A Bike Journey

Life off the bikes

2011-12-11T16:56:00.001-08:00

It’s now almost 4 months since we arrived back home in Point Lonsdale, near Melbourne, Australia and we thought it was time for a little update.

At the end of our 18,000km bicycle tour we were quite ready to arrive at home and be stationary for a while. As we lived overseas for so long, we have been quite busy getting settled back in here. So far we have been very lucky and were able to house sit for relatives and test drive some areas that we might be interested to live in. We feel particularly at home in Ocean Grove, a small seaside town 1.5 hours south of Melbourne, where Guy’s cousin and some friends live.

Never prone to resting and relaxing, we dived straight into the next challenge and started a business! We decided to join forces and start a web design, development and internet marketing agency called Ondetto.

When we came back, we got in touch with Guy’s high school, Geelong Grammar, and were invited to give a couple of talks there. Having sorted through our thousands of photos and turned them into a presentation, we visited the school and presented to two groups of year 10 geography students. We were slightly nervous but quickly relaxed when we realised that the students obviously appreciated the diversion from their usual routine. Last week, we gave another school talk, this time to year 5 students of Ocean Grove Primary School. We were able to take the bikes on stage with us and were quite touched when the whole class came up to us afterwards to ask questions about the bikes and our tour. It was no small time investment to prepare for these presentations but it was a hugely rewarding experience.

We also gave a few interviews to the local press and made appearances in The Age online edition, a full-page interview in the Geelong Advertiser, as well as write-ups in The Rip and the Otway Tourism newsletter.

Some of you may remember Kerry from our blog. She was the amazing mum who cycled from Geelong to Darwin by herself in 30 days for her graduation. As she is local, we met up with her and her son for coffee. It was great to see her again and very entertaining to hear her story of how she got invited by a trucker’s association to do a keynote speech about her bike tour.

Having experienced so much hospitality on our trip, we were also pleased to host Rog and Dee for one night. We had been following their blog for the last year and been in email contact, so it was lovely to finally meet in person.

Do we still like to ride our bikes? We do take them out a spin sometimes, but only when the weather is good. We look forward to some more cycle touring in the future, but for the moment we are quite happy to take it easy. There’s a big surfing scene down here and we’ve started getting into that too – it’s nice to use a different muscle group for a change.

After being away for so long, it has been lovely to spend time with family and friends again, knowing that we’re here to stay and ready to put down some roots.

Thank You

2011-10-08T17:33:00.001-07:00

Now that we have finished our 18,000km bicycle tour and basked in the glory of our achievement for the past few weeks, it’s time to admit that we never could have done it without the many kind souls who helped us out along the way. ||

While we planned our trip, we read many inspiring blogs and books and contacted several experienced cyclists for advice. Special mentions go to Anne Mustoe’s book A Bike Ride, which was our first inspiration for cycle touring, and Alastair Humphrey’s brilliant books about his round-the-world cycle tour.

Al Humphreys also organised a pub night in London where we met other cycle tourers - Friedel and Andrew from TravellingTwo, who had already helped us out with lots of advice before our meet-up and have since published a Bike Touring Survival Guide that is packed full of useful tips and information. We also met Justin and Emma from Rolling Tales, who were about to embark on their own journey to New Zealand and who we later met again in Turkey, and Di who we ended up cycling with from Budapest to Istanbul. Tara and Tyler from Going Slowly answered our many pre departure questions via Skype from their tent in Romania and we had the pleasure of catching up with them in Bangkok. Many other blogs provided inspiration as well as practical advice and helped us gain the courage to embark on our own journey.

On our first day leaving London our friends Gerry and Dom cycled out with us. That night we were offered a bed by Andrea in Dartford via the Warmshowers website, making for a great start to our journey. During our tour we were hosted by many other people who invited us into their homes: Catherine & Mathieu in Metz, Charlotte in Strasbourg, Sandra & Alex in Böblingen, Jürgen in Vienna, Ulas in Turkey, Hossein & Sohra in Iran, Mahmud & Mahdie in Iran, Ahmad and his family in Iran, Melanie in Abu Dhabi, Chuen and his mum in Singapore, Ruth & Glen in Darwin, Paul & Jenny in Adelaide, John & Rachel near Timboon, Peter & Corinne in Wye River and Tony & Pam in Fairhaven on the last night of our tour.

Countless people helped us along the way by stopping for a chat, giving us directions, presenting us with food or drinks, waving or giving us the the thumbs up, buying us a meal or inviting us to into their homes, letting us camp in their garden, taking us on tours of their local area or even doing water drops for us in the Australian Outback. There are too many to name, but you know who you are and we will always remember your acts of kindness.

Along the way, some of our friends and family came out to visit us. It was great to see familiar faces en route. Gudrun came to meet us in Ulm, Freddie’s parents, sister and brother-in-law visited us in Vienna, Tony showed us around Budapest, Janna & Marco and Gerry came out to Istanbul, Abhishek & Priya and Amol introduced us to Mumbai, Nick & Aom met us in Bangkok and Nick spent a week cycling with us in Thailand, we met up with Beng near Kuala Lumpur, Tze-Ern and Ben took us out for a meal in Singapore and Guy’s sister Justine visited us in Adelaide. The prize for the most visits however goes to Freddie’s dad, Gerhard, who came out to see us 3 times – in Vienna, Istanbul and Dubai. Each time he carried a parcel full of spare parts, hand delivered from Germany, as well as sponsoring us some treats along the way.

A special thank you goes to everyone who has made a donation to SOS Children’s Villages to sponsor our ride, and to the charity itself who invited us to visit one of their villages in Kerala, India.

When planning our tour, we made sure that our gear was high quality, durable and light weight. The companies supplying our gear have for the most part been extremely helpful when something did go wrong. Icebreaker replaced a worn T-Shirt for free, Ortlieb sent us replacement clips for our panniers, Thermarest sent us two (!) new sleeping mats (the original one had delaminated and the first replacement was lost in the mail), General Ecology sponsored us a new First Need water filter cartridge, and Bikesportz sponsored us new Panaracer tyres.

A huge thank you to the crew at SJS who supplied us with our Thorn Raven bicycles which have served us loyally for over 23,000km without any major issues, not even a broken spoke. They were the most important kit item and they never let us down and certainly the upgrades to double walled rims, thick spokes and Rohloff hub were integral in this.

Our families have been extremely patient and supportive. Despite the fact that they sometimes worried about us, they never complained about our extended tour and always tried to act as if it was normal that we’d call them up from a phone booth in Iran announcing we’d be out of touch for the next 8 days as we were about to cross a desert.

Finally, we have really enjoyed writing this blog and connecting with people through our website, Twitter and more recently Facebook. We still get pretty excited when we receive a message or comment, and the encouragement of our readers has seen us through some tough times. Twitter in particular has allowed us to hook up with many interesting people along the way who were on their own extended cycle tours.

We hope that we were able to pass on some useful information and learnings to people planning their own tour to close the loop and give back what we received when we first started out.

-- THANK YOU!

How It All Started

2011-10-02T22:21:00.001-07:00

"The object of life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely, in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out shouting holy shit, what a ride" - Mavis Leyrer

A few people have asked us how we came up with the idea of cycling to Australia.

We were both regular cyclists during our younger years but never did anything extreme. When travelling in Cambodia in 2003 we hired some bicycles to explore the ruins of Angkor Wat for a few days. This gave us our first taste of bicycle travel in a foreign land. We were instantly taken by the freedom: we could go anywhere we pleased and we found the local kids got a real buzz out of a couple of foreigners on bikes, it helped bridge the divide.||

Still we never thought about doing serious bicycle travel; we assumed that was reserved for the super fit. That was until Guy read a book by an elderly English lady called Anne Mustoe. She couldn't repair a puncture, wasn't into sports, didn't even like camping but she cycled around the world, twice!

The more he thought about it the more Guy loved the idea of cycling from the UK to Australia. After all, we had seen these intriguing lands many times from the perspective of an aeroplane and it must be much more exciting to explore them on a bicycle. Freddie was not so sure, it was a long way and we had never cycled for two consecutive days let alone half way around the world.

To try to convince Freddie that cycling to Oz was a sensible thing to do we tested ourselves in an area that would challenge us and test our resolve to the utmost: Provence, in southern France.

After a week of swanning around sun drenched vineyards and staying in cosy B&B's Freddie declared she was ready for the world of cycle touring.

We started to make preparations for the trip, drew lines on maps, spent hours at book shops reading up on travel guides and purchased items we never knew existed like a Spondonicle and a Spork. Our first real, put your money where your mouth is moment was when we purchased our touring bikes. We had always had second hand bikes before and though they were the bee's knees, that was until we felt the ride on our brand new beautiful Thorn Raven touring bikes.

We couldn't wait for them to be delivered so we travelled for half a day to go pick them up. We cycled 180km back home over three days in pouring rain following muddy canal paths, and we loved it. Sure the cycling was miserable but we really felt the joy of being out in the open country and travelling at a pace where we could see the detail in the world around us.

As the deliveries trickled in and our little London flat began to resemble an outdoor shop we thought we should perhaps challenge ourselves and see if we could hack more than a week on the road.

Having lived in the UK we thought a trip from Lands End in the south to John O’Groats in the North was the way to go. So we booked off the holiday time and set about our first real biking challenge. It hurt, the days were long, we barely stopped, the scenary was beautiful but we had little time to appreciate it. We completed the ride but it nearly killed us, we were out of our comfort zone too often. Touring on a tight schedule was not for us. We liked to get up late and have a lazy breakfast. We liked to talk to the farmers in the fields or assist a wayward caterpillar in crossing the road. We weren't in it for just a challenge. We were in it for the way of life, the adventure, and the discoveries along the way.

Understanding this enabled us to devise a ride back home that factored in plenty of time with manageable daily distances. As the day approached we couldn't really comprehend what we were about to do. We fluctuated between bouts of optimism to serious doubts and sleepless nights. Nonetheless we had let word slip about our adventure and we weren't brave enough now to pull out. So we got on our bikes and started pedalling our way to Australia and along the way had the most incredible experience of our lives...

The Final Day – A Video Log

2011-09-24T05:59:00.001-07:00

Here it is, the final day, compressed to 3 minutes of video. Enjoy the cheesy music, turn it up!

Crossing the Finish Line

2011-09-18T05:11:00.001-07:00

Skenes Creek – Point Lonsdale

The Great Ocean Road really is a cycling mecca. The smooth road winds its way over gentle hills alongside the dramatic Southern Ocean. Every few kilometres a viewing area promises photo opportunities looking back over the stunning coastline, and on a weekday in early spring, the traffic is almost non-existent. It’s no wonder that Australia’s cycling elite favours this area and even the current Tour de France champion Cadel Evans lives down here, just 15 minutes down the road from Guy’s parents house. ||

Guy’s dad had alerted some family friends living along the coast about our arrival, and so it was that we met Peter along the way near Skenes Creek. He had come out to meet us and ride together for a few hours. Peter had been introduced to cycling a couple of years ago by his mate, Tour de France stage winner Phil Anderson, who lent Peter his bike to give cycling a try. Peter hasn’t looked back since, and we are not surprised as he lives bang smack in the middle of one of the most beautiful section of the Great Ocean Road.

We had planned to camp at Wye River for the night, but as this is where Peter lives, he kindly invited us to stay with him and his wife, Corinne. Peter and Corinne have an incredible house and a small but luxurious B&B on a steep slope perched above the ocean below. The lounge room felt like the upper deck of a ship with its 180° seaview, and just as we arrived we watched a pod of dolphins playing in the waves of the bay below. In winter, migrating whales can often be seen from the house as they head towards Warrnambool to breed.

The hamlet of Wye River, like many others, was only accessible by boat or by rough bush track before the Great Ocean Road was built by returned servicemen after the First World War. The purpose of building the Great Ocean Road was to provide work for these soldiers, as well as making the area more accessible for logging and tourism.

It was our lucky day as Peter and Corinne were so lovely and really spoiled us on our second-last night of the trip. We fell asleep to the sound of the waves and awoke to a beautiful view over the bay. We only had a short day’s cycling planned and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with Corinne before we headed off towards Lorne.

In Lorne, we met up with Tony, another friend of Guy’s dad and an early cycling inspiration for Guy. Guy remembers the moment when Tony showed up at his parents house (Guy was about 13), having just cycled around Australia. 15,000km in 72 days! Guy distinctly remembers thinking he was nuts!

Tony had invited us to stay with him and his wife Pam in Fairhaven. They have a lovely place overlooking the lighthouse and the sea, with a beautiful little cottage they used to rent out as a B&B, which was to be our home for the night.

Tony and Pam are so energetic, we really hope we can be a little like them later on in life. Despite being 70 years of age, Tony still runs half marathons and would whoop guys half his own age when on the bike. He is a great sportsman and even had the honour of carrying the olympic torch before the Sydney Olympics.

We couldn’t sleep as we were so excited. What a great way to spend our last night on the road! We felt very lucky indeed.

On our last morning we were extra careful to take our time and not mess up. We didn’t want anything to go wrong now, so close to our goal.

Therefore Tony was surprised to see us again an hour later, barely 10km on, enjoying our last guilt-free binge at a bakery and soaking up the beautiful sunshine. The weather was just perfect, a real spring day with 20°C and a cloudless sky (just as we were also blessed with beautiful spring weather on the day we left London in May 2010).

We were now cycling along the Surf Coast with its world class surfing beaches. Bells Beach featured in several surfing movies and hosts the world’s longest running annual surf competition which started in 1961. Guy couldn’t help ogling the surf boards for sale everywhere and was clearly looking forward to dusting down his own surfboard which was hanging up in his parents garage.

When we reached Barwon Heads, we were really on our home turf. Coffee At The Heads was a mandatory stop and a bit emotional too as we had enjoyed many coffees here in the past and were only 15km from home now.

Passing through Ocean Grove, we soon rolled down the hill towards the village of Point Lonsdale and the end of our journey. We had butterflies in our stomachs and, feeling excited and nervous, resisted the temptation to cycle straight to Guy’s parents house. First, we needed to visit the front beach and the light house.

Point Lonsdale’s headland, together with Point Nepean on the other side, frames The Rip, the narrow entrance to Port Philip Bay. All ships travelling to and from Melbourne have to pass through The Rip, one of the most treacherous waterways in the world. Even nowadays, despite the existence of GPS, most ships are escorted into and out of the bay with pilot boats who know the exact location of the dangerous reefs.

Racing up to the light house at the headland, we felt stunned. How many times had we replayed this moment in our minds, it was always such a long way away, but now we were really here. WE HADE MADE IT!

With disbelief in our voices, we laughed and yelled and whooped.

When we left London, with Freddie’s back issues we didn’t even know if we would make it to France, and here we were, having cycled ALL THE WAY (the back pain never came back). The whole 18,168 km. Always thinking of this little lighthouse as our end goal, but at times it seemed just too far away. There was so much to get right, so much that could potentially go wrong. Though not under huge time pressure we had to keep moving, we knew we couldn’t afford to be ill for too long, we new we couldn’t afford to wait weeks for a spare bike part to arrive.

One thing we knew was that giving up was not an option. The decision might be made for us, out of our control, but we certainly weren’t going to give up easily.

We were especially proud to achieve our ultimate goal and not take a single lift. (Ok, apart from the time a police chief in Iran forced us into a pickup truck for 25km). Cycling all the way and not taking lifts was important to us for a few reasons: Kind people donated to our charity, and the challenge we set was to cycle to Australia. Hitching lifts would have also diminished the feeling of satisfaction and achievement for us.

Before we knew it we were climbing our last hill, on the other side was home and the end of an era. We stood at the top and looked down towards the finish line. Some part was pulling us back, not wanting to relinquish the vagabond life we have grown to love. Another part of us knew that it can’t go on for ever, and we wouldn’t want it to, the time was right to end the ride.

We shifted down for the final time and cruised down the hill towards Guy’s parents house, we could already spot them in the distance, looking out for us. Richard, Di and their little Jack Russell Maddie had waited for this moment for so long, patiently putting up with all our detours and explorations. They looked pretty happy that we were finally there for real!

There was nothing more to do than flick the kettle on and put our feet up!

10 Things We’ll Miss

2011-09-15T22:08:00.001-07:00

With the end in sight we have been thinking about the things we’ll miss most when our 15 month cycle tour comes to an end. Here is our list:

1. The freedom and the adventure.

2. Connecting instantly with other like minded cycle tourers.

3. The ability to get “under the skin” of the countries we passed through and at times feeling like minor celebrities with all the attention our bikes commanded.

4. Wild camping in the Australian Outback – sitting around our camp fire at night and star gazing, and waking up in the morning to the sounds of kangaroos jumping around our tent.

5. Those first few moments of a shower after some hard days cycling and wild camping.

6. Having few possessions and responsibilities.

7. Regularly experiencing the kindness of strangers, whether it be a bed for the night, a warm cuppa or just the thumbs up as we cycle past.

8. Feeling fitter, stronger and healthier than ever before.

9. Big wide open spaces of places like the Australian Outback and Central Turkey

10. The immense feeling of satisfaction having made it to our destination after a hard day’s cycling. ||

18,000 km Photo

2011-09-14T05:36:00.001-07:00

It felt unreal to be standing at the 12 Apostles on the Great Ocean Road, so close to home, after 15 months on the road and with 18,000km under our wheels.

This is our final kilometre marker photo, which is a little sad but all good things come to an end. We just feel so fortunate that we have been able to follow our dream and that we made it this far.

The Great Ocean Road

2011-09-12T04:47:00.001-07:00

Timboon – Skenes Creek

Rejoining the Great Ocean Road, we stopped at some of the numerous rock formations that have been formed by the powerful seas crashing into the coast line. The day we arrived storm clouds formed a menacing backdrop as winds whipped up a huge swell that slammed into the coast with all its destructive might. The surf report for the local spots simply read: “Too big”.||

Until 1990, London Bridge (see image below) was actually connected to the land, forming a natural bridge with two arches. One of the arches had caved in, leaving two people (rumour has it they were having an affair!) stranded on the rock formation for hours before being rescued by helicopter.

In Port Campbell we took a rainy day off: our last rest day of the trip. The following morning we visited the impressive Loch Ard Gorge, named after the English passenger ship that had been wrecked here in 1878, smashed up on the steep cliffs in heavy fog. It is not without reason that this treacherous coast is now known as the Shipwreck Coast, with over 50 wrecks lining its rugged shores.

A visit to the 12 Apostles, the most famous landmark of the Great Ocean Road, left us bemused as only 8 of these limestone formations are now left, the most recent apostle having collapsed in 2005. It is still an impressive sight, particularly in windy weather when the metre high waves crash into the cliffs.

Leaving the coast behind, we prepared for our last big climb of the trip: the 500m ascent into the Otway National Park. The windy road was relatively quiet and wound its way through thick rain forest. The climb was fairly steep but quite doable. As it rained all day, we were not pleased when we found out that the campsite we had expected in Lavers Hill did not actually exist.

Fed up with being cold and wet, we treated ourselves to a night in a motel. Freddie’s dad, feeling sorry for us camping out all the time, had generously given us a treat budget to enjoy on our last few days on the road, which we spent on food, coffees and this much appreciated night in the motel. Thanks Papa!

We woke up to thick fog, drizzle, and six alpacas peering into our motel window. Raingear and lights on, we took to the road again. We had decided to go inland a little to explore the area around the village of Beech Forest.

A coffee and an excellent lunch at the Ridge Cafe in Beech Forest left us refreshed as we set off towards Turtons Track. Turtons Track is a narrow logging track that had recently been sealed and meanders through thick temperate rainforest with impressively high beech trees laden with moss and ferns. It was a beautiful ride and a great alternative to the much busier Great Ocean Road section between Lavers Hill and Skenes Creek.

Once we left Turton’s Track we were rewarded with a magnificent 10km downhill with dramatic ocean views as we weaved our way back to the Great Ocean Road at Skenes Creek. Our final detour complete we were now within TWO DAYS strike of home; exciting but a little frightening.

A Taste of Victoria

2011-09-08T20:16:00.001-07:00

Robe – Timboon

Leaving Robe, the tailwinds persisted and the sunshine made for a perfect day of cycling. For lunch, we stopped at Beachport, a sleepy fishing village surrounded by surf beaches.

We camped in Millicent and not feeling like tackling the big lights of Mount Gambier we zigzagged on quite rural roads towards the Victorian border. ||

The Mount Gambier area is famous for its sinkholes so we were chuffed to stumble across one, materialising out of the surrounding farm land. Formed due to the corrosion of limestone rocks, some sinks holes are over 77m deep. Guy dipped his toes into the freezing water but stopped short of a swim.

Just around the corner we came across our final border, after countless border crossing from one foreign land to another we now entered our home state of Victoria. All of a sudden we felt home was very very close.

Rolling into the small settlement of Nelson just across the Victorian border we ran into Dan, a Canadian cyclist who had cycled across the Nullarbor desert from Perth.

Dan liked to talk kit so we soon fell into geeky discussions; Dome Vs Tunnel tent design, MSR XGX or MSR Whisperlite. Guy and Dan had a “boil off” to see which stove could bring 2 cups of water to boil first. Much to Dan’s delight the MSR XGX, legendary for its roaring “Jet” style flame took the honours by about 15 seconds but certainly lost points due to its potential for operator ear damage.

We cycled out with Dan on a cold and showery morning. Dan liked to compose songs when he cycled and we enjoyed such classics as “Oh No Not Another Hill” and “Road Train Approaching, I’ve Got The Hippy Hippy Shake”.

At Portland we had lunch together before Dan pushed on while we looked for a campsite. None of the campsites in town had a decent camp kitchen where we could sit and work, but we eventually found a campsite with a decommissioned bunkhouse which they offered us for a cheap price.

Not long after jumping back on the bikes we arrived in Port Fairy, a posh seaside village popular with holidaying Melbournites. Exploring the fancy cafes and antique shops was the last thing on our mind as we searched for a campsite in the driving rain.

We had hoped to take a day off here but as there were no good facilities at the campsite and the weather wasn’t great, we decided to push on.

We passed through Warrnambool and stopped off at Logans Beach for some whale spotting. In winter, Southern Right Whales migrate north from Antarctica and are often seen in the bay as the females calve in the warmer waters. The Southern Right’s were considered the “right” ones to hunt as they float when killed and swim close to the shores. Prior to hunting they numbered over 60,000; today though the numbers are slowly increasing there are still only around 7,000.

We waited around for an hour or so but the whales weren’t coming out to say hello so we pushed on towards Timboon where we wanted to visit John and Rachel, a couple we had met a few months ago at Uluru.

John and Rachel are currently living on John’s mum’s property which they have transformed from a sparse, empty field into a blooming garden. The fences were lined with berries, there were countless fruit trees ranging from plums and apples to guavas and oranges, and the veggie garden brimmed with healthy greens, artichokes and giant carrots.

It was great to catch up with John and Rachel, learn about their take on biodynamic gardening and permaculture, sit by the fire and enjoy Rachel’s hearty root vegetable stew. We left the following morning with a huge bunch of freshly cut silverbeet, a handful of camomile flowers for tea, and a bunch of jerusalem artichokes to plant when we get home.

A gentle climb took us to Timboon where we were persuaded to stop at an old whiskey distillery that had been converted to a swanky restaurant.

No sooner had we got back on the road than we were again persuaded to stop at a local cheese factory: The Mousetrap, run by a French cheese maker. During the cheese tasting we chatted to a lovely French couple living in Melbourne, Bruno and Marlene, who kindly offered to invite us for a drink.

Bursting at the seams from so much food we struggled up a small incline before making our way back to the coast, excited as we knew that some of the worlds most dramatic coastal scenery was just around the corner.

Cruising the Coorong

2011-09-05T01:02:00.001-07:00

Adelaide – Robe

Pouring over maps, we came to the realization that there was simply no way of getting out of Adelaide without a major hill climb. Eventually we picked a quiet route with a fairly gentle 500m climb leading us east towards the Murray River.

The morning of our departure presented us with the worst weather we had had in our entire 17 days in Adelaide: rain and wind. Raincoats and lights on, we said goodbye to our friends and headed down to the river. We followed the bike path along the river for about 12km out of the city, then hopped on to Gorge Road to follow a misty river valley up into the mountains. ||

In the afternoon, the weather cleared and we coasted all the way downhill to the Murray River where we must have looked so tired that the owners of Mannum campsite gave us a senior’s discount – not bad for a couple of 32 year olds!

The following day began with sunshine and blue sky, and we expected an easy day of 70km. But as soon as we left the campsite, the winds picked up and clouds came over again. Stormy gusts blew us sideways off the road as birds struggled in vein to fly.

A friendly cafe offered a welcome rest from the rain and cold stormy weather. When we finally made it to the campsite at Wellington, it was already dark, our “easy day” having turned into one of the hardest of our journey through Australia.

With that in mind, we didn’t think twice when presented with the option of renting a cabin for the night ($25) instead of camping ($19).

With persistent headwinds our progress was slow the following day and we only made it as far as Meningie, a small town on the edge of the Coorong wetlands. We camped next to a lake and spent a relaxing afternoon watching pelicans.

The Coorong is a 145km long national park emcompassing the Younghusband Peninsula. The lagoon landscape is a haven for birds, and we spotted dozens of pelicans during our cycling day.

Just as we were contemplating how suitable the Coorong wildflowers would be for making honey, we came across a little “buy honey here” sign pointing down a driveway. A self-service fridge revealed tubs of local honey. The only available size came in 1kg pots.

