Musings Down Under: Day 15 – A milestone and a rest

Longest wooden pier in Australia apparently. No reason to question the stat.

When setting off two weeks ago reaching Port Augusta had been the target by this date. Making it has been very satisfying. There’s little to recommend it as a place, it’s really just one large crossroads straddling the creeks, but it’s the first or last town of size for people heading North towards or from Uluru and the Northern Territory, or West out across or back from the Nullabor.

Trains are cool (1)

It's full of bus loads of miners glad to be back with Subway, Hungry Jacks (Burger King here) and all other good corporate things, or people like me excited about heading off into the bush. It’s a place people pass through, a railway junction dressed up as a city. And whilst I’ve not had trouble, you get the feeling there are something not quite right here. For one the number of homeless is noticeably higher. But all in I’m happy to have made it here, and with only a half day of riding today, it’s been as good a place as any to relax for a few hours.

The morning's ride was fairly easy up the shoulder of Highway A1 (which I've realised I joined yesterday afternoon and will not leave for near on 1,000 miles. Quite a thought). The scenery was spectacular, with the Flinders Range to the East and Spencer Gulf off in the distance West.

Trains are cool (2)

Even though it’s Sunday, the road was noticeably busier than the last few days, with the most unnerving thing being the vast mining equipment been transported inland to the North. Great diggers, drills and tyres overhanging the road trains' pallets. Even though almost all gave me a wide birth, it was unnerving seeing them disappear off into the distance with these vast objects hanging off over the shoulder at exactly cyclists' head height. The two exceptions were a bloke transporting the mega dumper truck tyres who felt uncomfortably close as he passed and another transporting two trailers of stinking camels who made no effort to give me room. Annoying exceptions to a generally good rule.

Market in Port Germain

The highlight of the morning though was a detour to the little village of Port Germain. As I passed the turning off at 08:30 saw a sign for the Sunday market, with time to burn today I decided on the spur to go and have a look. I'd almost pushed on and stayed here last night, and now seriously regret that I didn’t. It’s a gem of a place. A huge long fishing pier a km out to sea, a pub, a teashop and a thriving market in the old boat shed, and not much else, but in such a beautiful setting with a mellow pace to the place.

It should be more like
this everyday

Sat out with a latte, a bacon sandwich and a small orange cake, looking over the sea, Jack Johnson blaring out from the market speakers, I got a little glimpse of very different type of cycle touring. The sort I hope becomes part of life once the hunger for idiotic challenges is over. Ride a few miles, have a coffee, take in the view, relax. It’s a seductive picture. I left reluctantly.

Port Augusta has provided me with Aussies at their finest and oddest, but the good news is finally people are pretty neutral about cycling on to Perth. They’ve seen people do it before, and Syndey feels as far away again. Makes me feel like I’m half way there (which I’m not technically for two more days).

Lots of looking in the
mirror

So the oddest first. On the edge of two I pulled in at the detailed tourist boards, they have edge of all these smaller towns, to get my bearings. Had not noticed a bloke sitting in the shade. After the customary g’day mate, he didn’t get back on with his own business as usually happens, but started asking me questions. He seemed normal till he came out the shade when it was obvious he was on something. He seemed uncomfortably interested in the details of my trip, interspersed with a running commentary on his beef with local police.

By this point I was trying to make my excuses and ride off, but he insisted he give me instructions on which road to take (which as I’ve pointed out above is at best irrelevant). Didn’t want to insult so went over to look at his road atlas. It was then I realised he was properly nuts. Scrawled all over the atlas was swear words, cartoons and angry comments about the police, his mother and other authority figures. I thanked him for his advice and legged it, hoping his parting farewell to “see me out on the road maybe” was just idle talk. I’ve moved my Leatherman tool which includes a knife into my topbag.

Carrots straight out
of Compton

Thankfully an hour later I came across the very best of Australia. There is only one bike shop in town. It’s closed because it’s Sunday, and frankly looked below average at best when I rode past. However research online yesterday had told me there was mechanic who can come out and fix your bike and provide you with supplies. The website had a home address, and after a quick call I agreed to run over to his house.

And what a decent bloke, he had the bike supplies I needed, at a reasonable price. We had a good chat about the bike and my plans. He looked at a couple of things for free, and told me it’s in some of the best condition he’s seen bikes come through heading West. Turned out he’s seen loads of people like me come through (oddly mostly Japanese) and 15 mins which he kindly gave me on a Sunday afternoon where just what was required to settle my nerves.

Although technically the Nullabor crossing starts after Ceduna, tomorrow very much feels like the next phase of this journey. I’m excited to get started.