 |
 |
|
 |
Eighty-two days ago we left the Pacific Ocean. Within seconds we were engulfed in the outback lifestyle: heat, sweat,
flies and open-road adventure. I remember thinking the night we left Townsville that it really felt like an awfully long
way to get the other side of the country. It seemed like this enormous unknown mass of land that we'd have to pedal across.
Now that we've done it, and reached the other side, I can say that I was right. It was.
But we did it! We rode every sweaty kilometre across this gigantic country and reached the beautiful, blue Indian Ocean just
in time for sunset. You'd think it knew we were coming.
|
|
|
|
phase III : completed
I know you already know this, but WE'RE IN FRICKIN' BROOME! As Inspector Gadget would say, Wowsers!
Each phase of the trip gets a little bit harder than the last. For example, we consider Phase One to be the stretch from
Brisbane to Townsville: fairly well populated, lots of traffic, lots of water, plenty of stops to pick up forgotten supplies.
The testing ground.
The second phase was the outback, all the way to Katherine. The distances were a little longer, the heat was more intense,
and we learned the importance of being self-reliant. This is where we taught ourselves little tricks like 1) bike at night,
2) top up your water every chance you get, and 3) road trains should not be trifled with.
Leaving Katherine, we entered Phase Three. The advent of the Wet gave us renewed strength to race the clouds. Between Katherine
and Broome, there were a total of eight stops in 1500km, so this was the true test of endurance.
But this week, I had a scary thought. Each phase has handed us a small sample of what we should expect in the next. For
example, the East Coast fed us a stretch from Rockhampton to Mackay with a few hundred kilometres of isolation. At the time
we were only carrying a ten-litre of water, so we learned what to expect from Phase Two. Two gave us the Barkly Homestead,
a jump of 265km. This was our biggest jump yet, but a fairly common distance up in the Kimberley.
I have the feeling that the storm Thursday was a mere foreshadow of what we may come to expect down the West Coast, Phase Four.
We may have cheated the Wet, but cyclone season is just beginning...
|
|
|
|
how to survive a torrential downpour
Since most people who go camping usually get to their destination in a vehicle, the answer is easy: Put everything in the
car, get in a car, and go to a hotel. People like us don't have it so easy. When you're hundreds of miles from a town,
a roadhouse, the weather channel, or even a rigid shelter, you've got to improvise. Here's what we did...
 |
 |
Before you begin, ensure that you have placed the tent in the lowest plot of land in the immediate area, in order to fully test your survival skills. No sense doing things halfway. |
 |
1. When gale force winds begin, use your body weight to hold up the sides of the tent. |
 |
2. When the wind abates to mere pounding rain, attempt to get some sleep. Wake quickly if you detect water in the tent. |
 |
3. Move all the delicate computer equipment to the middle of the tent, and attempt to stop flow of water into the tent by lifting the sides. Once you realize that this method simply pools the water already inside around the equipment even more, go to Plan B. |
 |
4. Wrap the heavy stuff in plastic trash bags you always have onhand, and dive out of the tent in your socks. |
 |
5. Relocate the tent to higher ground with an almightly tug, spilling the rest of the contents of tent into the mud. Collect wet things, and climb back in with heavy stuff. Put heavy stuff into corners to act as pegs. |
 |
6. Locate shoes, which have floated away. Collapse from exhaustion and wake up in puddle. |
|
|
|
|
|
these are the people in our neighbourhood...
Fred
We met Fred at the Willare Roadhouse, located at the Derby Turnoff. Fred's from the UK, but his brother owns Willare, so
he pops by from time to time. Nasty luck: A friend of his was going to take him on a flight across the centre of Australia
back to Sydney, but his plane was grounded by a dumb inspector. Phooey!
|
The Halls Creek Nurse
Imagine being told by your company that you're being transferred to Australia. Yippee! Then, they add that you'll be spending
your first two years in Halls Creek. Eep! This is exactly what happened to our friend. She
lasted two months, then asked to be transferred again! Better luck in Newman!
|
Michelle & Michele
These two crazy ladies from Melbourne drove straight by us on the highway without stopping. Boy, were they
embarrassed when we showed up next to them at the Town Beach Caravan Park. Luckily, they bought our friendship with a six-pack
of Cascade (Tazzy beer), two cans of beans and some tortillas. Good trade, eh?
|
Mies
Mies (rhymes with 'geese') livened up our evening at the campground by pulling out here guitar and serenading Michelle, Michele and us with some
of the classics. The only song she couldn't play was Happy Birthday Dear Michelle, but it didn't much matter since the rest
of us knew the words anyway. Thanks for dinner at your caravan!
|
|
|
|
|
wally's amazin' facts!
It's not Mother's Day, it's not Groundhog Day, and I sure hope it's not Take Your Daughter to Work Day!
Nope, the holiday that concludes with the highest number of one night stands is... Halloween! Imagine all those people waking up
and saying, "My goodness, she really is a werewolf!"
This Week's Amazin' Fact: Broome's primary export since the 1880s has been pearls. The pearling industry was
huge in Broome in the late 19th and early 20th century, and workers were brought in from all over the world in search
of pearls and prosperity.
But, do you know what simple invention nearly collapsed the pearling industry? I'm bettin' ya don't!
Answer next week!
Don't forget to look for Wally this week!
|
|
|
|
miche's amazin' fact!
A fact is a little furry animal that runs along the seabed with a pickle jar in one hand and a butterfly
net in the other collecting octopus farts to sell on the black market for bubbles and spirit levels. And
that's a fact!
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
| Distance this week: 262km | Distance since Day 1: 5553km |
|
|
|
|
 |
What is Bikeabout? Click here to find out!
|
 |
|
|
|
Day 108: Feet of Strength
|  |
37.6km
|  |
45°
|  |
5.5h
|  |
9.0L
|  |
Wicked Wind
|  |
Drainage Ditch
|
|
 so close, and yet...
Remember last Friday when we arrived in Fitzroy Crossing? If you look at a map of the Great Northern Highway, you'll see
between Kununurra and Broome there are two cities: Halls Creek and Fitzroy. Reaching Fitzroy flipped a switch in our brains
to say "Hey! We're practically in Broome." Puppy puppy no no no.
From Fitzroy, it was over 200 to the Derby Turnoff (that's today), where we've encountered the Willare Roadhouse.
At this point, our supplies have dwindled down to nothing but plain tuna, oatmeal and licorice. Our minds are stuck on bad
Eighties tunes (Who's bad?) and we don't have a clean pair of anything to call our own. Still we say, "We're at
Willare! We're practically in Broome!" But it's still another 145 to another roadhouse, and then another
35 to Broome! We're practically in Broome! AUUGH!!
The only way to deal with this breakdown of patience is to find a spot to cool off for the day, and luckily, Willare is more
than happy to let us take a dip. This ought to chill our excitement a bit. But, can you blame us? I mean, we're practically
in Broome!
"Huh. Here we are, at the gateway to Hell, eating a Go-Fruit snack."
- Kevin.
|
|
cock-eyed bob:
(n.) unexpected wild storm, like the sky suddenly throwing a temper tantrum.
fifth sense
frankenpants
told you so
calm after the storm
sweet victory!
fish fear me
