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Bicycle Tours in South Western Australia:
Bunbury - Margaret River - Cottesloe
6 days
This is the third of a series of retrospective bike stories, of rides taken
before 1987. 1987 was the first ride to be fully documented in the current
format, with distances, speeds, rest stops and so on, moreover written as
soon after the event as possible.
DAY 1, Bunbury -
Busselton
MONDAY 27 NOVEMBER 1979
This year I planned to do things in a different way. I would start the ride
by taking the Australind train to Bunbury, then ride all the way back to
Perth after going around the South-West. I had a notion to try the 100 km
stretch from Bunbury to Mandurah, which seemed a great challenge for me at
that time, but it scared me and I would decide about it when the time came.
It was only even thinkable because of one significant change from 1977 and
1978 - a new bike! I still had the old Philco, which was my very first bike,
bought in 1972, but from now on it would only do little trips to the shops
or the beach. The new one was a Gordonson Spartan, a cheap steel racing bike
with ten gears, handbrakes, drop handlebars and 27 inch wheels.
I wore the green rubber thongs again, and the usual shirt with pockets and
cotton shorts, and the towelling hat which I was to wear on every ride until
well into the 1990s. I didn't wear a helmet until 1994.
I got the 9:30 am train from Perth. It took about 3 and a half hours to get
to Bunbury in those days and I arrived there at about 1 pm. I had had
'brunch' on the train, sandwiches I had prepared myself.
I got the bike out of the luggage compartment, stowed the bag, donned the
backpack, left the station and rode back up Blair Street to find the
junction with the Bussell Highway.
I stopped at Stratham, then of course at Colroy's at Capel, and again in the
Ludlow forest to have a drink I had bought at Colroy's. There was the usual
fresh south-westerly opposing me all the way and it was a relief to get
close to Busselton and turn up the Causeway so that the wind was a little
behind me. I was quite numb and sore and having to stop and stand up
frequently.
I got into the Esplanade hotel again, got my room facing the sea, then went
for a swim. I thought I would walk the jetty when I stayed again at
Busselton on the way back, rather than doing it that night. I enjoyed a hot
shower and washed my clothes then changed and went looking for dinner. The
Golden Barn had closed down, so I had something else - I forget what. I
walked around the town a bit, saw the old train station, gone now. I hung
around the bar of the hotel, watched them playing pool, then made an early
night. I planned to go to Margaret River the next day and knew what to
expect.
DAY 2, Busselton - Margaret River
TUESDAY 28 NOVEMBER 1979
After having breakfast brought up to my room on a tray, I got going at
mid-morning. I reached Margaret River a few hours later, got into the old
hotel again and left my bike in the same place as I had in 1978.
As in 1978 I went for a swim at Gnarabup Beach, came back, showered and
changed and had a meal in the bar. I was determined to look at a couple of
the other caves the next day. There was nothing much on TV so I went to bed.
Had I written this story at the time, there might have been more that I
remembered about this day!
DAY 3, Margaret River - Busselton
WEDNESDAY 29 NOVEMBER 1979
I had breakfast in the old dining room again. Then I got ready and set off.
This was to be a long day but I had the new bike and felt able to do more. I
was intending to go back to Busselton but had decided to explore a bit
further south and get off the main road when heading north again, using
minor roads to see a bit more of the country.
I set off down Wallcliffe Road, turned left into Station Street, rode past
the old train station and turned left into Clarke Street, then right into
Boodjidup Road. This goes down at an angle until it joins Caves Road. I rode
along Caves Road for about 9 km until I reached Mammoth Cave. This was quite
different from Yallingup Cave in that one didn't so much descend deeper and
deeper into the earth. It got its name from the huge interior space where
people were encouraged to try out their singing voices. It didn't impress me
as much as Yallingup, not because there was anything wrong with it but
because Yallingup was my first venture into such a cave and that experience
would always be strongest, never to be equalled.
As I came out blinking into the daylight and prepared to leave, I reflected
that this was my furthest southerly point yet reached on these rides, and
was indeed the extremity on this ride, and I would now turn back and head
for home.
I rode north up Caves Road then turned right and headed back to the Bussell
Highway via Redgate Road, reaching it at a small locality called
Witchcliffe. This was 9 km south of Margaret River and was the most
southerly locality I had reached so far on the Bussell Highway. It had an
old shop like the one at Carbunup River, with a wide wooden verandah. It is
all quite changed now.
