Sunday, 30th January, 2005
January 26 – 30 – The Crossroads of Australia
We left Cowell at sunrise on Australia Day in a cloud of mozzies. I think I broke records for super fast bike packing. We were glad a tailwind was coming as the day would be hot and we had 110km to ride on undulating terrain to get to Whyalla. My friend Camilla says the dictionary definition of undulating should be “slow form of torture”. Well, whatever undulating means it felt like hills to me.
The tailwind was running late and sent a headwind to stand in. The headwind was very enthusiastic and blasted us so hard with hot air that we had to pedal down the hills in our lowest gear as hard as we forced the pedals uphill.
The temperature hit 40 degrees, the radiant heat from the road was even hotter, and by afternoon our water was too hot to drink (or touch). While this would not have been a bad day compared to our experiences up north, we were out of practice as we’ve been cold most of the time we’ve been down south. We were feeling pretty dehydrated until Ross remembered the fruit in our panniers and we brought ourselves back to life in no time.
A thunderstorm threatened as we saw the smog and smokestacks of Whyalla in the distance. A truly beautiful sight.
The front and the tailwind came and went in the night. Next morning at sunrise we wiped Whyalla’s red iron ore dust off Argo and rode into the headwind to Port Augusta, the “Crossroads of Australia”. You have to worry when a town’s claim to fame is being the way to get somewhere else, but Port Augusta is not a bad place.
The Spencer Gulf runs through the town and local children swim there off the jetty. 
It is very picturesque looking across the water from the bridge to the Flinders Ranges beyond.
Rain was our excuse this time to stay a few days, but the thing we like most about this crossroads is that it means we are finally finished with the Eyre Highway, and yes, we’ve seen the first signpost to Sydney.
But first we’ll turn right at this intersection, roll into the Clare valley for a glass or two of wine, before pedalling to the city of Adelaide. Let’s hope it’s bicycle friendly.
January 24 – 25 – Wind break
We slowly pushed our way north through Port Niell and left the fires behind us, then on to Cowell. The headwinds were stronger than ever. We had headwinds on the way down the Peninsula, so it wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect a tailwind… except where we are concerned. But the weather forecast suggested a front would move in to the Bight in two days and bring us a tailwind. And that was all the excuse we needed to take a day off in Cowell.
Cowell is a beautiful place. Take away the blood thirsty mosquitos and sandflies that descend from everywhere at dusk and dawn and it would be perfect. Ted, the caravan park owner, lent us his ute to go to the beach. All the caravan parks on the Peninsula have the word “Foreshore” in them, are opposite the jetty and are on the “beach” front. But to find a SWIMMING beach you usually have to travel about 20km on the world’s worst unsealed road. Thanks to Ted, we could finally do this.
22km and 9,235,076 potholes later we were lying on a deserted beach, with pristine white sand, and waves – the first we had seen for weeks.
January 22 – 23 – Scorched earth
The Port Lincoln Tunarama street procession was great fun. Everyone helps work on a float, they parade them down the main street, then finish at the “Tuna tossing arena”. If you’ve entered, you get to hurl a giant frozen tuna as far as possible, earning you the title of “World Champion Tuna Tosser”. The day’s festivities ended with a foreshore fireworks display, which we watched from Graham’s boat. A late night but well worth it.
We headed north the next morning and almost immediately came across the devastating effects of the fires around North Shields, Poonindie and Tumby Bay. Houses had been incinerated – some with just foundations remaining, one with only a cast iron bath to mark where it had been, but most with nothing to show that there had ever been a home there. Paddocks and stands of bush were completely burned away and scorched earth stretched as far as we could see. A still smouldering lunar landscape, acrid smelling, eerie and silent. But as evidenced the day before at the parade, the community spirit is quickly helping those in need to get back on their feet.
Saturday, 22nd January, 2005
January 19 – 21 – Safe haven in Port Lincoln
Ann walked out of the tourist info bureau with bad news – no accommodation at all! The big Tunarama Festival (Lincoln is the tuna capital of Australia) was starting on Saturday, media was in town, and accom was also needed for the many firefighters. We sat down on the foreshore to work out the next move, but must first check voice mail as we’ve been out of phone range for a few days. We had a call from Mary, the president of the Peninsula Pedallers, with an offer of a place to stay. Thanks to Norm from Victor Harbour for organising it.
