Nedly on his Treadly: October 2014

Day 4: Basin View to Lilli Pilli

Our campsite at Basin View.

The view of the placid St Georges Basin from our camp site.

This morning I was the first awake again. Actually it seemed like I was the first awake every morning, and I'm not even normally a morning person, so I'm taking every opportunity to brag about that! The process would be that I would wake up as the sun came up, then I'd pack up my bed and in doing so, wake Josh up since we were both using my tent. So Josh would get up and we'd be talking, which would then wake Rosie up, and then we'd all get up and eat breakfast - one of my favourite parts of the day.

We set off just after 9 am and rode out to the Princes Highway which was the only option. The riding was a little hilly and fairly pleasant; there was a decent shoulder on the road which is always good.

Riding out of our campsite at Basin View.

On the Princes Highway heading towards Ulladulla.

View of the coast from Ulladulla Lighthouse.

Ulladulla Lighthouse.

We stopped in at Ulladulla for lunch by the beach, and had a decent chat to a Canadian woman who was now living in the town and had just been surfing.

Lunch in Warden Head Reserve, Ulladulla.

Then it was a solid ride to Bateman's Bay where we stopped for a break. Then we rode along the beach as the sun was setting and it was getting dark.

Me and Josh at Batemans Bay.

Me and Josh at Batemans Bay. What was so funny? Not sure...

Josh at Batemans Bay.

Batemans Bay

Bateman's Bay

Rosie and Josh riding out from Batemans Bay.

Riding out from Batemans Bay as the sun was setting.

We were on the look out for a fish and chip shop so that we didn't have to cook (and because fish and chips are delicious) but Rosie was dragging her feet and didn't want to go much further. I was happy to go as far as required to find a fish and chip shop. Rosie reluctantly kept going until we got to Malua Bay where we finally found not one, but two fish and chip shops! We picked the one we liked the look of more (obviously) and ordered fish, chips and potato cakes (potato scallops for the New-South Welsh).

Out the front of the shop I started chatting to a friendly bloke called Adrian, who was living in Narooma. We chatted about bikes and touring, because he was planning to do a big month-long trip between somewhere and somewhere else, where somewhere else was a significant distance from somewhere. Sorry - the names escape my memory now. He knew Huw from Commuter Cycles too - the shop where I had some of my Long Haul Trucker touring bike built up. And what's more, he kindly offered for us to stay at his place in Narooma, and left me with his mobile number so we could call him when we got there.

The fish and chips were very delicious, by the way! But then we had to figure out where we would camp. We loitered in the street outside the shop, and a woman walking her dog stopped to talk to us. She gave us a tip-off for a good camping spot at Lilli Pilli Beach, which was just a few hills back up the road from where we'd come. She even offered for us to set the tents up in the back yard, or to stop in for some cups of tea or showers, which was very kind of her! And gave us her number so we could take her offer if we wanted.

We found the little beach she was talking about, and decided to camp there. A bit sandy and I'm not much a fan of sand because it gets into everything, but not a bad spot really.

Josh's Perspective

This was the best day of the trip.

If it wasn’t for this day, my whole perception of the tour may well have fallen helplessly into the category of ‘bad idea’.

For one whole day, sunrise to shut eye, we had fun.

For the first time on the tour, sunscreen imposed itself as a necessity, where it had previously been just an experiment in the power of positive thought. 23 degrees and cloudless.

It’s amazing what good weather does for people’s moods. We stopped in at a supermarket in Ulladulla for fresh lunch supplies, and it was like coming home. Again and again people would pause their shopping to chat with us; “where are you riding from?”, “where are you going?”, “oh really?! Is this for charity?”, “we saw you back up the road, you’re making good time!”. It was like this most places we went, but this day especially. I guess people could sense our positivity, which made us more approachable. Usually people were stopping because they thought we might need help.

