Through the National Parks to Warrnambool

First of all I want to put my readers at ease; my visits to MacDonald’s pose no risks to my health and do not cause any adverse effects. Mostly I allow myself the liberty of using their free WiFi without actually consuming any food. Up till now I don’t get the feeling that this has caused the fastfood chain any losses. I would prefer to pay 3 Australian Dollars for 20 minutes Internet than 5 Dollars for a BigMac.

I found it very hard to end my sojourn in Blackwood, Adelaide on 13th September as I had felt really comfortable with Helen and Robert.

From Blackwood on the Loft Mountains the route went a long way downhill to the beach. As it was a Sunday, there were a lot of Sunday cyclists on the road, mostly in lycra on racing bikes. Some slowed down to my tempo for a few minutes, to have a quick chat with me.

I could afford to take my time because Jennifer and Wolf, the German/Australian couple I’d met in Ceduna, were only expecting me late afternoon in Port Willunga.

There were again loads of cycle ways and I tried to stay as near as possible to the coast, which was quite mountainous.

Having arrived in Port Willunga, Wolf was already waiting for me. He had his Oldtimer, Chevrolet BJ1927, ready and waiting for me to take me on a spin.

I’m always up for for something like this. I quickly parked my bike and got into the cute little car and off we went at a snail’s pace, along the wonderful coast, just as the sun was going down.

Wolf and I enjoyed being able to talk together in German again, with a good meal and glass of wine.

As I’d had a long break in Blackwood, I was forced to further the next day, right over the mountains of the Fleurieu Peninsula.

After Port Willunga came Willunga, then Willunga Hill. The latter is part of the “Down Under” cycle-race stretch and the names of the cyclists are immortalized on the steep ascents.

Then the route led peacefully through Farmland until it again started to go steeply downhill to Strathalbyn. I must have driven past this old Scottish settlement last time, I couldn’t remember anything about it even though it’s very significant with its arcade.

After the long nights in Wellington tiredness overcame me and didn’t allow me to go far from the ferry over the Murray river to the camp-site.

On the other side of the Murray river the Coorong National park starts. The last time I rode past there it was January, and high summer. The only thing I could remember was the head wind. This time I could enjoy it a lot more as everything was so green and all the bushes were in bloom. The Princess Highway is not very intoxicating but has some “scenic loops” on which one rides practically between the sea and the bay, a wonderful view

 

and some animal life to look at, for example an echidna.

 

Or a black swans.

These gravel roads led to wonderful camp-sites in the National park

 

Here I had again a special luxury, a real roof over my head. Thanks to a few young backpackers who turned up later, I also had a lovely warm campfire.

In Kingston I finally saw something that I remembered, the giant Lobster.

 

I photographed this last time and it is also mentioned in Bill Bryson’s book about Australia (Down Under). I can’t remember so many cars stopping and tourists taking photos 5 and a half years ago. Perhaps it became a tourist attraction because of the book.

In the rain I rode further to Robe. This fishing village has turned itself into a trendy holiday resort with gourmet pizzerias and coffee shops. Despite the rain I didn’t stop here, especially as I knew that further east lay the Little Dip Conservation Park, where I could camp undisturbed.

As everything was so wet and the rain had not thought to stop, I left my tent unpacked and made myself comfy in the toilets. Naturally I was the only one for miles and no-one complained that my bicycle and luggage took up the entire Gents’ toilets.

It was only mid-September and at this rate I would be at the most a week later in Melbourne which would be far too soon. Therefore I decided at the last moment to ride through the Grampiens National Park.

From Little Dip National Park it went inland, on small roads where one is very surprised if a car comes – through Penola to Dergholm. I was accompanied by the screech of the cockadoos.

Somewhere along the stretch was the border between South Australia and Victoria. There was no sign to announce this, but nevertheless I had to change my watch again, this time by a half-hour.

Again there was a small green triangle on my map – a camp-site on Bailey’s Rock in Dergholm State Park.

