Adelaide to Melbourne - Unsupported
by Nick Cowling

In my enthusiasm to squeeze the most out of the holiday season, I
thought it only logical to combine the family trip to visit relatives in Adelaide for Christmas  with a little bike riding.
The new "Bob Yak" trailer that 'Santa' had so graciously provided needed a run, while the 'Ironhorse' was always up for a journey. I made a few modifications, new rear tyre and brake pads, a general service at the bike shop, attached my old pannier frame and ancient panniers and a rear pack rack I had laying round, along with a wimpy sounding yellow air horn. I had cruised the "Bob" Chat website in an effort to pick up some touring tips, The outlaw sounding Dalton brothers out of west Texas are prolific posters
who while touring subscribe to the fabulous furry freak brothers philosophy: "Better to pack it and not need it than need it and not pack it". With this in mind I made a list, checking it twice: A standard bike tool kit, 3 tubes, a couple of spokes, a spare foldable tyre, clothing, 2
pairs of knicks, shorts, thongs, tracky dacks, (I wanted to fit in with South Australia), a small tucker box containing dried foods, beef jerky and sardines, extra water bottles, tent,sleeping bag and self inflating camping mat. There must have been a whole lot more because not a pannier pocket or pack space was left unfilled. I mean I wouldn't have packed anymore if I was riding to India for heavens sake!

All up I was hauling about 35 kilos of gear, half of which I wouldn't need, bloody Daltons!

After a Christmas lunch spent feasting on several tasty species of
animal whilst imbibing a good quantity of excellent quality Bombay Sapphire Gin
(Thanks Andy) I dozed off reading in the afternoon. Waking fitfully
periodically feeling apprehensive, I could feel the tension building
especially when the relo's kept up with; "Your bloody crazy to be riding
back to Melbourne, if the trucks don't get you the heat and ferals (people
not animals) will".

Great!

Boxing day morning, Therese drops me at the highway, I'm nervous,
hitching up the Bob doing last minute checks, delaying things, no going back now its
Melbourne or bust, not wanting to think what bust may mean. "See you in a
few days", and then I'm off along the highway headed for Murray Bridge and
beyond, apart from a fully laden ride round the neighbourhood a few days
back I hadn't done any riding with the trailer attached. It took some
concentration and getting used too, thankfully the road was clear with good
visibility. It was hot but not yet oppressively so.

After an hour or so I was into a nice rhythm, feeling pretty good. Lots
of little downhills with corresponding slight up hills that allowed me to
develop some confidence manoevouring Bob, heading down into Murray Bridge
the tarmac like verge gives way to gravel and I was thankful for the extra
grip that the mountain bike tyres offered, also the dampening effect of the
front shocks made for a more forgiving ride. Its one lane only crossing at
Murray Bridge, no room for me to mix it with the trucks and 4WD's so I
choose the oddly named 'Emergency Footpath' on the left hand side of the
bridge to cross, at about 10cm high and 50cm across it was somewhat
precarious as buffeted by the wind I inched my way across as B Doubles
thundered past and the waist high railing offered only scant protection
from a 20 meter drop into the brown waters of the mighty Murray, certainly
not a bike friendly environment, I slipped a couple of times almost falling
onto the road, now I know why they call it the 'Emergency Footpath'

It was heating up quite a bit now and when I rolled on in to Tailem Bend
about 3pm I was on the look out for a shady place to set up camp, the
'Rivers Edge' Caravan Park offered a site for $10.00 that boasted use of
'All facilities' ie tank water for drinking, 2 communal toilets, a leaky
shower and 'games room' which was closed. Rivers Edge or should that be
Razors Edge is a narrow strip of land squeezed between the highway and the
river, full of fibro shacks and permanent residents, I guess you would call
them the rural poor or Howard's battlers although they weren't feeling too
relaxed and comfortable. A kid watched me make up camp from a safe distance
once I was set up he wandered over to say: "I wouldn't camp here if I were
you, there's a big nest of redbacks", and then he walked away. I sat on my
foldable chair reading when a football smashed into the side of my tent a
few blokes were playing kick to kick and I happened to camp where they like
to kick. "Have a kick mate", so I kicked the ball for a bit and got talking
to Trevor and his mate DJ, permanent park residents. Trev was quite handy
with the footy but reckoned the bongs and beer had done him in. Trev spent
his time doing a little fishing and casual jobs sometimes at the meatworks
in Murray Bridge and sometimes erecting farm sheds, Always casual though
because there is no full time work going. DJ did a poor impersonation of an
American rapper only speaking in general statements, such as , "I'm down
with your bike bro" just as I was feeling comfortable with these lads they
got nasty with another park resident who wandered into Trev's van and took
a beer from the fridge. I excused myself and after a solitary dinner from
my tuckerbox, fell asleep to the almost indistinguishable sounds of little
corellas screeching and park residents fighting.