“Freddie, I just have to buy this honey,” Guy insisted, reminding her of his dream to one day become a beekeeper himself. “Otherwise I will wonder for the rest of my life how it would have tasted.”

On completion of the purchase, Freddie somehow found herself with a 1kg tub of honey swinging from her handlebars while Guy took to the road unencumbered.

The Coorong national park offered many opportunities for wild camping. Bushland had replaced the ever present fenced-off farmland, and we were reminded of the Outback up North when we easily found a wild camp spot. It was, however, quite muddy – a haven for mosquitoes.

In the morning, a cyclist’s dream came true: the wind had switched and we were blessed with a ferocious tailwind. We had only planned to ride to Kingston, 70km away. When we arrived there at lunchtime, we decided to push on to Robe, making it a 120km day.

Robe is a lovely little fishing village, popular with tourists from both Melbourne and Adelaide. However, on a Sunday afternoon in mid winter, most of the town was closed, including the supermarket. The caravan park was unmanned, so we strolled around and found a lovely pitch on a slopey grass ledge with a 180° sea view.

The following day we had a stroll around the village enjoying the beautiful weather and 20°C sunshine. Not bad for a winter day!

Recharging in Adelaide

2011-08-28T23:22:00.001-07:00

Adelaide

As the second batch of home made pumpkin scones arrived on the table Jenny gently enquired:

“So, how long are you guys planning to stay for?”

Inhaling his 6th scone, Guy said between mouthfuls:

“Ohh about 4 days, we should be good to go by then.”

No one said anything, Freddie glanced outside from the comforts of the indoors, the wind howling in the trees. She was thinking what everyone was thinking: 4 days was was just the tip of the iceberg.||

Guy’s sister Justine flew out from Melbourne to visit for a few days, and Paul and Jenny graciously offered for her to stay in their house too. It was fantastic to see her again after such a long time.

Despite it being the middle of winter, we were lucky to have several days of gorgeous sunny weather, perfect winery touring weather so we made the most of it by visiting some of Paul and Jenny’s favourite spots in the Adelaide Hills, including Hahndorf, a village that was settled by German Lutherans, most of whom had arrived by ship from Hamburg in 1838. These early migrants began the tradition of winemaking in the Adelaide Hills and the Barossa Valley.

We took a stroll along the coast and a visit to the beachside suburb of Glenelg, and though it was winter it was still warm enough for shorts and t-shirts, even children were playing in the shallows.

Not only is Adelaide a superb place for wine but its fertile lands are abundant with fantastic fresh produce so we headed to the Central Market where the city’s passion for food comes alive. We admired handmade soaps, enjoyed freshly roasted coffee and had some of the best dates since leaving Iran. A Sunday morning trip to Gepps Cross market saw us coming home with a car boot full of fresh fruit and vegetables, purchased in bulk from a variety of specialist vendors.

Paul and Jenny had promised to fatten us up after our trip through the Outback, and they did not let us down. We were bombarded by such delectable dishes such as home made pizzas, roast chicken, huge pots of soup, curries, golden syrup dumplings and a fresh loaf of home made bread almost every morning.

We also had access to their car so we took the opportunity to drive back up to the Barossa Valley for some wine tasting. Justine loves the odd drop of wine and enjoyed comparing the Barossa wines with her local drops from the Bellarine and Mornington peninsulas.

Of course our wine tasting expeditions resulted in a few purchases, a stretch for any cycle tourer’s budget. Even here Paul had a solution for us: he had arranged some work for Guy!

Not having seen the inside of an office for 15 months, Guy understandably felt a little apprehensive, but Paul soon put him at ease and lent him some clothes and a shaver. At the same time, a few UK contacts also got in touch with Guy about some work, and Freddie was able to work on an online marketing project and a translation. By the end of our stay, our coffers were a little more replenished, which took some stress off our minds as we had begun to worry about our depleted bank balance.

After Justine had returned back to Melbourne, Paul’s sister Melissa came to stay as she had a broken foot and needed some help with meals and shopping, and Paul’s parents came over for dinner before they jetted off on a trip to the US.

We also met Jenny’s parents, Tony and Janet, who are great travellers and had done the overland hippie trail to Europe in the 1970s. When Paul and Jenny went away for a weekend with friends, Jenny’s parents took us out for a hike to Mount Lofty to spot koalas (we saw 17!) and enjoy the first hints of spring in the air.

On the bike front, we had some maintenance to do. We completed an oil change, which has to be done every 5000km for the Rohloff hub. After using them for 13,000km since Istanbul, we also swapped our Schwalbe Marathon XR tyres out. Panaracer had put us in touch with their local distributor, Bike Sportz, who had generously agreed to supply us with new Panaracer T-Serve tyres to test. These tyres were much more lightweight than the Marathons and would be well suited to the relatively smooth tarmac roads we were expecting on our way home.

The other item we urgently needed to repair was the zippers on Boris, our tent. With the help of Travelling Two’s Bike Touring Survival Guide we had figured out that we didn’t actually need to replace the zippers themselves, but just the sliders. It sounded like an easy job, but after spending several days trying to hunt down the correct sliders, we gave up. We had talked to craft shops, outdoor shops, had called YKK itself and visited their distributor, had searched for Australian online shops, but no luck: nobody stocked the zipper sliders we were looking for. In the end we just applied a quick fix by gently squeezing the sliders with a pair of pliers to tighten them. Hopefully this will get us home.

With that in mind, we were quite surprised to read that our friends Justin and Emma had managed to find a similar zipper for their Hilleberg tent in a market in Ulan Bator, Mongolia! If anyone reading this has contacts in the zipper world, we would be very grateful for any pointers on how to obtain some size 5 metal YKK spiral zipper sliders, double sided.

With all the excitement, socialising, working and eating, 17 wonderful days had passed and it was time for us to hit the road again or apply for official residency in Adelaide (which we considered!).

Paul & Jenny, thank you!

17,000 km Photo

2011-08-14T23:44:00.001-07:00

Cycling through the Barossa Valley wine region, we noticed a small creek called Jacob’s Creek. Looking around we saw the famous winery just around the bend. It was too early for the flashy visitor’s centre to open, so we took the opportunity to do a few star jumps instead.

Rolling Vineyards

2011-08-11T02:32:00.001-07:00

Port Augusta – Adelaide

After a rest day in Port Augusta we were soon on our way again, eager to reach Adelaide and see our friends Paul and Jenny as well as Guy’s sister Justine who was planning to fly over from Melbourne for a quick visit.

An easier-than-expected 500m climb saw us enter the southern Flinders Ranges, South Australia’s largest mountain range. After spending so much time in the flat centre of Australia, it felt strange to be surrounded by rolling green pastures.||

In the afternoon we dropped down into a valley a little reminiscent of the English countryside and soon reached our destination for the day, the historic town of Melrose, one of the oldest towns in the Flinders Ranges. When it was opened in 1848, the police station here was responsible for the largest police district in the world, an area extending all the way north to the Timor Sea. This huge district was covered by only one constable, two troopers and an Aboriginal tracker.

As we now regularly passed villages, shops and cafes and enjoyed the easy access to food and good drinking water we realised the hard “k’s” were over. Most towns had a campsite, and these were very well equipped with indoor camp kitchens.

Our daily cycling distance decreased as the frequency of coffee shops and bakeries increased, reminding us of our days cycling the Danube.

Passing through a little village we spotted a fully loaded touring bike parked on the curb with a cardboard “For Sale” sign hanging off the cross bar. Just as we were pondering what had happened to the owner, a door opened and we were greeted by a friendly man named Rick, who explained his leg pain had caused him to stop cycling. He immediately invited us for a cup of tea and we quickly accepted, pushing our bikes into his living room.

Only 7km later, we came past the Old Stone Hut Bakery, which is quite famous for its pies and coffee. Of course we could not resist and went in for another cuppa!

We camped in Gladstone and then cycled on to Clare, entering the famous northern wine regions of the Adelaide area. The Clare Valley is known for its Riesling which seems to prefer cooler temperatures – good for the wine, bad for tent camping.

We were excited to cycle the Riesling Trail, a dedicated bicycle path between Clare and Auburn. The ride was lovely, though of course in the middle of winter the vineyards were looking a little bare. We followed the extension of the Riesling Trail, the aptly named Rattler Trail, which unfortunately was not well maintained and had suffered a lot as a result of the winter rains.

Surprisingly, we did not see a single other cyclist during the entire 40km we spent on a dedicated bike path.

Following a long climb in the late afternoon, we descended into a lush valley and spent the night in Kapunda where it was noticeably warmer than in Clare.

We now entered the heart of the Barossa Valley - arguably one of the world’s great wine regions producing 21% of Australia’s wine, with a focus on big fruity reds. With our grubby looks we decided to focus on the wineries another day, perhaps a day trip from Adelaide once we have had a chance to make ourselves more socially acceptable

Tanunda is the main town in the Barossa Valley and holds a very special place in our hearts. It was here we had our 75th consecutive and final night of non stop camping! With any luck tomorrow night would see us sleeping in a real house, with real beds. We were pretty excited.

With the thought of a warm bed nothing could ruin our day, well almost nothing. We had mapped out a quiet route off the main roads but had failed to check the altitude profile. The climbs weren’t big but they were steep. Freddie even resorted to pushing her bike, which had not happened since we left Europe a year ago. We did not want to be late as we knew our friends were waiting for us, so we pushed hard and were relieved when we finally reached the river Torrens, which led us right into the heart of Adelaide along a beautiful bicycle path.

Last time we had seen Paul and Jenny, we had been “young professionals” working in London, so they looked a little surprised at how grubby we were and immediately lent us some of their clothes so that we could look a little more presentable during our time in the city.

We had been looking forward to this moment ever since leaving Darwin, and it was great to see our friends again even if they joked about making us camp in their backyard. Our timing was perfect as they had just completed their house renovations, so the bikes were parked in the garage and we were issued with our own bedroom and revived with home made scones and calzone and a drop of red from their healthy looking wine rack.

Having a shower in a warm room and with an adult size fluffy white towels was a pleasure we had not enjoyed for a long time. And the bed! Oh, the bed. Ironically we couldn’t sleep at all the first night as the bed was so soft and comfortable, luckily it was only temporarily and we were soon sleeping like babies.

Opal Mines and Rocket Ranges

2011-08-06T21:33:00.001-07:00

Coober Pedy – Port Augusta

According to our guide book when you arrive in Coober Pedy “you might think you’ve arrived in a post-apocalyptic shithole.” A little harsh perhaps but there is no doubt it is a unique setting packed full of interesting people with only one thing on their mind: Opal.||

With 80% of its residents living in underground dugout homes to escape the heat, and mining equipment littering its dusty streets, Coober Pedy certainly felt a little surreal. Opal fever has seen fortune seekers come from 44 different countries for the past 100 years so it actually feels quite cosmopolitan.

It all started in 1915 when 14 year old Willie Hutchison disobeyed the strict orders of his father, James Hutchison, the leader of a gold prospecting expedition. The party had run out of water amidst the worst draught South Australia had ever experienced. While the adults went in search of a water source, young Willie had been left in charge of tending the campfire. His father quickly forgave him his disobedience when, on his return, Willie had found not only a bag full of loose opals, but also a water hole in the vicinity.

Thanks to Willie, miners have been flooding to Coober Pedy ever since, staking their claims, digging and blasting shafts in the sandstone hoping to uncover their fortune. So how much does the average miner make? A local summed it up nicely:

“Well, take my mate, he found $50,000 worth of opal in a single day. The next 2 years he spent his days toiling away underground for the total sum of $100.”

As the town is located in an unforgiving environment, much effort is required to provide power and water for its inhabitant as well as for visiting tourists. The town water comes from an artesian bore and has to be desalinated and filtered to make it drinkable. A diesel generator provides power for the town, making electricity quite expensive.

There is plenty to explore and we really enjoyed the Old Timers mine, a mine that was rediscovered when a dugout home was being built. It was subsequently turned into a tourist attraction and during the process they found over $100,000 worth of opal that the original miners had missed by just a few feet.

The town is littered with unusual artefacts, walking around your never really know what you might stumble across, hopefully not a shaft! Outside a hotel we came across a spaceship that seemed to have crashlanded just meters from the entrance. It turned out to be an old movie prop from the film Pitch Black. At the entrance of a mine we found old TV sets carefully placed as if they were regularly used.

During the three days we spent in Coober Pedy it did not stop raining, converting the usually sunparched and dusty streets into a muddy sludge.

Leaving Coober Pedy was a little daunting as we had the longest stretch of “nothingness” on our entire trip to cover: 260km without a single human dwelling. Luckily we had found out from fellow campers that there were two water tanks on this stretch, reducing our need to carry large amounts of water.

Trees do not grow naturally in the Coober Pedy area, and the landscape was quite devoid of features. When looking closely however, we still found stunning wild flowers covering the land, grateful for the recent rains.

We were now cyling trough the Woomera Military Exclusion Zone, which meant no deviating off the road was allowed. With the prohibited area being nearly the size of England, it took us several days to cross it.

Arriving at the first water tank one of our worst fears came true; it was empty. Luckily there was a small tank for hand washing near the toilets so over the course of half an hour we managed to drain out just enough to get by. The water tanks in South Australia are fed by rainwater running off the roofs of picnic areas, making the water supply less reliable and more likely to be contaminated than the tanks in the Northern Territory. As a result we have started filtering our water again.

On our second night out of Coober Pedy, as we wheeled the bikes into the bush for another wild camp we realised we had just walked through a field of thorns. On closer inspection we discovered dozens of spiky thorns embedded into our tyres. We spent over an hour taking the little pricks out of our tyres and much of the next morning carrying our kit to the road and doing further checks.

The continuous effort of cycling into the wind was taking its toll, and Guy suffered from bad knee pain, reducing his speed to a crawl. We barely managed 70km a day now as we were cycling so slowly, and even painkillers did not relieve his discomfort.

At camp, we had seen some emu footprints. We hadn’t seen any wild emus yet and were just contemplating the fact that emus were extremely shy animals when we spotted a group of three adults with about a dozen baby emus in a field near Glendambo, the first roadhouse after Coober Pedy. The emu is the second-largest bird in the world after the ostrich, and over the coming days we saw quite a few of them. Despite their size, they usually took flight as soon as they spotted us.

After three days of pure outback, we felt like we had arrived back in civilisation when we pulled into Glendambo roadhouse. It was quite exciting to see a human dwelling again, even though it was just a humble fuel station and motel.

When we left Glendambo in the morning, we could see a road train in our rear view mirrors. Oddly, it was flashing its lights and pulling over just behind us. We soon realised it was our buddy, Craig. We had met him a week earlier at a roadhouse. He was interested to know more about our ride and perhaps check on our mental health. We refused to accept his offer of donating his lunch to us (yum, lasagne!) but accepted some spring water which was a step up from our salty bore water.

Guy’s knee pain was no better and we were pretty relieved when we finally reached Lake Hart right on sunset. This is usually a dried out salt lake, but thanks to the recent rains it had water in it and was amazingly beautiful.

The following morning we passed one of the biggest salt lakes in the state often used by speed enthusiasts intent on breaking their necks and/or land speed records. Much of central Australia used to be covered by a vast inland sea, which is much easier to imagine once you have seen these huge salt lakes.

Five days after leaving Coober Pedy, we arrived in the settlement of Woomera. This village had been established in 1947 to support the Woomera Rocket Range. After WW2, the British had been looking for a place to test new weapons, rockets and missiles. The Woomera region had been chosen and was used for decades by British, Australian and American forces to experiment with top secret military equipment. The visitors center has a great exhibit detailing the role of Woomera´s past and present but it was disappointing that there was no mention of the devastating nuclear tests that occured in the late 1950´s, contaminating the local aboriginal communities and inflicting great suffering on the servicemen working in the area completly unprotected.

The village of Woomera itself had been off-limits to the public until 1982. It is still used by the military and is an oddly artificial place with a campsite, a supermarket and a couple of museums. We took a day off here to let Guy’s knee recover.

The road south of Woomera was very busy with lots of road trains and school holiday traffic. The amount of roadkill on this stretch was the worst we have ever encountered: every hundred metres or so the stench of a dead kangaroo or a rotting cow filled the air and this made us think (rather morbidly) about our road kill list to date. We thought we might share it with you. Over the last 14 months we have seen dead horses, pigs, cows, camels, kangaroos, wallabies, snakes, sheep, foxes, mice, dingoes, dogs, frogs, cats, monitor lizards, hedge hogs, echidna and a dozen or so varieties of birds. Sometimes cycling is not for the faint-hearted!

On a more positive note, we were enjoying a lovely tailwind and beautiful sunshine and found another great camp spot on our last night in the Outback. There is something about camping out here that makes you feel really connected with nature. Sitting around a cosy fire under a million stars was a natural part of our ancestor’s life but is such a rare experience nowadays.

Finally after 3,600km of riding we arrived at the sea (the top of the Spencer Gulf), officially marking the end of our time in the Outback. In only one week’s time we would be in Adelaide, staying with our friends Paul and Jenny, and boy were we looking forward to some creature comforts.

16,000 km Photo

2011-07-20T20:11:00.001-07:00

Somewhere about a day’s ride before Coober Pedy we watched our 16,000th kilometre tick by on our bike computers. Coober Pedy is known to be Australia’s hottest place where temperatures reach over 50°C in summer and locals live in underground houses to beat the heat. When we arrived, the temperature was 8°C and the storm clouds were just waiting to burst.

The Wet and Wintery “Arid Region”

2011-07-20T20:04:00.001-07:00

Uluru – Coober Pedy

Leaving Yulara behind we set off one rainy morning to cycle towards Coober Pedy, some 740km away. To our delight, the winds had switched direction since we arrived and we had a tailwind again, this time pushing us eastwards and away from the still visible landmark of Uluru.

For weeks we had been hearing from other campers that the epicentre of the current mouse plague was around Erldunda, the area we were heading towards. Mice had already gnawed several holes into our panniers and we were tired of the additional hassle to make our camp mouse proof, so we devised a new strategy to get us through this area without any more damage: we would wild camp every night. We have found the mice in campsites much more aggressive as they are accustomed to eating camper’s foods, whereas the mice out in the bush are still curious but not as desperate to eat into our supplies.

The nights were very cold and we often found a layer of frost on our kit in the morning, making it quite uncomfortable to peel away the damp sleeping bag and take off three layers of merino wool and fleece to put our cycling clothes on. During breakfast, we waited for the sun to appear above the horizon, warming us up a little and thawing the ice on our gear. It is usually 9am by the time we wheel the bikes out from our hidden bush camp and back onto the road, much to the astonishment of passing traffic.

After a couple of days cycling, the terrain flattened out, allowing an unimpeded view of the vast horizons. By our third day on the road the winds had turned again and, as usual, we were battling a relentless headwind. In the afternoon we reached Erldunda Roadhouse and the Stuart Highway. This was the end of our 1,000km detour taking in Kings Canyon and Uluru, and we were happy to finally make some progress south.

At Erldunda we paid for a shower at the campsite after chatting to some guys from New York doing a documentary on camels in the outback. We pushed on to find a bush camp a little further on. Patience was required until the fence retreated a little and we were able to duck behind a rise, only 10m from the road but well hidden from view. We woke up to find a beautiful peach coloured sunrise topped off with a double rainbow arching across the western sky.

Unfortunately the skies soon darkened and driving rain ensured lasting all day. At only 8°C this was a real slog and it seemed our tyres were glued to the tarmac, requiring a huge effort to keep them moving along.

Passing the turnoff to a cattle station, we were amazed by the fact that the homestead was a full 60km beyond the entrance gate. The mailbox of course was located on the Stuart Highway, making life easier for the postman but requiring a 120km return trip for the residents to pick up their mail!

We camped just before the South Australian border and reached the rest area at the border the following morning. After spending nearly two months exploring the Northern Territory and its natural wonders we were excited to reach the next state.

While cycling we saw many mice in the fields near the road as well as hundreds of dead mice flattened on the highway. As expected, the mice still came to visit us every night, climbing up on the tent, rustling around and pulling at our panniers, stealing our valuable sleep but not doing any real damage. The term “quiet as a mouse” really takes on a different meaning when you are kept up by them every night!

On our sixth day of cycling the wind finally died down and the sun came out, lifting our spirits. As we pedalled through the wide open spaces, the sun on our backs, tunes pumping from our Ipods and legs spinning effortlessly we could not think of a better place to be.

Marla Roadhouse had the benefit of a decent shop and a good campsite, giving us the opportunity for a rest day. Our day off was spent, as usual, with doing the laundry, some bike maintenance, restocking on food, eating a lot and blogging a little.

Leaving Marla, we were amazed by the unusual sight of flooded plains, offering a haven for birds following the recent rains.

Another day of battling the winds saw us trudging along at 10km per hour, one eye on the road, the other on the bike computer impatiently watching the kilometres accumulate. Cycling at this snail’s pace made us acutely aware of the vast landscape we were trying to traverse. We were such tiny dots crawling along in this vast continent, making our endeavour to reach the southern coast seem almost impossible.

Filling up with water at a rest area, we met a lovely elderly couple, John and Gwen, who invited us into their caravan to eat hot minestrone soup and pancakes. They had just picked a beautiful bunch of wild flowers from near the rest area and were marvelling at the lush vegetation as they remembered this area from previous visits as being completely devoid of life.

Leaving the cosy caravan behind, we only travelled for a few more kilometres before we found a bush camp spot where the ground was covered in a carpet of tiny yellow, pink and blue wild flowers. Just as we enjoyed the blooming desert, so did the birds. Tiny finches nested in a nearby bush, a white owl and later a majestic eagle swept by, a flock of screeching cockatoos circled around our tent and several crows loudly commented on our activities from nearby mulga trees.

We had really hoped for some more warm weather before we reached the dreary southern winter, but in the morning, threatening grey clouds covered the skies again and another cold day ensued. Bundled up in fleeces, merino wool, windproof jackets and overshoes, gloves and hoods we pushed on. Being cold and tired never makes for happy moods and our tempers flared up over lunch, resulting in us cycling apart for the next 20km before we reunited our forces to beat our common enemy, the wind.

The landscape around Coober Pedy is famous for being harsh and barren, but the current cover of green makes it appear a little more gentle, with flat green and brown pastures stretching as far as the eye can see.

Beneath this unassuming landscape lie 90% of the world’s opal reserves. As we came closer to the opal town of Coober Pedy, we began noticing hundreds of large white and pink ant hills where mining was taking place. Road signs warned visitors of unmarked mine shafts around the area.

Arriving in town where every second home seems to have some rusting mining relic in its front yard was a little surreal as there are even active mines within the town itself, and many houses, businesses and even churches are built underground, often by repurposing disused mines. In fact, the name “Coober Pedy” comes from the Aboriginal word for “White Man in a Hole”. This promised to be a fascinating place worth a little exploration. ||

Round The Rock by Bicycle

2011-07-14T04:22:00.001-07:00

Kings Canyon - Uluru

After 5 days of cycling with no food resupply we were running on empty so we were hoping for a general store at the Kings Canyon Resort. Unfortunately what greeted us was just a depleted fuel station shop. It was still another 5 days until our next proper supermarket so we made do with an odd assortment of tinned food.

Setting up camp in the late afternoon admiring the escarpment of the George Gill range our peace was soon disturbed as we were swopped on by some of the local birdlife intent on taking the bread from our plates. Signs around the camp warned of dingo activity and we watched closely as they strolled freely amongst the campers looking for any scraps they could find. To top it off we were alerted to the presence of mice as they scurried over our canvas whilst we cooked the evening meal. With all this activity we decided all food should be removed from the tent so we hoisted our supplies into the nearest tree, much to the amusement of our fellow campers.||

After a day off recovering from our adventures on the Mereenie Loop we packed up and cycled out to Kings Canyon for the 6km rim walk. The first section was the toughest and aptly named Heart Attack Hill. Once over the steep incline the track meanders around the rim of the canyon at times coming right to the verge of the 100m high sheer cliff face.

The walk weaves amongst obscure rock formations, dominated by beehive shaped domes that give the place the feeling of an ancient city.

The canyon hosts the largest variety of plant life in Central Australia, some going back to prehistoric times and at the head of the gorge is an area known as the Garden of Eden where a spring supports a small oasis and feeds a tranquil water pool.

Back at the car park where we left the bikes we still had 40km to cycle to camp and wondered if the walk may have tired us out, but back on the bikes the legs effortlessly fell into the familiar rhythmic motion of cycling.

Arriving at Kings Creek Station we refilled our water bottles for $1 per litre as the bore water has to be pumped from 5km away. An inspirational couple (The Conways) had purchased 800,000 hectares of arid land here, completely off grid and developed a successful cattle and tourism enterprise as well as a charity supporting education for local Aboriginal kids.

The following morning after a bush camp just as we stopped to take a jumper off we noticed we were being watched by a magnificent wild horse. Word must have spread as one after another materialised from the bush. As we quietly cycled on they continued to watch us, then as we came within 50m they took off. We tried to stay with them, matching pace as the majestic horses galloped beside us. We thought maybe we had startled them but they continued on a parallel path, almost as if they were willing us on.

Feeling a little exhausted after our race with the wild horses we had just wheeled around the corner when we were flagged down by Trish and Tony, a lovely couple we had met at the Kings Canyon Resort camp site. They offered us coffee and muffins, which we promptly accepted over a chin wag in their ultra comfortable caravan.

That afternoon the wildlife fest continued with a dingo, pink and white galahs and 3 red kangaroos all in the space of a few hours. We struck it lucky with one of the prettiest bush camps we have had on the trip, it really felt like we had walked into a manicured garden.

