Katherine (Aus)

5 weeks on the road, 3900km (2440miles) of pedalling completed and we have finally stumbled across the (in my opinion) beautifully named town of Katherine! For some, the voyage of self discovery might take a lifetime, but for me, it turns out just 35 days on a bike?! Well that was easy…

The road (I needn't remind you that we’re still on the Stuart Highway. Stuart’s a big guy. Such height. Such length.) from Alice Springs to Katherine has thankfully dealt us some more varied scenery over the last 9 days. Upon leaving Alice Springs, we passed by the MacDonnel Ranges marking our first sight of any mountainous terrain for a good while. Following this, we followed the road north into Austalia’s more tropical, humid climate (those classic ‘one leg out the sleeping bag’, ‘grip the cool metal zipper’ kind of sleeping conditions). Since crossing the tropic of Capricorn just north of Alice Springs, there has been a notable change in landscape; Gone are the days of endless miles of flat dusty desert lands, but instead we’re seeing more undulating, greener, forested scenery.  A refreshing change, and these tropical savanna lands are regularly dominated by the sizeable, cone shaped termite mounds which have continued to scatter the road side along our journey. 

Just short of Katherine, we also passed through the small town of Mataranka which welcomed us with its tropical thermal springs, far in the depths of the lush green, palm fringed Elsey National Park. Despite the fact we were cycling in 40degree heat on a daily basis, its amazing how the idea of a ‘thermal’ spring still had us eagerly reaching for the swimmers!

Aside from this, we also found time to drop by ‘Devils Marbles’- in short, they’re really just a large playground of oversized orange pebbles amongst a vast expanse of little else. Nonetheless, they made for some perfect sunset viewing. Naturally, with Pete being a seasoned climber, it was absolutely necessary to scale the largest, most challenging rock face in the area. In short, we were after that first, untouched ascent (cycling a continent just didn't seem quite enough). This entailed wedging ourselves between two large boulders before scrambling our way to the top. Needless to say the sights from the top were epic, however I cant deny that the whole climbing experience would have been all that more enjoyable had I not seen ‘127 Hours’. I couldn't help but feel the sequel coming on. 

We also spent a night in Barrow Creek, most famously known for the highly publicised, mysterious disappearance of a British backpacker back in 2001. A good nights sleep was had by no one. 

3 amateurs on bikes. and Norah. 

So the once two man team has officially advanced to a pedalling pack thanks to our latest recruit, Eamonn. Having met Eamonn (An Irish chap, now living in Darwin) on the highway, we joined forces and continued our cycle north together. At first we were slightly hesitant. Its just, well, we had an ‘english breakfast’ tea drinker on our hands. But, speaking as an Earl Grey convert, I know how it feels to enjoy that lesser tasting tea bagger so I reassured Pete that it’d be ok- we had time to refine his taste buds and before long he too could venture into a dusty old roadhouse, full of macho truckers glugging down the ale and confidently order up an Earl Grey. He too could be looked upon as though he really ought to be fashioning something straight out of Downton Abbey to accompany such an absurd order. 

But together, the pedalling pack has certainly tallied up the miles over the last week, with one particularly long distance ride of 195km (120miles). We’re just beginning to perfect the ‘slipstream’ technique too. I have to admit, there is nothing quite like the professionalism one feels when we’re cycling along , seamlessly passing one another, passing that leading baton from one ‘athlete’ to the next. You can’t deny it, we’re looking good. The wrap around sunnies are on. We look the part. Just three matching jerseys short of the ultimate dream team. Most importantly, theres a strong beat blaring out the iPod, providing the perfect accompaniment to those consistent pedal strokes. For a brief episode in the day, it seems we have foregone our usual amateur performance and are instead convincingly styling out some first class, two wheeled theatre. But then, before ya know it, Norahs back. Its all gone tits up. “Come away with me…..”.  Norah has somehow unceremoniously wingled her way back onto the playlist. Im sorry Norah Jones but this is neither the time, nor the place to be hearing your soothing, sultry tones..!