Day two and its 130 kilometers from Taliem Bend to my next stop Keith.
I get an early start and am out on the road by 6.30am in an effort to beat
the heat. Its expected to be 38 degrees today. I follow the Dukes Highway
across what was once marginal Mallee country to what is now marginal
farming country, mostly lucerne, wheat and a few surprised looking sheep.
Along the southern side of the highway a pipeline pumping water from the
Murray at Tailem Bend snakes its way to Keith. It's for irrigation only,
the locals drink only tank or bottled water which is cheap and thankfully
for sale everywhere. Its Hot! The north wind is strong, hot, and relentless
The hay on either side of the road has been cropped and the stubble burnt,
you can smell and feel the fire even though its passed. Huge dust clouds
form on the horizon over newly ploughed fields and Willy Willys seem to be
everywhere. In my mind everything is derivative and I keep thinking about
Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz, or worse the Grapes of Wrath. Its that kind
of country.

A ute blows its air horn as it passes me. I'm so startled its all I can do
to hold the Bob together and give them the finger at the same time. A
minute latter as I come to the top of a rise I see the Ute parked by the
side of the road a couple of hundred meters away, the driver gets out
replete with blue singlet and cowboy hat, the old HQ Ute is festooned with
arials and roo bars. Maybe they got lost on the way back from the
'Deniliquin Ute muster' ? I feel decidedly uneasy and vulnerable, visions
of 'Easy Rider' flash to mind, I'm not able to out run them so instead I
glide gently to my destiny.

"That's a pretty cool looking rig you got there mate", says the driver.
His mate nods by way of saying hello, turns out Stevo and Mick are from Young
in NSW and were down for a B&S ball.  Stevo did a bit of riding himself and
was interested in how the Bob tracked the back wheel. He reckoned he could
knock up something similar himself on the farm. After a bit more small talk
I bade the boys farewell, as the Ute roared off into the haze. I was left
to push on in the heat with desert either side of me, past the Cooke plains
and Coomandook with its giant grain silos and then passing through Yumali I
had a crisis of confidence. It is only day two and I am suffering, this
damn heat its a full 38c now and the fierce desert wind makes it even
hotter. I feel my resolve wilting and the energy being drained from me, I
am manic about water, carrying 8 to 10 litres with me at all times,
checking my map to make sure I can calculate my use before the next town or
roadside stop where water is available.

At Coonaplyn I stop under a shop awning eat a little and rest up, but
for just a few minutes so I don't cool down completely. Then its on to the
'Tintingra Roadhouse'  a sign on the door says 'Restrooms for use by
roadhouse customers only'. I laugh to myself, I mean we are out here in the
middle of nowhere where everybody is just passing through on the way to
somewhere else. Do they imagine that people are sneaking about looking to
have a cunning crap without purchasing anything from the Roadhouse? A truck
driver there swears we shared a drink together in Brisbane a few months
back. It took some convincing on my part to assure him it wasn't me, he
reckoned I was mad anyway and like he told me in Brisbane. "You shouldn't
be on the highway on a bike" (This is despite the fact that riding is
entirely legal, signs saying 'Bicycles Exempted' are common along the
highway).

Even on the highway moving through this landscape I have the sense that
'The Coorong' is an ancient and secretive place, indifferent to human
endeavour. Not far from here they found Aboriginal burial sites and middens
estimated to be 50,000 years old. This was once the home of the
Ngarrindjeri People and I wished a few of them were still around. I wonder
how much the low mallee scrub, saltbush and Spinifex country has changed
due to modern agricultural intervention. The stump jump plough may have
opened up the country however intensive farming, soil erosion and salinity
are killing it.