The next morning we turned westbound onto the main road that took us all the way to Uluru. It felt a little wrong to be heading due west when home is south east Australia but this was a detour that had to be done.

As we summited a crest later in the day a massive red rock rose from the plains. Mt Connor, often mistaken for Uluru steals the show somewhat as it accustoms you to these beautiful rock formations. We set up camp at the dusty Curtin Springs Roadhouse, about 80km from Uluru.

When we took off from camp in the morning a very strange thing happened to us, TAIL WIND! We clamoured on our bikes and were soon hitting speeds of 35km/hr, we couldn’t believe our luck as we raced along the desert plains. Coming up over a small rise we got our first glimpse of Uluru. We were so excited we pulled over for an early lunch and climbed the nearest sand dune for a private one on one with the world’s most famous rock.

They don’t all live up to the hype, these “big sites” - but for us, sitting there on the dune with Uluru in sight having cycled such a long way to get there was a really unforgettable moment.

The day only got better as we got word that our Kiwi 4WD buddies Andrew and Therese were still in Yulara sorting out a few administrative matters and they would hang around for another night if we could make it there in time.

Rolling into Yulara, the small purpose built “town” that so cleverly camouflages itself within the bush that you hardly notice it was a delight for us as we knew there was a SUPERMARKET to raid with semi reasonable prices.

After clearing out the supermarket we met Andrew and Therese at the campground and caught up on their 4WD travels. On the following day we cycled the 20km out to Uluru in the hope to bike around The Rock. A park ranger was pretty excited to see us on our bikes and being a cyclist himself he was keen to explain the best route to us.

Uluru is amazing close up, it takes on a different form the closer you get to it, far from just a big clump of rock. We were amazed by the smooth swirling drifts of sandstone that give the rock a soothing texture. As it is a very spiritual place for the Aborigines there are numerous rock paintings and in some sections photography is prohibited.

Again we were amazed by all the plant life in the area and during the wet season rains spill over the sides cascading down the smooth sandstone to fill tranquil little water holes around the base.

The Sorry Book at the cultural centre caught our attention. It contains hundreds of admissions from people who have taken something from the area and all of a sudden have had a string of bad luck. The bad luck seems to coincide from the moment the item was taken, as a result stolen goods (such as lumps of rock) are often posted back with a sorry letter in hope they will be forgiven for their sins.

The following day we made contact with Mark and Nadia, friends of Greg, the French cyclist we met in Alice Springs. They are tour guides working for a company taking school groups out to the bush to do workshops and cultural activities within the Aboriginal villages for 9 days at a time. They’d just returned from one trip and were due on the next one the following day. They kindly gave up their one day off to meet up for lunch. Afterwards they took us out for sunset on a dune with a fantastic view of Uluru followed by dinner at their house. They have done a fantastic cycle tour in Europe and Australia the previous year and will spend the summers not far from our new home in Victoria, so we hope to return the favour one day.

Our final must do in the area was a visit to the Olgas (Kata Tjuta), a magnificent group of orange dome shaped rocks clustered together like a handful of marshmallows. Getting out to the Olgas is difficult if you don’t have access to a vehicle, as it’s a 110km round trip and a 3 hour walk. Enter Rachel and John, a couple from Victoria we met at camp. They offered for us to come with them, so we all piled into their car for the drive out and to do the stunning Valley Of the Winds walk that weaves its way through this surreal and beautiful landscape.

Back at camp we paid one final visit to the supermarket to stock up for our 6 day haul to Marla. Soon we would be reunited with our mate, the Stuart Highway and foe, the south east headwinds.

15,000 km Photo

2011-07-04T23:24:00.001-07:00

Having just emerged from the Mereenie Loop and 140km of bone jolting corrugated dirt roads, we
were feeling good to be back on the smooth tarmac and averaging speeds in the double figures. We came to a conclusion that fully loaded touring and rough dirt roads are a bad combination.

Cycling the Mereenie Loop

2011-07-04T23:00:00.001-07:00

Alice Springs – Kings Canyon

There are two options to travel from Alice Springs to Uluru, or “The Rock”: the most popular option is to stay on a tarmac road, then backtrack to the highway with an optional detour to Kings Canyon. The other option is to take the Mereenie Loop road. This is a more scenic 700km route to Uluru taking in Kings Canyon and minimising the amount of backtracking.

The catch is that the Mereenie Loop encompasses a 140km unsealed section known for its rough corrugations and sandy creek crossings, really just suitable for 4WD vehicles. This section lies in the midst of a 230km gap between water points, which would take us about 3 days of cycling to cover. As the Mereenie Loop is located on Aboriginal land, a permit is required to travel on the road, and camping is not allowed.

“The dirt road is often soft and slow with the occasional 200m stretch of sand and […] kilometres of bone jolting, filling loosening, cobblestones. Ugg.” - Cycle Trails Australia

“You’ll need tyres ten times as thick as that. It’s sandy and you’ll probably have to walk a lot of it. You’d be lucky to do 20km per day.” - Grey Nomad, having just completed the Mereenie Loop in his 4WD

Taking into consideration all the pros and cons of the two roads, we made the sensible decision to stick to the tarmac. So we stocked up on food for the 5 days cycling we thought it might take us to get to Uluru, swapped our worn rear tires for new, slicker and thinner tyres suitable for the tarmac roads, and packed our bags. We were perfectly happy until we started chatting to a young German traveller who told us he had just driven the Mereenie Loop in a borrowed 2WD car and thought it would be doable by bicycle.

With the full intention of staying on the tarmac, we went to sleep.

8 hours later, Guy was woken up by Freddie whispering: “Guy, are you awake? I think we’re making a terrible mistake. What will we think later, say next year, when we look back and realise we took the easier option and missed out on Kings Canyon? Sure, the Mereenie Loop will be much harder, and maybe we won’t make it, but it’s so much more interesting. Shouldn’t we at least try?”

“Ok”, Guy mumbled and went back to sleep. With that, the decision was sealed. We were doing the Mereenie Loop.

We calculated that it would take us about 5 days to get to Kings Canyon via the Mereenie Loop, so we had enough food and set off from Alice Springs a few hours later to explore the West MacDonnell Ranges on our way. The terrain was quite hilly but very scenic, and we found a lovely camp spot in a dried out creek bed.

We hadn’t allowed time for many detours, but the one gorge in the West MacDonnells we really wanted to visit was Ormiston Gorge, which everybody we spoke to had recommended to us. It was indeed very pretty, though the campground wasn’t very exciting.

As Andrew and Therese had left on the same day as us and were taking the same route, we had seen them a couple of times on the way and met again at Ormiston Gorge. To give ourselves a better chance of completing the Mereenie Loop, we had asked them to do a water drop for us along the way. The only landmark on the whole 230km stretch without facilities was a turnoff to an Aboriginal village after 90km, so we agreed that they would drop the water off there for us, marking the spot by tying bits of toilet paper to a bush.

Our permits were easily obtained at Glen Helen for the princely sum of $3, although it would have been quite obvious to everyone that we were planning to break the “no camping” rules as there was no way we could cycle the whole Mereenie Loop in one day. This was the last water point where we filled up our bladders, though we would be able to top up our supplies from Andrew and Therese who were already setting up camp 20km on in Redbank Gorge.

When we arrived at Redbank Gorge, Andrew and Therese had already lit a warming fire and were preparing a bucket shower with water heated by their car engine. To our delight, Therese even cooked us dinner (seafood pasta!) and made one last chocolate pudding. It was great to spend another night with our Kiwi friends.

In the morning, our tents were frozen. As we washed our dishes, the water on our cups and plates froze instantly, before we even had a chance to dry them. The Mereenie Loop road is located at over 800m altitude, making for warm days and freezing nights.

Knowing that we would hit the dirt road soon, Guy had swapped our rear tyres back over to our old tyres which were more worn but had much more grip than the new slick tyres. However, after barely an hour of cycling, Freddie’s rear tyre developed a large bulge. A while ago we had camped on recently burned ground and must have left the tyre on a hot patch so that it had developed a small but hardly noticeable bulge. Luckily we had reinforced it with duct tape as otherwise the tube would have blown right out of the tyre. As a result we had to change back a slick tyre, not ideal for the sandy dirt roads ahead of us.

We were carrying 12l of water each, adding significantly to the load of our bikes. When the tarmac road ended, we deflated our tyres to 40PSI (we normally run them on 70PSI). Cycling on the dirt road was a shock to the system as handling the heavy bikes on corrugations, sand and rocks proved to be tricky at times. Most of the time we could find somewhere on the road to cycle, even if it meant cycling on the opposite lane, but it was slow going and we were glad when we reached our water drop as the daylight faded.

We saw the telltale strips of toilet paper fluttering on a bush and were quietly relieved when we found the 10l water box. It even contained two complimentary chocolate bars – thanks Andrew and Therese! A few hundred metres on we found a quiet place to set up camp. Unfortunately it turned out that we had taken over the resting place of a bull who was not impressed but we were too tired to move on so stood our ground and soon he left after some stomping and snorting.

Thanks to our water drop, we now had plenty of water for the remaining two days of cycling. We were using about 6l of drinking water per day (combined), plus 4l for each night of camping. Negotiating the sandy, rocky and corrugated road surface required a lot of concentration, and we became tired of staring intently at the road all day instead of enjoying the scenery. Our shoulders and knees were hurting from the weight of the bikes, and the rough road sometimes made us feel as if we were in a washing machine.

Although we were in a remote area now, we still saw about 20 cars per day. Most of the time the cars were announced by large dust clouds so that we could spot them from far away. Not all cars had dust clouds, this one wasn’t going anywhere fast and with the cost of car recovery so high, sometimes abandonment is the only option.

Trudging along over a crescent in the road a 4WD slowed down and the driver yelled:

“I don’t suppose you guys would like some Swiss chocolate.”

The driver turned out to be Patrick, a friend of Andrew and Therese who had been instructed by them to look after us when he saw us en route!

A little further on we came across another example of why we have really loved cycling in the Territory, things are a little different out there. An example of how they signal to motorists to slow down for the sharp corner ahead:

Due to the recent rains, the road had been damaged and roadworks were taking place. We were very lucky that a 40km section of the road had just been graded, making the surface much smoother to ride on. Without these “bonus kilometres” we would have struggled to make it through the whole Mereenie Loop in our scheduled 3 days.

All along the road we had been spotting camel foot prints on the sandy edges. Some were huge, almost the size of a dinner plate, while others alongside were much smaller. Finally we spotted a family of three camels walking on a ridge parallel to the road – a huge male camel followed by a female and a smaller young one. We managed to take a few pictures before they fled down the hill and out of view.

Camels had originally come to Australia with the Afghan workers building the Ghan railway through the desert. They had been used by many expeditions to transport supplies to remote communities. Being suited to the arid conditions, there are many wild camels in Australia now and we recently heard that Australia even exports camels to Saudi Arabia!

Just as it was time to camp, Freddie’s bike started making worrying noises. A quick examination showed that one of the screws that attached the rear rack to the bike had been sheared off. The rough road and heavy load on the rack had taken its toll. Luckily the bike engineers had pre-empted this situation and allowed for a secondary screw thread so all we had to do was readjust the rack to fit in the new position, hats off to you SJS Cycles!

At night, there was total isolation. From the moment it got dark at 6pm until about 8am, no vehicles, no people, absolutely no one passed us at all. There were no settlements nearby, no phone reception, we were totally alone. We relished this rare chance to experience perfect isolation and really enjoyed sitting around our little camp fire under the stars in this huge expanse of emptiness.

The road went from rough to diabolical for the last 30km or so, and there was nowhere to escape the rough surface. The choice was mostly between rattling along on the deep corrugations that covered the whole width of the road at 3km/hr, or risking the sandy edges with over an inch of soft sand.

Suddenly we hit the tarmac, a real surprise as we had calculated it to come a little later. We were feeling pretty smug that we had made it, pumped up the tyres again and screamed down a hill, enjoying the fast ride on the beautiful tarmac road.

We couldn’t believe our eyes when 1km later, the tarmac ended and we were back on the dirt for another 15km of corrugations, so we deflated the tyres again and grimly pushed on not feeling so smug!

This part of Australia is usually known as the “Red Centre”, but due to the strong rains this year it looks more like the “Green Centre”. All along the road are juicy wild melons. We weren’t sure if they were edible, but the area was just littered with them, very tempting.

Soon after we hit the tarmac for real and blazed along for the last 10km towards Kings Canyon.

As we rolled into Kings Canyon Resort, we were happy and proud that we had conquered the Mereenie Loop with minimal damage to the bikes and ourselves. We also accepted the realisation that corrugated dirt roads on a fully loaded touring bike is not our idea of fun. It’s ok to get to somewhere special, but we love the sensation of cycling and taking in the scenery, something that is very difficult to do when you are so focussed on keeping your balance from one corrugation to the next.||

Exploring Alice’s Gorges in a 4WD

2011-07-02T05:13:00.001-07:00

Alice Springs and the East MacDonnell Ranges

Immediately on our arrival in Alice Springs, or “The Alice”, we met some lovely people: first there were Greg and Cyrielle, a French couple working at our campsite, then Steve, a cycle tourer from Canberra, and Andrew and Therese, a New Zealand couple on a 4WD trip occupying the tent spot next to us. We had also really hoped to see Roger and Catherine, the French Canadian couple we met in Turkey, as they were cycling through Australia and planning to be in Alice Springs at the same time as us, but unfortunately we ended up missing them by a day.

The weather was truly miserable for our first few days in Alice Springs: it was freezing cold and raining. We wore all our layers, all day – a T-shirt, two long-sleeved merino wool tops, a fleece and a Goretex jacket, long johns, trousers and two pairs of socks. Freddie even succumbed and purchased a hot water bottle to survive the cold nights. Luckily the weather cleared after a few days, and whilst still cold, it was now clear and sunny, perfect for an afternoon stroll around the campsite where we watched birds and fed the cute little rock wallabies coming down the hill just before sunset.

Therese and Andrew were planning to do a 4WD trip to the East MacDonnell Ranges not far from Alice Springs and kindly invited us for some “off road adventures”. We jumped at the opportunity as it gave us a chance to deviate off the Stuart Highway. We were planning to go for 3 days, then return to Alice Springs before we headed off towards Uluru. Our bikes were securely parked in Scotty the Campsite Caretaker’s shed, and our bike bags strapped to the roof of Andrew and Therese’s Landcruiser.

The prolog of the Finke Desert Race was taking place on the day of our departure. The Kiwis were keen to go, and so were a friendly German couple we also met at the campsite, Christian and Nicole. Together we drove out of town to the racecourse and spent a few hours watching dirt bikes and quads racing along the track. The Finke Desert Race – an annual off-road 229km race through tough desert terrain - was due to take place over the following two days.

Leaving the prolog, we said goodbye to Nicole and Christian who were heading out to the racecourse to camp and watch the actual race.

The MacDonnell Ranges are interspersed with numerous gorges, some containing waterholes. We found a small bush campsite near John Hayes Rock Hole which was was unmanned and only accessible on a rough 4WD track travelling up a narrow, rocky creek bed. The facilities were limited to some picnic tables and a long drop toilet, and we shared a campfire with a couple of cheerful men who entertained us with their hour long cooking antics. In the morning we spent a few hours on a beautiful ridge walk around the area with views of the distant ranges then returned back through a creek bed flanked by steep red quarzite cliffs.

Having dismantled our tents, we drove a little further into Trephina Gorge to do another scenic loop walk which involved wading through a creek filled with icy water.

The campsite here at The Bluff was a little busier as it was located in a very picturesque setting, right near the creek. Again we made friends with our neighbours who had had the foresight to collect firewood before entering the national park where firewood collection was prohibited, and had a fun night sharing stories and making damper on their fire.

Our plan was to drive to the historic Arltunga gold fields, but on the way we passed the turnoff to N’Dhala Gorge, which was officially closed to traffic.

“Let’s see how closed it really is”, said Therese. We all quickly agreed and with that our fate was sealed.

The 4WD track involved several creek crossings, some of which had recently had water and were still quite wet. Having let down the tires and crossed our first creek successfully, we became more confident that we would be able to get through to the gorge.

Andrew gunned the Landcruiser into the next creek, all was going well, we looked unstoppable and were dismissing the over zealous rangers for closing the track until we entered the soft sand in the middle of the creek. Our speed slowed suddenly as the Landcruiser began to strain, the wheels spun desperately for grip in the soft muddy sand. Soon enough we came to a complete stop, we were royally bogged!

We jumped out to assess the damage, immediately falling into mud up to our shines. As there were no other vehicles around and we had sunk too deep into the soft mud to dig ourselves out, it was time to test out the winch. Pulling out the cable required all of our combined strength. Guy and Therese strapped the cable around a nearby River Red Gum trunk in the middle of the river while Andrew got the car ready and Freddie captured the event with our camera. As Andrew engaged the winch, we listened to the creaking sounds of the trunk straining under pressure. It was clear the 4 ton Cruiser was too much load.

A sturdier tree was found and luckily the cable was just long enough to reach it. By now, the wheels were sunk 3/4 into the mud. The tree held strong but this time the winch was faltering, straining under the pressure. After a few slips it slowly gained traction and pulled out the Cruiser to the safety of the creek bank.

We were happy to make it to N’Dhala Gorge and had a little walk there, followed by lunch to strengthen our nerves for the return trip, back across the same creek beds. To our relief, we got through the creeks without getting stuck and soon were on our way to the Arltunga gold fields. Due to our little misadventure it was now late afternoon, too late to do much sightseeing, and rather than driving back to Alice Springs that day, we decided to stay out for another night.

The Arltunga campsite marked on our map had recently closed down but we found a little track nearby and set up our camp in the bush. For our last night, Therese made a delicious chocolate pudding, cooked in a camp oven on the fire.

In the morning, we went back to Arltunga to explore the historic gold mines. Arltunga had experienced a gold rush in the 1880s and 1890s when gold dust was discovered in the local quarz. As the location was so remote, life was very hard for the miners. All supplies came from Adelaide via the rail head at Oodnadatta. The last 700km of the long journey had to be completed with the help of camels or horses, or on foot. Many miners pushed all their belongings, food and water on heavy wooden wheelbarrows over sand dunes and dusty tracks all the way from Oodnadatta.

There was not much water in the area, and a harsh climate meant summers often saw temperatures rising above 50°C, whereas winters were freezing cold. Extracting the gold dust from the quarz was hard and hazardous work, and after 20 years the mines were abandoned in favour of more promising gold fields.

Having crawled into some of the old mines and found a couple of gold specks in the local quarz (Therese discovered a hidden talent), it was time for us to return to Alice Springs. We had really enjoyed our 4WD outing, it was fantastic to get off the beaten track especially with such great company in Andrew and Therese, thanks guys!

After a week off the bikes we were really looking forward to getting going again and experiencing the immediacy and intensity of exploring the Outback from the seat of a bicycle. A few more days in Alice Springs saw us completing some last minute odds and ends in town, hanging out at the Botanic Gardens and sampling the local cafes. We also visited the Royal Flying Doctors Service to find out more about the amazing medical service provided to remote communities and cattle stations, where pilots often have to land on makeshift airstrips, most without tarmac, and many without any lighting.

The Desert Park was also worth a visit as we learned a lot about the flora and fauna of the inland rivers, sand country and woodlands of central Australia. The nocturnal house exhibited many endangered or extinct (in the wild) mammals, and the birds of prey show impressed with free flying kites and falcons.

From Alice Springs, we had originally thought we might rent a car for the detour to Uluru (Ayer’s Rock) and Kings Canyon, but in the end it didn’t feel right to arrive at this deeply symbolic place at the centre of our new home country by car. We wanted to explore the area by bicycle, even if it would add an extra two weeks and over 900km to our trip. If only we knew fate still had another roll of the dice to play. ||

An Entertaining Night

2011-06-17T04:35:00.001-07:00

Barrow Creek – Alice Springs

We were planning to fill up with water at Barrow Creek road house and push on to free camp, but the chatty owner convinced us otherwise by promising to show us his German football memorabilia in the bar. The campsite was cheap but very basic, so we decided to stay for the night. ||

A telegraph station had been opened at Barrow Creek in 1872. It has a gruesome history as a station master and a linesman were speared by hostile Aboriginals in 1874. In retribution, the government ordered for 50 Aboriginals to be killed. This is where the name of a nearby creek originated from: Skull Creek.

In the 1930s, shearers began the tradition of pinning a bank note with their name on it on the wall of the pub so that they could have a drink when they passed by again. Some also left hats behind, and there was even a horse saddle. They are still displayed in the bar, along with a huge collection of other paraphernalia left behind by tourists in more recent times.

We noticed that the water coming from the taps tasted quite disgusting, the same as the water we had picked up in Wycliffe Wells the previous day. Other cyclists had warned us of the strange and salty taste of the bore water in this area.

“I wouldn’t drink the bore water from the taps anywhere between Wycliffe Wells and Coober Pedy,” a miner told us. “It’s full of uranium and salt.”

We trusted the miner’s opinion as his company was mining gold and uranium in the area. His group of miners was staying in basic accommodation at Barrow Creek while exploring the mining potential of the area. They had a Geiger counter and had measured 30 times the normal radiation levels at Barrow Creek. We gave in and bought water from the bar instead, at $10 for 10 litres. (Later we decided to just go by the taste and only buy water if the tap water was really undrinkable).

The only other people staying at the campsite were two couples from the Murray River area in Victoria who were driving up to the Roper river to fish barramundi. One of the men introduced himself by donating four fresh oranges to us, a much appreciated gift, particularly as they were home grown.

The two brothers were true blue Aussie blokes – the real McKoy from their Akubra hats, ultra short “stubby” shorts and cow hide Bluntstone boots (“with steel caps, for kicking shit!”). They were quite interested in our trip (“You’ve come all that way on bicycles? Fair dinkum!”) and invited us to share their fire, as well as giving us a home made trail mix with dried apricots and almonds from the neighbour’s garden.

Around the fire, much manly bragging ensued and Guy felt a little inadequate when asked what his trade was. He felt like a real city boy when he admitted to working in “Information Technology”, a far cry from the wild-boar-shooting-pig-slaughtering work of these rugged Outback men. It didn’t help that they took it for granted we would carry a weapon (just as they had guns tucked away under their car seats) and Guy was asked “so, what sort of blade do you carry?” Erm, Swiss Army vegetable knife…

Though from different worlds we enjoyed each others company and promised to look them up next time we were in the Riverine area.

Back on the Stuart Highway we passed Central Mount Stuart, which John MacDouall Stuart calculated to be in the centre of Australia, equidistant between the most northerly and southerly, and easterly and westerly points of the land mass. In the afternoon, we suddenly felt very tired and were glad when we arrived at the Ti Tree roadhouse after 89km.

The campsite was lovely and good value, with soft grass and lots of wildlife. Peacocks wandered around and pink and grey galahs screeched as they flew from tree to tree. This time we had taken more food than we needed, so we decided to take a day off and catch up on some blogging.

Many people had warned us about the plagues of mice and rats terrorising campers south of Alice Springs. Apparently the ground is literally covered in them at night. One cyclist we met had told us that a mouse had eaten a hole in his tent. We hadn’t encountered any mice so far, but in the morning we discovered mouse poop around the tent, and a mouse had squeezed into one of our panniers to nibble on our bread and flour.

Refreshed, we had a good day’s riding and managed over 100km quite easily. We found a beautiful bush camp. Usually we make a fire when we free camp. There is nobody around for miles anyway and it is so cold at night that we would be in bed by 7pm if we didn’t have a fire. We had been experimenting with making damper, the traditional bush man’s bread that is baked in a camp fire. Having tried different versions with raisins and chocolate chips, we baked a really nice loaf of damper with pumpkin and raisins. Yum!

Unexpectedly, it started raining the next morning. All day it drizzled and rained and we felt cold as it was only 11°C. When we reached the rest area at the Tropic of Capricorn, we decided to make a few cups of tea and wait until the worst was over. After a couple of hours it was still raining, but we were keen to get to Alice so we decided to push on.

Ever since leaving Darwin, we had been steadily climbing. Just before Alice Springs, we finally reached the highest point of the Stuart Highway, 728m above sea level.

We had heard that the Finke Desert Race, an offroad motorbike race, was taking place a couple of days later, but we hadn’t expected the campsites to be booked out because of this. After asking at a couple of campsites in Alice Springs, drenched in rain, we finally found a camp. We were cold and wet but happy to have arrived bang smack in the middle of central Australia.

The Devil’s Marbles, a UFO Centre and a Friendly Dingo

2011-06-16T23:16:00.001-07:00

Tennant Creek – Barrow Creek

Tennant Creek had a strange feel to it, with its barred windows, closed-down shops and most shockingly a street cafe that was encased in a cage. The insightful Nyinkka Nyunyu arts centre with its tranquil garden and attached café felt like a ray of light in contrast to the town. We had an interesting encounter with the Aboriginal man running the gallery who also teaches youngsters horse riding skills to help them get work on farms.||

Three days of eating, resting, blogging and meeting interesting fellow travellers at the well-equipped campsite passed by quickly. To our relief, the wind also became weaker while we were there. Apparently the last week had been exceptionally windy, so we were hopeful that the headwinds might be a little kinder to us for the next 500km to Alice Springs.

After our recent experience running out of food, we left town with all the food we could carry and camped after 90km at a rest area. Overnight camping is allowed at most rest areas in the Northern Territory, though many are not really suitable for tents. At this rest area we were lucky to have a spot to pitch the tent, complete with a picnic table and water tank. We shared the area with five groups of grey nomads in caravans, as well as a local guy sleeping in a swag in the back of his pickup.