The ground

It goes without saying that life on a bike certainly makes you value the smaller things in life that you almost dismissively take for granted at home. A bed for example or a comfy home with a regulated temperature to name a few, but something I have really began to value just recently is a decent ground surface. In fact, I think most tent using campers could relate to this; The tents up, you’ve gone and knocked a couple of seconds off last nights tent erecting performance, just need to pop the pegs in the jobs a good’n? But no, in your efforts to put the peg in you have just stumbled across a ‘sand on gravel’ situation. We have all been there. Like an electrician hitting a water source, your heart drops. That pegs going nowhere. In fact, the very last place its going is in the ground. Im all too aware of how common this problem is amongst the camping community, for whenever we’re staying in a campground, I so often hear a reassuring chorus of “Good ground” across the campsite should we be in a soft surfaced area. A simple statement carrying so much ‘depth’. Furthermore, upon hearing those holy ‘Good ground’ words, you regularly hear a follow up anecdote about a ‘bad ground’ experience. Thus, I now know that should I ever find myself at a loss for conversation amongst my fellow campers and I, the mere mention of a ‘peg on a brick’ experience should get the party started….

Onwards to Darwin

So, having taken a day off in Katherine to visit the dramatic sights of Katherine Gorge whilst also making time to kick back and enjoy some well earned rest, tomorrow we shall continue the final 300km to Darwin.

Alice Springs (Aus)

Having left Coober Pedy a week ago today, we have safely arrived in Alice Springs; a relatively large town situated in the very depths of Australia’s ‘Red Centre’. 

Over the past week we have continued our journey north up the Stuart Highway- As I'm sure you have gathered by now, this trip requires zero navigational skills. We haven't made a turn since leaving Port Augusta…..

 We crossed the state boundary passing up into Australia’s Northern Territory, adjusting our clocks back an hour bidding a farewell to the seasonal ‘daylight savings’ of the more temperate southern Australia and looking forward to the tropical northern region ahead of us.

The terrain over the last week has remained largely unchanged. Endless expanses of dusty, arid land dominate this region of the world, punctuated only by the limited bush vegetation. And the odd cow. I particularly enjoy peddling past a cow. As we look at each other, eye to eye, I cant help but feel this common ground between us- together we’re out in the depths of nowhere, exposed to the unrelenting heat of the day, only dreaming of a fly free existence. 

Staying positive

Pete and I continue to spend our days pedalling along, or ‘pootling’ along as we so often refer to it these days. I think this stems from our inner optimist. We have certainly mastered the art of remaining positive on this trip; Undeniably, there have been a number of tough hours, afternoons, days… battling headwinds amongst other obstacles. However, in times of ‘low’ we so often find ourselves sorting comfort in effective manipulation of the english language. Words like ‘pootle’, ‘cruise’ and ‘just’ seem to make the arduous miles ahead all that much easier. For example; “Hey Pete, lets just cruise for the next 100k”- when, quite frankly we couldn't be less comparable to any kind of ‘cruise’ liner effortlessly soaring through the ocean. No, come to think of it, we’re more like a disheveled fishing vessel, heading straight for the perfect storm and Pete’s just lost an oar. 

The Caravan Club

Over the past week, Pete and I have enjoyed a few nights setting up camp in caravan parks, immersing ourselves into the luxuries of their shower, bathroom and laundry facilities. Staying in campsites also provides us with the opportunity to catch up with the ever prevalent ‘camper van gang’. Notably, our now good friends Ian and Di. Ian and Di, a 70+ Aussie couple abandoned their permanent living situation in Adelaide, instead favouring a  nomadic existence in the shelter of their RV. I have to admit, I have never seen portable living quarters quite like it before. This was no ‘motorhome’. This was no ‘campervan’. This was a luxury, palatial studio apartment, complete with penthouse sleeping quarters, all on the back of ute. A fully furnished masterpiece and everything our tent wasn’t. Despite this, whilst Di willingly took me on the grand tour of this portable, Tardis like mansion, I couldn't help but find myself (positively embarrassingly so), comparing our primitive living situation to theirs. Indeed, upon Di highlighting to me how the pine oak wardrobes complimented the camel coloured shower curtain, I hastily nodded in agreement, responding that Pete and I were also fortunate enough to so often find that the green outer sheet of our tent regularly complimented the green grass below…

The Red Rock

So, no central Australian adventure would be complete without a trip to Uluru. This iconic red rock was a fine sight, rising high amongst the barren land below. Pete and I were all too happy to take the afternoon off and explore the surrounding area. A complimentary fly escort team joined us….oh good. 

Alice Springs

We have just taken a day off in Alice Springs to refuel, rest and recover before beginning the second half of our Stuart Highway adventure tomorrow, onwards towards Darwin- basically within touching distance now. ‘Just’ one little teeny, tiny ’pootle’ to go. In short, i’d say we’re cruising…

Coober Pedy (Aus)

Today marks our 18th day on the road. We have tallied up1900km (1200miles) so far and are just approaching the half way mark on our bicycle ride spanning the length and breadth of Australia. 

