Day 8 – Headwind horrors on the Hay

Big wide and bleak

I’m going to keep this brief. Last thing anyone wants to hear is whingeing from me, especially if you’re stuck today in the rain (the floods and gales back home that look pretty unpleasant on the News). But it’s been a tough day.

Waved off Charles at dawn, and the day promised flat riding out into my first proper unfenced outback on the Hay Plains, complete with a 75 mile odd crossing without towns, villages, or services from 20 miles in. The temperature is comfortable and now topping out in the mid 20sC, so all in it could’ve been a reasonable day, but for one thing. Wind.

Whilst everyone else was busy worrying about the inventive ways I could die, my main focus has always been on wind direction. Riding all day into a headwind or sidewind can make one of your favourite activities your worse. Wind howls in your ear all day, as you watch your MPH drop depressingly lower and lower as your legs tire of pounding every single mile into to the pedals to stop you from coming to a standstill. If the winds coming dead ahead it just straight violent hour after hour. But if in from the side you body aches as you battle with your pannier laden bike all day. With your hearing white noised out you have to watch the mirror like a hawk to see stuff coming up behind. It’s tedious, hard concentrating and tough going. The longer it last the more scream inducingly maddening it becomes till you are finally reach your destination, and the whole day just seems like a bad dream in reflection.

Bad shot of a rather tubby cowgirl finishing her round up

by quad. Dogs on quad too, which seems a wrong

Always knew the Hay Plains had the potential for this and it did not disappoint one bit. Now relaxed as could be in Hay all I have left of the horror is stiff solid tendons round knees and wind burnt lips. Safe to say it was a difficult day.

When I wasn’t literally howling in the wind, the countryside here is stark and bleak. Pan flat with fields or scrub grazing out to the horizon, it's only really broken up by trees and farms here or there, and by the road which inexplicably zig zags the whole route. So it looks like trucks are pulling through the middle of hazy fields in the distance. A bleak and surreal landscape. I don’t envy the farmers working this land one bit.

Mile upon mile of bullocks

The main light relief was provided by the vast heads of grazing bulls and bullocks, encountered three times during the day. Controlled by quad bike mounted cowboys, cowgirls and dogs they were either being herded across or grazed hard up against the highway. I’m not going to admit to being scared of bullocks, but an experience as a 10 year old on a footbridge at Landue, in Cornwall left me with a lifelong unease around them. So there I am not once but three times riding into 100s upon 100s of bullocks wearing a bright red cycle top that’s designed to look like a target, with unresolved childhood trauma and the fringes of wind borne maddest setting in. I know it made for amusing viewing because most drivers coming the other way were roaring with laughter and waving at me, when they saw me gingerly easing my way through.

A tough day’s riding, and just glad to have got through it. But ultimately I’m not suck in a soggy mess in Somerset or Datchet, so not got too much to complain about really.

Miles: 96 - Griffith, Darlington Point, Hay

Breakfast – Cornflakes and toast with Charles for company. Very decent of him to get up at 06:00 on a Sunday.

Right, that's enough cows for now

Lunch – Turkey sandwich and chicken sandwich – Bought at Bertolodo’s Bakery in Griffith yesterday. Good food, but the setting was bleak beyond words; buffeted by the wind just off the hard shoulder, as I screwed up my timing for lunch in a rest area.

Snacks – Two bananas, and an energy flapjack called a “Cadel Crunch” which I approved for the cycling reference.

Supper – Thai Green curry with steamed rice - Aussie & Thai Take Away (may as well have been called We Do Everything), Hay. I’m actually writing this in here where it seems the whole town is in waiting for their food transfixed by My Kitchen Rules on the TV. It’s odd you really can’t avoid this programme down here, even though it’s basically Come Dine With me on steroids with a lot more blubbing. If someone could enlighten me on the appeal, it’d be appreciated. Food was superb, freshly made and tasty.