The following morning we cycled to the Devils Marbles. These amazing granite formations have been rounded over a billion years of harsh desert weather and hang precariously at all angles giving the impression that even the slightest touch could send them rolling.

Aboriginals believe that the stones are the eggs of the rainbow serpent, and the Devils Marbles are a powerful Dreaming place associated with the Dreamtime creation story.

After a stroll around we were about to move on when we spotted our first dingo. Many Australians feel apprehensive about these wild dogs who sometimes attack flocks of sheep and have been known to attack small children in isolated incidents. We had heard dingoes howling near our campsites on some nights but hadn’t actually seen one yet. This dingo was not shy at all and almost seemed keen to pose for our photos as he warmed himself in the morning sun.

Our next stop after lunch was the UFO centre at Wycliffe Wells. This roadhouse lies on an intersection of ley lines (energy lines) so that apparently any UFOs in the area will pass directly overhead. Indeed there had been an unusually high number of UFO sightings in this area. We wondered if it had anything to do with the funny taste of the bore drinking water. The bar was covered in newspaper clippings about UFO sightings. However, we did not linger long. Freddie decided to have a quick shower, and then we moved on to find a bush camp site.

On the way, Guy spotted a guitar lying in grass near the road. It was in pretty good shape, only a couple of strings had snapped. Guy attempted to ride with it but it was proving too difficult so he left it balanced upright on the side of the road. A few 100 meters down the road we noticed a car stopped, no doubt a little baffled then a passenger got out to pick up the guitar.

We found a bush camp spot near the turnoff to Ali Curung, the Aboriginal village Ruth (who we stayed with in Darwin) grew up in. When we woke up in the morning, something was missing: the wind! For the first time since we arrived in Australia, it was very quiet with only a weak headwind in the afternoon.

We knew we were coming up to the spot where the English backpacker Peter Falconio was tragically murdered in 2001. He and his girlfriend had been stopped by a man who pretended to have car troubles and proceeded to shoot Peter while his girlfriend escaped unscathed.

It felt a little creepy as we approached the place of the murder. Just then, we noticed a pickup slowing down behind us and following us for a little while. In our rear view mirrors, we could see it pulling level with us. It was the first time a car had slowed down next to us in Australia. Too scared to turn our heads and look at the driver, we heard a cheerful voice spurring us on: “Keep pushing, you’re almost at the top!” Relief swept over us when we realised it was just a fellow tourist and no murderer after all :-)

Desert in Bloom

2011-06-15T23:19:00.001-07:00

Dunmara – Tennant Creek

It was almost like someone had flicked the temperature switch to “winter mode”. The nights were cooling off quickly and we found ourselves seeking out the sun rather than the shade during our snack stops. The chilly mornings saw us cycling in full winter gear, complete with long johns and thick gloves. We were seriously wondering how we would cope with the even colder temperatures around Alice Springs.

On leaving Dunmara we noticed the scenery changing from the fertile, tropical forests to low scrub, announcing the start of the arid zone or dry centre. However thanks to the recent strong wet season, the desert was in full bloom. We cycled through avenues of yellow wattle bushes, admired the spiky pink flowers by the roadside, stepped over white blossoms on creepers covering the ground and marvelled over the gum trees that seemed to be blossoming all around us.

Most of the creeks were still full of water and sometimes we happened upon a serene billabong complete with an assortment of birdlife and once a family of wild ducks frolicking in the shallows.

We see evidence of snakes most days, unfortunately most are mangled on the side of the road. We have seen a few brown snakes, about 1.5m long and even a rattle snake. A brown snake was sunning itself on the road but quickly slithered off into the bush as we approached. Displayed in glass tanks in the zoo they can look fearsome but in the bush, in their natural environment they are placid and beautiful. Even though Australian snakes are famous for their deadliness, they are also very shy. Staying away from long grass and making some noise as we walk into the bush is all that is needed to make them scatter.

We gently climbed all day, cycling towards the hamlet of Elliott. Many people we met had warned us against staying in Elliott. “It’s just got a really bad feel about it,” they said. “The shops windows are barred up even during the day. I wouldn’t stay there if I was you.”

Elliott would have been a convenient overnight stop, but we also needed a reason to finally start wild camping so we looked for a campsite 10km before Elliott. It was quite tricky as the vegetation was very thick. It was hard to get in, and with cattle fences on either side, the options were limited. Finally we found a clearing, it wasn’t far from the road so we could hear the odd Road Train roaring through at night but it was covered enough so that we were even able to make a fire.

In the morning, the legs were feeling heavy, but the beautiful scenery kept us going, together with the hope of finding some food in Elliott. Some travellers find the scenery here monotonous, but at our gentle speed we see constant changes in the landscape as the beauty is often in the detail from the wild flowers, butterflies and birds to the subtle variations in soil colour in this ever changing landscape. Of course we are very lucky to be here during such a strong wild flower bloom.

We were almost a bit disappointed when we arrived in Elliott. All was quiet on this Saturday morning. Sure, the fuel station windows and doors were covered in mesh wire, and a few hung-over characters were loitering about, but otherwise we did not see much suspicious activity and felt perfectly safe.

Elliott was the only hamlet on our way and our only real hope of getting some food supplies, but the shop was very basic. Everything was 2-3 times the regular price. Of course it must cost a lot more to get food items into these remote communities, but $5 for a loaf of bread that expired 3 days ago is still a lot for a poor cyclist!

The over priced campsite at Renner Springs was right next to the road with poor facilities so we decided it was better to bush camp more often moving forward. The grocery store was virtually empty except for a few cans of mushrooms and peas which cost us an arm and a leg.

At lunchtime, Freddie had another puncture. We soon discovered a gash in the back tyre. The puncture resistance is now low as our tyres are reaching the end of their life (after 10,000km) but the tread is still good so we hope to nurse them through to Adelaide where we have new tyres awaiting. For the moment, we swapped her rear tyre out for our spare tyre and fixed the old one with superglue.

At Banka Banka station, we managed to scrounge some water from the chirpy owners. We are really in quite remote territory now. The stations here are huge – Banka Banka station is small by comparison, covering “only” 2,000km², on which they are planning to put 2,500 heads of cattle. To count the number of the water holes they have on the property they needed to charter a helicopter. The largest station in Australia is larger than Israel at 24,000km², 8 times the size of the largest station in the US.

15 km down the road we struck gold, well not real gold but a lovely bush camp spot near an old quarry. The more sparse terrain is now much more bush camp friendly as we have enough cover and clear ground to pitch on. We were surrounded by wildflowers and young gums giving the impression of a little garden with an almost perfect circular clearing amongst the tall spinifex grass. In the morning we woke to the sounds of a kangaroo jumping around our tent, obviously curious as to the nature of our presence.

On our final day cycling into Tennant Creek we had the last crumbs of instant coffee, the last peanut butter and jam and the last slice of bread. At lunchtime, we dived into the emergency food supplies and cooked some instant risotto. We arrived at the Threeways roadhouse, 25km before Tennant Creek, starving. Some overpriced muffins gave us the energy to push the final distance to Tennant Creek where we planned to spend our time eating and resting.

Amazed by the amount we ate over the last 8 days on the road, we went straight to the supermarket to buy some items for dinner and breakfast. However, to our horror, the supermarket had just closed. We got a takeaway from Red Rooster and dejectedly pitched our tent at the local campsite.

Our supermarket visit the following day led to two discoveries: Firstly, everything in the supermarket was much more expensive than in the rest of Australia – bad news for two hungry cyclists - and secondly, they had hairy kangaroo tails in the freezer, yum!||

Road Trains and Outback Pubs

2011-06-09T21:17:00.001-07:00

Larrimah – Dunmara

It was inevitable the time would come and we were sure what it was, no other vehicle on the road could be heard from over a kilometre away: a Road Train. These beasts are 4 times the length of a regular truck (hence the name) and are infamous within the Northern Territory cycling community for throwing cyclist off and even pulling their bikes under as the they thunder past at up to 130 km/h, pulling two or three trailers along the narrow highway.

We watched the massive truck loom closer in our rear view mirror. We knew what to do, we must jump off the road to a safe distance and let it pass. As we watched it approach we were amazed to see it pull out of its lane, it was clearly giving us, a couple of wee cyclists, a wide berth! Nonetheless we stuck to the edge of the road and braced ourselves for the thunderous backdraft as it passed. The cabin passed then the first trailer, and the second, till finally the third trailer passed us and nothing, no lashing from side to side, no sucking draft.

We later realised that riding into the strong south-easterly winds had some advantages, we were upwind and as a result the backdraft from the Road Trains was minimal. Still we knew we had to be vigilant as not all the drivers are able to pull out, as after all, the Stuart Highway is no bigger than a country lane in parts. Luckily, most of the Road Trains seemed to be north-bound and we only had about 5 per day actually overtaking us.

Coming into Daly Waters at dusk, we spotted a road train carrying fuel parked on the side of the road. The driver was busy fixing some pressure cables and we went over to find out a little bit about these men responsible for such incredible loads.

“We don’t understand how you do it, driving on these narrow windy roads with such a massive rig,” we admitted to the driver.

“Well, I don’t understand how you do it,” he replied. “Cycling all day in the middle of nowhere with no shade, water or food!”

The driver, Footie, told us that road trains only exist in Australia, Namibia and Canada where they cover the vast distances between towns. The drivers can drive up to 14 hours a day and need to have the skills to fix the road train if it breaks down. This particular road train was supplying fuel to the roadhouses along the Stuart Highway. They are the lifeline of the Outback and without them these remote communities could not survive.

The Daly Waters roadhouse is one of the most famous Outback pubs and the most popular stopover between Katherine and Tennant Creek. Daly Waters used to be a telegraph station and in the 1930s, there was an important air strip near the pub: Qantas aeroplanes on flights between Sydney and London used to stop in Daly Waters to refuel. Passengers would disembark and be helped across a small creek with the option of taking a Flying Fox across for those wanting to take the express route! They would then visit the pub while the plane was being refuelled. Modern airlines take note.

In those days, the tradition of leaving something behind at the pub began, so there are lots of memorabilia on the walls that were collected over the years, from photos, badges and T-shirts to bras and stubby holders.

The campsite was very crowded, there must have been well over a hundred caravans, and most people had booked the Beef ‘n’ Barra BBQ with comedy entertainment. Even though we planned to celebrate our year on the road here, our budget did not stretch that far. Instead, we treated ourselves to our first meal out in Australia, a delicious Barra Burger.

Barramundi, or “Barra”, is the most popular freshwater fish in the Northern Territory and is on offer almost everywhere. We had really not expected to eat fish in the desert, but it was absolutely delicious. At the time we did not realise it, but in hindsight we were very glad we had this meal out to save our dwindling food supplies.

We had miscalculated on a few food items and were already running low on some things such as milk powder, bread and snacks after only 3 days of cycling. In the hope of restocking our pantry we stopped at the nearby Hi-Way Inn, which according to our map was supposed to have a shop. Imagine our disappointment when we found that the shop only sold souvenirs, cold drinks and a few snacks. We did find a loaf of 3 month old bread in the freezer, which saved us momentarily as the next shop marked on our map was still 2 days away.

Back on the road we met another cyclist, this time from the Netherlands. He was a lucky chap who had enjoyed sunshine and tail winds all the way since Sydney, frequently covering over 200km per day. “It’s like sailing,” he beamed, “you hardly have to pedal.”

“Oh yes, we know exactly what you mean…” we replied, trying to fight back the tears as we pushed into the ferocious headwind.

We’d planned to take the afternoon off at Dunmara, 52km away. It was a nice campsite in natural surroundings. With our food pantry diminishing fast, a full rest day was not an option unless we found a decent shop somewhere. Otherwise the name of the game was to get to Tennant Creek, and fast. ||

14000km Photo

2011-06-06T02:53:00.001-07:00

Somewhere a couple of days north of Tennant Creek and almost exactly one year after we started our bike trip, we hit our 14,000th kilometre. We were cycling through an area with fragrant yellow wattles flanking both sides of the road. With all the wild flowers and Eucalypts in bloom it’s certainly not the “desert” we had imagined.

Hot Springs and a Pink Panther

2011-06-06T02:13:00.001-07:00

Katherine – Larrimah

It’s nearly 700km between Katherine and the next small town, Tennant Creek (population 2,000), with nothing much in between apart from a few roadhouses and a couple of hamlets.

“Many cyclists turn back and take the bus,” said Coco, the hostel owner in Katherine. “This time of year, the headwinds are so strong you might only manage 50km per day.”

We left Katherine at 7am with a week’s supply of food in our panniers. We expected to take 8 days of cycling to get to Tennant Creek, and maybe take a rest day in between if we were feeling too tired. It is very difficult for a cyclist to carry enough food for 9 days (we eat a lot!), so we hoped to resupply at one of the roadhouses along the way.

The bikes were heavier than ever, though Guy’s wasn’t quite as heavy as it should have been: 5km out of town he realised he’d forgotten to fill up his water bottles! An emergency stop at a creek solved that problem temporarily, and we knew there was a rest area with a water tank about 50km further on. The rest areas in the Northern Territory are great as they allow overnight camping for free and usually have toilets and water tanks. Even though it says on the tanks that the water may not be suitable for drinking, it tastes, looks and smells fine, and when in doubt we filter it.

The next settlement is Mataranka (pop 425), 112km from Katherine, and we planned to get there in the evening. The direct headwind was pretty strong but we were fresh after our break in Katherine.

The terrain was undulating and the landscape beautiful. We love the strong colours of the Outback with the classic red iron oxide rich soil offset against the bright blue sky. Metre high sun tanned grasses lap at the gum trees with their twisted branches and jagged termite mounds jut out every so often. Each termite mound is different from the next, some are 1 foot high others towering to over 2 meters.

In the late afternoon, we rolled into Mataranka, quite exhausted but proud that we made it. Mataranka is famous for its natural hot springs, just what we needed after a long day on the bikes, so we headed directly there. We reached the springs by cycling through a swampy area with water bubbling up and steaming on either side of the road. The springs were set in their natural environment with just a walkway and a wooden pontoon for access.

The water wasn’t too hot, just a little warmer than body temperature. We spent a relaxing hour soaking away the tiredness and soothing our aching muscles.

An early night was had at a nearby campsite. We have found the facilities at Australian campsites to be top notch. They often have a camp kitchen so we can leave our stove packed for the night, and sometimes supply a kettle, toaster and even a fridge. The showers are always hot, and there are washing machines and clothes lines. They are a little more expensive than the campsites in Europe though (around $10 per person).

Sometimes it’s difficult to get going early, as Australians just love a chat. Our fellow campers are mostly in their 60s, often on a long-term trip through Australia with their caravans. These “Grey Nomads” love to come up to us and ask all the usual questions – often it’s great as we can learn a thing or two about the road ahead from them, but sometimes we do get a little tired.

Apart from the Grey Nomads there are also a few younger people on the road, mostly on fishing trips. Almost everyone is going north towards Darwin. As we see about 50-100 caravans a day heading north, we are really not sure where they will all stay once they actually get to Darwin. There is not much traffic at all going towards the colder south, which is good for us as we have a more relaxed time on the road with not many cars having to overtake us.

In the morning, we had a few chores to deal with as this was our last chance for phone reception for the next week or so. By the time we got going, it was nearly noon and we still had 80km of cycling to do. Of course we could have free camped in the bush, but we were not ready yet to carry the extra 4-5l of water we would have needed to camp as we were still getting used to the weight of the bikes.

Our bodies felt great though. The hot springs really seemed to have cured our aches and pains, at least temporarily. The downside was that Freddie developed a funny rash on her arms and legs, which might have been caused by the sulphur in the springs.

Since landing in Darwin there is rarely a moment that goes by that you don’t hear at least a few birds around. The Northern Territory is really a birdwatchers paradise, and on a bicycle we have much more opportunity to observe than in a car. Unfortunately we don’t know much about birds and can only identify a few of them. There were egrets enjoying the overflowing billabongs, wedgetail eagles circling above us, screetching cockatoos and white and pink galahs. As we cycled through the bush, a tree trunk suddenly moved and turned out to be a huge vulture which flew off into the forest as we approached, its wings spanning close to 2 metres, and coming to a stop near a dead kangaroo on the road behind us, ready for its feed.

Unfortunately there are many dead kangaroos along the Stuart Highway. Some have just been killed, others are reduced to a little pile of bleached bones, picked clean by the vultures. They frequently hop into the way of passing cars or trucks, especially at night time. This is why most of the cars here have “roo bars” – metals bars that prevent the car from being smashed when it hits a kangaroo. The worst though are the dead cows we see once in a while, having been killed by road trains unable to stop or swerve.

It was our anniversary day as we had set off on our trip exactly one year ago. As we are both partial to a good scone with jam and cream, we had been looking forward to visiting Fran’s Devonshire tea house in Larrimah, our next stop (despite the fact that we had been warned about the overpriced coffee). However, with all our extracurricular activities in the morning we were too late: the tea house was already closed when we arrived. The celebration would have to wait.

Larrimah (pop 20) was an important WW2 base with 6,500 army personnel stationed in the town and a big air base nearby. Nowadays however, there is not much left of the town, apart from Fran’s and the Pink Panther roadhouse and campsite which featured – you guessed it – a statue of a pink panther out the front. The people running the roadhouse were friendly but looked like they had been there for about 120 years. The main attraction in our view was the free zoo behind the roadhouse which featured a lot of native birds as well as a friendly pet wallaby. It also housed three fun loving emus who entertained themselves (and us) for hours by poking their heads into an open motel room window and yanking at the curtain drawcord!

Word spreads pretty quickly down the Track and often people know of us before our paths have crossed. Some of our Grey Nomad friends had been mentioning two cyclists coming the other way. They were from Argentina and cycling on an ultra low budget. They were very care free and adventurous young chaps. They carried a guitar, didgeridoo and drums as they did street performances to fund their travels. One cycled barefoot and had some backpacks hanging off his bike instead of panniers. They had no tent and must have been very uncomfortable in the freezing night time temperatures further south. It was quite inspirational to talk to them and to see how little you need to cycle tour and made us realise how much luxury we have compared to them.

A little later we ran into another cyclist from Taiwan. He was cycling on a folding bicycle with little wheels so could only manage half the speed that we could do and as a result had to take twice as much water. But little by little be he had come all the way up from Melbourne; another inspirational encounter.

The wind started up earlier every day now, we could hear it lashing against the tent in the wee hours. While in the beginning there had never been much wind before 9am, now it already started up around 4am so that we really had no “free” kilometres in the morning any more. We often found ourselves doing as little as 10kmph on a flat road, switching positions every 2kms so one person got a little rest whilst the other pushed directly into the head wind.

We were now only 3 days into the 8 day ride to Tennant Creek and we could already feel the exhaustion setting in, it was going to be a long haul.||

The Warm-Up Ride

2011-06-01T00:34:00.001-07:00

Darwin - Katherine

On our return from Kakadu we dashed to the supermarket to stock up on food for the next 4 days of cycling. Katherine, the next town along the Stuart Highway, is only a little over 300km from Darwin, and we knew we would be able to buy more food there. After that, the distances between food supplies would increase dramatically. The ride to Katherine was a good warm-up ride for us to get used to the conditions of cycling the Australian Outback.

We returned our rental car and enjoyed one last evening with Glen and Ruth. Early the next morning we packed up, waved goodbye to our gracious hosts and pedalled our ultra heavy bikes towards the Stuart Highway. In Asia we had got used to much lighter bikes, without camping kit or food as accommodation and restaurants were available regularly. Now we were additionally carrying our heavy food supplies, 4l of water each, camping kit and a more generous supply of spare parts.

The Stuart Highway follows the route of John McDouall Stuart, the first explorer to traverse the continent south to north. He achieved this on his third attempt in 1862, having turned back because of illness and “hostile natives” on his previous attempts. Later, a telegraph line was built along the route, connecting the Australian colony with the London headquarters.

Once we had got the hang of handling the heavy bikes, our progress was good, despite a light headwind. The “highway” turned out to look just like a small country road, set amongst scrubby bush land and tall Eucalypts. Not far out of Darwin’s suburbs we soon found ourselves immersed in nature and were quickly reminded of how beautiful the Australian bush is. Cockatoo’s screeched at us from the tree tops as wedge tail eagles soared above. In the afternoon wallabies and kangaroos hopped through the long savannah growth and lizards darted across the road as we passed.

On our first night we camped at Adelaide River, a lovely green campsite that felt almost like the lawns of Europe. The campsite was part of the road house which amongst other things featured a huge stuffed water buffalo named Charlie who had become famous in the movie Crocodile Dundee.

In WW2, the Darwin area was the largest Allied operational base in the south west Pacific. Darwin suffered numerous air raids by the Japanese in the early 1940s, and 487 servicemen were buried in Adelaide River. The cemetery was beautifully maintained and is the largest Australian war cemetery.

Whilst cycling through the Northern Territory, we would often pass reminders of the war, including campgrounds for the various battalions involved in the fighting, as well as air strips. Now that these areas are covered in bush land once again, it is very difficult to imagine that the Northern Territory was so key to Australia’s defence in WW2.

On Glen’s recommendation, we detoured off the Stuart Highway to take the scenic route between Adelaide River and Hayes Creek. As most cyclists will know, “scenic routes” often involve numerous hills, and so did this one. It was a beautiful ride, quite undulating and with not much around at all except for bush land.

As it was our wedding anniversary, we were quite delighted when we passed a little creek named Anniversary Creek! Of course we could not resist the photo opportunity.

For lunch, we had a lovely picnic in a shady spot by the side of the road, surrounded by gum trees and wild flowers. To celebrate the day we got the stove out to make a cuppa.

Towards the end of the day we were pretty tired, not being used to the hilly terrain with our heavy bikes. Hayes Creek campsite was a lovely place with a beautiful view over a steep ridge. To our surprise, another cyclist rolled into camp shortly after us. Kerry had cycled up from Geelong, near Melbourne, in 30 days with only one rest day. Her goal was to get to Darwin the following day for her graduation. She was very inspirational, a single mum full of boundless energy and the grit she needed to achieve her ambitious goal.

It seemed our ride along the Stuart Highway was not to be the lonely adventure we had foreseen: the next morning, we met a Dutch couple cycling the other way, as well as a chap from Perth on a recumbent bike.

At this time of the year the winds are prevailing south easterlies, so we were a little jealous to hear their stories of huge distances covered in a single bound. We only managed 56km that day. Freddie’s knee was aching, the hills and head winds were taking their toll. We stopped at Pine Creek, a small village with a tiny shop stocking mainly canned, dried and frozen goods.

Pine Creek is a classic Gold Rush town, having enjoyed a 20 year gold rush starting in the 1880s. Even now, there are still some gold mines around. When we stopped for a loo break near the town, we actually spotted a guy with a metal detector walking around in the bush looking for precious metals. A little later, we met a retired couple of sapphire miners from Queensland at a campsite. They explained that you could still just peg a claim, get permission from the government and then mine the area, just like in the good old days!

Smoke and fire on the horizon became a common sight as controlled burning was taking place to clear out the undergrowth in preparation for the bush fire season. The Aboriginals for centuries and even today still use burning off techniques in the early dry season to avoid bush fires later on in the year and promote re-vegetation.

We made good progress in the morning of our last day’s cycling to Katherine and had 50km done by 11:30am, despite the head wind. The afternoon however was a struggle. The heat did not bother us too much as it was quite a dry heat, although it was 36°C, but the wind really picked up in the afternoon. For the first time on our trip we actually found the motivation to get up extra early (5:30am) to beat the afternoon winds.

At first glance, Katherine looked a little rough around the edges, mostly with local Aboriginals loitering around and looking a little menacing (later we found out there is little to worry about as much of the shenanigans are directed within their own groups). We pulled into an inner city Backpackers which we had been told had a discount for cyclists to camp in their yard. Coco, the owner, was quick to greet us and made us feel really welcome. Coco was very active in the Art scene and promoted Aboriginal Art through his attached gallery. As an ex buffalo herdsman by trade he knew the Territory as well as anyone. He told us tales of remote areas in the Top End that are so unbelievably beautiful you would think you were in paradise.

Once we had settled in our first job was to find the nearest supermarket and replenish our depleted food stores. Woolworths, the first supermarket we had seen since Darwin and the last one we would see until at least Tennant Creek 700km away was luckily around the corner.

The main attraction of the Katherine area is the Katherine Gorge, a series of 13 sandstone gorges carved out by the Katherine River as it heads from Arnhem Land towards the Timor Sea. The Jawoyn Aboriginal people regained ownership of the land as late as 1989 and now lease the land to the Parks and Wildlife Commission. Aboriginal traditions such as hunting and spiritual ceremonies are still carried out in the area.

The best way to see the gorge is to hire a canoe, but unfortunately this was not possible at the time as the unusually rainy wet season had only just finished. There were still some saltwater crocodiles lurking in the gorge, which meant it was not safe for swimming or canoeing until they were relocated. Due to budget constraints (a common theme in Oz) we could not afford a cruise, so we decided to do a bush walk that wound up onto the ridge overlooking the gorge.

Once we got back to Katherine we prepared our food supply for the next section and hoped our calculations were correct as it was 700km until the next decent town and the riding was only going to get tougher.