Current location; Coober Pedy, or to be more precise, 500km north of Port Augusta, 2200km south of Darwin, slap bang in the middle of bloody nowhere.

The Stuart Highway

Upon leaving the desert town of Port Augusta, we continued on the long road north, up the Stuart Highway. Unlike our trip so far, the endless miles of bitumen ahead of us, winding up through vast expanses of dry dusty bushland were only broken by our selected ‘rest’ distance markers. With not a garden room in sight to break up the mileage, it was up to us to decide when and where we were going to ease off the cogs for a moments rest. And it is these little, insignificant milestones that keep us going throughout the monotonous miles. In fact, it always amazes me how happy I am to make it there, to make it ‘somewhere’ but yet you’re still so obviously in the midst of nowhere! 

The sheer expanse of the land we were passing through and the vast areas of uninhabited terrain, free from the comfortable, secure, amenity filled surroundings we were so used to was only magnified upon noting the occasional roadside sign informing us of us a ‘mimimart 300km ahead’. No milk for breakfast then…..

Having said this, we weren't completely alone out there, in fact far from it for the first section of our Stuart Highway ride. Road Trains roam the tarmac up this stretch of Australia and these cargo carrying giants, up to 50m in length, offer us three possibilities; a bad ass tail wind for a brief episode as they gush past, a torrential force 5 hurricane head wind as they charge towards you or that heart pounding adrenaline rush as they saunter alongside your right earlobe (don’t worry Mum, Im sure to give them a firm tinker of the bell if I feel they’re not giving me the road respect I require)

And of course we have plenty of outback wildlife to accompany us along our way; emus, kangaroos, cows, lizards, snakes and flies. Flies. So many flies. Flies here. Flies there. Flies f*****g everywhere.  The phrase ‘oh he/she wouldn't hurt a fly’ takes on a whole new meaning out here in the fly infested lands of Australia. I challenge any kind, caring, sweet soul to spend a day out in the Aussie Bush and return still bearing an affection for flies! 

Needless to say, with long stretches of roads with few stop off points, we have certainly racked up the miles over these past few days, averaging 150km a day. And with service stops spanning at least a 2 days ride apart, we have been forced to laden our saddle bags with copious amounts of water to keep ourselves fuelled up! Its worth noting that our sacks of water look suspiciously like bags of goon on the back of our bicycle- its doing nothing for our ‘seasoned cycle tourer’ image! Im pretty confident that 90% of the passing traffic still mutter to themselves in their air conditioned, tinted windowed vehicles, “what a pair of idiots!”. 

And of course, without services means several nights spent ‘wild camping’. At the end of a long days ride, we jump off the bikes, seek out a secluded little spot away from the road side, pitch the tent in the dusty, sun baked bush land, watch the sunset and enjoy some grub. Morale at an all time high, hygiene levels at an all time low…..(in fact, our skin does appear to have taken on a slightly dusty orange/tanned look. Should The Only Way is Essex consider an outback spin off series, Pete and I would make fine leading roles!)

Earl Grey anyone?

Despite, that element of freedom that ‘life on the lonely road’ offers, I can still safely say that the sight of a roadhouse after several days of nothing, still fills me full of joy! Fresh food, cold water, bathrooms and of course, for Pete, a tea brewing vicinity. Unsurprisingly, upon entering the roadhouse just short of Woomera, Pete’s first port of call was to order up a fresh brew. Of the Early Grey variety of course. It was a joy to watch Pete, a man starved of tea for several days, order up his first Earl Grey of the day (of the hour) until….*Generic Aussie accent* ” “Sorry mate, no Earl Grey”, no Early Grey? Things were looking bleak. I was concerned for Pete’s health if anything. “Only Liptons tea here mate”. Well quite frankly, that was like serving the guy a mug full of road kill fresh off the Stuart Highway. It just wasn't a feasible alternative. Not deterred by the unstable situation Pete had found himself in, he immediately dived straight into his ration pack (Definition- “A limited amount of food to be used in emergency situations”) to reveal one of Twinings finest, in fact it turns out his pack was stuffed full of them! The world could sigh a breath of relief. All was well. And on another note, its reassuring to now know that should we ever find ourselves in a desperate situation, dehydrated, starved and sunburnt in the depths of the Aussie outback, we’ll most likely be found collapsed on the ground sucking tea bags….! 