Cyclists rule! Mary and Dean’s house is on a hill, but the breathtaking 180 degree view from the living room window makes the climb worth it. Dean is a carpenter, and he and Mary have achieved the most possible from renovating. Their garden is beautiful, although a little thirsty under the town’s water restrictions, with many “rooms” presenting different moods.
Mary organised an impromptu BBQ with a few members of the cycling club. Many members are in Adelaide watching the Tour Down Under, which is where we’re supposed to be now… but that is what television is for. The Tour highlights are screened late at night - sorry Deano, we forgot that chippies are up early!
We spend much of the next days sharing stories and relaxing… watching the ships pulling in at the grain terminal through Mary’s window; eating; soaking in the bath; eating; having a massage; eating…
Tomorrow we are off on a cycle ride around town with the cycle club, then to the Tunarama festival.
Perhaps there will be something to eat there…
January 16 – 18 – Wind, water and fire
We left Elliston late and reluctantly and rode off into the headwind.
The countryside was depressingly bleak and, you guessed it, wind blown. The land is very dry with an occasional silvery salt lake.
We arrived at Sheringa roadhouse at lunch time and decided to end the day there. Mark and Kate took over the shop a year ago and have really put an enormous amount of work into it – and they make the best hamburgers as well!! Real meat patties, lots of salad, and the size of a dinner plate – just how we like it. We were so full of lunch we didn’t need any dinner, and that’s really saying something where we’re concerned.
We stayed the night, had a great breakfast, then headed south.
Next “port” of call was at Mt. Dutton Bay, where we pulled over at a heritage listed, turn of the century woolshed. The woolshed is on the waterfront, facing the jetty. The original jetty was used to cart bales of wool from the shed to waiting skiffs.
Jacqui and Craig have taken over the woolshed and restored it. Craig is a carpenter by trade and has done most of the work himself.
Now a museum, the woolshed boasts an original woolpress and a collection of old tools found in the area. The original shearers’ beds are also on display – it is hard to imagine how a big burly shearer could fit into something so narrow. Luckily our bunks were much roomier. Organic fruit, eggs, sea breeze, all that’s needed for a great, restful stop. Craig has built a hostel adjoining the museum, it sleeps 36 but we had it all to ourselves. The fires are only a few kilometres up the road and people are staying away.
The next morning we rode through Wangary where the fires started. Huge areas of land have been burned barren. Trees are still smouldering. But rebuilding has already started – we can see new fence posts in the ground. A fire spotting helicopter hovers above us most of the day (we learn later it is fitted with infra red sensing equipment). Traffic is thick – utes full of furniture driving to Port Lincoln to help the relief effort, graders and dozers returning north after building huge fire breaks. After a few hours of climbing the next day we finally rolled down the hill into Port Lincoln.
Saturday, 15th January, 2005
January 15 – Out of the frying pan and into the fire
Sorry we are so behind in updating our website, and thank you to everyone who has sent us messages of concern. The Eyre Peninsula is on fire, but that is not the reason for the lack of posts. We’ve just been tired.
We are in Elliston, which has a lovely swimming beach and no sharks in the bay. It is too cold to swim (it was raining when we arrived yesterday) but it is lovely to sit on the dunes and look out to the water. I am sitting there now as I update the journal. We are having whiting and flathead for dinner, thanks to Glen’s successful fishing expedition this morning. We met Glen when we were both hanging up our laundry in the caravan park.
The Eyre Peninsula fires started last Tuesday near Port Lincoln, at the southern tip. Because of the extreme winds and intense heat the fire was soon out of control and burned an area of several hundred kilometres. There were huge property and stock losses, but worst of all nine people died trying to flee the fires. It has devastated the local communities emotionally as well as financially.
We will reach Dutton Bay on Tuesday, about 50km north of Port Lincoln. We are staying on a sheep station on the water’s edge. This is where the fires started, but the area is safe now. At Port Lincoln we will try to hire a car and drive ourselves and Argo to Port Augusta, as we don’t want to get in the way of emergency services and relief crews on the road.
We’ll let you know how we go.
January 11 - 14 – Too much Eyre
We’re sure the Eyre Peninsula is a wonderful place if you are a fisherman. It must be, or there wouldn’t be so many of them here. But it is not such a good place for cycling. The headwinds are ferocious and relentless. They start furiously in the morning and just when it seems that it is impossible for them to get worse they do, and then worse again, until you reach your destination and collapse in a heap. It doesn’t matter that there are no bicycle accessible swimming beaches because we are just too tired to move. We feel cheated of the holiday we thought we would be having here.