Kakadu National Park

2011-05-30T05:00:00.001-07:00

After a busy morning picking up our rental car, buying food supplies and changing money, we set off for the 250km drive from Darwin to Kakadu National Park. By car we were able to cover in an afternoon what would have taken us three days on a bike. Others were more willing to spend the extra time as we found out when we met Dave, an English cyclist, at a rest stop. He had cycled up from Sydney and was able to give us some advice on what lay ahead. In exchange, we forced some food on him – finally it was our turn to give something back to a cycle tourer, and we were not going to be deterred by the fact that he had just had lunch and wasn’t hungry!||

We had been hoping to drive up to Ubirr, in the north-eastern corner of the national park. It’s a famous spot to watch the sun set over the flood plains and the escarpment forming the border to Arnhem Land, a fairly traditional Aboriginal area that can only be entered with a permit. However, as we got to the turnoff, there was a sign saying the road was closed due to flooding. Although it was the start of the Dry, this was no big surprise as the Northern Territory had experienced up to 3 times the normal rainfall during the recent Wet which only ended a couple of weeks before we got there.

We saw some 4WDs going through the creek and figured it wasn’t very deep, so we gave it a go. A few hundred metres after this successful crossing we were stopped by a second creek, this one much wider and a little deeper. Of course we had rented the cheapest available car, by no means a 4WD, and it was clearly stipulated in our rental agreement that we were not to go through water, so we succumbed and turned back. (Later we read a newspaper report of a group of German tourists who had got stuck in this crocodile-infested creek with their rental vehicle and had to be rescued from the rooftop by the park rangers).

Back on the main road through Kakadu, we continued to drive through the beautiful bush land until we found a turnoff to a bush camp site. This was an unmanned campsite with basic bush toilets, no drinking water and a little donation box to pay the camp fee. We felt quite uneasy entering the site as there were crocodile warning signs all around, and the campsite was half enclosed by a river. Glen’s parting words rang ominously in our ears: “Crocs venture quite far on land. If you can see water, you’re too close!”

However, we really had not much choice as it was getting dark, and we later discovered that the situation was quite similar at all campsites in Kakadu. So we set up our little tent, making sure there were some other campers between us and the river, and always keeping an eye out for any dark shapes moving towards us through the undergrowth. We cooked our dinner at a little picnic table and were even able to light a campfire. Staring into the fire, we were pretty glad we’d invested in broad rimmed hats and head nets: the flies and mosquitoes were just unbearable.

It was great to wake up in our tent, surrounded by the Australian bush with all its bird life and the fragrant gum trees swaying in the breeze. Our first port of call was the visitor’s centre at Bowalie where our wallets were relieved of the hefty park entrance fee and we visited an exhibition with information about the flora and fauna in the Kakadu area.

Next, we drove to Nourlangie, an ancient rock art site. A loop walk took us past Aboriginal rock paintings of varying ages, depicting various subjects ranging from kangaroos to dancing people and lightning gods. One of the caves had been used as shelter for the last 20,000 years.

On we drove to Cooinda. As we had been unable to visit Ubirr, and quite a few of the bushwalks were closed due to flooding as well, we had decided to treat ourselves to a Yellow Water Cruise to experience more of Kakadu. The Yellow Water Billabong is a lake which carries water year-round and is connected to a wetlands and river system.

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As soon as we had entered the boat, we spotted our first crocodile cruising in the water nearby.

The crocodiles in Kakadu are mainly of the saltwater variety, which means they are larger and more aggressive than their freshwater counterparts. Whilst the “salties” were endangered a while ago, they became a protected species in the 1970s. Since, their numbers have spiralled up to over 100,000 in the Northern Territory alone. As Glen and Ruth told us, you wouldn’t want to swim in the sea or any rivers up here as crocodile attacks are quite common, only some water holes are safe to swim in.

The bird life in the wetlands was amazing. We spotted many different birds such as egrets, eagles, corellas and jabirus.

We also saw four more crocodiles. Most were sunning themselves on the river banks with that toothy crocidle grin satisified in the fact that they sit ontop of the food chain. One of the regular males (4.5m long) was doing his usual rounds of his territory making sure all was in order.

In the evening, we found another great campsite. The campsites here in the Australian bush are so different from the manicured lawns and hedges of Europe. They are more spacious and open so that everyone has a good amount of space, and you can often light campfires in the evening to cook your Roo steaks.

In the morning we were keen to drive back to Darwin to tackle our final chores. We were full of nervous energy knowing we have a big ride ahead of us and were trying to get our heads around what lay in front of us.

Darwin: the Top End of Australia

2011-05-21T04:30:00.001-07:00

On arrival at the airport in Darwin at 4:30am a power-hungry customs official ripped open our lovingly arranged bike boxes to check for specks of dirt on our tyres and panniers. Our hard work in Singapore paid off, nothing was found and we were given the green light.

We had arranged to stay with Glen and Ruth through the Darwin Cycling Club, and to our astonishment Glen had offered to pick us up from the airport, yes at 4:30am! ||

Walking out off the airport and into the eucalypt fragrant morning air we loaded our kit into Glen’s pickup and drove the 20km to their house. Ruth was already up and warmly greeted us with their lovely little pooch Miss Muffett. They showed us around their lovely home and the areas we had sole use over. To our amazement this consisted of a luxurious caravan for our sleeping quarters, outside table and barbeque area for reclining, undercover area to work on the bikes and a fridge packed with “a few things” so we “don’t have to rush out.” Imagine our amazement when we opened the door of the fridge bursting with all those delicious foods we had been craving during our time in Asia: bread, cereal, cake, cookies, orange juice, milk, bacon, eggs, fruit etc. We were in heaven.

As we lay down on our bed resting we couldn’t believe our luck, it was the perfect start to Australia and felt really good to be back.

Our generous hosts even offered for us to use Ruth’s car to drive into Darwin (Glen and Ruth live about 20km out of the city), so we went into the city and began reinstating our lives in Australia. We registered for Medicare (the national health service), picked up a parcel from Guy’s parents at the post office, bought a SIM card, investigated opening a bank account and purchased a few odds and ends from the local outdoor store.

By chance some friends from Germany were in Darwin too, having just completed their travels through Western Australia. We gave Jessica and Hendrik a call and managed to meet up for coffee and cake before they flew out the next day. It was great to see them again and share tales of our respective adventures.

On our first evening, Ruth and Glen invited us for dinner and cooked a delicious Asian style prawn dish. In the tropical north of Australia, life mainly takes place outdoors, so their living room is pretty much outside, fully set up with sofas and a TV. We were lucky to arrive at the start of the dry season (“the Dry”), which is warm but not too humid, whereas “the Wet” is very hot and humid with a lot of rain and kicks of by intense storms known as “knock em down” storms.

Darwin, situated at the very top end of Australia, is a really long way from anywhere else and still feels a bit like a frontier town. The population of the greater Darwin area is around 120,000, and the closest city is Denpasar in Indonesia, 2 hours flight away, so Darwin is in a way closer to Asia than to anywhere else in Australia. The Stuart Highway which connects Darwin with Adelaide and which we are planning to cycle on, was only fully paved in the 1980s, and most other roads in the Northern Territory are still unpaved dirt roads which are often only passable by 4WD and frequently closed in the Wet due to flooded rivers.

Darwin is home to a population of Aboriginal people that are obviously facing many of the social problems that exist in many of the other Northern Territory towns. It is evident in the way they loiter around the shopping malls, sometimes looking quite listless and sitting under trees near the roads. As a counsellor and having grown up in a remote Aboriginal community, Ruth was able to explain some of the social problems amongst the Aboriginal people to us. These are often caused by alcoholism (later on we came through several Aboriginal areas that had prohibited liquor in their area to combat this problem). Teenage pregnancies are quite common and unemployment is high. This problem is exacerbated by what is called “sit-down money”, which many Aboriginal people receive from the government and which seems to discourage many of them from working.

Around half the land in the Northern Territory is owned by Aboriginal clans or is currently under claim (the “traditional land owners” have to prove a lasting connection to the land or the existence of sacred sites for their claim to be accepted). Glen has an intimate knowledge of these issues as his company works with Aboriginal land owners to assist them in business ventures and developments such as road houses, fuel stations and helipads. Whereas there are few Aboriginal communities left in the south of Australia, the issues around traditional land rights and the social problems that come with the uprooting of the Aboriginal’s traditional life style are very real in the north of the country.

After a couple more days sorting out chores and putting the bikes back together, Glen and Ruth took us out to the Mindil Night Market which takes place in Darwin every Thursday and Sunday night. We set up our chairs on the beach to watch the sunset. We were very lucky as the Arafura Games happened to take place while we were there, so we were able to watch a couple of running events on the beach right in front of us, without even getting out of our seats.

The Mindil market is very diverse, with lots of mainly Asian food stalls as well as a handicraft section. Even though we split up to get food from different stalls, we all came back with exactly the same thing, and it wasn’t even Asian: Souvlaki!

Whilst we were keen to hit the road, we also did not want to miss the opportunity to visit Kakadu National Park. It was a decent detour on the bikes, but quite doable in a couple of days by car, so we looked into car rental and eventually found one that did not limit us to only 100km per day – a ridiculously small distance in the vast expanses of northern Australia. We left on Friday morning for Kakadu, planning to be back on Sunday for BBQ pizza night with Glen and Ruth, and setting off on the bikes on Monday.

The Australian Outback: A Home Coming Ride

2011-05-20T04:00:00.001-07:00

Almost one year ago we wobbled out of suburban London with the seemingly ridiculous thought of cycling to Australia through Europe, the Middle East and Asia. 20 countries later and over 13,000km under our wheels we are now in Darwin, Australia. So we made it. Well not quite, our journey is only 3/4 complete: The final 4,000 kilometres are the “home coming ride”, a chance for us to get under the skin of the country we will call home.

To get back home from Darwin we simply point the bikes south on the Stuart Highway and pedal for 3,000km until we reach Adelaide. From there we turn eastward for a further 1,000km along the Great Ocean road to Guy’s parents’ home in Point Lonsdale, a small seaside hamlet 1.5 hours south of Melbourne. We will ride through several different climate zones from the sweltering tropics in the Top End to the sub zero night-time temperatures in central Australia and the windswept shores of southern Australia.

There are just four main “towns” along the Stuart Highway: Katherine (population: 5,850), Alice Springs (26,300), Coober Pedy (3,500) and Port Augusta (13,500). The Stuart Highway is the only paved north-south road through the centre of Australia, and it was only fully paved 25 years ago. Most tracks off the highway are unpaved and only accessible by 4WD. There will be little shade, the winds will be prevailing headwinds, food will be scarce and when available expensive. Water will often be acrid tasting bore water and at times we may need to carry up to 20 litres of water each to cover some of the more remote stretches.

But we won’t be alone, there will be a cast of millions of flies and mosquitoes, accompanied by crocodiles and kangaroos. Though it will be vast and empty we will still have attractions of sorts, well Outback style attractions, things like a singing Dingo, underground opal mines, road trains, a big red rock, a King’s Canyon, the Devils Marbles, a telegraph line and cave paintings that are thousands of years old...

After Alice Springs we are considering the option of turning off the Stuart Highway and onto a more remote parallel road known as the Oodnadatta track. This unpaved road would take us through to Adelaide via the backdoor, through tiny towns where the population can be counted on one hand and road traffic is almost non existent. After 2,000km cycling on the Stuart Highway we are thinking we might be quite keen for a change in scenery but will have to asses the conditions when closer as rains make the road impassable and we may not be up for the extremely remote territory and tough cycling conditions. This would also mean that we would miss out on two of the four towns between Darwin and Adelaide (Coober Pedy and Port Augusta).

As our budget in Oz is low (we can’t even afford a proper meal out due to the rampant Aussie dollar) we will be camping as often as we can and will have to economise wherever possible. The treat budget will be slashed and we are crossing our fingers that our kit will hold out the final 4,000km without any expensive replacements.

All in all it has the hallmarks of an interesting and challenging ride. Our load will be the heaviest we have ever had and the conditions the most demanding, it will push us to new limits both physically and mentally but step by step we will make our way home. ||

Singapore

2011-05-15T01:45:00.001-07:00

The roads leading to the Causeway to cross over to the island country of Singapore were quite busy with many slip roads to negotiate but the border crossing was easy. The man at immigration was rather astounded by our plans when we gave him our address in Singapore: “You’re going to cycle all the way to Sunset Way? That’s really far!” It was no more than 15km…

We had arranged to stay with Chuen and his mum through Warmshowers. As Chuen was still at work, his mum let us into the lofty house. We couldn’t believe our luck, we had our own room, space for cleaning and packing the bikes and wonderful hosts that helped us out with everything we could possibly need. ||

We spent the following day sourcing bike boxes. None were available in the large size we usually need for our touring bikes, but we eventually found some shorter, wider boxes which worked fine if we took both wheels off and the racks.

Chuen is an engineer who had studied in California and then cycled across the US. He is a sweet and generous guy who took us out for dinner (BBQ’d stingray!) and showed us the area around Marina Bay in the city centre. We admired the futuristic buildings, including one that had a ship set atop three high-rise buildings, and one that looked like a giant Durian fruit. He also took us out for a drive one morning to take us to the city’s tranquil reservoirs, set in parklands in the heart of the city. Amazingly, despite it being a Sunday morning, there was almost nobody there. Apparently most Singaporeans prefer to spend their time in air conditioned shopping malls and food courts.

One evening we met up with Tze-Ern and Ben. They had become friendly with Guy’s parents when they stayed in their B&B in Australia and picked us up from Chuen’s house to take us out to their favourite dinner spot. The restaurant specialised in Chicken Rice, a dish Singaporeans take quite seriously as it must be prepared in a very precise manner. It was delicious, and with the side dishes of oyster omelette, silky bean curd and fried vegetables, we had an amazing meal with this lovely fun couple. As Tze-Ern is a psychiatrist she sometimes comes to Melbourne for conferences, so we might see her again soon, though it is not always easy for Ben, a GP, to get the time off to come along.

On our second-last day, we arranged to meet up with Thomas, a Danish cyclist who had been cycling on a similar route as us since Bangkok. We went for dinner and bike talk at a food court near Marina Bay. It was great to meet Thomas and we are looking forward to reading his stories about his upcoming travels in Indonesia and Australia.

Following our dinner, we then headed across town to go to the famous Singapore Night Safari. This was very cool, with a walk and tram ride through the animal park. The Singapore Zoo is an open concept zoo, which means the animals are mainly kept in their enclosures through natural barriers such as motes. Most of the animals were very close to the tram, about 10m away, so we felt we could almost touch them. We spotted elephants, giraffes, lions, tigers, leopards, hippos, rhinos, buffaloes, deer and many other animals. A walk in the bat enclosure was quite an experience, with fruit bats the size of cats whizzing around our heads and bombarding us with excretion! The night safari was an early birthday treat for Freddie as we would be busy on her actual birthday with packing and getting to the airport.

On our last morning we saw Chuen off on his way to work, finished packing, had one last ice cream at the local parlour and awaited our airport taxi. It was hard to believe that our time in Asia was finally coming to an end, but at the same time we were really looking forward to getting to know better the country we will call home: Australia.

Farewell Asia

2011-05-11T21:23:00.000-07:00

(Germany) - Klang – Melaka – Singapore border

By the time we returned to Klang, our 10 day break in Germany already felt surreal. We had had a fantastic time oohing and aahing over our little nephew Felix and catching up with Freddie’s family and some of our friends. We visited her grandma and saw various aunts, uncles and cousins. Freddie’s dad took us out for a great day in Hamburg, visiting the world’s largest model rail exhibition and Russian spy submarine now anchored in Hamburg’s port. The day ended with an hour’s sailing on the Alster lake. The rest of the time was spent hanging out with Freddie sister and mum, not doing much at all except going for walks and chatting. The culture shock we had expected after all this time spent in Asia was actually a positive experience as we relished our calm and orderly surroundings and marvelled at all the produce available from the local supermarket. ||

We were therefore a little sad to be back in Malaysia, knowing we would not see Freddie’s family for quite a while now. At the same time, the excitement about our upcoming bike ride through Australia was mounting, and with the return of Boris, our tent, the whole team was finally complete again (he had spent the winter in Germany as we didn’t need him for India and South East Asia). Jetlagged and sleep-deprived we set out the morning after our arrival for our final week’s cycling in Asia – the stretch between Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.

As we turned our first corner, Freddie almost ran down an elderly, slightly scruffy looking Chinese man on his rusty bicycle who was travelling in the other direction. After a chat the man, Bobby, insisted on inviting us for a coffee. Soon we were sitting in a local cafe, joined temporarily by his doctor friend, drinking ice tea and eating flaky roti break with egg filling. “Next time you come, you must stay in my hotel,” Bobby said pointing to the nice hotel we had just emerged from. It turned out that, despite his impoverished appearance, he was actually the owner of the five-story building. He also ran a fruit shop and filled out bar bags with oranges before he let us proceed on our way.

The road south of Klang was quite busy, with a lot of truck traffic and, as usual in Malaysia, no shoulder to ride on. We struggled a little due to our jet lag, but also due to the fact that we each had an extra 5kg of camping kit on our bikes. We stayed in a hotel in Port Dickson, which looked like quite a pleasant place except that it was totally booked up as it was National Day weekend.

The scenery was more varied the following day, with more hills and fewer palm plantations. The thing to do on National Day weekend seems to be to get a group of 30-50 friends together, each armed with a small backpack and a motorbike, and then drive down the coastal highway in mob formation terrorising everyone and everything on the roads. Ideally you want to impress your friends by pulling a stunt such as lying down flat on your motorbike, lifting your legs in the air, and then zooming past a couple of foreign cyclists as close as possible while giving them the thumbs-up sign.

On arrival in Melaka, we were very lucky to get the last room in a cheap and central hotel. The town was packed with weekend visitors and we squeezed through the night market along with everyone else, being tempted by an array of oriental foods and Chinese lanterns.

In the morning, we had a long sleep-in as we were still very tired from our jet-lag. The afternoon was spent wandering around town, admiring the antique shops, Chinese temples, flower-filled town squares, a Portuguese church overlooking the Melaka Straits and the old Dutch town hall. But mostly we spent our time hanging out in a coffee shop called The Geographer.

In the evening we had a knock on our door. “I see you also have the Rohloff hub,” fellow cyclist Marius from Holland introduced himself. With that, the scene was set for an evening of bike talk. Marius is a retired teacher who cycles somewhere in the world for a couple of months every year and had many tales to share.

As we were now only 2° north of the equator, the temperature became even hotter. We struggled with our 104km the following day and were quite tired as we arrived in Batu Pahat. We decided to skip the usual hawker stalls and treat ourselves to dinner at a chain restaurant called “Secret Recipe”.

During the night Guy found out what the secret was. He was feeling decidedly queasy. After a sleep-in and a bit of deliberation, we decided to push on anyway as our timings were now fairly tight in view of our flight from Singapore to Darwin. Needless to say it was quite a hard day, but in the evening Guy felt better, and to add to this we were even upgraded to a seaview room in Pontian.

The following morning we had “last-day-cycling-in-Asia” buzz running through our bodies, it was now only 75km to the end of the road in Singapore. Mid morning we stopped in a little cafe for an ice tea and a coconut. A guy from Singapore who had travelled all over the world started chatting to us. After he left, we found out that he had cunningly paid for our drinks.

Shortly afterwards, we had lunch at a small food court, and once we had finished a man called Albert came by for a chat. He is a member of the local Lions Club and was quite interested in our trip. Before he left, he bought us a big bag of goodies including peanuts, cookies, crackers and cold drinks. We were really touched, it was such a friendly end to our stay in Malaysia.

13,000km Photo

2011-05-05T19:09:00.001-07:00

To celebrate our final day cycling in Asia we decided to dine at the illustrious “Secret Recipe” restaurant. Unfortunately Guy found out the hard way why it was all such a secret. We spent the day limping from one bus shelter to the next as his dinner kept reappearing.

Kit Review (Part 2)

2011-05-02T08:46:00.001-07:00

Over the last year we have pushed our kit hard, its been tested in a variety of demanding situations and terrains. Some items have excelled whilst others have fallen short. Below we talk about our experience with some of our essential items and attempt to give a unbiased performance review.

Like any kit, regular care and maintenance is essential for longevity. On the road it's not always practical to keep things in tip-top condition but we have tried to adhere to the manufacturer's advice as much as possible. If we have deviated from this we have noted it next to the particular item.

We would love to hear your comments if you have had any experience with any of the items below.

Brook B17 Saddle

Rating: 9/10

The first thing you notice about a new Brooks B17 saddle is the firmness. It's hard as rock. Everyone seems to have different experiences during the "breaking in phase", some feel...

Read Full Review >>

Ortlieb Back Roller and Front Roller Classic Panniers

Rating: 9/10

Our Ortlieb panniers never let us down which is remarkable considering the number of times we pull them on and off the bikes and drag them about the place. They really are very durable and 100%...

Read Full Review >>

Schwalbe Marathon XR Tyres

Rating: 9/10

With their deep tread and thicker tyre walls they look quite bulky but are surprisingly sporty for their size. They feel rock solid on the road and have brilliant grip on lose and wet surfaces giving you that...

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Thermarest ProLite 3 Sleeping Mat

Rating: 7/10

We find the Thermarest ProLite sleeping mats comfortable as long as you tend to sleep on your back or front. If you tend to sleep on your side it's probable your hip will touch the ground. They provide...

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Western Mountaineering Versalite Sleeping Bag

Rating: 9/10

Having used the Versalite sleeping bag frequently for 6 months, we are very impressed with them. For the majority of our tour the weather has been mild, but we did have some freezing nights in Iran...

Read Full Review >>

Malaysia: A Fusion of Cultures and Cuisines

2011-04-24T06:25:00.001-07:00

Malaysian Border – Penang - Kuala Lumpur

After some long days on the bikes in the severely flooded south of Thailand, we were ready to cross into Malaysia, hoping for an improvement in the weather. We had chosen a remote border crossing in a hilly jungle area. The 30km cycle from Chalung to the border was very quiet, leading us to doubt that the border crossing was even official, but suddenly we found ourselves in a bustling Sunday morning border market.||

Having pushed our bikes through the market and spent our remaining Thai Baht on our last “Cow Pat Guy”, we got the required immigration stamps and cycled into our 17th country, Malaysia. A sudden steep climb awaited us on the other side, and as usual we had perfected our timing to tackle the climb at the height of the mid day heat. At the top of the pass, we could see far into Malaysia, admiring the jungly interior and the flat coastal region that we were heading towards.

When we stopped at a restaurant, we suddenly realised that we didn’t know a word of the Malaysian language yet. To our relief, the ladies running the restaurant spoke good English, something we subsequently encountered almost everywhere in Malaysia, making communication much easier. Added to this is the fact that the Latin script is used in Malaysia so that we can finally read street signs again. The food was also more varied than in Thailand (though not as fresh), and even rural restaurants often offer a lunchtime buffet with a good selection of dishes.

When we arrived in the town of Kangar, we realised that, although it had not been in the international news as no tourists were affected, the north of Malaysia had also been badly damaged by floods. Half of the town was still under water and we watched as people rowed to their houses in rubber boats to retrieve valuables. Some of the hotels were inundated and therefore closed.

As we stopped outside a supermarket to ponder our options, several people came up to us to ask if we needed help. One was a cyclist, Sam, who had come to Kangar to help repair the flood damage. He was part of a mountain biking club and invited us to stay with him in his home town, Ipoh, which unfortunately was not on our route.

With the help of the locals we found a hotel that was open. We had expected to pay more for hotel rooms in Malaysia than in Thailand, but fortunately this did not prove to be the case and we usually sought out Chinese owned hotels that were always very clean and good value at £7-£10, with air conditioning and hot water as standard (luxuries we haven’t had for a very long time!). One quirky feature of the numerous Chinese areas in Malaysia is the ubiquitous sound of chirping birds. Most of this is actually recorded sound, designed to attract swallows to build nests at the top of buildings. These are then harvested and sold to China for a large profit, where they are made into bird’s nest soup.

Even though we had only spent a few hours in the country, Malaysia felt quite developed after our stint in rural Thailand. There were shopping malls, KFCs, new suburban homes with garages, and even supermarkets. Having made all our purchases in tiny corner shops in Turkey, Iran, India and Thailand, we now actually visited a supermarket which was large enough to lose sight of each other between the highly stacked shelves.

We had heard from other cyclists that the east coast of Malaysia is much more enjoyable for cycling as it is quieter than the west coast, but due to the timings of our flights we did not have time to cross over and were stuck with the west coast. It meant cycling on fairly busy main roads for most of the way to Singapore, not something we were really looking forward to. On our first day in Malaysia we had a little over 100km to cover in 41C heat - good training for our upcoming ride through the Australian Outback.

Just when we thought Malaysia would hold few surprises we spotted something moving on the road just in front of us. It looked like a little dragon, about 1.5m in length, it was in fact a monitor lizard. Just as we had pulled out our camera, the lizard slithered down the side of the road and disappeared into a storm water drain.

As the day drew to a close we started the search for accommodation. We toyed with the idea of staying at the “Harvard Golf and Country Club” just out of town, but eventually we made it into the city centre of Sungai Petani to stay at something, well, cheaper. Just down from our hotel was a Vegetarian Chinese restaurant run by a very bubbly Chinese girl. Malaysia is a very diverse country with large Chinese and Indian populations, which is also reflected in the cuisine. Apparently we were the first foreigners to have set foot into the popular little restaurant, so the owners took a photo of us chowing down some grub.

A few hours cycling in the morning got us to Butterworth, from where we took a ferry over to Georgetown on Penang Island. We had been to Georgetown before and had fond memories, so we were planning to spend a couple of rest days here.