The 'Road Respect Wave'

When you’re cycling endless miles on an endless piece of tarmac with a fairly static scenery, one can often find themselves fascinated by the small episodes of change in the day. Most of which comes in the form of occasional traffic. I have become quite interested just recently in something I like to refer to as the ‘road respect wave’. With so few cyclists on the road, passing traffic will regularly throw us a wave, a toot of the horn or something to that effect, but there is a clear difference in acknowledgement from one bracket of traffic to the next. Firstly, we have the middle aged camper van gang, this bracket of middle aged Europeans, abandoning their 2 week holiday in the med in favour of an adventure on the Aussie open road, will almost always welcome us with beaming smiles, big waves and most likely a follow up discussion between themselves regarding what a ridiculous, reckless way to travel Pete and I had taken on. Secondly, there is the bracket of young, carefree youths, high on life (?), belting some roaring tunes, 6 of them stuffed in the back of a hatchback- these lot will most likely open a couple of windows, yell out some supportive animalistic tones whilst tooting their horn in a less than subtle manner whilst I find myself uncharacteristically attempting some sort of ‘cool’ friendly fist pump, allowing myself to jump aboard their roaring road trip for just a split second before reality hits and I watch them sing and laugh, driving top speeds far into the distance whilst I continue to slowly turn the cogs under the unrelenting aussie heat. And finally, there is of course the acknowledgement from our fellow two wheeled road users (of the push bike variety). I like to call it the ‘athletic salute’- that element of respect between two sportsman taking on the open road under their own steam. Though, this might appear like a friendly nod of recognition from one athlete to another to the untrained eye, its not. A competitive element undeniably comes into play here. Upon sighting a cyclist approaching, its important to firstly adopt the fresh, athletic, ‘cool as a cucumber’ cycling position. You’re this lean, fit cycling machine, theres no time for the dog pant here. Secondly, its important to crank up the gears to something you're completely incapable of sustaining (bearing in mind you only have to hold out at this pace for a brief stint) and then of course its important to take on that focused ‘cycling is my life’ facial expression. At this point, the thought process goes a little like this “ok, focus Katherine, you’re at one with the bike, you’re the cog driving this well oiled machine…….oh sod that, you’re on a push bike in the middle of a desert and you’ve just missed season 7 of Made in Chelsea!” and then finally upon passing the fellow cyclist you look up briefly, as though you have only just noticed them, before giving them a respectful nod. Following this, its important to continue this completely misleading cycling persona for a little longer just incase they should glance back seeking out a little calf muscle comparison. 

Show me to the mine shaft!

So we have finally made it to Coober Pedy, where life exists largely underground in the form of caves, all in a bid to avoid the harsh outback heat. It is most famously known as the Opal Capital of the world with mining communities dominating the area. Pete and I have taken the day off to explore the region. Laden with a pick and shovel, we’re heading for the nearest mine shaft. Im pretty confident we’ll be millionaires by nightfall….

Melbourne (Aus)

So on the 26th September 2014, I began the first of many pedal strokes on my long journey home, starting in Melbourne Australia and hopefully finishing up in England! Having spent the last year out here in Australia working as a Ski Instructor at Mount Buller, controlling traffic in Sydney (less formally known as lollipop lady-ing), picking strawberries in Queensland and building burgers in Cape Tribulation, its finally time to begin my two wheeled adventure back to the UK.

#SeriousMilage

#ThisMightTakeAWhile

An idea that began as an irrational moment of ‘what if?’ has rapidly become a reality. Before I knew it, I had my bicycle, complete with cycling kit, on a ship heading this way and had  found myself on an intense pedal companion recruitment process! Fortunately, a poor, vulnerable soul under the name of Peter Kopp somehow agreed to take on Australia alongside me. With a background in climbing, ski instructing, and a stint in the armed forces, he was just the company I needed on such an adventure! Several persuasive conversations later and the deal was done. I had bagged him for 5 weeks pedalling ‘down under’.

We began our ride from St Kilda Pier in Melbourne with the hope of cycling along the Great Ocean Road towards Adelaide before heading up the centre to finish the Australian leg in Darwin. 

26/09/2014

The bikes were loaded, we were ready; we had spent months tirelessly testing out kit, awaking early to put in those training miles and had mapped out a detailed day by day route itinerary, complete with colour coding, excessive use of highlighters and an array or assorted post it notes (why we weren't getting Staples to sponsor the entire event is quite frankly an opportunity missed). Oh no, hang on, come to think of it, we didn't achieve any of that! In fact, prior to our first pedal, I had notched up a healthy 0.6km ride (a casual commute to and from liquorland!) and Pete was pretty much still in the early stages of learning how to ride a bike (I insisted that stabilisers just weren't appropriate on a trip like this). We loaded our bikes with all our kit for the first time on the very morning of our trip start, carefully strapping our tent, panniers and sleeping mats to the back of the bikes, being sure to identify to Pete the use of bungee chord; a practical, stretchy piece of rope, ideal for holding kit in place not to be used for choking cycling companions upon realising what a ridiculous endurance event you had just agreed to take on! As for health and fitness, well having both just spent a season in Mount Buller working as ski instructors, I'm pretty sure that puts us firmly into the profession bracket of ‘finely tuned athletes’? Possibly not. And finally, as for the route, well we knew there was enough tarmac to follow between Melbourne and Darwin, it was simply a case of just finding the right stretch!