Just before dusk I reached the small picnic area in the wood where one could also put up a tent, but couldn’t find the toilets in the dark. I don’t need to tell you that again I was the only one around for far and wide.

A glance at the thermometer the next morning explained why, as at 0 degrees camping is not actually an inviting prospect.

The camping places in the parks mean perhaps a small diversion but these are almost for free and the sites are set in wonderful places. Here I could appreciate its whole beauty only the next morning, moss covered rocks in a real enchanted forest.

Before I got to the Grampiens, I first came to the small green triangle on Mount Arapiles in Tooan State Park.

 

I was stunned when I got there – no more loneliness, as there were already many tents erected.

 

It wasn’t long before I found out the reason for this, it’s known all over the world as a rock climber’s paradise and people come here from all over Australia.

Even as a non-climber, I found the red cliffs intoxicating. This and the pleasant community of young climbers quickly made up my mind for me to spend another day here. When the whole world wants to come here then I can’t just ride away again.

I’ve known for a long time that climbing is not my kind of sport and here I saw why as one sits around waiting for too long. For that reason I love my bike, as I can just get on it and go for as long as I want.

But despite this I enjoyed watching the climbers and clawed my way up to the summit on the tourist’s route to enjoy the view.

On the way to the Grampiens Nation Park I was glad to go through Horsham, again a larger town in which I could stock up on supplies and get good maps from the information centre.

But I forgot to re-fill my water bottles. For the last few weeks I’d been on the road in civilization and always came upon running water from a tap, and therefore didn’t think to do it.

After my experiences it didn’t bother me too much as I knew somehow I’d find a way to find water.

It wasn’t much further to the camping site at Stapylton which had been recommended to me by the climbers. It’s a really pleasant patch of ground directly at the foot of Mount Stapylton.

 

To my joy there were rain water tanks with drinking water for me. The whole place really made a very new impression. I enjoyed the shower most which was only a bucket with a shower head underneath, that you filled with water and pulled up with a chain. Very simple, but what more do you need? As the sun was shining just then the cold water meant nothing to me, the main thing was a shower again.

Lots of kangaroos hopped around my tent, and each female had a Joey in her pouch!

 

(By the way, as far as I saw, the male kangaroos don’t have a pouch!)

Later from my tent neighbours I got real drinking water and a “Kasseler” (smoked pork chop). This last surprised me a lot, apparently there is a Swiss butcher in Melbourne. Not that I’d missed the meat, nevertheless it tasted good and awoke feelings of home in me.

The next day I got down to business. Rain was forecast and because of that I hurried to get away to see what I wanted before it really started.

The winding road went steadily up for over 30 km, moderately to begin with then a bit steeper but never so bad that I couldn’t enjoy the rushing streams by the side.

I had already seen some of the Mackenzie Falls from the road, which is the advantage of a bicycle, you see a lot more and don’t need extra “Lookouts” to stop and view.

 

It was enough for me to go to the first level at the waterfall, as far as I could go with my bicycle.

Actually I thought I reached the highest point but that wasn’t so. To get to the car-park for the “Balconies” it was even higher again. I was over 700m for the first time in Australia. I had to leave my bicycle in the car-park and go on to the viewing point by foot. The footpaths at the tourist attractions are laid out well. From the top I had a wonderful view over the entire range of hills.

 

The “Wonderland” car-park was overflowing not forgetting that it was school holidays in Victoria. Luckily, the hordes of people distributed themselves on the different footpaths.

As it looked ever more like rain, I decided to only go quickly through the canyon to the Pinnacles.

That was further and more demanding than I had supposed. It went on and over streams through narrow canyons,

 

and out on the cliffs until from above I could see Halls Gap far below,

 

I wanted to be at least there before it rained. So it meant quick back to my bicycle and down the mountain. I came out below happy and dry. At the caravan park I actually only wanted to ask how much a camp-site cost. However before I had managed to find Reception, a family had already invited me to pitch my tent on their place. Very nice.