Georgetown really comes alive in the evenings. Where during the day our street was dominated by key cutters and electrical stores, at night street-food hawkers magically materialise and set up their stalls, complete with sidewalk tables and portable “kitchens”. The air fills with taste bud tingling aromas as they whip up a fusion of foods from sea food curry laksa to Malay kofta.

An elderly couple in front of our hostel offered crispy coconut pancakes, made in individual lidded pans. Watching them cook the pancakes was strangely mesmerising as their hands darted from pot to pot whipping out the golden pancakes and pouring in new dough at phenomenal speed.

We also visited the blue Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion, built in 1898 by a Chinese business man. The mansion was built according to Feng Shui principles, featuring an eclectic mix of traditional Chinese architecture and European touches, e.g. lamp posts imported from Glasgow and floor tiles from Staffordshire, England. The Chinese business man started out as a water carrier and ended up being the richest man in Asia, nicknamed the “Rockefeller of the East”. He spent his time shuttling between his 6 houses and 7 wives until his death in the 1920s. Many movies were filmed in his mansion, including the French movie “Indochine” with Catherine Deneuve.

After two enjoyable days in Penang we were back on the road for our push to Kuala Lumpur. The cycling on the busy main road was quite uneventful. On our first night we stayed in the pleasant hillside town of Taiping. Feeling slightly guilty to forego the local night market but needing a change from rice and noodles, we treated ourselves to an expensive meal at Pizza Hut.

Many a time our presence seems to catch other road users by surprise and often we see them looking back to get another look. On this occasion the following morning (as we suspected would happen one day) a motor bike rider was so distracted that he rode right off the road and into the road side ditch! Much to the amusement of his friend riding behind him.

The coastal highway did not afford us any glimpses of the coast, and we didn’t find the cycling very enjoyable, particularly as we were cycling on a dual carriageway with no hard shoulder. Added to that, our heads were in the clouds. Our upcoming visit to Germany was on our minds, as well as the challenge of cycling through the Australian Outback. We thought about everything except the here and now. The uninspiring scenery of endless palm plantations did not help matters. Later we realised we had missed the opportunity to stay with a local cycle tourer near Penang, a contact through Sam from Ipoh who we had met in Klang. Out of absentmindedness we had never bothered to check where exactly he lived, and now it was too late. We only had ourselves to blame. It was time to snap out of our apathy and give Malaysia a chance.

The opportunity presented itself quite soon. Kuala Selangor, our home for the night, is famous for its fireflies. We asked the hotel manager to arrange a taxi for us just after nightfall. When we arrived at the firefly park just out of town, we really had no expectations whatsoever, particularly as it looked like it was about to rain, which is usually not a good time for seeing firefiles. Once we had found two other tourists to team up with, we bought tickets for a wooden rowing boat and were rowed out onto a river, to the soundtrack of a nearby mosque calling the faithful to prayer. As we neared the opposite bank, we noticed what looked like fairy lights on some of the mangrove trees. Within arms rearch we could see the little fireflies perched on the branches twinkling and sparkling in unison like a brilliantly lit Christmas tree. Kuala Selangor is one of only two places in the world with such large congregations of fireflies, what an amazing sight!

A short day saw us arriving in Klang, a fairly industrial town about 25km west of Kuala Lumpur. Our research about cycling into Kuala Lumpur had revealed that it is one of the more difficult cities in the world to negotiate by bicycle, as there are no minor roads going into the city and some sections have to be cycled on a busy express way. Following the advice of other cyclists we decided against cycling into the city, we would skirt around instead.

By pure chance, one of Guy’s friends from the UK, Beng, who had moved back to his native Malaysia last year, was in Klang for a business meeting and we met up for lunch. It was great to see Beng and also get a few more insights into the Malaysian culture. After a delicious Indian lunch we tried the local delicacy, Cendol, a sweet coconut dessert soup containing green noodles, kidney beans and ice cubes.

As we are flying to Germany for 10 days from Kuala Lumpur to see Freddie’s family and our brand new little nephew Felix, we are leaving our bikes and some luggage at the hotel in Klang and returning here at the end of April to complete our bike ride to Singapore, the final country before Oz where the mighty Australian Outback awaits.

Raging Floods and a Love Hotel

2011-04-13T21:55:00.001-07:00

Ao Nang (Krabi) – Chalung (Malaysian border)

Despite the floods and the relentless rain, we had little choice but to crack on and leave Ao Nang as the clock was ticking on our flight out of Kuala Lumpur. So we pulled out our wet weather gear again and tried to tell ourselves that riding in the rain all day, every day was a character building experience. Fortunately the rain was much lighter as we left town, and the floods seemed to be slowly receding, surely this was the end of the rain. How wrong we were! ||

Initially the seriousness of the situation had escaped us, but slowly we realised the full impact of the floods, particularly when speaking to the locals and reading newspaper reports about the dozens of lives the floods had claimed. Usually the weather is completely dry in March, but this year there was more rain than at the height of the monsoon season. Rivers had been transformed into raging torrents of water, swallowing up roads, farms and houses.

We had planned to stop around the 90km mark at a hotel that was marked on Google Maps, but the hotel did not seem to exist and we were pointed down the road to the another town, Sikao, 20km away. The ask-three-different-people rule rarely fails so we were surprised to arrive at the town and be told there was nowhere to stay and we would have to do another 10km to the beach were there were most definitely bungalows to stay in. It was getting dark and the rain was coming down harder, we were getting desperate, for something, anything! Fortunately arriving at the beach we spotted a resort that looked open. Arriving at reception we had to loudly excuse ourselves as the manager was practising his karaoke, business was obviously quiet.

As we put out heads down on the pillow at night we could hear the rain pattering down on the tin roof, but in the morning we woke up to bright sunshine. Back on the bikes we soon came across a police blockade. The highway ahead of us was closed as it was inundated up to waist level. We turned right, but the next road was also closed, forcing us to make a detour to cross the raging river, which was swollen well beyond it banks, extending for hundreds of metres inland. Only the tops of some palm trees were visible, and many houses were flooded, some up to the roof. In some places, emergency shelters had been erected on the road where people were waiting out the rains, unable to return to their homes.

Just after we had crossed the bridge, another downpour ensued. Assuming it was just a shower, we took cover in a bus shelter to wait it out. However, after an hour we noticed that the road was slowly beginning to flood. We watched as council workers arrived and frantically cleared the blocked drains with their bare hands, sitting in the ever deeper water on the other side of the road. When we spotted the barriers in their truck, ready to close the road, we realised we needed to get moving, and get moving fast.

It started raining so hard we could barely see a metre in front of us. The water was quickly rising over the road so we had to regularly cycle in the middle to just get through and at times we were doing a slow-motion ride through water up to our knees. A sudden realisation struck us, “we could get trapped here, we’ve got to get to higher ground”. At the next junction we could see the road ahead was closed as it was completely submerged, the decision was made for us, we turned inland, leaving the swollen river and the flood behind. Later in the afternoon the clouds lightened and the sun began to shine once again, we felt relieved to have made it through but sad for all the locals we passed that had just lost their homes.

Weary after all the adventures of the day we again struggled to find accommodation. Luckily a lady who spoke good English helped us out and escorted us to the only place in the town of Yan Ta Khao. As we pulled into reception she enquired about a room on our behalf to a row of ladies lounging around on an outside sofa. One of them stood up and though we couldn’t understand the conversation, said something like this:

“Mmm, mmm, mmm, what do we have here! Look what the cat dragged in,” snigger, snigger, snigger. To which the other girls laughed in unison.

A little strange we thought, but then we looked around and noticed the seediness of the place, the discrete parking bays, the dress attire of the “staff”. Ah huh, it’s a brothel! The last time we had stayed in a brothel (we swear, we have only ever stayed in one) was on a motor bike tour in Eastern Cambodia in 2003. It hadn’t been a nice experience and we had resolved to avoid them in the future, so we felt a bit of trepidation at spending the night here. To be fair the ladies running the place, once you got beyond their gruff exterior, were quite friendly, well apart from Madame who continuously scowled at us as she strutted around the complex in her high heels. Unlike our last experience in Cambodia, this room was very clean. It also included a special feature in the form of three little steps at the end of the bed, presumably designed for a theatrical performance.

When the coast was clear and Madame was “occupied” we walked back into town for dinner and found an interesting market and a lovely little cafe run by a Burmese guy. Outside of tourist towns, you are more likely to end up on a little plastic chair in someone’s front room, which does not feel like a place to linger over a coffee, but this place had a few nice tables and even a couple of atmospheric lamps. Tea was served in pretty cups and traditional Thai pancake was on the menu, delicious.

Back at the ranch we realised that choosing a Friday night to stay in a brothel was probably not the best idea. Needless to say, we, nor anyone else got much sleep that night.

The following day we had planned to cycle around 100km along a quiet and scenic route. On arrival in town, we were told that there was no hotel (or brothel), so we pushed on for another 20km to the next town, Chalung. It felt like a déja vu, and whilst we usually don’t like to do such long days in the saddle, 120km per day seems to become a new habit as our quest to find a hotel in Thailand was rarely easy.

In Chalung, we noticed some bungalows at the town entrance, but unfortunately they were full. We then spent an hour cruising up and down the main street of the town, following pointed fingers in all sorts of different directions. After being told by a pharmacist that the next hotel was 13km away, we cycled back to the start of the town where we had seen an advertising sign with a picture of a bed (all signs are in Thai script so we can’t read them). Pointing at the sign, we asked some people at a food stall to explain to us the location of this place. After much giggling, a young girl took pity on us and escorted us to the hotel on her motorbike. It was a great place, very cheap, really clean and best of all not a Madame in sight!

12,000 km Photo

2011-04-11T23:30:00.001-07:00

That’s us in front of the dunny block at a Thai fuel station. Classy, we know! The locals were quite perplexed as to why anyone would take a photo of themselves in such an illustrious location.

Kit Review (Part 1)

2011-04-07T08:33:00.000-07:00

Over the last year we have pushed our kit hard, its been tested in a variety of demanding situations and terrains. Some items have excelled whilst others have fallen short. Below we talk about our experience with some of our essential items and attempt to give a unbiased performance review. ||

Like any kit, regular care and maintenance is essential for longevity. On the road it's not always practical to keep things in tip-top condition but we have tried to adhere to the manufacturer's advice as much as possible. If we have deviated from this we have noted it next to the particular item.

We would love to hear your comments if you have had any experience with any of the items below.

Thorn Raven Tour Bicycles

Rating: 10/10

Bicycle trouble is one of our worst fears, especially in remote locations. Fortunately the Thorn Raven Tour has risen to every challenge we have thrown at it, it truly is a well thought through touring bike...

Read Full Review >>

Rohloff Speed Hub

Rating: 9/10

We agonised over the decision to pay out for the Rohloff but now looking back over the last 10,000km are so glad we did. On remote trips where you are away from facilities the robust and maintenance...

Read Full Review >>

Hilleberg Nallo 2 GT Tent

Rating: 8/10

There is much to admire about the Nallo 2 GT; it is quick and easy to set up in any weather, completely waterproof, stands strong in heavy storms, is light and compact and is extermly well made. We can...

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Panaracer Pasela Tour Guard Tyres

Rating: 9/10

The tyres are light and sporty but amazingly puncture resistant. We used the tyres for 4,000km from London to Istanbul on a variety of surfaces from rough tarmac to lose gravel roads...

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SIGG Water Bottles

Rating: 9/10

Fed up with drinking warm plastic water we moved onto the Sigg water bottles. The aluminium shell keeps the water cool and the inner shell allows the water to maintain a neutral taste...

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First Need XL Water Filter

Rating: 7/10

We were attracted to this filter as at the time we couldn't find a water filter that filters out Bacteria, Cysts and Viruses. The filter is generally easy to use, though the pumping action...

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A Very Wet “Dry Season”

2011-04-05T22:22:00.001-07:00

Chumphon - Krabi

On our first day without Nick as we cycled from Saphli Beach to Arunothai following an estuary out of a small fishing village we couldn’t help but notice the air felt a lot more humid than usual and the dark clouds on the horizon started to look a little more menacing. Little did we know what Mother Nature had in store for us.||

Without Nick, communication was a little sketchy and even though we were sure we knew the words for “fried rice with chicken” by now (how can we forget, “Cow Pat Guy”! In India it was cow, now it’s chicken, we are wondering what Guy will mean in Malay), we often seemed to end up with a plate that contained everything but chicken, often prawns, squid, pork, cow’s tongue or liver… With a little chillie sauce and imagination it all tastes like chicken anyway. In general Thai food hasn’t quite been what we expected – in rural Thailand, there are no Green Curries, Pad Thai’s and Sticky Rice with Mango. Instead, it’s much more basic, usually fried rice, fried noodles or soup from a little food stall with no menu.

Arunothai was a small beach town which seemed to be set up for local weekend tourists. As it was mid week, it was very quiet, and we were the only guests at the bungalow resort we stayed at. We decided to have a rest day before pushing on to the West coast and Krabi. It was very relaxing. Guy busied himself by giving our kit a once over including an oil change for our Rohloff hubs, while Freddie caught up on our journal.

We seemed to be developing a habit of moving from one beach to the next, so the following day we ended up at yet another beach. Once again we were the only guests. Just after we had arrived, a torrential downpour ensued. Assuming it would pass we awoke the next morning to grey clouds and more heavy rain.

There’s only one thing that makes cycling in heavy rain worse: roadworks. We were riding through roadwork areas where the red soil had turned into sticky mud, and to top it off we weren’t really sure where we were going as we hadn’t had internet access for a while to plan our onward route. Our map wasn’t really detailed enough for the job, but with the help of the locals we decided we had to detour 10km into the wrong direction to get to a hotel.

It was still raining hard, but the following morning we felt good and set off to cross over to Thailand’s west coast. We found the cycling easy and followed a decent but fairly quiet road west for about 90km. We ended up at a small bungalow resort. Like many Thais, the girl who managed the bungalows was quite shy, particularly when dealing with foreigners. We have found that although almost everyone waves and shouts hello when we cycle past, as soon as we stop to ask for directions or order some food, people get the shy giggles and sometimes shops mysteriously empty as we approach.

Cycling onwards through endless rubber and palm oil plantations, we really struggled to get into a rhythm. We had a fairly short day of only 75km ahead of us so we were hoping to arrive early afternoon and kick the feet up. Unfortunately we had no rhythm, stopping every couple of km’s for a loo break or to take our rain coats off or to put our rain coats on or to eat something or to drink something or to take a picture of something or to buy some of those weird looking fried things etc. etc…

Around lunchtime we noticed two little puppy dogs by the side of the road. They were very thin and clearly not in a good state. We figured they might have lost their mother, so we fed them our last piece of banana cake to give them some nourishment. Not quite sure what else to do, we called our friend Aom and asked if there was an equivalent of the RSPCA in Thailand, but this didn’t seem to exist. We decided to look for a vet in the next town, to see if he would care for them. However, the language barrier proved impenetrable. We showed pictures of doctors and animals to countless people in our Point-It book, unsuccessfully tried to pronounce the Thai word for “vet” and even fruitlessly tried to explain our quest to someone who spoke a little English. Nobody understood what we were asking for, but one man suggested we could go to the police station where they would speak English. We trudged through the rain to try and find the police station, but this was also a failure. One man even ran away from us when we pointed at the picture of a police man in our little book! After a frustrating hour we gave up, feeling intensely sorry for the puppies but unable to help.

The day didn’t get much better. Shortly afterwards, Guy had his first fall of the trip (Freddie hit the tarmac once in Hungary under very similar circumstances). We were cycling along a small tarmac road with a narrow hard shoulder which was slightly lower than the main part of the road. As the conditions were so wet, the road was quite slippery and when Guy tried to get back onto the road, his bike fell from under him. Luckily the bike took the brunt of the fall, so Guy had no serious injuries, just a bruised pride as his entertainment act tool place in front of a small fruit stall!

Even though it was raining hard at times the scenery was beautiful with jagged limestone cliffs jutting up vertically all around us from the lush green jungle and the hovering clouds and mist rising from the valley gave it a mystical touch.

We arrived in Ao Nang (Krabi) in a torrent of rain as tourists scurried around with umbrellas looking totally miffed that their week or so in Thailand was looking like a complete washout. We had expected a few bungalows and a quiet beach, similar to most of the beaches we had visited on our way down from Bangkok. However, when we arrived we were presented with a town heaving with tourists and all the related facilities from Burger King to Starbucks.

We found a fairly affordable hotel and decided that after 10 months of getting us up and down hills it was only fair we treated our poor muscles to a nice relaxing Thai massage. Well don’t be fooled by the size of those little Thai ladies, they may look pretty harmless but they have the strength of 10 water buffaloes! For the next hour they proceeded to treat us like an over active child might treat a clump of playdo - pressing and stretching and twisting and lifting our bodies in all sorts of interesting positions. At times it was entirely relaxing and you could feel yourself drifting into a serene sleep, moments later you were being straddled from the back and your legs were flung skyward as you performed some death defying double act straight out of Cirque Du Soleil.

The area around Krabi is famous for its stunning beaches and beautiful islands such as Ko Phi Phi, Ko Lanta and Railay Beach. We had been looking forward to some beach time and to exploring some of the nearby islands, but this was not to be. For the four days we were there, it rained and rained and rained without a break, even a small dash to the local eatery over the road left us drenched (we opted against the purchase of an umbrella citing it as an extravagance!). According to the locals this was unheard of in the dry season and had never happened before.

The full impact of the rains only became clear to us a little later, as the rain caused heavy flooding across southern Thailand, in which 53 people died, some of them in landslides in Krabi not far from where we were staying. As we prepared to leave after three days, the hotel manager shook his head and informed us that the road out of Krabi was impassable due to the flooding, forcing us to stay an extra day.

We hoped that the rain would stop today, as the following day we would have no option, cycle or swim the clock was ticking as we only had a little over two weeks until our flight from Kuala Lumpur, which was over 1000km away!

A Breath of Fresh Air

2011-03-28T23:27:00.001-07:00

Bangkok – Chumphon

Our good friend Nick had come out from the UK to join forces with us for our first week’s cycling in Thailand. Being married to a Thai girl, he lived in Bangkok for a few years but had never cycled in Thailand, so we were all keen to explore Thailand from the seat of a bicycle.

We waved goodbye to Aom, Nick’s wife, as we pulled out of the parking bay to join Bangkok’s rush hour traffic. The road that had looked like a minor road on our map turned out to be a six lane highway. Thankfully Bangkok drivers were respectful and there was enough space for everyone. We endured the traffic a further 50km, and as soon as we had cleared Bangkok’s suburbs, were able to join a small lane winding through fertile rice fields and coconut plantations.||

Our stomachs rumbled indicating it was time for a snack so we pulled into one of the many eateries that line the roads in Thailand. The eateries are makeshift kitchens with a scattering of tables and plastic stools. It’s low key and best of all the food is fast, fresh and tasty. Nick was quick to take charge and translated our orders into Thai as we relaxed. We felt lazy leaving it all to Nick but it was so nice to let someone else take charge.

The lush tropical vegetation soon gave way to extensive salt farms in various stages of production. Stopping for some pictures outside a farm we were invited to come in for a closer inspection. Nick got chatting to a sweet old guy who took delight in viewing the pictures we had taken of his workplace. It seemed they both shared a fondness for unusual hat wear!

After learning all there is to know about salt farms we pushed through the hot afternoon stopping regularly to fuel up on iced coffees and eventually arrived in the small town of Samut Songkhram. We had just pulled over to ponder our accommodation options when a police man in smart uniform donned with Raybans pulled up on a motorbike. “Hotel? Follow me”, he motioned as he gunned his motorbike palming the oncoming traffic to stop and pulled away at speed. Chasing him down through the city streets it was clear he was the law as we pulled various illegal manoeuvres to arrive at a comfortable looking hotel. Before we could thank him properly he was off, the sound of his motorcycle roaring through the streets.

Once we had washed we went out in search of food. Glancing around the streets there seemed to be an eatery on every corner and with no menu and little in the way of identifiable foods, we were lost. From a glance the makeshift kitchens edged on street corners and perched in the front of shop fronts all looked pretty similar. But to the trained eye, the placement of condiments, a hanging chicken or a display of veg all have very distinct messages indicating the food on offer. Nick showed us how to read the street food stall language as we passed from stall to stall, squatting in little plastic chairs and devouring the various delicacies on offer, from steamed chicken to fish balls, stir fried noodles, roti with condensed milk and iced tea.

The following morning, we weaved our way to the coastal town of Cha-Am following minor roads and passing through sleepy fishing villages. Nick is naturally very sporty and a keen cyclist, but he had convinced himself that we had somehow become superhuman during the last 10 months and that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with us. Therefore he had decided to go ultralight, travelling on a road bike with only a handlebar bag to hold his possessions. Our hearts sunk when we heard of his plan, and sure enough, Nick was easily coasting along while we huffed and puffed to keep up!

At the slightly tacky beach resort town of Cha-Am, we found a hotel with huge air-conditioned rooms. It was there that we encountered the sweetest security guard of all time. After we negotiated to take the bikes up to the room the nice chap with big brown eyes and shaggy black hair insisted on carrying one of the 15kg bikes up the three flights of stairs. With an awkward grip on the bike he threw himself at the first flight of stars with real gusto, marching ahead of us. On the first landing, a mere 10 steps up he had put he bike down and looked uneasy and was soaking wet. We assumed he had got caught in the rain earlier. We indicated this was not our floor, we had another two to go. The same thing happened on the next landing, he was going no further, but we insisted it was still up, what was the reason for the delay? Then it clicked, he was completely out of breath, exhausted, sweating from head to toe! As he stooped over the railing gasping heavily, we tried not to look and busied ourselves in some meaningless conversation. After what felt like an eternity he gritted his teeth, let out an almighty groan and made one last push to the final landing. The poor chap nearly collapsed for his efforts but he couldn’t help hide his delight as he beamed at us from ear to ear. We couldn’t thank him enough, no one has ever gone to so much effort, what a great man.

Due to the heat, we had agreed on an early start (something we are not known for), so we were a little peeved when we got up extra early and it was raining hard. The rain was quite unexpected during the dry season, and it rained all day on and off. Initially we found it quite refreshing, but by the end of the day when we were soaked through we actually started to feel the chills. Thankfully we had a nice tail wind and were flying along.

We were coasting along comfortably with a lovely tail wind and smooth roads when our GPS suddenly indicated a turn off the main road to a suspect looking smaller dirt road. Sticking with our philosophy of road-less-travelled we went for it. The track weaved through muddy villages until it became wetter and wetter until we were cycling in 20cm of murky water. We trudged through this desperately trying to avoid putting our feet down and having wet shoes for the remainder of the day. Ahead we could see a tarmac road but to get to it we had to push our bikes through a rubbish dump – the glamour’s of cycle touring!

We were planning to take a day off at Dolphin Beach, situated near Khao Sam Roi Yot national park. We found a nice little place with bungalows to stay in, but unfortunately the weather was not on our side. On our rest day it was still raining hard, windy and about 16°C – very cold for Thailand, particularly as life takes place outdoors, so we were sitting in the outdoor restaurant with our rain coats and two pairs of socks on!

Guy and Nick were undeterred by the weather and the look on the resort owners face as they asked for the paddles to go sea kayaking. Standing on the beach with the wind howling and white caps blowing Guy was reconsidering the option. He turned around to discuss it with Nick but he was already bounding full steam for the water towing a bright pink 3 manner vessel that looked more like a canal barge than a sea kayak. Splashing and crashing Nick managed to crash it through the swell and return to the shore with vigour. Guy took out the one man kayak but soon tired and watched Nick who seemed to have endless bounds of energy.

Somehow Nick convinced Guy to come out in the barge and moments later he found himself at the front of the 3 person kayak heading full throttle through the break with Nick motoring from the back seat. The swell seemed to be growing steadily stronger as they bashed their way out. As they tipped the crescent of the waves the drop was so sharp that the Kayak was falling fast, leaving Guy flailing in mid air only to be reunited with his seat in a crashing thud. As the intensity and frequency of this serious ass beating picked up Guy found himself numb with laughter essentially draining him off all remaining strength and leaving the vessel at the mercy of the waves. The final nail in the coffin was when they hit the mother of all waves shooting Guy so sky high that he landed one whole seat position back in the middle of the Kayak. Well this was too much to handle and soon the Kayak turned and flipped leaving Guy, Nick and the pink barge washed up on the beach, a very classy finale.

After our day off, the weather improved and we decided to make a quick detour to visit a cave in the national park. “We can cycle there, and then we just have to climb up a little bit”, said Nick who had already been to the cave previously.

Well, we can attest to the fact that more than just a little bit of climbing was involved. We parked the bikes and then scrambled up to the cave over a rocky path for the next 40 minutes. We were the first visitors of the day to Tham Phraya Nakhon cave – there was nobody around and it was quiet and serene. A Thai king had discovered the cave during a storm and built a small pavillion, which was bathed in morning sunlight streaming in from above when we arrived. It was just amazing and made us forget our aching legs as we marvelled at our surroundings.

When we made it back to the bottom and had lunch at the restaurant there, Guy suddenly realised he had forgotten his mobile phone back at the beach resort. A 10km detour was not what we had in mind, seeing that our legs were tired from the hiking and we still had 70km to cycle that afternoon, but Nick solved our dilemma by volunteering to get the phone. On his road bike, the detour wouldn’t take too long, and it was a good opportunity for him to “stretch his legs” rather than cycling at a reduced speed so that we could keep up with him. It also meant we could sit in the restaurant and sip iced coffee.

