Bicycle Tours in South Western Australia:

Kelmscott - Rocky Gully - Cottesloe

13 days, 827 km [map]

The aim of this trip was to follow the route of the 1991 ride as far as a resort on the Muirs Highway, then, instead of turning back west as in 1991, to continue east as far as Rocky Gully, then return by some of the route followed in 1987, but this time going all the way back to Cottesloe.

There is nothing special about Rocky Gully except that, before I successfully rode to the Stirlings from Albany in 1993, I had a plan to stay at Rocky Gully on the way from Manjimup to Cranbrook as a way of getting into the Stirlings from the west, by a series of achievable day's rides. The 100km distance from Manjimup to Rocky Gully, along the hilly Muirs Highway, possibly with unfavourable winds, seemed a formidable obstacle. After reaching the Stirlings by another route, Rocky Gully remained as a symbol of a challenge unmet.

My hopes of meeting this challenge were encouraged by the appearance since 1991 of another overnight stop on the Muirs Highway, 21 km south-east of Manjimup and only a short distance off the highway. This cut the distance to Rocky Gully down to 77 km, rather than 97 km from Manjimup or 90 from Kin Kin. I booked a cabin at Nyamup before starting the ride, noting that I would have to bring all my own food.

PRELIMINARY

On Monday, October 14 I rode the bike to Lathlain train station, then took the train to Challis, to stay the night with Veronica at Kelmscott and start the ride from there early the next morning, before the sun and wind got up.

DAY 1, Kelmscott - Pinjarra

TUESDAY 15 OCTOBER 1996

I left Kelmscott at 7.12 on a cool morning with very light southerly winds. The odometer read 864.7. This was to be the first ride using the new 'cyclocomputer' that works through magnetic pulses from sensors on the fork and spoke of the front wheel - no contact, nothing to get worn or broken, only a battery to go flat eventually.

I rested and took a drink at 882. At 892 I stopped at a shop to buy a bottle of the new, rich chocolate milk, that I hadn't seen before. I was to have many of these during the ride. I stopped again and drank this at 898.

A headwind was developing but I and the bike were in fine form and this first day seemed very easy. I rested again at 915 and reached the Pinjarra Motel at 927.7, at 10.50. The 5km pegs showed that the odometer was reading about 1-2% high. This remained constant throughout the trip and I didn't make corrections for it, since it wasn't enough to cause errors. Calibrating the odometer is an important first-day job. By the end of the ride, there would have been about 10-15 km on it that weren't really travelled - about 1 km a day.

I turned into the wide motel entrance, dismounted and was immediately set upon by two dogs. I kicked at them and yelled at them to get away. I am always a bit irritable when I have just finished a long ride. The woman came out and told me that that was the worst thing I could do with a dog. I retorted that it wasn't up to me to do the right thing with the dog, I didn't have to cope with dogs at all. It was her job to keep the dogs under control. She chased them into the back of the office and I paid and filled in the register without any further discussion about dogs.

After this testy beginning we strove to be nice to each other as she showed me my unit and got me my milk, cereal and bread for the next morning.

I wrote about this motel in 1991. It was just as good in 1996, and the price was the same, so I am now inserting, unchanged, my paragraph describing it, written five years ago. What a contrast to the eighties, when in so many cases, rapid deterioration went hand-in-hand with rapid price escalation.

This motel was the best value for money of the trip. $40 single included the pool, all facilities, toast and cereal and fruit juice for breakfast. The pool was surrounded with small palm trees and a carefully built and maintained garden and lawn, with tables and chairs and a little wooden platform to jump off.

Of course, in five years the palm trees had grown and other trees had also been put in place, making a nice cool glade.

There was also a line and pegs to hang washing on. On a ride, I wash my riding clothes every day and my evening clothes whenever I get the chance.

I used the bike to go shopping and get a cheese sausage and a sausage roll for lunch and ate them in the unit before having a sleep. This greasy lunch was to cause indigestion later. I was more careful about lunch on subsequent days. While shopping at Foodland I bought three packets of dried pasta foods because they were on special and I would need them at Nyamup. They would add a little extra bulk to the luggage but didn't weigh much, being entirely dry and needing to be cooked with water and milk.