I ride slowly, silently, more silent than the wind, and I see things
that you don't see in an air conditioned bubble travelling at 100ks an hour, yet
I think how I would like that air conditioning right now. Wildlife abounds
in this apparently inhospitable place, unfortunately most of it is dead.
Reconstituted roos, pulverised parrots and assorted indeterminable animal
carcases litter the roadside, however everything smells the same when its
dead and rotting in the sun. Blue Tongue lizards, Tiger snakes, Eastern
Grey Kangaroos, Echidnas, and Goannas are all very much alive and active.
Birds are in abundance, and while I can real off a dozen or so of the more
common and recognisable ones: Little Corellas, Sulphur Crested Cockatoo,
Pink Galah, Rainbow Lorikeet, Crimson Rosella, Yellow tailed Black
Cockatoo, Major Mitchell Cockatoos, Grass Parrots, Wedge Tailed Eagles,
Magpies, Pelicans, Quail and Wattle Birds. I am frustrated by my inability
to identify and understand more of what I see around me. A largish bird
with blue wings and a yellow breast, a small red one, a spotted one in that
tree. Likewise with the trees themselves; sure its low laying mallee scrub
eucalypts and stately sugar gums, with Red gums by the dried water course's
and creeks. Some are still flowering, a lemon scented gum perhaps?  While
others seem to be producing fruit, are they all native or endemic to this
region? I don't know but feel I should. I peddle on, an alien in an alien
environment, to Keith as a storm brews to the North West.

Day 3 Keith to Nhill 130 kilometers. I didn't mean to ride this far,
but the road has a mesmerising effect. Some form of white line fever I guess.
It felt good riding today, sure it was hot but I expected that, perhaps I'm
falling into a routine, after a magnificent sunset and a good night's sleep
in the Keith Caravan Park ($10.00)  I was out early again. It's great to be
able to pull into a place unpack bob, have a meal from the tuckerbox, get
comfortable and be self supporting. I could get used to this. People toot
me on the road all the time, its difficult to determine what the toot
means. I decide that one long toot is aggressive and unfriendly, while two
or three short toots in succession is friendly and supportive. In which
case I wave acknowledgement or toot back. Sometimes people just throw
stuff, an apple here, an orange there, a child's soft toy on one occasion.
The chuckers are only ever guys in cars with their mates, never single
occupant drivers.

A bloke in a clapped out Ford Escort toots a couple of times and I wave
back. He stops a little further down the road and I pull in along side as
he gets out. I'm concerned that he leaves the engine running. Tony is a big
man who reckons he has done a lot of cycling, it must have been in the past
because Tony at close to 20 stone in the old money looks as if he was
struggling to get out of the Escort. He shares an orange with me for which
I am grateful. However, its hot about 35 degrees, mid morning and with that
biting heat wave nipping at my heals I'm keen to keep going. Tony asked me
about my bum, hows it going, is it sore? I laugh this off saying I have an
old calloused arse from years of riding and have felt nothing in the
neither regions for some time, the creep meter is rising though. Tony says
he has some 'special cream' I say thanks but no thanks I need to get going.
Tony's insistent and gives me some of his 'Emu Oil' preparation which he
had decentered into a small jar. It was half full and I couldn't help but
wonder why this guy kept a jar of his 'Special cream' close at hand so to
speak. It didn't warrant too much thought and I waved Tony goodbye.

I make Bordertown at lunchtime turning off the highway. I stop at a
bakery for a sausage roll and the weakest 'strong flat white' I have ever had. I
visit the "Hawke House'' the childhood home of Bob Hawke which is rather
stately and well preserved, not unlike the good man himself.

Its hot, But I'm pumped up and peddling hard, fed and watered well I
cross the border at a roadside wee stop. Time to turn the watch forward 1/2 hour
and 10 years .The road surface changes almost immediately as you enter
Victoria. Its much better to ride on. A further 30 ks up the road I hit
Kaniva, time to stop for that strong coffee and a sticky bun. The women at
the cafe says sit down and I will bring it over, when she does Julie has a
tray with two cups of coffee and proceeds to sit down herself for a bit of
a chat.  "So tell me, are you mad, or is this just some kind of stunt?"
Julies direct question got a genuine response; " I just like to ride and I
had the perfect opportunity while visiting Adelaide on holidays to ride
back." When I paid I was given extra sandwiches for the journey, along with
Julies best wishes, she did like the skull an crossbones pirate flag  I had
flying off the flagpole attached to bob.