The road through the national park was beautiful and flat but with scenic hills in the background. The only blip in the scenery were the ever present prawn farms, which had taken over parts of the national park.

Our destination for the night was Prachuap Khiri Khan, a small town by the sea. According to our guide book, if we blurred our eyes a little, we could imagine we were in the South of France. While that was maybe a bit far fetched, we did find a lovely little French run guest house, and we decided to treat ourselves to a huge fish dinner. Portion sizes in Thailand are pretty small, so we often end up ordering double portions to provide the calories we need for cycling, much to the confusion of the waiters.

Leaving Prachuap Khiri Khan the following morning, we cycled into a national park alongside the coast. Again, our map let us down (could you believe it!) and the only road we could find turned out to be a tiny overgrown track. It looked like a bit of an adventure so we wheeled our bikes on over fallen trees and through the thorny undergrowth, but eventually the track all but disappeared so we gave up and went back to the road waiting for the imminent signs of punctures to emerge – thankfully none.

Having spent a few hours picking our way through the dirt roads of the national park, we were starving. Unfortunately we only passed through very small villages with no restaurants. Eventually, we came past what looked like a restaurant set up for a celebration. We stopped to ask and found out that it was a wedding celebration, and the “restaurant” was in fact a family home. The sister of the groom immediately invited us in.

Benz was very friendly – she and her boyfriend both had a Master in English, so we were able to communicate well. Despite our sweaty, grubby appearance we were made to feel very welcome. Immediately, rice, noodles, fried fish and various curries were brought out, and we were even given a sweet coconut soup as dessert as we sat in the courtyard of their lovely home edged only a few feet away from the glistening blue sea. They kindly offered for us to stay for the evening celebration but we had to kick on as it was getting late.

In the late afternoon, we came past a Wat perched high on a forested headland gazing out over the shimmering coastline below. The climb up was sharp and steep but the stunning views and most beautiful Wat we have seen made it all worth while.

Later in the afternoon, we followed a road directly along the beach and stayed in a beach bungalow for the night. Thailand really has far more than its fair share of beautiful white sandy beaches and we really loved the ease of pulling into a beach bungalow and heading straight for the tropical beach just metres from the doorstep.

Suddenly a week had gone by and it was already our last day with Nick. We had a long day ahead as Nick had booked a train from Chumphon (110km away) in the evening to get back to Bangkok. It was quite hot and hilly, and to top it off Nick was having trouble with the local wildlife as a bee managed to find his way into his cycling shorts.

In the late afternoon we ended up in another beach village not far from Chumphon, where we were planning to spend the night. We had one last iced coffee with Nick before he cycled on to the station to catch his train.

After 10 months of being on the road and being in a country we had already visited before, we weren’t feeling the pangs of excitement that we had felt in previous countries. However with Nick on board we had a bit of a re-awakening. All those little things that we already took for granted - a friendly wave from a passing motorbike, a nonchalant chat with a shop keeper, a giggly wave from a child on the way to school, all felt good again. Nick brought a fresh perspective to our travels and reminded us to appreciate every moment of our trip. Thanks mate, we’ll miss you and your Jacko gloves.

11,000km Photo

2011-03-26T18:43:00.001-07:00

A couple of days out of Bangkok, we were cycling on a minor road near the Thai coast, enjoying the lush tropical landscape. The photo was taken by our friend Nick.

Bangkok

2011-03-24T04:48:00.001-07:00

Three hours after our rushed departure from Chennai we landed in Bangkok (the reason we flew is because it is not possible to cycle through Myanmar at the moment). Relieved to be reunited with our bikes and luggage, we caught an airport bus to Khao San Road, the bustling street many backpacker’s lives revolve around in Bangkok. It was still early and we had breakfast at a little cafe while we put our bikes back together in the muggy morning air.||

On the recommendation of Tara and Tyler from Going Slowly we had booked a guest house about 2km north of Khao San Road, a little removed from the tourist area. We had been in contact with Tara and Tyler for the last year or so, ever since we asked them for some advice to help us plan our trip. They have been on the road for two years, cycling across Europe, driving through Russia and Mongolia and then cycling around South East Asia, and were planning to finish their trip in Bangkok.

Bangkok was the only common place on our routes where we could have possibly met up, and by chance Tara and Tyler rolled into Bangkok on the same day as us!

As we pulled into Shanti Lodge, their bikes were already there, waiting to be unloaded. We spotted them busily working away on their laptops in the restaurant. It was great to finally catch up in person after following their incredible daily blog for so long.

Shanti Lodge had a comfortable, leafy restaurant and chill-out area downstairs, with free Wifi. As our room was quite small, we generally hung out there and enjoyed the beauty of our surroundings. Being in Thailand, we suddenly realised how tough India had been at times. This was easy: there was a great menu with delicious food, our orders arrived quickly, everything was so clean and orderly. This was also the first time for 6 months that we were in a country where women were treated equally to men. Our interactions with women in Turkey, Iran and India (and to an extent the UAE) had been very limited, and pretty much all restaurant and hotel staff were male. Here, the whole guest house was run by women.

We also spotted a few more touring bikes in Shanti Lodge, one of which belonged to Mel, an American girl who had travelled around South East Asia and was now bound for Turkey. The other two bikes belonged to a Belgian couple who had come through Europe and China. All of us had dinner together on our first night, and Mel presented us with a humorous little cycling guide to South East Asia that she had just finished writing and illustrating. By the end of the evening, our heads were spinning from the social interactions. We had just met more touring cyclists in one day than we had met in the whole of India!

Whilst we were not planning to do much sightseeing in Bangkok as we had covered the important Wats and palaces during our last visit, Freddie had signed up for a cooking class at May Kaidee’s vegetarian restaurant. We used to go to this restaurant a lot when we backpacked around South East Asia in 2003, and Freddie had been determined to do a cooking class there should she ever return to Bangkok. As Tara is also into cooking, she decided to join Freddie. May graciously invited Guy and Tyler to come along too – they had the important task of taking pictures and testing the food we cooked.

First, we visited the market where we learned about the local vegetables and tested various street foods. The girls had been loaned some traditional Thai umbrellas and a wicker basket to make the visit feel a little more nostalgic.

All the ingredients for the recipes had been prepared earlier, so we had no chopping to do and quickly completed 10 different dishes whilst singing the Thai songs May and her team taught us. “Sop sop sop sop soooong!” Guy and Tyler took their taste testing duties seriously and ate everything that was presented to them, from green curry to fried tofu veggies and spring rolls. A fun morning ended with May teaching us some Thai dancing, and we took away a little cook book to help us reproduce her delicious creations in our own kitchens.

Happy times, and not just because we were having fun in Bangkok. At the airport in Chennai, Freddie had received a call saying her sister was in hospital, and during our first day in Bangkok our little nephew, Felix, was born. We were very proud to become an aunt and uncle. In fact, so proud that we are planning a little excursion to Germany for a week to see Felix and catch up with Freddie’s family. As we are moving to Australia, Freddie may not see her family for a while once we are busy finding jobs and settling down. The flights are much more affordable from Malaysia than from Australia, and we will finally be reunited with Boris, our tent (on holiday in Germany at the moment), who will be an important part of the team once we reach Australia and cross the 3,800km of Outback that separates Darwin from our destination, Melbourne.

Our flight to Darwin will be from Singapore, a 2,400km ride from Bangkok. To help us on our way, our friends Nick and Aom came over from the UK to meet us. Guy had met Nick whilst hiking in the Indian Himalayas 8 years ago. Nick, who is from the UK, was living in Bangkok at the time and met his wife Aom there. They later moved to the UK where we regularly caught up and did some weekend cycling trips together. Nick is planning to cycle with us for a week or so, while Aom catches up with her family in Bangkok.

We met Aom for dinner as she had arrived a few days before Nick, and once Nick had landed, they invited us for a very posh breakfast at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, the number one address in Bangkok where celebrities, politicians and writers hang out. We were able to catch a riverboat there from near our guest house and arrived in style at the pier of the Mandarin Oriental. Waiting in the lobby, we felt a little underdressed in our khakis and cycling shoes, but we soon settled in on the terrace overlooking the Chao Praya river and enjoyed our delicious breakfast – a huge egg-white omelette for Guy, a salmon bagel for Freddie, and various pastries. The service was outstanding, in fact world class to the extent that they remember details like the side of the bed you get out of and which fruits you prefer in order to enhance your future visits. It was a fantastic breakfast treat on our last day in Bangkok. Thank you!

Having spent a few lovely days hanging out with Tara and Tyler and comparing notes on cycle touring, IT questions and life goals in general, we took them out for dinner to thank them for their advice and inspiration over the last year. We had a few challenges getting to the restaurant, which was on the other side of a large demonstration by 30,000 anti-government protesters, but eventually we found our way and had a fun night. We also had dinner together in the guest house on our last night and as we prepared to say goodbye, Tara and Tyler decided they were going to get up at 6am the next morning to see us off!

True to their word, they were there as we loaded up the bikes, got us iced coffees to help us wake up, and took some photos as we took off. We were very touched by this sweet gesture. Thanks guys, it was great to spend some time with you!

Half an hour later, we rendezvoused with Aom and Nick and his bicycle beside a 6 lane highway. Whilst we merged into the busy morning Bangkok traffic we hoped we could live up to our promise and return Aom’s husband in one piece.

10 Tips for Cycling South India

2011-03-16T22:55:00.001-07:00

Over 2.5 months, we cycled 2,400km in South India. Starting from Goa, we made our way south, via the hill stations of Ooty and Munnar, down to the tip of the subcontinent and back up again on the East side, finishing in Chennai. Although we had some trepedation about cycling in India, it’s actually a fantastic country for cycling. Here are our top 10 tips to enjoy your cycle tour in South India. ||

1. Get off the main roads. Route choice is critical in India. Luckily India is so heavily populated that there are plenty of small, quiet tarmac roads linking villages and often running parallel to the main road. However, they are often poorly signposted. Asking for directions is a good way to meet the locals. But if you’d rather know where you are going, a GPS device can help immensely.

2. Choose tires with good grip. There can be dirt stretches on roads and you might end up on sandy shoulders if a bus comes your way or you need to swerve for a cow. The good grip on our Schwalbe Marathon XRs saved us from sliding many times.

3. Get a mirror and a loud horn. You can get them cheaply in many Indian bike shops. On busy Indian roads, 360° vision is critical as lanes and traffic rules are not generally respected, and buses may not always be willing to slow down or swerve to avoid a cyclist. People often pull into the road without looking – that’s when you’ll need your horn! On the plus side, most people drive fairly slowly and are used to two wheelers on the roads.

4. Learn some words in the local language. In India, there are 18 official languages and you’ll have to relearn basic words in each new state. Make an effort to learn some local greetings and phrases – people will love it!

5. Bring some coins from your home country. Collecting coins is a popular passtime in India, and many people asked us to show them coins from our home countries. They are small and can make nice presents, especially if you present the coin missing from their collection!

6. Learn the fine art of the head waggle. Waggling your head from side to side can mean yes, ok, no problem, thank you, hello or goodbye. It’s a positive gesture you’ll see in India every day. Nodding your head to say “yes” may be met with confused looks, so learn to waggle instead.

7. Get used to curious locals fiddling with your bike. The concept of personal space and belongings is not defined as narrowly as in the West. When people are curious, they don’t hesitate to have a good look at you or even fiddle with your bike. They are generally harmless and we always let it go, though we do recommend taking valuables with you when you leave your bikes out of sight, and keeping an eye on the “fiddlers”.

8. Find alternatives if you’ve overdosed on curries. We love the amazingly complex flavours of Indian cuisine but struggled with the local breakfast consisting of deep-fried savoury items. In the end, we carried cereal and milk powder for breakfast and supplemented this with parotha flatbread (ordered at a restaurant ther night before) and bananas. For a break from spicy food, you can order Chinese style fried noodles or fried rice in almost every restaurant. Make sure you choose popular restaurants to avoid nasty stomach bugs.

9. Carry a spoon or fork with you. Maybe you enjoy that earthy feeling of eating with your hands, but we got over the novelty factor quite quickly and preferred to take our own forks along. In many restaurants you can ask for a spoon, but in small village eateries they may not have any available.

10. Surrender. India can be intense and in-your-face. Try to go with the flow, leave expectations at home and don’t forget your sense of humour ;-)

Map of our route through South India

Here’s a link to all our India blog posts.

P.S. We have also finally put together some tips for cycling in Turkey and Iran.

Goodbye India: An Abrupt Finale

2011-03-12T07:36:00.001-08:00

Chidambaram – Pondicherry – Chennai

Leaving Chidambaram, we had no option but to stay on the busy coastal road to Pondicherry. As soon as we arrived, we breathed a sigh of relief. It was so nice and quiet, with wide, tree lined streets and a seaside promenade. Pondicherry had been a French colony for centuries and retains a distinctly French feel. There were lots of French tourists, bakeries selling baguettes and croissants, and cafés serving Croque Monsieur. In other words, heaven!

We now had only one day’s cycling left in India and still had more than a week before our flight from Chennai to Bangkok, so we decided to stay in Pondicherry for a while and catch up on our blogs, website work and some other projects. With the help of a local recommendation we found a lovely place to stay, in a small guest house, La Ville Créole, run by Famille Corneille in the Rue Labourdonnais (yes, even the street names have French names here!), with a kitchen, communal sitting area and hot water in the shower. To top it off, there was a posh cafe with free Wifi just down the road. ||

However, being in India, guilt-free enjoyment of these pleasures was not without its pitfalls. Down the road from our guest house, a group of people had made their home on the pavement, complete with pillows and an armchair. Other pavement dwellers, some with small children had set up their “home” next to a French bakery, so whenever we went to get some Pain au Chocolat, we would feel pangs of guilt walking out with a bag full of expensive pastries. Several mothers forced their children to beg from tourists (thus denying them the opportunity to go to school), which was quite heart breaking at times. It can be hard but we think it’s important to see poverty up close and personal. As Guy said, “in India, you have to face the facts - you can’t just throw the Oxfam brochure in the bin and pretend it doesn’t exist.”

After a week in Pondicherry, it was time to move on. We had expected a quiet lane through fishing villages to get to the beach town of Mamallapuram, 100km away, but the road had recently been upgraded and was now the main road to Chennai. It was quite busy and not that interesting, going through prawn hatcheries, rice fields and small towns.

Mamallapuram was listed in our guide book as “the only beach hangout in Tamil Nadu”. When we arrived, we found a fairly typical Indian small town, but with a profusion of guest houses and tourist restaurants. The beach was nothing special – fairly dirty and crowded with fishing boats, not really the place for a beach holiday. The town had been devastated by the 2004 tsunami but had been rebuilt in a flurry to tempt the tourists back.

The most interesting aspect of the town was its long history of stone masonry. In the 7th century, some impressive temples were carved by the Pallava dynasty, and they are now Unesco World Heritage sites. Nowadays, the tradition of stone masonry lives on in the 200 active stone masons in the town who create amazing sculptures made of marble or granite. Some of the work was very intricate and beautiful, having taken up to 9 months to complete. We eyed off some of the beautiful Buddha statues, but coming in at over 80kg it wasn’t such a bike friendly option so we were content with a small statue of the dancing elephant-headed Ghanesh, made of granite and adding about a kilo to our luggage.

On our last day, we cleaned the bikes and planned our cycle route to Chennai airport, 50km away. We had decided not to box the bikes for this flight. The decision was mainly driven by our laziness: we were unwilling to spend a couple of days hunting down bits of cardboard and cobbling together two bike boxes. We also knew that our bikes are strong, we have no exposed derailer that can get easily knocked and we figured if the baggage guys see a bike they are more likely to treat it like a bike. The flight was the following evening around midnight, but we were going to leave in the morning anyway to take no chances.

In the late afternoon, we walked down to the beach to watch the sunset. Sitting on a fishing canoe, a few young guys from Hyderabad approached us for a chat. Their English was good and they were planning to go to Australia for their Master’s degree, so we spoke to them for about an hour. They had come to Chennai for a wedding and decided to spend a day on the beach in Mamallapuram. Some of them had never seen the sea before and were amazed to discover how salty it was.

Suddenly, a fisherman aggressively approached our group. Ranting and raving at one of the Hyderabad guys in Hindi, he demanded them to leave us alone. They were not supposed to “bother” tourists, otherwise we might complain to the police, and the word might get out to other tourists which in turn impacts on tourism in that area that the fishermen depend upon.

They were eye balling each other snarling and it looked close to fisticuffs. In an attempt to defuse the situation Guy slithered his way in between the two acting as a buffer. Up close and personal it was evident from his putrid alcohol breath and blood shot eyes that the fisherman was in an altered state of mind. Nonetheless Guy pushed on.

“Brother, we appreciate your concern, but these guys are doing us no harm,” insisted Guy.

The Angry Fisherman showed little reaction, his eyes fixed on some distant object. Guy turned around to see half a dozen bulky fisherman making their way towards our group.

As they got closer it was clear that they weren’t in the mood for a fight, so after a few more words from The Angry Fisherman the crowd dispersed. The Hyderabad boys were a little shaken but we soon had a bit of a laugh as we said our goodbyes.

Back at the hotel we finished cleaning the bikes and were about to go out for our final Indian dinner when Freddie booted up her laptop to write down the flight confirmation number. As she glanced at the flight times, a shocking truth suddenly dawned on her: The flight was today, not tomorrow. Even though she had remembered the correct date, and that the flight was around midnight, she hadn’t realised that the flight was actually at 00:15 – it was very early in the morning instead of very late at night!

It was 7pm. The airport was a 2 hour drive away. We hadn’t packed, and one of the bikes was taken apart, tools strewn around everywhere. We didn’t have enough money to pay for our room, as we had been planning to get cash out later that night. Thai Airways had told us we might have to disinfect the bikes, which we expected might take some extra time at the airport. Needless to say, panic ensued.

By chance we had the phone number of the only taxi in town with a roof rack. We called and the taxi driver appeared 10 minutes later. Freddie ran to the ATM, jumped a queue of 7 men and came back with the cash. We threw all our stuff in the bags, strapped the bikes on the roof and off we went.

Around 9:30pm we arrived at the airport. We took the pedals off the bikes, turned the handlebars, protected the gear cables with cardboard and deflated the tires. We packed all of our checkin luggage into two large plastic beach bags and crammed as much heavy stuff as possible in our rack bags to take as hand luggage. We knew we were about 25kg over the weight limit and would have to cough up for excess luggage.

At checkin, the bikes were weighed and rolled onto the conveyor belt. “Have a nice flight”, the checkin lady said when she handed us our tickets. Disbelieving, we hastily gathered our belongings and left the checkin area as fast a possible without arising suspicion. Not only had we not been asked to disinfect the bikes, we also hadn’t paid a cent for our excess luggage!

Just as we thought we had got away with it a security guard stopped us. “You won’t be able to take your bike helmets on board,” he said. “Errr, why not?” we enquired. “Because it is a weapon,” he stated. We tried to envision holding up a plane with a bike helmet. We informed him that a bike helmet is made of styrofoam and is designed to crack on impact. Surely a shoe would be just as dangerous. The security guard wasn’t convinced, but we told him we were willing to take the risk at the security check. We were happy he hadn’t noticed our 30cm solid steel D-Lock lying at the bottom of Guys bag, which in our haste we had forgotten to check in.

The immigration officer was concerned about Freddie’s visa. “Next time you must get a business visa,” he stated gruffly. “Marketing is not allowed on a tourist visa.” After Freddie protested that, although Marketing was her occupation, she hadn’t done any marketing in India, he seemed satisfied and let us go, not before questioning us in detail about our travel budget.

We arrived at the gate just a few minutes before boarding time. When we sat on the plane and saw the lights of Chennai and the Indian coast disappear below us, we took a sigh of relief, we could not believe our luck. If Freddie had realised half an hour later, if the taxi driver hadn’t shown up, or if we had to disinfect the bikes we probably would have missed our flight.

Having spent 11 weeks in India and cycled 2,370km (our longest time and longest distance in any country so far) we felt ready for a change in scene and were really looking forward to Thailand and spending time with our friends Nic and Aom who have flown out from the UK to meet us in Bangkok.

Despite all the horror stories we had heard about India (potholed roads, crazy drivers, excessive rubbish and extreme poverty), we had a brilliant ride and were really glad we came. India's varied scenery, amazing wildlife, quiet rural roads, fascinating/quirky culture (how many countries do you know have retirement homes for cows?!) and colourful people have been a real highlight of our trip.

Most of all we loved the freedom that you feel in India, it holds a very special place in our hearts and we look forward to coming back and exploring more of this incredible country.

Our two India photo galleries are live here. India West covers Mumbai – Munnar, and India South East covers Kochi – Chennai.

Templed Out

2011-03-04T01:07:00.001-08:00

Madurai – Chidambaram

For over two thousand years, the site of Madurai’s central temple has been hosting an annual festival in honour of the fertility Goddess Sri Meenakshi. Most details of the festival have not changed since the Greek ambassador Menasthenes visited Madurai during his travels on the Spice Route in the 3rd century BC. Hundreds of generations of South Indians have asked the Goddess to give them children, walking for days from their villages to witness the holy festival. To this day, the images of the Goddess and her husband, Lord Sundareshvara, are placed in a private bed chamber every night so that they can make love (even the Goddess’s nose ring is removed as to not interfer with the love making) – an act that apparently preserves and regenerates the universe. ||

We had missed this year’s festival by a week or so but were excited to visit the temple. Madurai’s chaotic city centre is dominated by the 12 Gopurams towering over the temple. Each Gopuram is up to 50m high and covered in man-sized images of Hindu deities and gurus. Looking from a distance, the Gopurams just look like colourful towers, but standing up close the amount of detail and variation in the figures is mindboggling.

Having left our shoes at a shoe counter, we entered the womb of the temple – a dark hall with many pillars and an intricately decorated ceiling. We had been looking forward to seeing the image of Meenakshi, but unfortunately non-Hindus were not allowed into the inner sanctum. We did, however, visit the temple elephant and the white temple buffalo. The elephant’s head was painted with white and orange colours, and her task was to take donations of coins from the visitors and then bless them by tapping her trunk on their heads. The novelty factor led to more donations being made, and we also couldn’t help but pass some coins to the elephant in exchange for a gentle tap on the head. The poor buffalo wasn’t quite as popular as he lacked party tricks, but there were many statues of buffaloes around the temple, which pilgrims covered in flowers, grass and chalk powder.

In the heart of the temple area, tacky souvenirs were sold by dozens of market stalls. The only place of peace and quiet were the steps of the empty temple tank – other than that, the temple was a hive of activity. Pilgrims, standing in front of the image of the deity, had to say their prayers within seconds before being pushed aside by the next person in line. While we find the Hindu religion fascinating, it can be overwhelming to the outsider with its profusion of different gods and goddesses and the sheer excitement and energy that goes with the never ending religious festivals, a stark contrast to the tranquil, meditative spaces of the mosques in the Middle East.

Tranquility can be hard to find at times in India, there are few parks or quiet areas in towns and when they do exist they are often crowded. Madurai is a testament to this; we had to lock ourselves away in our room just for some peace and quiet, and even then we could still hear the relentless hustle and bustle of city life outside our window. Just as the temple festival hasn’t changed for thousands of years, the city’s dirt roads also hadn’t been upgraded to the current level of traffic. When on our bicycles we move with the traffic flow, but walking is exhausting as there are no foot paths so you have to share the ever congested road with everyone and everthing from cars and motorbikes to cows and bullock carts.

After a couple of days we had enough and were on our way again. Not long after leaving the city we soon found ourselves coasting along on a quiet road flanked by a meandering river on one side and bright green rice fields on the other. The locals were beaming smiles and waving at us, we felt calm and relaxed again, we were off the beaten track and out of guide book range. The road was very quiet, a little hilly and with good tarmac. Surprisingly, there was also no headwind, so we flew along through the fields and shrubland, framed by gentle hills in the background. As there are so many towns and villages in India, there are many small roads, which are usually sealed and make it easy to avoid the main roads. Cycling India’s back roads is a real pleasure, certainly some of the best cycing we have done to date.

Passing through a small village, we started chatting to an elderly man who was hitching a lift on the back of his son’s bicycle, sitting side saddle on the rear rack. He invited us for a cup of tea at a village chai stall. He had never seen foreigners in his village before, though we are sure the odd cycle tourer must have passed through unnoticed.

We didn’t come through any larger towns during the day so had to subsist on the snacks we could find in village shops. Having cycled 100km, we reached the small town we were intending to stay in. Asking the locals for a hotel resulted in a lot of head shaking and frowning, until they finally agreed to show us the town’s only establishment, consisting of only 4 small rooms. Our room was very dark, hot and damp. The power was only switched on between 6pm and 6am, so we couldn’t use the ceiling fan or lights at other times, and there were many open slits where mosquitoes came through. To top it off, we didn’t manage to find dinner – the only restaurant we found was only serving snacks.

After a hungry night, feeling sorry for ourselves, we got a reality check (just one of the many you get on a daily basis in India) when we stopped at a road side tea stall the following morning for tea and omelette. We got chatting to a local truck driver who told us he was dreaming of cycling up to Kashmir. However, he had had to abandon his cycle tour after a few days because his budget was only 250 Rupees per day (we spend 750 each…), which barely covered his food, so he had to sleep outside on the ground, fighting off mosquitoes… Surely he would have been more grateful than us for the hotel room we stayed in last night.

