Bush maddness

I haven't managed to get one of these done since leaving Darwin. That was over a month now. The onwards journey from there resulted in a rather miserable time for me. Not so much in a physical sense but very much the psychological aspect of the challenge. I am quite sure if I was in there by myself for any longer I wouldn't have come out right in the head.

It was all the time spent alone. It was near 90% just me and Kirsty for 7 weeks. Kirsty might be a good machine for covering the miles but she doesn't really have that much to say to me. Well I suppose I should be happy she didn't start talking to me. I was delighted to talk to any one that would stop but bearing in mind that I didn't get near a shower very often and I had a lip disease that had blood and puss oozing out; resulted in rather short chats.

When the Bush broke my I-pod, my only source of entertainment (I don't have any books, guides or even maps) I just stopped for the day. I could not continue. I had become dependent on it and hadn't realised. Audio books were my new friends. The talked to me and made my laugh. With this gone all I was left with was food packets and the odd tourist information sign to distract my mind from the heat, humidity, headwinds, flies, mosquitoes, storms, rain and the rest of the armoury that the bush has at its disposal to kill me.

The night I found a children's book on a bench at a rest area was a particular highlight. The adventure of Lola and her tea parties enthralled me for at least 40 minutes as I read it cover to cover (more than once). Up till then I was occupying my mind by comparing food contents between the jam, bread and occasional can of beans. "Oh this has flavour 126 in it just like that jam from the other day" I would often find myself thinking.

The challenges of the distance, the never ending straight road, the never changing shade of green, of the 2000 mile long mono bush were just the tip of the iceberg. Being in Australia for the wettest summer since records began, was maybe the main source for all the problems. The rain changed the bush and turned it green. So when I was expecting to see landscapes described as looking like the 'moon', all I seen were fields of grass. Funnily enough just like the ones at home.

I got hit by the tail end of that cyclone and rather foolishly felt that it was perfectly acceptable cycling weather. Turns out that riding in storms like that is quite an intense experience. Really you shouldn't be close enough to lightning for it to temporally blind and for the sound of thunder to come in stereo as the noise of the skies unzipping passing from the right ear to the left. Lesson learnt the hard way again. When a local says the rains coming, they mean it. I was genuinely scared by this and paid much closer attention to the skies from then on. Well at least they changed every day, unlike the road ahead.

The flies oh don't get me started on the flies. They were a particular nuisance. I know I went on about this last time but there attacks and biting just increased. This was a result of the rain. More rain meant more biting bugs. I was sure this was yet another mental challenge set by the bush. I could do very little to prevent the attacks. I felt I had been moved to the bottom of the food chain. My only purpose in life was to be a landing spot and a food source.

Near the end of my time in the Bush my fly tennis had improved to a one in three hit rate. I was sure I was ready to move on to the chop sticks. It was the noise though that i found the hardest. For some reason they would always go for my ears. Baazip, Baaaazzzip, Baazip, Baaaazzzip. Over and over and over. It got louder and louder and louder. My hatred for this was only replaces by my increasing fear of the mosquitoes. Clouds would form over my tent. Taking every opportunity to invite themselves in for dinner. As soon as I got in the tent the task of killing the unwanted guested would be begin. As a rule as soon as I was in the tent I wouldn't leave it till I was riding again.

A fews day before Port Augusta I found myself repeating Baazip, Baaaazzzip, Baazip, Baaaazzzip in the morning before setting off. Baazip, Baaaazzzip, Baazip, Baaaazzzip. I almost didnt have any control. Baazip, Baaaazzzip, Baazip, Baaaazzzip, over and over as i packed the tent. I don't even think i was aware that i was doing it. Packing away and going Baazip, Baaaazzzip, Baazip, Baaaazzzip. It was only when someone pulled up to the rest area that I was at that I stopped. A Belgium Bill Bailey lookalike controlled the madness. Saved by some good chat. But this will be the sound that i will forever associate with the Bush.

The last few days of having to get off andpush the bike out the bush to Port Augusta had me near to tears. It was demoralising I had taken enough and wasn't sure if I wanted to continue. It was at this point that the bush decided that it was time to give me the strongest headwind that I have ever experienced. I had put in as much effort as I could to cover the distance in as quick a time as I could. But the harder I pushed into the bush the harder it got.

For three solid days this went on for. I was beaten. If it wasn't for the warm welcome I received in Adelaide I really do wonder if I would have continued.

Very Hard and Long, riding the Bush

The last four weeks have undoubtedly been the hardest I have undertaken on this trip. For 28 days I have been outdoors subject to all the torments of the great outdoors of Australia. As I have quickly learnt it has a lot to offer in this department.

First off is the wind. Now of course it is always either a cross wind or headwind, never giving a helpful push from behind. At one point I did a complete 180 only for the wind to do the same. I was raging. To add insult to injury on this instance the wind was blowing that hard it blasted my mosquito mask off my head, too far for me to catch. That was my only protection against the flies.