We wanted to take our sandwich materials somewhere picturesque, so Ned led us to a surfing beach near a lighthouse. Good views aid digestion. When we were settled on the grass in the shade of a tree busily performing our lunch ritual, we were joined by a Canadian woman who’d just been dumped by a wave well beyond her surfing skill, who had the air of someone who’d just narrowly avoided death and was pretty grateful to be alive. We talked to her for at least half an hour, though we didn’t offer her a sandwich. I’m not sure why. The sandwiches were particularly good that day, perhaps too good to share. We were in a hurry anyway, we had to take advantage of the fair weather.

Normally the riding order of the group went: Ned, Rosie, then me (though it was sometimes me then Rosie). But Ned was almost always first. This is because riding up front is hard work. You have to take all the wind resistance while dragging along those following, who really only have to overcome the friction of tyre on road. But between Ulladulla and Batemans Bay, just over 50kms, I went first. Every hill was magnified, and every downhill was an effort of great concentration as each dozen rotations of the pedals necessitated a quick and careful glance back to ensure the person following behind was close enough to make the whole endeavor worthwhile. On top of this, a pace must be set that is slow enough to be sustainable and fast enough to not frustrate the riders behind. By the time we rolled down the hill into Batemans Bay I was exhausted, but entirely satisfied. I’d been a leader in the company of Generals; my chest inflated with pride.

Batemans Bay is a gorgeous town. I strongly recommend you go there. In fact, I strongly recommend you ride there.

We were on our way out of Batemans Bay, riding along the beach with the sun setting at our backs, when Rosie’s speedo ticked over to 100kms for the day. The first time I’d ever cracked the ton. I fist pumped the air, and Rosie shared in my celebration. I don’t think Ned quite understood what the big deal was.

Again the magnificence of the ‘average Australian’ revealed itself, when a gentleman walking his dog told us exactly what we wanted to hear in that not only was there a fish and chip shop in Malua Bay, but there were TWO fish and chip shops in Malua Bay; he even told us where to find them.

Ned and Rosie chatted to another champion Australian outside the fish and chip shop, while I rang home (homes) to prove my continuing existence to worried parents. This chap was a tourer himself, and after he’d gone and we were ordering our tea, he came all the way back again to give us his phone number so that we could give him a ring when we made it down to his hometown in a few days.

After a thoroughly satisfying meal we were out into the cold again to look for somewhere to camp, and, again, a very helpful lady walking her dog came to our rescue and described to us a wonderful little secluded beach a few k’s back up the road. And if that failed we were to ring her and she’d direct us to her house. Australians!

The beach was just as she described it.

After some fruitcake and some time to marvel at the stars, I fell asleep to thoughts of the Bhagavad Gita, and the universe was just as it should be.

If I could bottle day 4, I’d put a label on it saying “warm and fuzzy feelings”, and I’d swig on it whenever I lost enthusiasm for the world.

Destination	Distance (km)	Moving Time (h:mm:ss)	Elapsed Time (h:mm:ss)	Elevation (m)	Average Speed (km/h)	Maximum Speed (km/h)
Day 4: Basin View to Lilli Pilli	115.3	6:04:27	11:00:38	1,474	19.0	62.3

Day 5: Lilli Pilli to Bermagui

View from the tent of the sun coming up over the ocean.

Lilli Pilli Beach.

Our campsite at Lilli Pilli Beach.

Lilli Pilli Beach.

Lilli Pilli Beach

I woke up with the sun again, and went for a walk before Josh and Rosie were up. It was a beautiful beach! And it looked to be a beautiful day too! There were a few old men going for a swim, presumably locals. As I was walking back, I spotted Rosie and Josh going in for a swim too. "Well I'm not going to be the only one not going for a refreshing swim!" I thought.

A quick swim at Lilli Pilli Beach.

Me after a quick dip in the ocean.

Josh the pirate.

We packed up and relocated to a table nearby for breakfast before we were on the road again.

Breakfast at Lilli Pilli Beach.