I went for a walk back through the town, along the river and over the footbridge. I took a Chinese take-away meal back to the motel for tea. The southwesterly was now quite fresh and my clothes were dry.

Final reading at Pinjarra: 930.8km. Day's ride: 66km. Speed to Pinjarra: 17.4 kph (1991: 17.2 kph).

DAY 2, Pinjarra - Harvey

WEDNESDAY 16 OCTOBER

Left Pinjarra at 7:43. Winds were almost calm, becoming light SE-SW during the ride. I rested at 944, then at Waroona (956), finally at 971 before reaching Harvey at 985.6, 10:51. This was the easiest day of the trip.

When I had booked the Harvey Hotel on the telephone they had told me that it would be $35, and I was expecting one of the refurbished upstairs units that I had had in 1991. Instead they charged me $40 and put me in one of three new cabins at the back of the building. It was cramped compared with the Pinjarra unit, but still more spacious than the upstairs rooms and better ventilated. I might have been better accomodated in the Wagon Wheels Motel where I stayed in 1992 but I have memories of the old hotel and it is closer to the centre of town.

I went and got a chicken and salad bun for lunch and a couple of oranges. Then I had a sleep and a shower and washed my riding clothes. There was a rotary hoist and pegs in the usual place.

It was while shopping later that I made a discovery that gave me great heart for the rest of the trip. I had been feeling anxious and negative, about the distance and time needed for my plan, what could go wrong, did I have enough money. Now I found a way of saving a day, or getting a rest day which I might need.

I went to the newsagent to look for better maps than the ones I had. I found a big thick shiny new book called 'Traveller's Atlas of Western Australia'. I looked at the section between Rocky Gully and Kojonup and found a usable road, totally absent or only partially marked as tracks in my other maps, between Frankland and Kojonup. The officially named sealed 'Frankland-Kojonup Road' gave a distance of nearly 100 km from Rocky Gully to Kojonup. This new road, with apparently only 3 km of gravel, cut nearly 20 km off the distance. After Rocky Gully, instead of going to Cranbrook, then next day to Kojonup, I could go straight to Kojonup, heading NNE instead of ESE. This would give me a day in hand, in case I needed to rest or take two short riding days later. Suddenly the whole project looked feasible. Finding Nyamup instead of Kin Kin as an overnight stay had helped, now this new development lifted my mood again.

I took a walk round the town before dinner and found that the footy ground was being prepared for the Harvey Show that the newsagent had told me about, due to take place the coming weekend. Crowds of excited children on bicycles were wheeling about watching sideshow alley being set up. I had chicken and chips, $3.50, for dinner in my unit, lying around watching TV.

Reading at Harvey: 985.6. Day's ride: 55km. Cumulative distance: 121 km. Average 60.5 km/day. Speed to Harvey 17.5 kph (1991:16.3 kph).

DAY 3, Harvey - Donnybrook

THURSDAY 17 OCTOBER

As in 1991 I had decided to bypass Bunbury and go straight to Donnybrook via a short-cut through Waterloo and Dardanup. Left Harvey at 7.52. Stopped at 1007, at Brunswick, at 8.49, having done 22 km in 57 minutes - the best hour of the trip. Winds were calm with a light westerly drift developing later in the day to help me slightly into Donnybrook.

It was here that I had the only accident of the trip. I had finished my drink and rest and was walking the bike over the grass towards the gravel path that led back to the main road. There was a little hump just where the grass met the gravel. I lost my balance and the bike fell over with me on top of it. I wrenched my right thumb, my gear thumb, and worried that it might have been broken. I don't think it was, though it remained sore for weeks. I continued to change gears without any trouble for the rest of the trip. I also bruised my hip and cut my leg on the sharp teeth on the chainring. I was afraid that the bruised hip might stiffen up and become chronic as with a similar injury after a fall on gravel between Nannup and Donnybrook in 1992, but this didn't happen. I got up, wrenched the handlebars back straight and got going.