I rode back up the Bussell highway, through Margaret River, stopping to have
a drink and to buy one for the road. Then I rode out of town over the bridge
and up the hill for a few km until I turned right into Osmington Road, then
left into Jindong-Treeton road. At some point on this road I reached the
edge of the Whicher Range and rolled easily downhill. The following wind
gave me quite high speeds on some stretches. I turned right into Payne Road
and stopped at the Jindong Hall to have a drink and a rest, then rode on
until I reached Queen Elizabeth Avenue, when I turned left and rode north
until I met the Bussell Highway just a few km west of Busselton.
All these roads were sealed, I think, though they were just local roads.
I booked into the Esplanade Hotel and had my usual swim. I had dinner at a
Chinese restaurant at the shopping centre. It was quite good. This night in
Busselton was not the climax of the trip as it had been the previous two
years - there were still challenges ahead. I took my walk along the jetty in
the dark again. I didn't bother to climb the tower at the end. The holes in
the jetty and the clunking of loose timber in the swell were a worry. I
found my way back to the hotel and retired.
DAY 4, Busselton - Bunbury
THURSDAY 30 NOVEMBER 1979
I got my breakfast delivered to the door on a tray again and enjoyed that. I
don't think I took an early swim before setting off.
After showering I got ready, paid and set off up the Bussell Highway towards
Bunbury. I don't remember anything about the ride so it must have been
uneventful and easy enough, as expected. I of course made the usual stop at
Colroy's.
I booked an upstairs room at the Rose Hotel and began to focus my mind on
the next day's unprecedented effort. It is hard after nearly 30 years, and
with advancing age, to find anything unprecedented to do on these rides any
more. I had dinner at a Chinese restaurant in the main street and then took
a little walk across the tracks and towards Koombana Bay and the long jetty.
It was very dark and I was thinking about the ride to Mandurah, feeling
quite afraid of it. There was really nothing to be afraid of except
inconvenience and embarrassment and failure, there was no physical danger.
I couldn't get very far in the dark so I turned back towards the lights of
the city and went back to the hotel. I had a better map by now and spent
some time peering at it to familiarise myself with the route. I wondered how
long it would take. I thought perhaps six hours or so, unless there were
cramp or mechanical problems. I was confident in the new bike and was eating
and drinking better than in 1978.
DAY 5, Bunbury - Mandurah
FRIDAY 1 DECEMBER 1979
I had a good breakfast in the old ornate but dingy dining room and packed up
and set off towards the junction, at 9:10 am. Getting out of Bunbury was
simpler in those days, before all the bypasses and extra roads and
roundabouts. I turned left into the Old Coast Road, crossed the bridge and
trundled north.
About 11km out of Bunbury I encountered Australind again. I had been through
here in 1978. In those days it was still a distinct town, not yet subsumed
by the growth of Bunbury. There were a few houses, the smallest church in
the southern hemisphere, and a roadhouse in the green and yellow livery of
BP. It is still there in some form. I had a drink here and used the toilet
and bought some drinks for the road. I felt good, the day was not hot and
the winds were light from the east. I still carried some of Rosemary's
loquats with me.
At that time there was nothing for 50km between Australind and Lake Clifton.
I did it non-stop, except for one time when a truck thundering the other way
blew my hat off and I had to stop to retrieve it. I don't ride 50 km
non-stop any more, even if I could. Regular breaks are wise. I reached Lake
Clifton and found a little shop, where I got another drink and rested and
walked around for a while. I was sore from not wearing proper cycling gear -
proper tight shorts and saddle cover were to come in the 80's - but I was
not cramped or spent. There were 39 km to go.
I stopped more often on the rest of the journey. At one stop I finished off
the loquats and noted that the wind was a bit southerly, but south-east
rather than south-west, and the afternoon was getting quite warm as it drew
on. The radio told me that Perth had had a maximum temperature of 34° that
day.
At that time the Old Coast Road went straight into Mandurah over the old
bridge. There was no Dawesville cut. There was some climbing to do over the
last 20 km or so, which has only recently been evened out by re-routing the
road. I found this hard and walked up some of it, then there was a downhill
run and finally, for the first time I rode over the old bridge and came to a
stop in front of Tuckey's Tackle shop, still there, still my timing point
for arrival in Mandurah. I checked my watch. 4 pm. 5 hours 50 minutes from
Bunbury. I was weary and stiff but well satisfied with my achievement. I
looked forward to a comparatively easy run home the next day, no hurry,
plenty of places to stop if I needed to. I didn't know that the next day
would be one of the worst in all the long years of these rides.