Later I was invited to their evening meal. However as it was showering heavily and really cold it wasn’t too comfortable. It didn’t matter though as I hadn’t done much cycling, had been hiking instead and wanted to go to bed early.

The next morning it was still raining but despite this I wanted to go on. By now I can also strike my tent and pack my things in the rain. I could have a sheltered breakfast in the camp kitchen.

I had resolved to go up Mt. Williams the highest mountain in the area. As I came to the fork, it didn’t rain any more, but the chance of a good view was still slim. Despite this I decided to attack the mountain. I hid my bags in some bushes quickly and was off. The good thing was that with the weather hardly anyone wanted to go on the mountain. Just 2 cars went by in the 12km. Without luggage the ascent was practically child’s play.

Up to the car-park at around 1000m I had a fascinating view at all sides.

 

of red cliffs, green hills and broad areas, all interplaying nicely.

On the last part to the summit I was practically in the clouds. Because I have been already so far, I also wanted to go to the top. To be in the mist completely with 20m visibility was really adventurous.

 

I didn’t stay long at the top it was simply too cold and windy. I turned around quick and was after the 12km from 1170m, down to 350m again a couple of minutes, arriving to 19 degrees from 9 degrees.

The last part of national park was very hilly which I hadn’t reckoned with. Nevertheless I did well until Dunkelt. The owner of a small camp-site probably had pity on me and let me pitch my tent cheaply.

On it went in a southerly direction to the sea through small places where again the General Store and the Post Office was one shop. The nearer I got to Warrnambool the heavier the traffic was, also the rain and the wind increased and the temperature dropped. The thought of a warm dry place in the evening made it bearable. I’d been invited by the parents of Trish, the first solo cycling woman that I met, in North Thailand.

Nothing better could have happened to me. The weather was constantly getting worse but I felt so comfortable at Mary and Mike’s that there was no reason to go on straight away,

In the mornings I would go to the beach and watch the whales. It was hard to believe how much they splashed about. I couldn’t count them and so asked a volunteer from the Whale Nursery who estimated around 14. The whales come in July and August, have their young and go when they are big enough at the end of October. The calves were really big already and lively, they really enjoyed swimming and jumping around as did the tourists to watch them.

Each coast and beach in Australia is more beautiful than the last, and I particularly liked it here in Warrnambool.

At midday, Mary showed me the area, Port Ferry with the nice beach and the expensive houses, the next day good side roads where I could travel the Great Ocean Road. At Childer’s Cove, east of Warrnambool began the steep cliffs and crag formations that makes the Great Ocean Road so famous.

On the way home a big fat Koala ran across our path, my first Koala in the wild

Apart from that I discovered my first ALDI in Warrnambool !! Of course I had to go there and not just to restock my chocolate reserves.

It doesn’t look different in Australia than it does in Germany, had almost the same range, you almost felt as you do at home.

After three nights the weather hadn’t improved, rather the opposite, but I still had the feeling that I should go on.

On Saturday 26th September, the day of the big Australian football final I started on the way to the Great Ocean Road.

Many thanks to Mary and Mike who gave me such a hearty welcome and catered for me so excellently.

On the Mawson Trail to Adelaide

After a day off in Port Augusta, I was able on 5th September to face the prospect of the mountains of the Flinders Range calmly.

The advantage of leaving early means that one is already out of town before the rush-hour traffic really gets going. I kept away from the main road, choosing instead to take the old Wilmington road; the first time after thousands of kilometres on major routes. Rather bumpy but at least peacefully the road went on until it met the new road to Wilmington further up. From that point onwards it started to become mountainous. But as long as I can keep going and at the same time still enjoy it, it can’t be so bad.

The Mawson trail re-commences further north in the Flinders Range. Because I didn’t want to make such a large detour and had no idea how difficult the trail was, I wanted to wait until Wilmington before taking the trail.