I reached the Waterloo turnoff at 1019, rested again at 1024, nearly went the wrong way (as in 1991) when I needed to turn right at the junction of Tognolini and Italiano Roads and rested again with a choc-milk at the Boyanup shop. I reached Donnybrook at 11:40, 1054.7. I booked into the motel, as pleasant as ever. I was happy to rest for a couple of hours under the doona which has replaced blankets and bedspreads in this motel.

When I woke up I was happy to find that there was no stiffness or pain in my hip. I enjoyed a swim in the pool, then showered, changed and went for the usual walk round the town with shopping and 'phone calls. I booked a unit at the Freemasons' Hotel in Bridgetown. It is more central than the Bridgetown Motel and that place has also won a Tourism Award, which means that prices have zoomed upwards and it provides things that I don't need or value on one of these trips. I just want a hot shower, a comfortable bed, windows with insect screens, a TV and a moderate price, to save money against real need.

After leaving my shopping back at the motel in the unit's fridge I went for a walk over the bridge, then back and along the banks of the Preston River and through the park. I came back to the SW highway some way south and walked back through the town, examining the huge old oak tree beside the railway station. This tree was planted in 1890 by early settlers and now has a plaque nearby detailing its huge girth, height and spread. It looks very healthy. I grubbed around in its litter and got three acorns. I hope they will grow.

Got a cheese sausage, a chicken sausage, some chips and chicken pieces for dinner and once again ate them lounging about in my unit. Went to bed before ten.

Reading at Donnybrook: 1054.7 Day: 69km. Cumulative 190km, 63.3km/day. Speed to Donnybrook 18.2 (1991: 15.1).

DAY 4, Donnybrook - Bridgetown

FRIDAY 18 OCTOBER

I left Donnybrook at 7:42 on a fine calm morning. This was the fourth day of riding south and I had been lucky so far with the winds. The climbing stretch from Donnybrook developed the low point of the trip in 1991, but this time I was determined to take it easy and not let it get me down. There would be greater difficulties further along the way. I rested at 1072, before Kirup, then rode through Kirup without stopping. I found the downhill runs tiring in a different way from the uphill climbs - the bike was doing over 50 and I felt tense, but didn't brake or stop pedalling. Downhill runs don't usually worry me and I didn't want to give in to this. I reached Balingup (1087) and stopped for a drink at the southern end of the town, just before the bridge and the big hill. An old man, a retired timber worker as he said, was walking along with a can of spray to use against the ants round his house. He stopped to discuss my ride with me. He told me how the railway line from Balingup to Greensbushes climbed the longest 1 in 40 grade in Australia, and of how the train would always climb the hill empty and come back loaded, so that two locomotives were needed to slow its descent.

I finished my break and said goodbye to the man, then crossed the bridge and started up that well-known hill. I got to the top without dismounting.

I stopped for a last rest at 1101. This time, unlike 1991, I did manage to keep pedalling all the way up Hester's Hill, then enjoyed the downhill run into Bridgetown, though still feeling tense about the speed.

Reached Bridgetown at 1113.9, 11:23. I rode through to the Freemasons' hotel and had to leave everything there for an hour because my room wasn't ready. This was all right because I needed to plan and shop for the next day, and for Sunday as well, because in a small town on a Sunday night there can be a problem with getting food. I got a six-pack of 250mL boxes of orange-and-mango drink that was on special at Four Square, some packets of hot chocolate drink mixture from Foodland, some biscuits, dried sultanas, fruit and milk.. There was no need to worry about the next day's breakfast because a help-yourself light breakfast was included in the price of the room. This meant I could go down as early as I liked and have as much as I liked. I would of course as usual consume all the fresh fruit and milk before the next day's ride.

A light southerly wind had come in by the time I went back to the hotel where my room was ready. The lady gave me one set of keys, then changed her mind and gave me another. She said the cleaner was new on the job, had taken longer than usual, then had taken the keys home by mistake. The keys fitted.