January 7 – 10 – A place to sit down and rest
The name Ceduna is believed to come from the Aboriginal Cheedoona, meaning a place to sit down and rest. This is very appropriate for us as the headwinds have really worn us down. I visit the supermarket twice a day just to look at the fresh fruit and vegetables. Our cabin in the caravan park has an oven, so I bake cupcakes (it is not big enough for a cake). I think I am getting kitchen withdrawal. Maureen, who shares our cupcakes, brings us some whiting they caught in their boat this morning. Maureen and her family come here every year for a fortnight to go fishing. The whiting is delicious and cooks in seconds.
We are very glad to finish the Nullarbor. It was not as hard as riding the section from Broome to Geraldton as the Nullarbour roadhouses are only a day or two apart and it was not as hot, so we didn’t need to carry as much water. But the journey was less rewarding, as the dramatic scenery, spectacular beaches and varied vegetation was missing. The saltbush upon saltbush and the winds wore us down.
Many cyclists cross the Nullarbour. Our official “I crossed the Nullarbour” certificates have boxes to tick for drove, walked, cycled and hitch hiked. Ironically the first Nullarbour crossing was in 1909 by bicycle, not by car. Frances Birtles took 44 days to cycle from Perth to Sydney. Not bad for an area without any sealed roads. In 1912 he repeated the journey by car – the first car crossing – in 28 days. Most cyclists talk about the crossing in glowing terms as a challenge they have overcome, but I don’t remember any describing it as fun or interesting.
While we got across the Nullarbor intact, our long suffering lemon of a camera did not. The shutter has broken and I have had it propped open with a piece of twig since Balladonia. We couldn’t face going through the marriage stressing process of another warranty repair so we picked up a new camera in Ceduna (thanks to mum for sourcing it in Sydney for us). That is what credit cards are for after all. Now all we need is some energy to take photos.
The weather is warm again at last (ok, make that hot) and we are looking forward to riding to some good swimming beaches. We have not been in the ocean since Esperance.
January 6-7 – Looking forward to getting off the Eyre
Edward John Eyre explored the district in November 1840, and according to the tourist brochure, “Eyre’s writings did nothing to create a favourable impression of the west coast. He reported on ‘dense scrubby country’, ‘steep sandy ridges’, and country which ‘looked very cheerless in every direction’.” Despite our brief night of luxurious indulgence at Nundroo we were inclined to agree with him.
Only two days to go until we are off the Nullarbour. We can’t wait. There is only so much saltbush a cyclist can look at, only so much headwind you can stand… well actually we can’t stand any headwind, but that’s part of cycling life along with a sore bottom, so cancel that comment.
On the road to Penong we met another cyclist travelling the same direction as us, the first on the Nullarbour. Kate is cycling for sustainability education for Unicef. Her ride around Australia demonstrates cycling as a sustainable activity. Pity water costs more per litre than petrol! Kate is a professional athlete, and while we are going on a bicycle ride Kate’s journey is an Expedition. She has obligations to sponsors and speaking engagements which mean she has to be in designated places at agreed times, people back home who don’t update her website, and lots of heavy photographic equipment to carry. As Kate disappears into the distance Ross and I think about how lucky we are to be enthusiastic amateurs arranging everything ourselves.
The country changes again and we can see we are nearing more populated areas. We are in wheat country now, and there are many windmills. Although it is still early, we stop at Penong for the night to recharge our batteries for the ride to Ceduna. There is fresh fruit here, a caravan park with a comfortable onsite van for $24 and rainwater to drink.
The ride to Ceduna is short but hard. The roads are narrow and winding, and traffic is heavier – but the trucks give us wide berth and we aren’t blown off the road. Our first site of Ceduna is the huge grain silos on the Thevenard Peninsula, looming like the Parthenon over the blue ocean. “I assume you’ve eaten all the fresh fruit you bought at Perth” says the customs officer as he waves us through the fruit fly inspection point. We can’t wait to hit the supermarket.