I booked into the old Brighton Hotel and got a room with an ensuite, for
only $12. Those were the days! I dumped everything and crossed the road for
a swim in the estuary. This was long before I knew about Stewart St. ocean
beach, only a km or so to the north. I enjoyed my swim, the cool salt water
stung in a pleasant way. I swam under water quite a lot. Then I went and got
my shower and change and did my washing, then it was time for dinner.
The outdoor drinking and dining area was lively and pleasant on this mild
summer evening. I ordered chicken cacciatore and enjoyed the ambience of the
place.
After that I walked around a bit, saw the fishermen under the old bridge.
There was no TV in my room in the hotel and the TV lounge was in use for
loud commercials, so I retired to my room and went to bed and read for a
while. I was feeling a bit hot and restless but I turned off the light and
tried to sleep.
I awoke from a light doze feeling very sick, and it was just as well I had
an ensuite because after that I was sick several times during the night. I
hardly got any sleep and lost a lot of fluid and lost any nutrition I might
have got from my dinner.
DAY 6, Mandurah - Cottesloe
SATURDAY 2 DECEMBER 1979
At last the dawn came up and I dragged myself wearily in to the breakfast
room. I had been looking forward to a Brighton breakfast but in the event I
didn't feel at all hungry, and was sure that anything I ate would quickly be
lost, but I had to get some nourishment for the ride home, so I ate a full
breakfast. I felt quite weak.
After breakfast I went back to my room and had another upset. But I got
ready and set off. There was a north-easterly headwind and the day was
warming up, though it was still early because I had not slept in and had the
sense to realise the need for an early start. I laboured over the kilometres
and about 10 km out I came to a petrol-station and shop and saw a sign
pointing to the left, saying Madora Bay. There was a fire in the scrub in
that direction and the smoke pointed firmly to the south-west. This is an
image I remember clearly from that day. I stopped here and bought an orange
drink, then resumed.
The day got hotter and there was no change in the wind direction. I found
the going very hard. I stopped wherever possible to get another drink,
needing water and sugar.
I don't clearly recall any further images from that day except when I
reached Coogee Beach and found a shop there and another one in an old
building set at an angle to the road, on the right as you go north. That
shop is still there. I forget at which shop I bought my drink. The day was
now well advanced and really too hot for long-distance riding, I heard on
the radio that it was 37 degrees, and there was still no sign of a sea
breeze. But I was only 15 km from home and had to keep going.
At last I struggled up the Hampton Road hill past the old post office and
the jail and ran downhill to Queen Victoria Street. I had struggled up this
hill in 1977 on a hot day. I met the main road and crossed the bridge, then
finally pulled into my side lane and was home. I forget what the time was. I
was absolutely spent.
I found that the louvres in my kitchen window had been removed and that
someone had let themselves in. They had gone through drawers and cupboards,
and the pockets of a coat that I had hanging on the wall. They had let
themselves out (leaving the door open) with the spare key that I kept on top
of the fridge. Now, I could not find this key. In those days, when I went
out, I only took one set of keys. Since that day in 1979 I have always taken
both.
What did I do? Panic? Ring the cops? No, I felt nothing except heat and
exhaustion. I had a quick cold shower then lay down and slept for a couple
of hours.
When I awoke, I was sufficiently back to normal to react the way anyone
would after a burglary. I got upset, rang my parents, rang my girlfriend,
rang the police, hunted for the key and worried about having to change the
locks.
The police came around and took fingerprints off the louvres. They had been
carefully slid out and neatly stacked beside the kitchen window. The police
asked me what had been taken, but the fact was that nothing was missing,
although lots of stuff had been turned out and thrown around. This fact and
the careful nature of the entry made me think at the time that the break-in
was politically motivated. It was only a few years since I had been involved
in err, things.
During the 'phone calls to my parents and girlfriend it had been arranged
that she and her sister and I would have dinner at my parents' house. That
was a pleasant evening on the cool back lawn. They were all sympathetic
about the break-in but not so much about my crazy ride, sick on a hot day.
When I am on these rides I get into a universe of my own where things look
different. It had seemed necessary and logical for me to ride home that day
despite the heat and my state of health, but from another point of view it
would have made more sense to book the hotel for another day and rest, or
find another hotel at Rockingham. Ah, but in this case, that would have
meant my house being open to all comers for another day. Ah, but that wasn't
the point, the point was to be sensible on these trips.
When I arrived home that evening I opened my door with the remaining key
and, as I stumbled inside, kicked the cat box next to the back door. I had
used this box to carry cats about a couple of times during 1979. I thought
to look into it, and there were the missing keys! So the whole episode could
be closed. I did put a padlock on the kitchen flyscreen the next day.
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