Now why they didn’t tell me about the flies I wonder? Every waking minute that you are outside (even sometimes inside) you will have a fly on you. You have to get used to sharing your every meal with them. You even get good at telling how old the decomposing carcass that they were just dining at before deciding that landing directly on your month was a better idea. The reheated three day dead Kangaroo became a favorite. Mmmmm. When the flies finish the day shift of biting every bit of flesh they can get at the mosquito takes over the task and attack anywhere missed during the day. Quite a efficient system you must agree.

The first Kangaroo I seen was alive with a spring in it’s step. But to be fair that was a rarity. Far more are to be found lying at the side of the road. The headwind always warns you of your approach as it wafted the vile smell of the decaying body directly at you until you beat the wind. The rank mass of bones and flesh is super heated each day by the desert hot temperatures. Cooking and cooling each day. The heat does the same to me. Riding in temperatures above 40c I find particularly hard (every other day nearly!). When hauling a bike the weighs in at up to 70kg not making the task any easier. When the headwind super charges the 40c heat onto my fly covered face dragging the water loaded heavy bike, well that’s me in heaven. What more could I ask for?

Now as you know I ride at night. A lot of this trip has been covered during darkness. This usually isn’t a problem. But I’m in Australia so this has got to be tough too. The temperatures cool, the wind sometime drops and its easier to out ride the mosquitos. The roads empty from five cars a hour to maybe one. I am alone in a wilderness never near civilization. So passing snakes at night isn’t fun, this has happened a lot. I always wonder what happens if I got bit?

A quick swerve is my best defense. But I need to see them to do this. If I did go over one I would just apply the jump on the saddle and kick the legs up tactic. This has worked effectively in other countries. The key component for the success of this move is the saddle. On one particular night ride I was positioned in the middle of the road when the world was lit up by the stadium power flood lights of an approaching road train. To my surprise directly in from of me was a monster snake taking up a lane. If the trucks lights hadn’t alerted me to it I would be been right over it.

Not a problem just jump on the saddle right? Problem being at this point I didn’t have a saddle. The bolt that attached the clamp had sheared off the previous day. The near 10mm thick bolt torn completely in half. I had nothing to repair it with. I tried everything, even tent pegs. It wasn’t a great time for the duct tape to run out either. So just imagine if that truck hadn’t alerted me of the snake. I would have jumped back onto the where I would expect to find the saddle but only find a sharp seat pole. No doubt this would result in a rather girly scream, then a crash before being eaten by the snake.


The 200 miles (320km) without a saddle was some challenge. All my weight was on my wrists. My right wrist had been hurt the night I hit a cow. I know who hits a cow? Well I do? Right over the top of a dead lump on the road. My front panniers came flying off and mercilessly missed the masses of cow guts. They were staying behind if they had ended mixed up in it. I never came off Kirsty instead I landed very hard on my wrist. It still hasn’t got full mobility. As for the saddle situation, this was solved by a man from Motherwell. What are the chances? No one in Aus could help but a man a few miles from my home sorted it in a few minutes.

The last twist in the saddle tale does show that Australia has a sense of irony. Only some 50 miles after getting the saddle sorted I came across this rest point. Just look at its name!

And enjoy a rest i did.

The rest points became the ideal spots for camping. They had some shade which believe me is necessary. If you have never woken up in a pool of your own sweat you can’t say you have had a warm night. The shade helps this also and there a fewer beasties. After the night that a spider enter the tent leaving my outside it bollock naked I decided that the outback was not the safest spot to camp. I wasn’t sure how many more beating the tent would take as I tried to kill the new occupant. Anyone know anything about Spiders would this have hurt?

It was with some relief that I made it to Darwin. Completing a 2500 mile (4000km) journey across Australia. For 28 days I wore the same t-shirt, same shorts and same socks. My change of clothes being naked. Maybe not the most appropriate for riding in. You know I might of got sun burnt. I was looking forward to a shower and maybe a good meal drinking cans of cold beans had become the staple. But I arrived to late. I couldn’t get a bed. My options were limited. Putting the tent up wouldn’t be safe so the old faithful, the park bench was the winner.

I even managed to pick the park where all the other homeless were staying. My sense for a good bench clearly is improving. I placed Kirsty directly next to me and passed out immediately. During the night I was woken by an semi naked aboriginal man trying to take Kirsty. Not the best wake up call. I grabbed hold of Kirsty. He started asking me if I had a knife before waving his in my face. What I should of course of said was “that’s not a knife, Now Thats a knife!” – What a missed opportunity. Instead he ranted some more and charged off into the night.

The ride from Perth to Darwin in Australia has been a mental challenge for all the senses. It’s been Great!

oh and if you know anyone that can join me for 8km in OZ contact me on this number: +61 459347915 (Australia)

or even just say hello!