January 4-5 – Newsflash: the Nullarbour is not treeless and flat
Today was the day we really rode the Nullarbour Plain, about 20km of it. While the plain extends for hundreds of kilometres further north the Eyre Highway, and the commonly known Nullarbour crossing, avoids most of the plain. The plain is a great piece of limestone too barren to support much vegetation other than saltbush. The plain is lightly tilted and not as flat as it may seem in a car. The name comes from the Latin for treeless – null arbour, or no trees. The Aboriginal name for the area means waterless, which is probably more accurate as somehow one or two trees have managed to grow here. There are also a few rabbits, but no kangaroos – and correspondingly very little roadkill, which is great.
The day was cloudy and probably didn’t get over twenty degrees – we were cold, and the ever present headwind made it colder. And to think that mum is sitting at home imagining me with heat stroke.
As we approached the settlement of Yalata the country changed. It is surprisingly beautiful here – sandy with plentiful mature trees and rolling hills. Kangaroos are also abundant. Yalata is now a protected indigenous area (you need a permit to go whale watching from the cliffs). The Aboriginal Community here was relocated from Maralinga after nuclear tests were conducted there, in the 1950s.
After spending the night at Yalata Roadhouse we had a short ride to Nundroo, only 52km. We were glad the ride was short because it was hilly, the headwinds were powerful again, and we were still tired from our big 184kn day. Halfway up hill number seven (yes, we were counting, and each hill was about 2km to the crest), a ute pulled out suddenly from the bushes behind us. It was like it was lying in wait for us. Well, it was. A journalist and photographer from the Adelaide Advertiser had driven out to meet us. We did an interview mid hill and smiled for some authentically sweaty photos.
We got to Nundroo by lunchtime and got the surprise of our lives after checking in to the very ordinary looking cabin park next to the roadhouse. The cabin park was not part of the roadhouse, it was actually in the grounds of the local motor repairer. The cabins overlooked a paddock of dead cars. We were not expecting 4 star luxury – but that’s what we got! An annexe for Argo, well equipped kitchenette, a selection of reasonably current diet / Australian Idol / celebrity plastic surgery magazines, shampoo and my all time favourite, a hair dryer. Wow! I think the last time I saw such a device was in Brisbane!
January 3 – A big Bight
What? A TAILwind? You mean they do exist? And just to prove it, we got the mother of all tailwinds. It blew us most of the 184km to Nullarbour roadhouse – our biggest day ever – and our first tailwind since Queensland. The wind was so strong we couldn’t stop to rest without the wind threatening to blow us over. Eating was also a challenge as everything wanted to blow away on the way to our mouths although we are getting quite used to the taste of dust in our peanut butter. Good roughage you know.
Dave at Caiguna Roadhouse made a bet with us that we’d get tailwinds when we reached the border. The stake was a $5 donation to the National Stroke Foundation (if we won) or the Royal Flying Doctor Service (if Dave won). We thought the bet was a little unfair because we NEVER get tailwinds. We have NEVER been so happy to lose a bet – sorry NSF.
As well as being our first tailwind, this was also our first day on the Nullarbour with SCENERY. We rode along the edge of the Great Australian Bight (you know that scooped out bit at the bottom of the map). It was like riding along the edge of the world with the land suddenly dropping into nothingness, just an endless blue haze where sky and ocean are just one continuos mist. Every once in a while we would detour along a dirt road to the edge of the cliffs, battling valiantly against the wind to stay upright. It really looks as if some giant creature has taken a bight out of the continent.
January 2 – Where are we and what time is it?
We crossed the border today from Western Australia into South Australia. We spent the night at Border Village. Border Village keeps the same time as Eucla, which is 45 minutes ahead of WA and 1 hour and 45 minutes behind South Australia. It is only when you pass the big kangaroo statue at the roadhouse that you change to SA time, which is thirty minutes behind eastern time. We decided the best way not to confuse our bodies was to just eat and sleep all the time, which is what our bodies keep asking us to do anyway.
We had a great meal here – a huge bowl of REAL vegetables (not frozen or reconstituted) for Ann and bangers and mash for Ross. Our best roadhouse meal ever! Next morning, thanks to the timezones, we got to sleep in until 5.30am (post kangaroo time) and hit the road.
Sunday, 2nd January, 2005
December 31 – January 1 – Christmas in time for New Year
It seemed we’d only just gone to bed when it was time to get up at 3am again. We were packed, loaded and rolling by 3.45am. Thank goodness we didn’t have to deal with yesterday’s winds again – the day started with cross winds and the headwinds only took over in the last 20km. The road was quiet and the day was cloudy and cool. We made Eucla before 10am.