The room was big though gloomy, with one window opening onto an upstairs verandah where I saw a clothes-line and some pegs. The bathroom was quite big. The whole building was old, so I think that two rooms had been remodelled to make this one suite. There was a fridge and tea and coffee and a kettle. There was a double bed flanked by two undersized single beds, clearly meant for children. I took the double bed.

I rested, showered, changed, looked round the town. I had made a point of looking in newsagents to find a light folding map, rather than a big expensive heavy book, to show in up-to-date detail the back road from Frankland to Kojonup on which this whole venture now seemed to depend. I finally found it, by luck. I happened to pass the Tourist Information Centre five minutes before it was to close, went in, asked, was shown a light folding map entitled 'Albany' that showed the road in question as being all sealed, and all called the Shamrock Road, not part Gordon, part Shamrock as shown in the big book. Since the date on this map was 1996 I decided that I would trust it and go with it. I paid the $3 and walked out happy.

I still would have tried the road on the Monday to come but it made a difference to have the proper map, rather than my rough sketch and my doubts.

I made some long credit-card phone calls. Bridgetown is the only one of the towns I stayed in that has such a facility. The next night's stop was already booked, of course. I walked up the road to see the Anglican church, 49 years old when I first knew it, now 85. I looked inside at the stained glass windows. There was music playing. They were just about to hold a service so I didn't linger. I walked back along the river to the hotel, walked round the corner and up the hill a bit to get some fried stuff for dinner.

Reading at Bridgetown: 1113.9km. Day's ride: 59. Aggregate: 249km. km/day 62.2. kph to Bridgetown16.0 (1991: 13.0).

DAY 5, Bridgetown - Nyamup

SATURDAY 19 OCTOBER

I went down to breakfast in the Freemasons' dining room shortly after six. There was no-one else there, but a man came in puffing a cigarette, said something I didn't quite catch and went out again. I turned on the urn and got stuck into the cereals, of which there were several varieties and no shortage. Milk, butter and jam were in the fridge and there was plenty of bread. I pigged out, bearing in mind what I had ahead of me. There was a jar of chamomile tea-bags, and I took a couple of these, thinking that they would help me sleep at Nyamup. I would need a good night's sleep before attempting Rocky Gully.

I left Bridgetown at 8.18. The weather was cool and overcast with a few spots of rain. Winds were NE - E with calm periods. The main road between Bridgetown and Manjimup is comparatively flat. I rested past the Donnelly River at 1130, turned off the main road at Palgarup (1141) stopping briefly to check that I had taken the correct road because the name on the sign was different from that on the map. The hilliness began again now that I had left the main road. I rested again at 1144, then finally on reaching the Muirs Highway at 1157. The road through Dingup is still gravel and I had to get off and walk down one particularly steep hill on a curve, where the road, quite properly, has been built sloping upwards from the inside to the outside of the curve. This is good for motor vehicles but I could see my bike falling over and sliding, causing injuries and damage. As in 1991, I cut 5km off the journey by bypassing Manjimup and taking these back roads, including 7-8km of gravel, through Palgarup, Balbarrup and Dingup. I joined the Muirs Highway 8km SE of Manjimup, some 12km by road from Nyamup. The road was hilly but the light easterly wind wasn't a problem.

I reached a turnoff on the left clearly signed "Nyamup'. I turned off and began a climb, then there was a steep descent for about 1 km. At last the collection of wooden buildings came into view.

I followed a sign that said 'office' and found a closed, deserted building that had a post box and a telephone. I thought this was the office, not seeing the other sign pointing to a house behind me. I had to walk over and ask someone at the only house that seemed occupied, before realising this. I had heard hammering down at the old mill when I arrived but this had stopped and I couldn't see anyone there. Later I was to find that the old mill was deserted, half in ruins and dangerous, so I don't know who could have been hammering.

I noted the time and distance when I stopped at the building with a telephone - 11:55, 1169.8.

I knocked at the house marked 'office' and the man in charge let me in, took my money and gave me a receipt. It was only $30. He said he would bring three blankets up in his car. He pointed out my cabin - No. 14, the last in the row as you go up the hill on the way out. This would give me a bit of a start in the morning. I already knew that I would try for Rocky Gully the next day, no matter what the weather forecast. I had got this far, I was well placed, the bike and I were in good condition and if I didn't make it this time I never would, and would regret it later, just as I have regrets about having chickened out of things on other rides. But I am getting older and this was one challenge I might have no chance to meet later.