On North Head Drive near Moruya with one of the few other road cyclists we saw on the trip.

We stopped for a break in Moruya and then at Bodella where there was a little cheese factory. We took advantage of some free cheese samples for tasting, and bought a little block for later as well. And we also ate the rest of the cous cous salad for first lunch.

The Bodella cheese factory.

The next town was Dalmeny, which had a great bike path ride beside the coast.

Rosie and Ned in Dalmeny.

Rosie and Josh in Dalmeny.

Then on to Narooma. It was only early afternoon, so it was too early to stop there and take up Adrian's offer to stay at his place (the bloke we met in Malua Bay who'd offered to have us stay).We were back on the Princes Highway, which we had been on for sections here and there, though we tried to take the smaller roads closer to the coast wherever we could. We came to little alternate route which went inland via Tilba and I convinced Josh and Rosie that we should take it (Rosie was reluctant to ride further than required at that point). I'm glad we took it though, because Central Tilba was a beautiful little historic town. It looks as though it was from the 1850's, except for the modern cars on the street. We stopped there for second lunch, and then went through Tilba Tilba, past Wallaga Lake where we'd been advised not to stay because it was an aboriginal camp, and made it to Bermagui just on dark. We had a bit of a look around, and there seemed to be multiple good spots to camp, which was convenient.

The Dromedary Hotel in Central Tilba.

Corkhill Drive between Central Tilba and Tilba Tilba.

Wallaga Lake.

For dinner we saved ourselves from cooking and ordered a few large pizza's.
The town was pretty dead, it almost felt like we had the place to ourselves. I guess a lot of those towns along the coast are substantially busier in the summer when tourists and holiday-makers swell the populations. There did seem to be a lot of empty holiday houses in many of those towns we went through.

Josh's Perspective

The best way to start the day in my book is a brisk swim in the ocean; and day 5 started well. Again Ned was late to the party, but this gave Rosie the chance to whip out her fancy camera and capture him in action. I’ve never seen Bay Watch, but from the references to it that I have seen, I feel like these images would find a natural home there. Ned’s far too modest to put them here, but just between you and me, the man is an Adonis.

We were able to follow the coast for most of the morning, and I was relieved at coming across long stretches of flat road after what had pretty well been 4 days of climbing. But we were soon forced back inland to the A1.

Tensions had begun to congeal just beneath the surface of our little group. “I must be on my guard” I thought to myself. Be positive. Be constructive. Be proactive. Don’t be a prick.

In a sea of paddocks and farmland, we came across a little oasis, where we found somewhere for first lunch, and the answer to my cheesy prayers: the Bodella Cheese Factory. Despite my urgings, we didn’t end up loading all free space on our bikes with the local produce. But we did have a decent tasting session, and we did get one little sampler block for the road.

Enthusiasm renewed!

I don’t really remember going through Narooma, but it looks quite nice on google street view. I must have had other things on my mind.

It was hard going that afternoon, as the hills imposed themselves once again. Rosie and I were beginning to tire, and so when Ned suggested we take a D-tour to Central Tilba and Tilba Tilba, which basically just looked like another big hill from my somewhat pessimistic perspective, we were not easily convinced. But Ned’s energy to explore outweighed our energy to resist, so off we went.

And it’s a good thing we did. Tilba Tilba is a charming little imitation historical town, but it was the landscape between Central Tilba and Tilba Tilba that did it for me. It was breathtaking, and sure, things tend to be more breath taking when you’re out of breath to begin with, but this was some of the most unique and dramatic scenery I’ve seen in Australia. And it continued all the way to our destination for that night: Bermagui. The ride over the bridge at Wallaga Lakes just as the sun was setting was another moment of mysterious significance. It’s a lonely country, Australia. But it’s only because of it’s vastness, not because it’s empty.

Pizza for tea. Camped by a boat ramp. Lots of places to camp in Bermagui. There’s no one there.