First stop was a visit to Sue at the Silverchain Nursing Post. Sue had very kindly received mail for us: a food parcel we sent ourselves from Esperance (Ryvita, muesli bars and Weetbix), a Christmas parcel from Ross’s mum (yes, the famous pud!) and cards from friends. We couldn’t wait to check into the motel room Sue had reserved for us for some serious eating and reading. And of course some sleep. Needless to say we didn’t stay up to watch any fireworks on TV. Being in bed asleep is the best way to see in the New Year. I resolve to get more early nights.
Adam from the Eucla Met Office gave us a custom made weather forecast. New Year’s Day would be unrideable, but the next few days would have favourable winds and bearable temperatures. Too bad, another day off. Good chance to finally update the website after more than a week without Internet access, maintain the bike, wash the clothes and generally be horizontal.
Eucla has about 40 permanent residents, including children. Sue rounded up some of the adults for a talk at the community centre. Then back to bed. Good night!
December 30 – Riding in a fan forced oven
We knew today would be tough: 115km into gale force headwinds is like riding triple the distance. So we got up at 3am to try and beat the winds. As usual the wind beat us by getting up even earlier. Actually we don’t think the wind really went to bed; it sat up all night having a strategy session on how best to harass us. It came up with the winning formula: heat.
Eye-ball scalding, lung searing heat, and nowhere to hide. By midday I was yelling into the wind “ok, I admit defeat, you can stop now.” By 2pm I couldn’t even whimper. The road was lined with dessicated kangaroo corpses. I knew just how they felt. The little water we had left was hot enough to brew tea.
A few cars passed us on the road. Most slowed, took a photo then sped off. They didn’t smile, or wave, or even wind their windows down (aah, air conditioning). Only one couple offered us water. Anne Marie and Roland left France six years ago to sail around the world. They are taking a short break to drive around Australia while their boat rests in Brisbane, waiting out the wet season. We talked in the blazing sun for more than half an hour. It is amazing how good a conversation you can have with so few words. They probably saved our lives.
Finally we rolled into Mundrabilla roadhouse. First a beer, then some packaged fruit salad, followed by a cold shower. Just as the light faded, a cooling, blustering wind arrived from the west. Tailwind.
December 26 -29 – Rain in the desert
Sleeping in… what a great feeling. Sleeping in with the sound of rain on a tin roof… what a fantastic feeling! As soon as it had started it finished. Settled the dust. We finally got up for brunch and walked to the café – a bicycle was perched next to the door. A Japanese guy was ordering a drink to go with his huge plate of chips, but conversation was secondary to food. We understood.
Peter, one of the staff we had lunch with yesterday, came over for a chat on his tea break Most people who work at the roadhouses are travellers themselves, sometimes just having a break or needing some extra funds for the next part of the journey. Peter and Donna now lived in an old converted bus and will probably head to the south west when the weather gets too hot.
We spent most of the day relaxing, doing some bike maintenance, and getting packed for the next couple of days. Ann was given a donation by a truck driver, Mark. Mark was heading to Perth and promised to stop and say hi on the return journey to Adelaide. He thought he’d catch us near Nullarbor Roadhouse and offered us a lift. What more appropriate way to see the Nullarbor than by road train? But Ross says that is cheating. Pity.
Up early next morning to grind our way to Cocklebiddy. Less than 70km but it takes us eight hours as we fight the powerful gale. But at least the wind takes the dead roo smell away quickly – the road is littered with them. We see many live roos too. They move amazingly quickly, and look spectacular in full flight Qantas style. Otherwise the land is stark and barren.
Another hard grind against the relentless wind to Madura. The land is less featureless, with small hills building to a long descent as we reach the Madura Pass. Traffic has picked up – the roads are full of travellers racing home for New Year. It is getting hotter now, and we pull in sweatily to the roadhouse. The grounds are swarming with police. They tell us they are following a group of bikies heading for their annual gathering in Perth “to make sure they stay out of trouble”. There seem to be more police than bikies – which is a good thing for us as the police give us a donation for the Stroke Foundation.
The managers of the motel are very friendly, there is a pool, it is going to be even hotter tomorrow… so we decide to stay and have a day off.