The stretch to Melrose was actually only to test how well sign-posted and difficult the road was. Both were in the end no problem and I trusted myself to find the way without the detailed maps as, after each kilometre and after each turn-off, there was a sign-post. Furthermore the way was through wide fields and meadows and almost completely flat - compared to Munda Biddi, it was child’s play. In the early afternoon I reached Melrose but after a pleasant conversation with the owner of a local bicycle shop I decided to stay in this likeable little place. The camp-site was one of the most beautiful and cheap so far. It was not too difficult to see that Melrose wasn’t just a Mecca for mountain bikers

(The bike was made out of boomerangs in order to make you aware of the cultural history.)

as both the Heysen Trail (for hikers) and the Mawson Trail (for bikers) met here.

Both start up in the Flinders Range: the Heysen Trail ends south of Adelaide and the Mawson Trail leads directly to Adelaide. Some hikers had already put up the tents on the camp-site. I was, and remained, the only cyclist. The Australians tend to do more “bushwalking” (hiking) than cycling.

After Melrose it got more mountainous and the way more challenging. Generally I got a good view of the way there over each of the hills, which glow green and yellow (from canola) at this time of year. The scent made me quite woozy. Now and then the route went through replanted woods,

..... also here, on either side of the road, fences. That was what I disliked most about this stretch, that you always rode alongside a fence. It’s unimaginable how long this fence must have been. When there was a gate, it was bolted with a padlock, even when the official Trail led through it. That forced me to make quite a few detours.

In Bundaleer Forest one of these gates was right in front of a hut in which I wanted to stay for the night. For hikers there were steps over the fence but for my heavily-laden bike it was insurmountable. Luckily, on a side road, I found a few bushes out of the fenced area between which I could set up camp.

In the night it started to rain, quite heavily, and remained steady throughout the morning during breakfast and packing, until I got on my way. My assumption the day before that I should be very happy that itwas so dry was confirmed, as now the way was a real mud-bath.

After 10 m I could scarcely push my bike. The dirt had built up round the tyres and jammed the brakes. But after 500m, the worst was over as a strip of grass on the edge of the way made the pushing much easier. Later on the route I found more and more frequently these signposts (see photos), which were definitely justified!

Now and then the track led through villages, that all seemed the same as each other. All were established in the middle of the 19th century, and one had the impression not much had been done since then as if time had stood still, but now they had been dusted off ready for tourism. Every village was characterized by stone houses with picturesque decorations and nearly all had four churches; United, Anglican, Lutheran and Catholic. For a population between 200-300, quite a lot. Naturally each village had its own museum although it was it already one in its own right!

Melrose is apparently the oldest village in the Flinders Range, other villages can boast the title of the one with the oldest hotel, bar, general store, mine and so on. So each has something of its own to offer, not only its special charm.

I like these general stores, but sadly they stand little chance of survival. Also here, the people prefer to go to supermarkets in the big city and in some general stores the shelves are noticeably empty.

It’s a different story in the well-known wine districts, above all Barossa Valley and Clare Valley, which really profit from tourism. From Clare to Auburne the Mawson Trail follows the Riesling Trail. The way meanders smoothly from cellar door to cellar door for approximately 20km, nicely parallel to the main road. At last a reason for all the “Grey Nomads”, pensioners who have swapped their house for a mobile home, to take their bikes off their vehicles. I wanted to get through the expensive village of Clare, with its 4-star caravan park, as fast as possible and go on to Auburne, but first made a quick stop in tourist information.

Halfway between the two villages I realized that I’d left my purse lying in tourist information. So I went back quickly and luckily found it, contents still intact. After that I was so tired that I nevertheless took myself off to the luxury camp-site.

The route went on further over hills and through villages. In Riverton I saw Travis’s bike and his dog Cadel parked in front of a cafe. Of course I couldn’t just ride by; a longer break was called for. Sadly he was going on in another direction, being firstly not so fond of mountains and dirt tracks and anyway wanting to take a direct route to Horsham.