Ever onwards,through the shimmering heat of the afternoon I ride the
further 40 kilometers to Nhill. I stopped at a chemist for more sunscreen
and lipbalm. I innocently ask what day it is, having momentarily lost track
of time in trying to calculate if I will be back in Melbourne before the
new year. "Its Wednesday all day love" says the manager sardonically.
Perhaps im suffering a little sunstroke it was 38 degrees again today and
they say it will be even hotter tomorrow, but I sit in the shade servicing
the bike picking stones and melted tar out of the spaces between the
knobbly bits of the tyre.

At the Nhill Caravan Park ($10.00) they had pet sheep tethered to the
lawn, someone had altered one of the signs to read "Sheep are for the use of Park
residents Only". I set up camp to a deafening chorus of corellas and
cicadas, the north wind was relentless, after a shower and a feed from the
tuckerbox, I was visited by a bloke named Shane who claims he was planning
a bike ride down from Darwin to Melbourne hauling a bob in May next year.
We chatted bikes for a bit, later on I meat a guy Tim walking his daughter
in a pram. Turns out Tim was a journalist and former industrial reporter
for the Age. We got talking about IR laws, Terrorism, Race Riots, Road Rage
and the promotion of fear of the 'other' in Australian politics. We shared
a concern about the future direction of our country but agreed that
individual people such as our goodselves, that you meet on a daily basis
were great.

Day 4 Nhill to Stawell 140 kilometers. Hot! Hot! Hot! Another stinker,
literally, the roadkill was ripe today, so was the eucalyptus smell you get
on hot days in the bush. Its so hot at times its hard to breath, I keep the
water up and pray I don't have any mechanical problems, at least I'm
finished with the desert now. Its more open woodland farms and vineyards at
Great Western and outside Ararat where I stop for coffee.  At 9am its 32
degrees expected to reach 42 degrees mid morning. I stop at the pink lake
outside Dimboola I had heard of the sublime experience of watching Pink
Major Mitchell's fly over the Pink Lake but its too hot and any birds have
already sought cover for the day. The lake does look magnificent though, a
deep pink ringed white by drying salt set against a cloudless blue sky
alongside golden wheat fields. I cross the Wimmera River and stop briefly
at Horsham for food and water. Its hotter than I realise when I get off the
bike and I wonder about the merits of continuing on any further today.
Riding on towards Dadswell Bridge, I have a lot more shade and tree cover
in this heavily wooded country on the North-western tip of the Grampians.
The Mt Difficult escarpment on my right has a wow factor and I spend my
time Koala spotting in the trees.

I pass an abandoned farmhouse with stock grazing in what was once the
front yard,heirloom varieties of Quince, Crab Apple, and my favourite Green Gages
(Plums) are fruiting, I help myself to this unexpected bounty , gorging on
the plums which are shared with   lizards and locusts which are both
seemingly in plague proportions.

At Dadswell Bridge I stop at the Giant Koala, where the shop owner
gives me an extra bag of lollies "to keep your energy up" when I'm buying water.  A
clutch of Japanese tourists bored with shooting Koalas and each other
gather round me for some happy snaps.The girls giggle , everybody loves Bob.
I arrive in Stawell round 5pm Hot and exhausted. The Grampians Gate
Caravan Park is only $7.00 a night "You can camp down the back next to that
other mad bastard" said the manager. I introduce myself to Colin a computer
programmer from Hawthorn who is cycling round the Grampians doing a
leisurely 30 to 40 kilometers a day when it suits. Our chatting is
interrupted by the owners sons who proceed to set up several large cat trap
cages in and around our campsite. "I'm in the second shack over there ,
just give us hoy when we got one will ya fellas? youse will know they
scream like buggery. Buggers always fail their bronze medal though". His
way of saying he drowns the feral cats in the swamp behind my tent. Above
me the pink Galah's laugh their heads off, while Australian Ravens and
Little White Corellas flock together , they seem to get along which makes
me wonder about the origin of the Magpie ?