I rode up the hill to my cabin. I passed number 12 and there was only one left. I thought I had made a mistake, and would have to hunt, or go back and ask. But many places of accomodation still hold to old superstition and won't have a room or unit or cabin number 13. My cabin was indeed the next one.

The man duly came up the hill with the blankets. He turned on the electricity and checked that everything was working, and showed me around. Then he showed me a map of scenic walks that visitors could take around the area. After that, he bade me a nice rest and an enjoyable stay.

The timber and fibro house was freshly painted and clean and everything worked, but it was obviously an old place done up rather than a newly-built one made to look traditional. Nyamup used to be a small town, housing workers for the mill whose cannibalised ruins I was to explore later. The mill hadn't been closed very long - a Bunnings accident-free days chart was still on the wall at the little booth near the mill.

I had a choice of three bedrooms, a lounge with a lounge suite and open fireplace, a fully-equipped kitchen and a bathroom with a bath and a shower nozzle hanging over the bath. The toilet was reached by going out of the back door and down a little path of paving stones. I felt a bit sad to be alone in this nice place. There was a clothes-line on the raised front verandah, which was reached by a step at its southern end.

I chose the middle bedroom which had two beds, one with a fitted sheet. There were plenty of pillows. There was a master bedroom with a double and single bed and a tiny back bedroom with a small bed and a chair.

I lay down and read my book and ate some biscuits. Then I had a nice sleep before getting up and having my shower and doing my washing.

I took the map and started on the shorter of the walks - still 3.5 km. I wanted to experience the place properly but didn't want to overdo it. I remembered Northcliffe in 1987, when I had got a bit lost in the forest park and had ended up walking much further than I had intended, the day before the long ride, including 50km of gravel, to Walpole.

I walked slowly down the gravel path, taking a detour into the forest to look for wildflowers, particularly orchids. I found an orchid with very small green petals with dark red tips. It had the form of an orchid but I have never seen one like it before. I want to look it up.

I passed a sign saying 'water' at the head of a narrow track and walked down this, hearing the rush of water getting closer as I went down a steep slope. Finally I saw the river and the dam. This was quite an old structure. There was a narrow wooden walkway and I started to walk carefully across this, but it bent and creaked a little and I walked back. Had I known this river was there I could have come down earlier and had a dip.

On the way back up to the main track I took another detour through the forest to look for orchids, but didn't find any.

I walked on and followed the instructions: come to a bridge, look for the red peg and follow that track up a steep hill to see 'a beautiful view'. The track was rough and eroded and I stepped carefully to avoid injuries. The view was indeed beautiful, on the way up the hill as well as at the top. The afternoon sun slanted across a broad slope of green pasture. At the top I could see over the top of this, down the further slope to a wooded paddock where cows strolled about. Looking back the way I had come I could see that the slope of green pasture was divided by a fence and the river from another paddock where many large trees stood about among the rich pasture. It was as though an area of forest had been carefully cleared and sown to pasture without removing the trees. Sheep grazed in the dappled shade. Farmers are being encouraged to develop this sort of wooded pasture to save trees and conserve the land.

I walked right down to the river and found the rotted remains of an old dam or bridge, but there was now no way across. I found the right track and slowly retraced my steps to the settlement.

Before going back to my house I looked at the old mill. A lot of effort had gone into building it. Massive tree trunks formed the frame of the structure. Most of the floor was missing. Thick, broad planks had been laid over beams resting on dozens of large tree trunks set into the ground, but now only these supports were present over most of the large area of the shed. The effect reminded me of pictures I have seen of the Colosseum in Rome, where the floor of the arena has largely disappeared, revealing the network of chambers and passages that used to lie under it. I supposed that the timber had been taken to provide for the holiday village.