It’s the other way round with me. Where ever possible I prefer dirt tracks, except when they are too muddy. I simply like travelling as far away as possible from the traffic, to be able to ride along in peace and quiet. It’s just much more interesting, than only taking tarmac roads.

I arrived in Kapunde, one of the cutest, oldest villages, quite early and wanted to quickly check out how much the camp-site cost here. But then I saw a bicycle standing there, so that was one good reason to stay. Secondly, it was really cheap to camp there and lastly in the village there were real shops and free Internet.

The bike belonged to Iain, a Tasmanian, who was doing the Mawson trail in the other direction. These chance encounters are very useful as the information you get (which you can in turn pass on), you can’t get anywhere else. It’s not just information about the best place to stay the night, or stretches that you’d do best to avoid, but also I was able to find out more about biking in Tasmania, where I also plan to continue my journey.

On the next day I continued making appropriate variations to the trail. First through the so-called “German country”, the Barossa Valley which is one of the most well-known wine regions in Australia, characterized by German immigrants. Even though most of the German town names were re-christened during the 2nd World War (apart from Hahndorf), there are still a few German names around and the German influence is very obvious and goes beyond just Brezeln and Laugenweckle.

Following Iain’s advice, I didn’t take the “Rockery” road up; he had come down this and had some difficulties because of the steepness and large stones; but rather chose a route which was partly tarmacked. This proved to be quite steep, but the advantage was that I got a really good view.

Iain had already warned me about the locked gates. Here they had stiles on the side with an approximately 40 cm-high threshold. No problem if you’re travelling just with a bike, but once again I had problems with the bicycle laden with all my luggage. Always unloading the bike and then re-packing it was such a nuisance for me. Somehow I always got the bike over and only a bottle-holder got broken as a result.

Here it must have really poured with rain over the last few days. The way through the wood was like a swamp. My only goal was not to touch the ground with my feet. But shortly before the end I had to trust my left foot to make contact with it.

According to my map a camp-site was not far off, further into the wood, and that was actually my aim. But as I approached it it didn’t look so much like a camp-site, although a sign seemed to indicate as much. As there was a phone number on the sign, I thought I’d try calling it. My assumption was confirmed, it indicated that it was a camp-site but wasn’t one. So I was connected with the Ranger, who gave me the tip to continue a bit further up the mountain, where a hut with a W.C. and water tank were to be found. No-one would be using it tonight so I could stay the night there. That was fine for me, especially after I actually saw it.

It was in the middle of the wood, totally secluded with a fireplace outside and a small oven inside; it even had electric lights! As it was very cold, I made myself comfortable in front of the stove. And that’s all one needs, just peace and quiet and a fire; this is enough to occupy me for the whole evening. Many thanks to the Ranger from Cromer Shed, who gave me this wonderful tip.

On the last stage of the journey to Adelaide I spared myself part of the Mawson Trail in order to get round the locked gates. Even the stretch on the main road was beautiful, winding through a gorge and cliffs with very little traffic.

Before Adelaide the Mawson Trail meets the road again before merging into the Riverpark bicycle lane which leads directly to Adelaide on the Torrens River. Actually it’s really beautiful but after the last days in the mountains it seemed rather boring as I missed the challenge of the dirt tracks.

After the loneliness on the Mawson Trail with only small villages on the route, my arrival in Adelaide was quite a shock to me. There were simply too many people suddenly all around me. I was really happy when, having quickly found spare spokes in a bicycle shop, I was able to ride straight out of the town, up towards the south and the mountains. The view over the ever-expanding city was superb and I could breath again. In Blackwood with Helen, Robert and their 3 dogs I was able to re-charge my batteries in the fresh air and countryside where there were no crowds

Here I spent 2 lazy days, eating well and enjoying myself. On the last evening I was invited to the restaurant on Mount Lofti; a really luxury. Accompanied by the most wonderful view over the town, we had a delicious meal. Sometimes I ask myself how I came to deserve all this! Hopefully I can return the favour sometime. Many thanks to Helen and Rob as this break with good conversation, food and wine really did me good.