Q2 2008 - Reading Cycling Club

I’ve cycled around Europe, I’ve cycledacross the U.S. and I’ve even cycledround New Zealand – twice! But thesetrips were far less daunting than myAussie adventure; however this waspart of the attraction.The journey from the UK to Perth wasless worrisome than anticipated and Ienjoyed my short stay there; it wascycle-friendly and cheap. The weatherwas rather warm and pleasantcompared to the January of Englandthat I’d left behind. Perth served itspurpose well and within three days Iwas ready to set forth.I used public transport to cross thesuburbs and city and chose Fremantleon the coast as my setting off point. Iwas fiercely protective of my bicycle andequipment, and was totally dedicated;my whole being inextricably linked to thefully functioning form of the machinebeneath me.The first day comprised busy roads andurban sprawl, the only light relief beingthe many ‘Satterley’ housingdevelopments. My fear and paranoia ofinsects drove me to sleep in a nearlyfinished garage on one of their newhousing estates. I didn’t sleep a wink.Insects: cuddlyThe second day continued south onHighway 1, getting to grips with hightemperatures and revolting coffee. Icontinually surveyed the ground forman-eating spiders as I sped along, myparanoia palpable (thanks to DanClipstone for that, he’d given me a fewmental images that were gnawing awayat my psyche). By evening I was wellaway from Perth and was making myway through coastal towns. Thecountryside was fairly pleasant, and withnumerous trees for cover I decided tocamp in the wild.Home sweet homeMy fear of discovery by humans oranimals was very strong and many anevening would see me surreptitiouslydart off into the undergrowth looking forthe perfect place to pitch my tent. Iwouldn’t usually relax until midnight or1a.m., listening out for anything andeverything, observing the various antspecies and hoping I wasn’t allergic toany of the big bastards’ bites!Slowly I came to enjoy the peace, quietand total privacy of wild camping. It alsotook me quite a while to adapt to thetough, basic lifestyle in what – for me -was an alien environment.I was following the south west coast ofWestern Australia to give myself time toacclimatise to the heat and to toughenmyself up before the really challengingpart of the trip. The terrain was rollingand pleasant, dominated by trees of onekind or another. Viticulture (winemakingto you and me) and a relativelyabundant population meant good roadsand towns reminiscent of the Americanmid-west.On leaving one of the larger coastaltowns one evening I was looking forsomewhere to camp wild as the sunsank rapidly towards the horizon (onedoesn’t want to be grubbing around inthe dark out here!). As I did so, I spied alarge kangaroo in the ditch by a fenceand wondered what my 13mph arrivalwould cause him to do. Unbeknown tome, a car was approaching from theother direction around a large sweepingbend at about 60mph. My presencestartled the 80kg creature and itbounded across the road into the pathof this fast moving car. Once I’dascertained that nothing was going to hitme, I shut my eyes...The car and the ‘roo were both ‘totalled’.A woman got out screaming followed byfour semi-drunk blokes. I went back tothem, aware that they might want to killme. As nobody was hurt (exceptSkippy’s Dad) I shot off; I still had to findsomewhere to camp urgently.Next morning at a deserted school,while getting some water from anexterior sink, I felt as if I was beingobserved - I was. A large frog peered upthrough the sink outlet at me. There wasonly one thing to do. I talked to him as ifhe was one of the ‘inmates’ of theresidential home that I used to work in.It cheered me up no end, although thelittle sod would not stay still long enoughfor me to photograph him.Leaving the large town of Albany on thesouth coast it is 2,500km to Whyalla, thenext large town with 30,000 residents.With only three towns of any size on theroute, and with the gaps getting larger,my fear of the distances was growing.Nick’s odysseyThe wind could be - and was - anabsolute bastard. From Jeramungup toEsparance it is 190miles, but it took me17 excruciating hours with bush firesbillowing in the distance, powered bythe diabolical headwinds. The constantonslaught and the resulting tension inmy body made it quite difficult to get offthe bicycle which I had to do, so that Icould jump about for five minutes toloosen up.My arrival at Esparance, the lastsignificant town before the Nullarbor,marked a low point. My fear of campinghad abated but the last two days hadbeen as bad, if not worse, than anything