The conveyor belt that used to feed the bandsaw was still there, the great links and cogs rusting. The saw itself was long gone. There was another conveyor belt that used to lift the sawn timber out of the mill and drop it into a third conveyor belt that carried it about two hundred metres and dropped it into transport - trucks? Railway trains? There was nothing down there now but a rough track leading nowhere.

Lastly, to test its quality, I took a walk down a gravel road which I had seen on the new map book in the shops, but whose name I can't remember since it isn't on any of my maps. Some maps suggested that this might be a way of cutting a few km off the journey east down Muirs Highway, and I had contemplated leaving by this route in the morning. But it didn't look that good, and I have learnt the folly of taking a few km of gravel to save a few km of distance. The saving is illusory unless the distance saved is considerable, as with the Chesapeake Road to Walpole in 1987 or the Grays Road to Pemberton in 1991.

I went back to my house, cooked up a couple of packets of pasta and brewed a pot of camomile tea, which I had black with sugar. It was delicious and soothing. I had some biscuits and sultanas. I read my book 'A House for Mr Biswas' by V.S.Naipaul, while leisurely eating this meal. I wished he could have had this house I was in.

Afterwards I groped my way through the quiet darkness towards the dim light of the telephone box. I left my verandah light on to show me my way back. I booked the Rocky Gully Hotel for the next night. Once that commitment was made I felt stronger and more confident about the next day. I made a couple of other calls.

I went back to my house and settled down in a comfortable chair in my lounge room, with my feet up on another chair, to read my book for a couple of hours. There was no television. There was no sound save for the thin, evocative sound of one of those insects that sing at night. I got up halfway through the evening to make a cup of hot chocolate and have a few more biscuits.

When I went out to the toilet before bed the night had already become very cold. I loved the dark, quiet ambience of the place.

I went to bed in my shirt and needed all three blankets. Because the house lacked any insect screens, I had been worried about mosquitoes, but there were none.

During the night I woke up and had to go out the back again. It was freezing. I didn't turn on a light. I looked up and saw the stars like I haven't seen them for years - standing out brilliantly. The Magellanic clouds, faint patches in the city, were so bright that at first I was alarmed, wondering what they could be. The Milky Way and background stars and clusters and nebulae were so bright that the effect was of a sky with a hazy overcast, but of stars, not water vapour clouds. I had to turn on the light in the toilet and when I came out the magic of the stars was lost because my eyes were now not so sensitive. I hurried back up the frosty paving stones, through the back door and into bed.

Reading at Nyamup: 1170.1 Day: 57 km. Cumulative 306 km. kpd 61. kph to Nyamup 15.5. 7 km of gravel road included.

DAY 6, Nyamup - Rocky Gully

SUNDAY 20 OCTOBER

I awoke on a frosty, sunny morning a little after six. The sun shone brightly on the back of the house. I had more biscuits, sultanas and hot chocolate, washed the pots and dishes, tidied the house and left a little sadly at 8:08. I should have made the effort to get going earlier. I rode up the hill, then down to the Muirs Highway.

The road was hilly at first, gradually becoming more gently undulating. The regional radio station I had been listening to faded and I couldn't get the Great Southern regional until later in the day.

Winds were mostly calm during the day, with spells of light NE, N, NW. The day became very hot. I was to hear later that Perth this day recorded its highest October maximum for many years, at 37, about 100 on the old Fahrenheit scale.

I had a drink-stop at 1187 and again at 1203. It was time to pull out the Albany map onto which I was coming. It showed that a series of lakes, with Muirs Lake as the biggest, lay ahead on both sides of the road. I expected the road to level, as it did, giving me a good steady run for a number of km. But I never saw clear water - these lakes were actually wetlands, swampy areas with much plant and animal life.

I was starting to suffer from the heat and have lots of little discomforts. I was putting four barley-sugars into my mouth at each rest stop, and these seemed to help restore my strength in between. The hilliness began again after I had left the lakes, and there wasn't far to go now, but I was flagging. I was getting close to that limit that I have found in the past, when my legs seem to have no strength and every turn of the pedals is a pain. I made an effort to slow down and freewheeled down hills instead of pedalling. I was to make a habit of this later in the ride.