5/10/2013- Adelaide 

So over the last 9 days, our route has pretty much hugged the coastline between Melbourne and Adelaide. We have cycled along the rugged cliffs of the Great Ocean Road, alongside vast saltwater wetlands , through sun drenched vineyards and across Adelaide’s rural, hilly exterior until we made it to the city itself which completes the first leg of Australian adventure. 

    Pedalling along the Great Ocean Road certainly remains a trip highlight for us both. In fact I would go so far as to confirm that it did indeed live up to its overly pompous title. Should our good friend Tony the Tiger (#FrostiesReference) ever find himself out of work, he’d make the ideal candidate to market this stretch of Aussie tarmac. It was an absolute joy to pedal alongside the ocean, stopping by the 12 Apostles, camping only a stones throw away from those crashing waves! 

     In terms of weather (keeping it British), we have encountered some strong headwinds inevitably making life tough on the bikes, heavy rain but most recently a bout of warm sunshine, at last ! 

      We’re gradually getting fitter and our poor bottoms are slowly adjusting to life in the saddle. Slowly; Imagine the pace of a narcoleptic snail……

     We’re settling into a comfortable daily routine with the 11am tea and cake break becoming a staple in our day. In fact, for Pete, an avid supporter of the Early Grey (borderline addict seeking a tea bag support group) the bicycle has merely become a functional vehicle to transport him from one mug of the good stuff to the next. 

        And as for life in the tent, well its becoming more and more bearable. We spent one particular night camping alongside a stunning saltwater wetland (The Coorong), complete with epic birdlife. Sadly though, our vision of spending the evening out in the moonlight air, refining our twitching skills was quickly abandoned upon realising 5.8million mosquitoes had come to join us. To say we were eaten alive that night, would be an understatement- I'm pretty sure we were heavily in need of a blood transfusion the following morning….!

7/10/14

We have just enjoyed our first day off, in Adelaide, where we had hoped to tick off all those ‘must buy’, ‘must do’ chores (none of which we achieved of course, instead opting for excessive levels of sleep). We were kindly invited to stay at the home of a colleague of ours from Mount Buller (Shout out to Brodie!). Brodie kindly offered us food, shelter, a cracking night out in Adelaide, oh, and the option of a camping trip for which we showed marginally less enthusiasm for…..!

8/10/2014

   So, following our day off, our bottoms are sat firmly back in the saddle as we begin our ride north in search of the Aussie Outback (via the Flinders Ranges)! Pete and I aren’t overly sure what to expect, if anything (I have heard there isn't an awful lot out there)  but as with our approach to most of the trip so far, despite having little to no idea about the road ahead we regularly refer back to our trip motto; ‘Ya know, I think it’ll be alright’. 

10/11/2014

Yesterday brought about real change in terms of scenery. Since leaving Adelaide, we took the less direct route up to Port Augusta via the Flinders Ranges, through the Wirrabara Forest Reserve and onwards over the Mount Remarkable National Park. This region of Australia welcomed us with further idyllic country towns, luring us in with their freshly cooked scones, cream teas  and shaded garden rooms (did I mention we’re really roughing it?!), however as we made it over the Horrocks Pass, it became very apparent that life was about to take a slightly different turn. Having climbed up and over the luscious green rolling hills away from the farming town of Melrose, we enjoyed a rapid descent towards the desert town of Port Augusta. Before reaching Port Augusta, we stopped briefly; looking out at the vast expanse of dusty, barren, sun baked desert before us, it began to dawn on us both what an intense few weeks we had ahead. I couldn't help but clutch the factor 50. We were going to be needing that…..

Port Augusta

So our ride across Australia’s outback has begun. Having arrived in Port Augusta, we were faced with just the two route options leading out of the town, ‘West to western Australia’ or ‘North to Darwin’- naturally we referred back to our inner orienteer; The maps were out. A 4000km round trip to Perth simply wasn't on the cards. Darwin was our destination and the Stuart Highway would be our guide!