Destination	Distance (km)	Moving Time (h:mm:ss)	Elapsed Time (h:mm:ss)	Elevation (m)	Average Speed (km/h)	Maximum Speed (km/h)
Day 5: Lilli Pilli to Central Tilba	92.6	4:50:01	7:19:38	1,004	19.2	65.2
Day 5: Central Tilba to Bermagui	22.9	1:19:46	1:41:37	208	17.2	62.3
Total Day 5	115.5	6:09:47	9:01:15	1,212	18.7	65.2

Day 6: Bermagui to Eden

Our campsite near the boat ramp in Bermagui.

I was up at 6:30 again, and we'd packed up, eaten breakfast and set off before 8 am - pretty efficient, looks like we were getting into the swing of things. Today turned out to be somewhat of a turning point though. We'd previously had predominantly fine and sunny weather, but that was soon to change.

On the Tathra Bermagui Road, crossing the Bega River.

Morning tea - crackers with cheese from Tathra.

We stopped in Tathra for morning tea, consisting of the fine cheese from Bodella with water crackers. It was already quite windy by this stage and rain looked imminent. When we got to Merimbula for lunch, there were a few spots of rain. We found a table with a big umbrella in the middle of town, and put the umbrella up to keep us dry.

At the top of a hill on the Sapphire Coast Drive, between Tathra and Merimbula.

Lunch at Merimbula, with windy weather, threatening rain.

This didn't last long before the shop-keeper beside us asked us to put it down, saying another one had been broken in the wind recently. Then a woman walked past and commented "you guys should put that umbrella up, keep yourselves dry!". Josh politely replied "yeah, we had to put it down because of the wind...", then once she was out of ear-shot, "stupid woman, did she really think we didn't think of that?!"

We finished lunch and got going again just as the rain set in.

Heading out of Merimbula after lunch after the rain began to set in.

And then it rained quite steadily for the rest of the day. As we rolled in towards Eden, a tradesman watching us go by commented "you poor bastards!" Yeah, fair call.
We arrived in Eden, unsure of what to do next. We could either eat an early take-away dinner and keep going, find a camp site in the bush further on. Or, we could grab some supplies and continue straight on, then cook once we'd found a campsite in the bush. We decided on the former and bought fish and chips again for an early dinner. By this stage, Rosie...was not concealing her displeasure, and things were tense. We were loitering out the front of the fish and chip shop in the main street when a family hopped out of the of their car, and the father asked where we were going, and if we'd like to stay in their bungalow at the back of their place.

The problem with such questions being asked to a group is that we don't have the opportunity to discuss and agree on what to do, so someone has to step in an make an executive decision. On this occasion, Josh responded with "thanks, that's a really generous offer but I think we'd better keep going, we've only got a week to get back to Melbourne so we're trying to cover enough k's." The bloke bode us farewell and went into the Chinese restaurant with his partner and son. And then we were off, just as it was getting dark. But we were heading in the wrong direction so we had to do a U-turn and come back up the main street. Rosie then voiced her objection to the decision to turn down their offer, so Josh offered to go back into the Chinese restaurant again and ask if we could take up their offer after all. He did that, and hosts-to-be spent a while explaining what their house looked like, how to get there, and details such as how to turn the hot water on in the bungalow for a shower.

We rode past their house a few times before we figured out which one it was, but found it and let ourselves in and brought our panniers in, then we each had a warm shower and drank several cups of Rooibos tea, and set ourselves up cosily in there.

In Ali's bungalo in Eden. You can read the mood from those facial expressions!

There were a whole bunch of mattresses and blankets, it was perfect. We were all fast asleep by about 9:30 pm. I had the best sleep I've had in a long time - with 98% sleep quality, according to the Sleep Cycle app on my phone.

Josh's Perspective

It’s all my fault.