On the long trip down Muirs highway I saw six dead kangaroos and a couple of kangaroo skulls and a dead crow. I saw a green parrot killed by a car. It was unlucky enough to fly across the road at the same moment that the first car for half an hour came, heading back west. The parrot hit the car with a thump and the remains of it fell to the road, with green feathers drifting in my face. The first live thing I saw on the road was a bobtail skink, which turned and smiled at me in that way they have as I cycled around it.

The 5-km posts ignored Rocky Gully but gave the distance to Mount Barker. Since Mount Barker is 65 km beyond Rocky Gully this enabled me to check my progress.

Thundery-looking clouds began developing from the northwest. It was a relief when at last they moved over me and kept the sun off, but the day had become very muggy. A few drops of rain fell on me towards the end of the day's ride.

I took further drink-stops at 1219 and 1235. Finally I rolled to a stop in front of the 'Rocky Gully Pub' which looked quite nice from the road. But only the facade was modern. It was 12:53, 1248.4.

They had told me that they opened at three on Sunday, and that if I arrived before three I was to go and look for them round the back. I walked with the bike down the side of the building, but there was no-one around the back. I left my bike round there, then I let myself into the building and found my way into the bar, which was doing business, open or not. The pubkeeper was a young man with a ponytail. I explained that I had booked the night before and that I was a bit earlier than I had expected. He told me that his wife would show me my room, and yelled out to her. There was no response. He yelled again. A girl sitting on the lap of one of the customers slowly got up and came over.

They had a little boy who was fascinated by my arrival. He wanted to know if that was my bike, and if it was a good bike. He showed me his pet lamb which had the run of the place.

The lady showed me my room, which looked clean and comfortable enough, though there was no flyscreen on the window which I would need to have open against the muggy weather and the hotel smells. When I asked for the key she showed me a hole in the door where the lock had been, and said it didn't matter because I was the only guest. She showed me the 'guest bathroom', dirty and cluttered with her family's stuff. She showed me where to get breakfast for myself the next morning. It was included in the price. I like this eat all you want, as early as you want, arrangement. I paid $20 at the bar, unshipped my luggage, locked the bike and went in to have a wash, some biscuits and a sleep.

This hotel was basically a family home where paying guests would intrude now and then. There was a little baby as well as the boy. Before having my shower I checked, cleaned and oiled the bike, then I put it away in a disused laundry kindly pointed out by an older man who appeared while I was wondering where to put it. I explained that rain seemed likely during the night. When I had my shower I took advantage of the family's shampoo.

I walked up the road to the roadhouse where I bought milk, boxed juice drinks (for next day's drink stops) and biscuits and checked out the closing time and hot food available for later. Then I took a walk round the town. I remembered a movie where one of the characters keeps imitating Bette Davis saying 'What a DumP!' with emphasis on the P. I passed a neat little fibro house, maybe 40 - 50 years old, with a 'For Sale' notice on it. I felt sad for it. Who would want to buy it? I hoped a big truck might come and lift it to a better place.

I must reiterate for those who would ask: Where's Rocky Gully? What's there? Why go there? Firstly, who cares; secondly, nothing much; thirdly, it represented a Challenge; long distance ride, unfamiliar road, thinly populated country.

I walked back a different way and found a big area of flowers. I don't know what they are called, or whether they are native, but they are like freesias, only bigger and multicoloured. There are plenty of them at Araluen.

The pub had a sign on the front saying 'Smorgåsbord dinner every Sunday!" I went in and asked the pubkeeper about this. He shook his head vaguely and said they could do me a steak sandwich or something. I thanked him but didn't commit myself. I resolved to have something from the roadhouse.

I strolled back up the road, worrying about the wind. It was still light and sometimes seemed to be coming from the south, but more from the east. I hoped I would get a southerly for the next day. I had thought back in Bridgetown, on watching the weather forecast the previous Friday evening, that I would get westerlies to help me to Rocky Gully, then southerlies and easterlies to help me get back north and west. But as it turned out I only briefly if at all got an honest tailwind during the entire 13 riding days.