At noon we arrived in the city of Trichy. We had trouble finding a hotel – most were booked out by wedding parties as we had happened to arrive on one of the best days of the year to get married, and Trichy is a popular wedding destination. Eventually we came past a slightly crumbling colonial style hotel which had room. The hotel was a relic of British colonial times when families would come here for the weekend. It had a nice atmosphere and a lovely courtyard, but unfortunately the charm in our room had checked out some time ago.

We were sure 80 years ago in our very bed, on our very mattress, was sleeping a British Colonel and his wife as the mattress was so ridiculous soft coupled with a spring bed that when you lay down you slumped into such an exteme U shape your feet nearly touched your forehead. To make matters worse we had some kind of anti-fan in the room as it seemed to keep the warm air down and the cool air away. According to the hotel manager (with a hint of glee in his eyes) he told us it was “over 80 years old”, and “still going”! After suffering from extreme heat exhaustion we opted to move to a more modern room which had as much charm as a bowl of porridge but featured a non colonial and very effective fan.

Trichy is famous for its Rock Fort temple, which is perched on an 83m high rock in the centre of town. Climbing up the rock along with throngs of Indian pilgrims was fun, and the views from the top rewarding, but the temple itself was nothing to write home about. We also visited the larger Sri Rangan temple, which was interesting as we had to enter through several Gopurams and then several walls to get to the inner sanctum (which we were sadly not allowed to enter).

Leaving Trichy, we found a quiet lane between two rivers which are part of the huge Cauvery river delta. Turning onto a rural road, we were amazed to see actual modern farming machinery from crop harvesters to big John Deer tractors. Obviously they do exist in India but this was the first time we had seen such commercial machinery. In this area, most villagers live in quite basic huts made of mud, concrete or palm fronds, with thatched roofs. It was wonderfully cool and cloudy, and much to our surprise we even had some rain! It was over four months ago in northern Iran that we experienced our last rainfall. It was really lovely and refreshing to cycle with the cooling rain soaking us through.

At lunchtime, we pulled into a small town but couldn’t find a restaurant. When we asked a local man, he walked us to a seemingly hidden restaurant that we had actually cycled past without noticing. We tried to invite him for food or a tea, but he refused all our offers, sat down at a nearby table and watched over us. We felt a little uncomfortable at first with him sitting there watching us eat but relaxed when we figured he just wanted to make sure we were okay. He made sure the waiters kept the food and drinks coming and even advised Freddie to push up her shirt sleeves so they wouldn’t get dirty!

In the afternoon, we suddenly felt as if we had entered the Middle Ages. We were slapped in the face by India’s reality when, within the space of an hour, we passed several people with pretty horrific deformations. First, we saw a sadhu hobbling through a village, with one leg swollen to elephantine proportions, his huge foot covered in boils and looking like a giant cauliflower. Then we came past a man with a huge cyst like an aubergine hanging off the back of his head. Shortly afterwards, we passed a lady with severe acid burns disfiguring her bold head and face. We had actually expected to see a lot more of this in India, but mercifully it has been very rare outside of Mumbai. We felt pangs of guilt knowing that our worldwide medical cover would wisk us away in a flash to some private foreign clinic whilst these people receive little or no medical help.

To top it all off, we then cycled past a naked man, sprawled out on a bridge in a half-coma (drugs? alcohol?) as we rolled into Kumbakonam, our destination for the day. We found a good hotel but with an annoying room boy. Since Madurai, more and more people expect tips from us – in the rest of India, room boys were often positively surprised when we tipped them for bringing our bags up, but here everyone expects tips: Room boys, security guards, restaurant staff, cleaning ladies…

The room boy half-heartedly helped us with our luggage, so we gave him a tip, doubling what we would normally give as he helped us with the bikes. Obviously he was still unhappy as he then demanded a 50% increase! As we understand it, the nature of a tip is that it’s voluntary and we decide how much we want to give. In the end we grudgingly agreed to his demands, but it was not enough. The following morning, he gave us back our deposit but kept some money behind, saying it was a “tax”. Seeing that we had already paid the taxes on the room, it was blatent tourist extortion. Guy who had already woken up on the wrong side of bed had a few choice words to say, to the astonishment of the hotel boy who quickly returned the “tax”.

We passed an uneventful day cycling on a slightly busier road to Chidambaram, which is known for its Shiva temple. The state of Tamil Nadu is famous for its temples, and indeed every town we pass through seems to have a famous, must-see temple. We don’t have much stamina when it comes to temple sightseeing and were starting to feel a little templed out. However, we did decide to have a quick look at the temple in Chidambaram and were pleasantly surprised as it was not so crowded yet just as impressive as some of the other temples we had visited.

After over 2 months of cycling in India and 2300km covered, we now only had a couple more days cycling left. With some time to kill before our flight from Chennai to Bangkok we were planning to take a break once we hit the east coast and work on a few up and coming projects.

Rounding the Tip

2011-02-26T00:53:00.001-08:00

Kovalam – Madurai

Kerala is heavily populated, with house after house and village after village. While we enjoyed the scenery and it was fascinating to see life in the fishing villages, we sometimes got a little tired of all the attention. Shortly after Kovalam we left Kerala and crossed into Tamil Nadu. Suddenly, the landscape became a lot more spacious. There were larger expanses of agricultural land between villages with many banana plantations and rice fields. The roads were quiet and the pace slower as life became much more rural.

Also, unlike in touristy Kerala, we were not getting asked for money or pens here, which was ironic as Tamil Nadu was definitely more affected by poverty than Kerala. Too often we noticed that many people were extremely thin, especially the elderly. We felt pangs of pity when we saw an old man using a pink plastic chair as a walking frame to inch his way up a hill. Some of the restaurants had no running water, and we experienced power cuts several times a day. There was also more rubbish around in some of the towns. Obviously there was no official, municipal rubbish collection, so the rubbish was collected by the side of the road, and often pigs were employed to eat as much rubbish as possible, whilst some of it was burned and the rest just left to eventually rot. ||

Today was a special day as we, if all goes well, will have cycled 10,000km since leaving our little abode in West London. However, it seemed we would have to work for it, as we approached the mark and turned east rounding the tip of India we went straight into a ferocious head wind. Our speed dropped to 10km/hr, then 5, then 3 until we had to use all our force just to keep from coming to a complete stop. It seemed like our odometer was stuck on 9,999km for an eternity.

Finally our little odometer ticked over and we passed the 10,000km mark óf our trip. By luck, this almost exactly coincided with our arrival at the southern tip of India. Kanyakumari, the small town at the tip, was busy and crass, full of souvenir sellers and pilgrims bathing in the holy waters where three oceans meet. We were nonetheless happy to be there looking out over the Indian Ocean and reflecting on the past 10,000km.

The mention of wind farms in our guide book should have been a warning. The following morning we faced another ferocious headwind, slowing us down again to a crawl. It was 95km to the next town with accommodation, so we had to just put our heads down and keep pushing. The landscape was very spacious with a lot of shrub land, glimpses of the sea and only occasional villages. We spotted some wild peacocks, and Guy proudly returned from a pee break to present a beautiful peacock feather to Freddie. This was probably as remote as India gets and would have even been suited to wild camping. Shame we didn’t have our tent.

At lunchtime, we arrived in a sleepy fishing village and rode down to the tiny harbour. Many fishing villages in Tamil Nadu were badly affected by the 2004 Tsunami, and this village was no exception. We saw many new houses being rebuilt, some on a hill a little further inland. It’s very sad to think what these people have been through. There was only one small restaurant with four tables, where we had lunch with the local fishermen. At lunchtime, we usually have a Thali – a set meal of rice, pappadum and several curries, served on a banana leaf. It is often the only option, and it is fresh, tasty, cheap and filling. Often, we are watched by 10-15 pairs of eyes while we are eating. In the beginning we found it a bit awkward, but now we are getting used to it. The fishermen had a good laugh when we got our own forks out rather than eating with our hands.

Even though we were lacking the language skills to talk to the locals, we are now getting much better at performing the famous Indian head waggle which had confused and annoyed us so much in the beginning of our stay in India. As we understand it now, a side-to-side head waggle can mean “yes”, “ok”, “no problem”, “thank you”, “hello” or “goodbye”. (Just as the Indian head waggle confused us initially, our nods seem to confuse the locals and are often misunderstood to mean “no”.) Our little unexpected waggle can set off a sometimes alarming response where the returning head waggle hits an almighty frequency, accompanied by huge beaming smiles. We love to waggle now and have a competition as to who can get the most enthusiastic response!

After a long tiring day cycling into the headwind, we finally arrived at our destination. The small town of Tiruchchendur was a colourful pilgrim’s town with a large temple. Our hotel room neighbour, dressed in an orange loin cloth, his face streaked with white paint, told us that there was an annual 10 day festival at the temple, so we went over for a look in the morning.

The temple complex was quite large and teeming with pilgrims even at the early hour of 8am. Modern families mixed with wandering sadhus and many people were bathing in the water near the temple. We strolled around unhindered with no other tourists or touts in sight. Our neighbour had mentioned a slightly morbid ceremony where 16 men push a spear through their cheeks, unfortunately we didn’t see any signs of this gruesome act so decided to push on to the next town, Tuticorin.

On the road, we passed pilgrims walking towards Tiruchchendur. We were curious so stopped to ask a few guys what their story was. They told us that they had been walking for five days, barefoot, to get to the temple for the festival, which is an annual event for them. Religion is hugely important and influential in India, you see it in almost everything aspect of peoples lives. For the poor, who are at times in such dire situations it’s their lifeline and way of dealing with their predicament. Without faith India would simply collapse in on itself.

The headwind was still there the following day when we cycled from Tuticorin to Aruppukkottai. We were on small, traffic free country lanes all day. In fact, the lanes were so quiet that the farmers took the opportunity to spread out their millet harvest in the middle of the road, then waited for passing vehicles to drive over it and thresh the millet. The grains were then swept up from the road and repeatedly poured onto a sheet, allowing the wind to blow away the lighter chaff. We just love this about India – the freedom to do things without the constrictions of too many rules and regulations. As long as you’re not hurting anyone else, you can pretty much do what you like – whether you decide to lie down and sleep on a pile of furniture on top of a moving lorry, go into business by converting your bicycle to a knife sharpening machine, or spread out your harvest on a public road to be thrashed.

Arriving in the small town of Aruppukkottai on dusk, an elderly cyclist showed us to a small hotel. The hotel manager was delighted to see us, explaining that we were something “unexpected and interesting”. He recommended a tiny, very dingy looking restaurant nearby for dinner. Usually we like to follow local recommendations, but this place looked quite scary with bare chested chiefs messing about in something that resembled a filthy garage that would make you think twice before taking your car to for a service. We hesitated, we could see it was popular but the sight was so off putting. Local advice has never let us down before so we took the plunge and marched in, down the dark and dirty corridor for a little Adventure Dining.

The main room was full of men who all seemed to help themselves from a large pot. We weren’t sure about the protocol, but luckily a waiter noticed us and whisked us off into a smaller air conditioned section where we joined another 8 diners or so. The friendly waiter recommended us a few dishes. We realised that all ears were on us as whenever the waiter could not decipher something we said a voice would intervene from some distant corner of the room to translate our request to the waiter. The food turned out to be cheap and delicious.

On our sixth day of consecutive cycling, still into a strong head wind, we were relieved to finally make it to Madurai. Madurai was hot, chaotic and loud. Really loud. We spent a couple of frustrating hours looking at 13 different hotels and fighting off the odd tout and beggar before we found an acceptable room for an ok price and a safe place for the bikes. We flopped on our beds exhausted, sweaty and dirty. Our priority was to rest and visit the Sri Meenakshi Temple which dominates the city centre with its intricately decorated 50m high Gopuram towers.

10,000km Photo

2011-02-23T06:04:00.001-08:00

A short distance out from the very tip of India where the Bay of Bengal meets the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea we rode our 10,000th km. We were hoping for something spectacular to mark the occasion but when we arrived at the tip we were a little surprised to find a Gandhi Memorial disguised as a giant pink marshmallow. We wondered how poor old humble Gandhi would have reacted if he had been alive today to see what was created in his honour. Nonetheless it certainly attracts your attention and hopefully makes people remember the great man.

A Canoe Ferry, a Temple Feast and an Elephant Trader

2011-02-23T05:41:00.001-08:00

Kochi - Kovalam

Leaving Kochi, we followed a quiet but bumpy coastal road, passing through small fishing villages dotted with boat building workshops where local hardwood was being skillfully shaped and bound together with coconut rope to form new fishing boats.

With Kerala being a touristy area, we were being asked for money, sweets or pens more often than in other parts of India. So when a man ran out of his tiny photography studio to stop us and ask if he could take a photo, then insisted on printing it for us, we were highly suspicious. Surely this was a clever scam and he would expect payment for his “services”. But after having lovingly edited the photo on his computer and printed it, he then wrote a message on the back of the photo wishing us a happy journey and presented it to us with a smile. ||

Cycling into Aleppey that afternoon, we struggled to orientate ourselves as the city was so hectic and confusing. In the end we stumbled across a very nice little guest house with a chatty manager. Aleppey is located right in the middle of Kerala’s backwaters, offering a great base for house boat tours. Our guidebook had described Aleppey as “a slice of Venice in India”, we’re not sure if the author had been drinking the town’s water, as all we found was a couple of overgrown canals and a manic Indian cityscape, so we did not linger long and were on our way early the next morning.

Our plan had been to stay on the coastal road all the way down to the tip of India. Other cycle tourers had mentioned that it was quiet and scenic, with several ferry crossings where rivers interrupted the road. We knew there were a couple of rivers in the way between Aleppey and Kollam, but according to the locals there were no ferries and no way to get across. Therefore we had to opt for the main road, which was not so enjoyable.

The main road was busy, but there was a shoulder so we felt safe enough. Indian two-wheelers don’t stick to their lanes and we often had oncoming vehicles travelling in the wrong direction on “our” shoulder. Therefore, we needed to constantly keep our eyes on the road. In deep concentration, Freddie managed to cycle right past an elephant who was standing on a truck parked about a metre away from her, without noticing it at all! Guy was astonished you could cycle right past an elephant without even seeing it.

We have found the local cyclists in Kerala very proud and competitive. As soon as we overtake someone, they will speed up and overtake us, only to slow right down immediately, and then the game begins again. We played this leapfrog game for a while with a group of four ice cream sellers – teenage boys carrying a metal container of ice cream on the back of their bikes, and a stack of cones swinging from their handlebars. As soon as one of them got tired, the next one would overtake us. In the end, they were so intent on cycling ahead we decided to just slow down and stay behind them to enjoy the draft.

Having spent the night in a mosquito infested hotel in Kollam, we were back on the small coastal road for a short day to Varkala beach, only 30km away. As usual, we had planned our route using Google Maps, which is normally a very accurate map source. However, after cycling through some small friendly fishing villages wedged between the ocean and a lake, the road suddenly ended. Large rocks had been placed on the road to prevent vehicles from accidentally plunging into the sea.

Locals told us that the road had been washed away in the last monsoon, 4 months ago. Our only option seemed to be to cycle all the way back to Kollam and take a detour on the main road to Varkala, which would have made an 80km day out of our planned 30km. As it was such a big detour, we asked at a nearby yoga centre which had unfortunately lost five of its huts to the flood (no yogies were hurt in the flooding). They suggested that some fishermen might be able to take us over for a small fee.

When the fishermen arrived, our hearts sunk. They were perched on a narrow canoe which seemed to be slowly filling up with water, one of the men was hastily bailing water out of the canoe with an old piece of plastic, repeatedly muttering “Problem? No problem” as he struggled to drain the water out. The clearance from the top of the canoe to the water level was no more than 20cm. There was no way our fully loaded bikes would fit into that tiny boat, and if they did, we would surely sink. We were having visions of our laptops, camera, passport etc. all going overboard. It was quite a big risk and we weren’t sure our insurance company would have been too understanding.

Still a 50km round trip seemed like such a drag when we could take a short boat ride to the other side only 300 metres away. We figured the fishermen were pretty skilled and were used to largish hauls of fish. Guy went first. He took off all his panniers and piled them on the back of the canoe. He then sat down on the little bench, while the canoe wobbled from side to side. Holding his bike next to him he gave a nervous wave to Freddie as they set of for the distant shore.

Once the canoe had gained some speed it felt more stable and the captain seemed pretty relaxed as he joyfully sang and propelled the canoe forward. Soon enough the little canoe was safely beached on the shore, much to the relief of Guy. 1/2 complete.

When it was Freddie’s turn, the second fisherman decided to add to the challenge by also climbing into the canoe. With this added weight the water line lapped dangerously close to the top of the hull. With the canoe fully loaded they headed off. Again it was a smooth crossing and we happily paid the fisherman for their trouble, which they seemed to really appreciate.

Arriving at Varkala beach, we immediately knew we had arrived in another tourist bubble. Steep cliffs towered over the pretty beach, and most of the guest houses and restaurants were sitting high up on the cliffs, overlooking the water. We found a nice little guest house and excitedly visited the German Bakery for lunch. Sitting up there on the cliff, with the glistening water right below us, we felt like we were on the upper deck of a cruise ship.

Most restaurants display the daily fish catch in the evenings so you can choose a fish and have it prepared for dinner. It was nice to see how tourism actually supported the local fishermen in their traditional trade, no doubt fetching higher prices than at the local market. One of the waiters at a restaurant told us that he works as a fisherman at night, and as a waiter during the day, surviving on only a few hours of sleep that he sneaks in as the fishing boat travels out to sea. Unfortunately it seems that quite a few people in India need to work two jobs to make a living, particularly if they also support their family.

Walking down to the beach, we passed a dental spa. “No thanks, we’ve just been to the dentist in Kochi,” we beamed, much to the disappointment of guy handing out flyers. Joking about the omnipresence of tourist dentists in Kerala, we watched the sunset on the beach when Guy’s tooth suddenly started hurting! The next day, the pain was worse and we went back to the dentist to make an appointment, to the amusement of the flyer guy (we still think he put a voodoo curse on poor old Guy). The dentist prescribed some X-rays to check if a root canal was needed, of which he was 90% sure. After a sleepless night, we had the X-rays done the following morning, and much to our relief the tooth was fine – it was just an inflammation. However, we were quite impressed with the well qualified dentists in Kerala and now understand why medical tourism is booming in India. The cost is a fraction of the price in the West with equivalent or even better standards. Get a root canal and nice tan all in one!

After a couple of days in Varkala, we turned our bikes south again to cycle onwards to Kovalam, following the coastal road. Unfortunately we came across another non-existent ferry crossing and, whilst trying to find a bridge, got lost and ended up on a small cow track. This was the last of our many anticipated ferry crossings – in all this time on the west coast of India, known for its ferry crossings, we have not managed to complete a single one!

While we were cycling through a small village, a little lost, we happened upon a Hindu festival in honour of the Goddess Meenakshi. It was a hive of activity with locals preparing for the big feast. Loudspeakers were pumping out rhythmic Hindu music and the streets were beautifully decorated with tinsel and colourful ribbons. Some men pleaded for us to stop, pointing towards a track leading to the temple and gesturing that there was food being served. With impeccable timing, we had arrived just as lunch was about to be served!

We pushed our bikes down a dirt track lined with village women, each sitting behind a pot, kept warm over some hot coals. Some young men explained that they were offerings for the Goddess. The ladies had cooked rice with coconut and spices, which was then blessed by the temple priests. A small amount was offered to the Goddess, while the rest of the blessed food was shared with the family.

A village senior motioned for us to park our bikes in his driveway, and then we were swept past a long line of smiling and giggling women who were queuing up for lunch. Men were queuing from the other side. We were introduced to a temple priest who showed us the temple and invited us to enter the compound from the rear, avoiding the queues. We felt very VIP, honoured to share such an important moment with these friendly people. Here, men were busy cooking food for the 5,000 visitors in oversized pots. The pots of rice took several men to lift, and various curries were stirred over the fire with spade sized spoons.

Two chairs and a table were fetched and we were served a delicious lunch of rice, pappadums, five different curries and sauces, and dessert, while everyone else was eating standing up or sitting on the dusty ground. When the the priest noticed us struggling to eat with our fingers, he got us some spoons. A group of men was standing around us, chatting, watching us eat and attending to our every need. When we had finished, the head chef came over to see if we had liked the food. After this very special lunch invitation, the priest and a few other men escorted us back to the bikes, thanked us for our visit (!) and waved goodbye.

In the early evening, we arrived in the overdeveloped beach town of Kovalam that was once a pretty, palm lined cove and is now full of hotels and restaurants and heaving with touts and middle aged package tourists.

Whilst waiting with the bikes while Guy checked out a hotel Freddie was approached by a man with a very interesting proposition. “I see you have nice bicycles. I am trying to sell my elephant. How about a swap?” For a moment she thought about it, just to see Guy’s reaction when he returned to find her saddled up on an elephant!

Having decided to stick with the bikes, we went for a pizza dinner (luckily they had a wood fired oven, as there was a long power cut just after we had placed our order!). We now had a long stretch of cycling ahead as we planned to round the southern tip of India and then cycle up the East coast to Madurai, 400km away.

Cycle Touring Route Planning and Navigation

2011-02-17T03:01:00.001-08:00

Before we set off we wanted a cost effective, straightforward way of navigating. We knew that once we left Western Europe we were going to be limited to low resolution road maps, not ideal for finding those quiet country lanes and navigating our way through big cities.

During our rides in the UK we started playing around with Garmin eTrex H. It’s a cheap unit (around £70 on eBay) with high sensitivity and a robust outer shell. Navigating is done by uploading your own “Tracks” then following what is effectively a marker on a line from Track start to Track end. It does not have the ability to upload detailed maps and will not be able to tell you where the nearest coffee shop is, but it’s an affordable solution that has served us well over the last 10,000km or so of our trip. ||

EQUIPMENT USED

- Garmin eTrex H GPS.

- Laptop, required for route planning on the internet and for uploading Tracks to the GPS.

- Serial to USB cable. The eTrex H only comes with a serial cable, newer version should have USB.

- Garmin Map Source software includes Garmin eTrex H driver.

- GPS bike mount to fix GPS unit to handlebars.

PROS AND CONS OF OUR SOLUTION WITH THE GARMIN ETREX H

As with anything there are pro and cons. We have tried to list them all below. As can be seen a later version GPS should alleviate two of the cons we experience.

PROS	CONS
Reliable, accurate and fast GPS.	Laptop and Internet access required to create and upload new Tracks
No need to purchase expensive GPS maps	First time setup can be a little fickle
Cheap - small outlay in the beginning to buy GPS	Does not show landmarks or cities, only the line of the Track you have loaded
Ability to review height profile of route	Average battery life of 17hrs without route tracing (newer version should have longer battery life)
Knowing your altitude is useful in the mountains and for longer climbs	The Garmin eTrex H is limited to 750 points per Track, so you have to split up your longer Tracks accordingly (newer version allows more points)
Ability to have access to exact position data. Useful if you need to tell someone your exact location
Can trace your entire route if you fancy reviewing at a later stage.

THE PROCESS

This might look like a lot of work but once you are set up and have gone through the process a few times it’s pretty quick. We generally route a couple of weeks in advance in about half an hour. This time spent is saved very quickly when you consider the time exhausted trying to find your way in a foreign country especially when you can’t read the signs or speak the language.

Steps 1-4 can be useful for your route planning even if you don’t have a GPS and just want to check the height profiles of different route options.

Jump onto the Internet and access www.bikeroutetoaster.com then click on Course Creator
Find your start location on the integrated Google Map (annoyingly you cannot search for it, the webmaster won’t acknowledge our pleas!).
Set the options: Use Auto Routing. Data: Google
Click along your desired route and a Track will be automatically created (if the road is not found, uncheck Autorouting). As you create your Track you can review the real-time route profile (altitude, distance) generated via the Summary tab. When we are planning we often review a few routes to find the best combination of a fairly scenic route with not too many harsh climbs.
Once you are done routing go to the Summary tab then select Download To File (gpx)
We often take a photo of the route profile with our phone so we can refer to it on the ride. Useful to know exactly where that killer climb is.
Once the file is downloaded we use Garmin Map Source to upload the file to our GPS. If you don’t have Map Source you can use one of the many free apps available on the Net but you might need to install the GPS driver.
Before uploading the Track you need to make sure the number of Track points is less than 750 as it is the maximum amount allowed on the Garmin E-Trex H. (You can skip this step if you have a newer GPS model that allows more points per Track.) To split up a Track we do the following in Map Source. Edit –> Track Properties. Holding down shift select the first 750 points then copy. Open another instance of Map Source, then Edit –> New Track. Then paste the points in. This will be your first Track. If the points remaining on the first instance are less than 750 this will be your second Track. If it still exceeds 750 then repeat the above until the original Track has been split up into Tracks containing no more than 750 points.
To upload the Track, ensure the GPS is on and plugged into the PC. Then select Transfer –> Send To Device. If you do not see the device then turn it off and on and plug it in again. If it is the first time, ensure the driver has been installed successfully and the operating system has identified the GPS. During the upload the GPS unit will give feedback and signal upload successful.

CONCLUSION

This solution has worked really well for us as generally Google maps is the most detailed and accurate map available. A big benefit of this solution is that there is no need to buy expensive GPS maps for every country we travel through. Of course sometimes you may spontaneously decide on a different route, but you can always see where you are in reference to your planned route and it tells you how far you are from your end point.

The pre routing takes out so much of the hassle of getting lost on our way that we never ride without it. Every time we breeze through big cities, know exactly where the climb starts or find the small road not even marked on our map we bless our little GPS and the small investment in time spent planning our route in advance.

If you have any other thoughts or tips regarding route planning and navigation, please leave a comment below.