I’m very dim in many ways. Dim and clumsy. I must have fallen over on my bike (while stationary) 20 times throughout the tour. Sure, I was unaccustomed to the cleats, which held my feet fast to the pedals despite my panicky flailing as I toppled over seemingly in slow motion; and yes, my bike was terribly unbalanced with all the weight on the back tyre; but even so, most people would have got used to these difficulties. Not me. I’m still nervous pulling up to traffic lights even now.

And who but me would have set out on a 10-12 day bike tour in winter without a rainproof jacket? I have vague memories of thinking something like: “Well I always get so sweaty when I ride, so what’s the point of carrying around a rain jacket when I’m going to be wet with sweat the whole time anyway?”

In the morning of Day 6, the wind picked up, and ‘Jack the blind miner’ could have seen that rough weather was coming. Still I persisted with a light jumper. Even when the man in the cafe at Merimbula said the rain radar on the Bureau of Meteorology website looked like a painter’s palette, still I persisted with my light jumper; as if my mind, with all it’s positive thoughts, had the power to evaporate the heavenly condensation.

As we rolled out of Merimbula, and saw the true terrible extent of the purple darkness lunging at us from the southern horizon, finally I conceded. We stopped, and I put on a rain jacket.

If it was only me that suffered, it would have been fine. If my absent mindedness only affected me, there would have been no problem. It would have been just like any other day. If only. If only Rosie hadn’t given me her only waterproof jacket days before. If only I’d refused it. And to think of all the camping stores we passed!

And so I did my time as public enemy number one. As we laboured up the hill into Eden, with the downpour bordering on biblical, I carried an extra weight. And when the anger was fiercest, when the storm reached it’s zenith, somehow it all that madness, I found a smile.

You shouldna did that boy! Shoulda copped it sweet.

Destination	Distance (km)	Moving Time (h:mm:ss)	Elapsed Time (h:mm:ss)	Elevation (m)	Average Speed (km/h)	Maximum Speed (km/h)
Day 6: Bermagui to Eden	102.2	6:11:10	10:29:02	1,527	16.5	70.9

Day 7: Eden to Cann River

In Ali's bungalo in Eden, packing up our gear.

Ali's back yard in Eden, about to head off.

We woke up with the sun again and were setting off before 8 am. The father who lived at the place was called Ali, and we left him a T-shirt to thank him. It was an extra one with the bicycle print that Mum and Tex had given to Rosanna before the start of the trip, and which Rosie had been carrying around in her pannier ever since. We said goodbye and thanked him again for his hospitality.

The sun was shining but the forecast was for rain, and it was unlikely to stay dry for long. So first stop was in the camping store in the main street, where Josh promptly bought a water-proof coat, since in a clear sign of optimism for fine weather, he'd neglected to bring one with him on the trip.

On the Princes Highway in the East Boyd State Forest.

On the Princes Highway in the East Boyd State Forest, with what looked like a wind-turbine column.

At a rest stop by the Princes Highway about 20 km south of Eden.

The first 20 km or so on the road were dry enough, though there was a bit of drizzle about. Rosie dictated that we pull into a rest area for a rest. She'd unfortunately assumed an upright position on the improper side of her sleeping base that morning, so to speak, and wasn't enjoying herself. She confirmed as much when she proclaimed "I've had enough, I hate this, I want to go home!" (or something to that effect). We didn't get much more out of Rosie for the next hour or so, over which time the rain stubbornly set in, and Josh and I milled around idly, waiting for Rosie to snap out of it and spur into action.

We finally got moving again, though the pace was slow, the drizzle continued and spirits were generally dampened (pun intended). In the early afternoon we crossed the border from New South Wales into Victoria and it felt like quite a milestone.

Rosie and Ned on the New South Wales/Victoria border.

Josh and Ned Rosie and Ned on the New South Wales/Victoria border.

We stopped for lunch a little further on in a town called Genoa. There we met a kind fellow from Bendigo, who made us each a cup of tea which we all delightfully drank with some of our fruit cake.

Lunch and tea and cake in Genoa, with our mate from Bendigo.

