-around-naked, tree hugging, hippy-thing. (as some of my friends worried)

It’s actually a fairly simple technic you can use to … well eradicate suffering. So they say.

Interesting enough it wasn’t the not-talking that was the most difficult part.

It wasn’t the fact that you only got a breakfast and lunch at 11.00am and then nothing more but an apple for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t the fact that you get up at 4.00am every day either.

Or the fact you were not allowed your phone, computer or even a pen & paper or a book.

It was the sitting. 12 hours a day.

By day 4 I was so sore I couldn’t sleep. I tried laying on the floor, walking a while. It was just no good. The weird thing was, it was all gone after the first meditation session the next day.

When you see the old students in the front sitting as still as a statue for hours on end you wonder, while you twist and turn and can’t get comfortable in any way.

And because the first few days you don’t quiet know what you are actually doing (it all becomes clearer towards the end) you spend a fair bit of time ‘meditating’ on your bed, with your eyes closed, snoring… Well I’m not sure about the others but it happened to me a few times.

If you would’ve walked into the meditation hall towards the end of the course, and you saw 60 people sitting death still with their eyes closed you might’ve wondered about our sanity. I would’ve.

But while you sit there and learn to observe you notice ‘stuff’ happening.

I’m not going to get into any further detail now because I’ve already got 1464 words as it is.

It was great to be able to chat to the girl I spend sharing a room with for 10 days at the end. Aneita lives in Brisbane and we spend a day or two just talking when the course had finished.

One of the best things I found out when I got my phone back was the news of the birth of little Saar Esther, back in the Netherlands.

Saar Esther

Another niece :-)

…………

Before having to leave the country I caught up with some more relatives of mine who happened to be holidaying in Noosa.

2nd Cousin Rodney & Family

I even got a ride out on the jet ski, but I never did anything like this;

Jump

I rather leave that to my cousins out here. I prefer to keep my feet on solid ground. So it might sound strange but with all my dislike of water I jumped straight back on a ship.

But not before catching up with some of the people who helped me see, and love this country,

like Frank who took me across the Simpson Desert in 2011.

Frank

And Inge & Edward, my friends from Buff, So little Saar got here first Buff too :)

Sally (& Paul) , Who is up at Strathmore and I will hopefully see again one day.

Sally

Paul, who managed to get my bike and all my gear in a little Hyundai Getz! (rather different from the F100 indeed…)

Paul

And my great Aunt & Uncle,

Uncle Dick

Aunt Ineke

And now.
Finally.
I will move on.

Posted in Australia | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments »

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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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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!

Posted in New Zealand | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments »

h1

When animals attack

November 6, 2011

Stuart got out of hospital after 5 days.

He wasn’t quiet ready to leave and the doctor had forbidden him to start riding immediately.

So we waited a day.

The very surprising diagnosis was swine flu!

Even though we haven’t once spotted a swine along the way.

We did however spot a few flies.

Stu is now feeling a lot better.

So despite the breakdown of bodies and equipment that are almost impossible to avoid on these kind of roads we will keep on rolling. The road is still calling.

Posted in Australia | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments »

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