Day 5 Stawell to Ballarat 125 kilometers Hot! Hot! Hot! perhaps the
hardest day riding of all, It will get to 41c today, a record temperature for
Ballarat.Its so hot at times the searing north wind makes me shiver and I
feel a little nauseous, Each day it gets hotter and I feel any minute I
will be overtaken by the next hot day promised but yet to come. roadside
gravel is sticking to my tyres so occasionally I reach down and run my
gloved hand over the front wheel to dislodge the stuff, my glove ends up
sticky from the rubber and tar thus sticking to the rubber of the handgrips
on my bars.I'm wilting like a garden in the north wind that gets dried out,
I can feel myself physically changing, I have done harder rides before over
longer distances but that was over single days, today I had to dig deep,
and call on my cyclist heart, while most  healthy people can get on a bike
and ride 130 kilometers in hot conditions carrying a 35 kilo trailer, Its
the combined effect of doing this for the last 5 days that's getting to me,
I'm a little strung out and emotional, I wont be defeated, I will keep
riding until I fall off if I have too, I stop at Beaufort for a feed and to
take on more water,  50ks to Ballarat, as a reward I promise myself a motel
room tonight, with a shower and air conditioning, That last 50ks takes me
almost 4 hours and despite the heat I actually enjoyed myself today, the
landscape was interesting and at one magical point I was surrounded  by a
flock or is that swarm of Monarch Butterflies who kept pace with me on the
road, perhaps I gave off moisture or offered some shade but they were with
me for a long time, It must have made a interesting site for passing
motorists

I ride past an apparently perfectly serviceable electric kettle, left
on a gatepost , a few hundred meters on a toaster, then a Dinner plate  cup &
saucer , intrigued I keep a look out for the tea pot and jar of jam however
they are missing from this impromptu individual piece of installation art,
I'm reminded of that scene often repeated in the movies where they have to
lighten the load to avoid disaster, by disgrading the extra weight embodied
in possessions.

I pulled into the Best Western at Bakery Hill in Ballarat ($70.00) and
within minutes I was showered and reviving in air conditioned comfort,  I
have a macca's salad for dinner with a side order of salty chips ,I will be
home tomorrow only 100 kilometers to go, will need to get an early start
though as the expected top for Melbourne tomorrow is 42c.

Day 6 Ballarat to Footscray, I start riding early just after 5am its
still dark so Bob and I have lights on, not much traffic on the road at this
hour, Its still hot and you just know when that sun comes up its going to
get worse.I have a good run up Woodman's Hill and just past Wallace I stop
by the roadside to re-fresh my water bottle, when riding off I get a flat
almost straight away, Its the back wheel as well, I unhitch the bob, take
off the panniers to get to the back wheel , get the wheel off and go about
changing my first flat tyre for the trip, With a set of pliers I pull out a
small piece of wire which has worked  its way through the Kevlar

I take the opportunity to clean up the rear cluster and adjust the
breaks, 1/2 hour latter I'm repacked hitched up and back on the road as the sun
breaks through and things start to heat up.

Its a great downhill run through the Pentland Hills and before I know
it I'm in Bacchus Marsh, this is home territory now as I have ridden through
here a number of times, Its only Anthony's cutting two steep downhills and
a couple of torturous uphill climbs and its on to Melton, I drop it into
the lowest gear possible and make it up Anthony's cutting, no mean feet
without a bob, I allow myself a little pump of the fist as I crest the last
rise ,, a slight downhill all the way now to Caroline Springs through Deer
Park and Sunshine I need to concentrate more now in suburban traffic,I'm in
Footscray now and my journey is coming to its inevitable conclusion. I
round the corner to home just before 12.00  and the heat of the day thank
heavens.

So that's it 750 kilometers from Adelaide to Melbourne unsupported in 5
and a half days, but in effect I wasn't unsupported at all, everywhere I went I
meant great people who went out of their way to support me, I conclude that
people are good and we have nothing to fear from each other in fact fear
keeps us from each other.

As for the ride itself ,Sure I could have done it quicker and without
half the stuff I carried in the Bob and I could have done it at a cooler time of
year, but I managed to do it and get a small taste of what it will be like
when I do the round Australia Ride.

Help save the Westgate Punt

Like the Orange Bellied Parrot, The Westgate Punt is an endangered species!