We were undecided as to whether we should detour to Mallacoota, but decided not to so that we still had a chance to get back to Melbourne in time.

On the Princes Highway heading towards Cann River.

On the Princes Highway heading towards Cann River, having a quick snack break.

The road took us into the Alfred National Park and we were greeted by a splendid 12 km climb with about 220 metres of ascent. The scenery was really beautiful; it was easily the best part of the days ride. The descent on the other side was also a joy.

The climb in the Alfred National Park. Beautiful scenery, it's a shame I didn't get some better photos.

Alfred National Park.

On the Princes Highway just before Cann River, as the sun was setting.

We reached a town called Cann River just on dark. It wasn't as nice a town as the name suggests, and I wasn't a fan. It was really just a truck-stop for truckies to refuel between Orbost and Eden. It also proved quite difficult to find a campsite; I went scouting up and down the river and on both sides, while Josh and Rosie sat comfortably in the warm servo drinking hot-chocolate. With each scouting I stopped back in to update Josh and Rosie on my progress, and without initial success we'd almost resigned to stay in the caravan park, and head into the pub for a game of pool. There was just one more area on the river I wanted to check, and this was luckily the spot, seemingly the only good stealth camping spot in the town. It had a table, flat ground, was secluded and had a fire place, which was ideal because we had a lot of wet gear we needed to dry out.

Lighting the fire took a while with everything being so wet, but we eventually got it firing. Meanwhile, Josh cooked up a delicious pasta and sauce for dinner.

Eating pasta for dinner by our campfire in Cann River.

Josh's Perspective

Day 7 could have gone either way. By mid morning we were sitting at a truckstop, each of us frustrated in our own ways, each of us with different ideas about what to do next.

It had all the symptoms of an existential crisis: What’s it all about? Why are we here? Why do we suffer this rain and this cold and this pain? What’s the meaning of it all? And if there is no meaning, what do we do next?

Ned was unrelenting in his conviction: We go on as we’ve come. There’s no time to waste.

Rosie was firm too: This isn’t fun. This is ridiculous.

And me: Can’t we all just get along?

I like to think I won.

By the time we got to the Victorian border, and we had our first genuine opportunity to celebrate in days, we’d largely resolved our differences. The rain returned intermittently, but the worst was behind us. The road was surprisingly quiet, which was a welcome change.

The Alfred National Park was the highlight of the day. The climb didn’t seem that steep, in fact I thought for the first half that my legs were just really sluggish, as I couldn’t build up any momentum. But eventually we started getting peeks down the side of the mountain through the dense fog (which I guess was probably low cloud), which revealed how high we were. It was brilliant; genuine rainforest. It was bitterly cold, but I didn’t mind that. To roll down the other side of that hill was a pure delight. I couldn’t move my fingers or feel my face, but it was exhilarating.

As always, it was well and truly dark by the time we got to Cann River. And, as always, it was difficult to find a camp. And again, as always, the caravan park was not an option. Well it was an option, but it was absolute last resort. Cann River is such an awful place that it almost came to the last resort. I was almost able to convince Ned to get an unpowered site, then go down the pub for a pot and a game of pool. Ned Powell. Can you believe that? Such was our desperation.

But on his last scouting mission, while Rosie and I sat drinking hot chocolate and coffee respectively in the warmth of the service station, Ned finally found somewhere with all the necessary features.

The rain tried it’s best to defeat us, but we built a glorious fire, sung our songs, dried our clothes, ate heartily, and in so doing presented our metaphorical middle fingers to the spiteful sky.

Destination	Distance (km)	Moving Time (h:mm:ss)	Elapsed Time (h:mm:ss)	Elevation (m)	Average Speed (km/h)	Maximum Speed (km/h)
Day 7: Eden to Cann River	121.8	7:28:52	10:57:04	1,469	16.3	61.2

Nedly on his Treadly

Friday, October 17, 2014

Sydney to Melbourne Bicycle Tour (Part 2)