I booked the Hill View Motel in Kojonup. It looked nicer, in the brochure, than the Commercial, where I have usually stayed, and it was only going to be $39. Then I rang up Perth, then rang (09) 1195 for the southwest weather information. I had some idea that the cost would be that of a local call, since I was in the area for which the forecast was intended, but I had to waste many small coins that I needed later to hear the whole thing. I should have just put a couple of dollar coins in. And after all that it turned out to be lies.

I went and got my dinner. I wanted fish and chips, which was on the menu, but it wasn't available. I ended up with chicken and chips, a cheese sausage, a fresh tomato out of the fridge (where all the fresh fruit and veges were kept) and a rich choc milk. I thought the tomato would improve the meal and it went with the oranges from Harvey and the golden delicious apples from Bridgetown as part of my new policy of improving my usual ride diet of fried food, cakes, biscuits and white bread.

I ate all this and spent the evening in my room, reading my book. The children screamed and fought with each other in their bedroom for an hour. Their parents continually thumped up and down the passage outside my room. When the time came for sleep I put tissue in my ears and took a pill to help me sleep.

Reading at Rocky Gully: 1248.4. Km for day: 78. Aggregate: 384. Km per day: 64. Kph to Rocky Gully: 16.5 (too fast! Should have had more stops and ridden more slowly. 15 kph would have been good enough and I would have been less tired. Result of anxiety about the day's ride).

DAY 7, Rocky Gully - Kojonup

MONDAY 21 OCTOBER

When I awoke, not long after six, the sky was overcast and steady light rain had been falling for some time. I hoped it would clear before I got going, and I didn't want to wait too long. The maps hadn't been consistent about the exact distance I was facing - it could be well over 80 km, and I didn't want to take it too fast.

The family were not yet astir. I crept around into the dining area and loaded up on cereal and toast, jams and butter and coffee while reading my magazine. I showered, dressed and packed up without seeing anyone and left Rocky Gully at 7:56. The road to Frankland starts right opposite the pub. It was still raining but it couldn't be helped. Winds were westerly to NW. The sign said 'Kojonup 100' but that is by the official Frankland-Kojonup Road, which takes the long way round. I was going by Shamrock.

I felt stiff at first but better as the kilometres went by. I had decided to make my first rest stop at Frankland, where I knew there would be a shop. In fact there were two. I had more than enough drinks for the trip with me in my bag.

The rain didn't stop. I reached Frankland, 1267, and sheltered my bike and myself in front of the service station while I had a rich choc-milk and looked at the Albany map. I waited for quite a while, looking for a clearing trend in the west. There seemed to be one so I started off, but it was still raining, so I sheltered for quite a while longer under the roof of a tourist information place. I was starting to get cold, the rain still pattered down on the metal roof and the clearing trend didn't develop. I had to get going.

I rode to the T-junction and turned right, then along for a kilometre or so until a clear sign pointed to the left saying 'Kojonup 64'. It was going to be a longer ride than I had thought. I turned left and continued riding as the rain continued to fall. I couldn't take my next drink stop until the rain stopped for a while. I would have to unpack my back-pack in the rain, when I had everything wrapped in plastic bags to keep dry.

The wind persisted from the WNW, hindering me somewhat, but it wasn't too bad. As I rode north, the sky to the north was brightening and I felt better about the day ahead, but the weather was moving in from the west and the sky darkened again with quite a heavy shower coming through.

I crossed the Gordon River and kept going. Finally at 1292 the rain stopped for a few minutes and, 25 km after leaving Frankland, I was able to take another drink stop and ease the discomforts that had developed.

I had been looking for those corrugated iron shelters that are often seen beside the roads, at the end of driveways leading to farms. There were a few farms along the way but no shelters - only small letter boxes, if anything. At one time I thought I saw a large metal barn up ahead but as I got closer I realised it was only the grey sky appearing through a straight gap in the trees. It is just as well - had I found a shelter, I might have stayed there for a while to no good purpose, since the rain didn't stop all day. It was just as well to keep going.

I remembered the hot sun of only the day before and longed for it now.

At last I detected the Albany Highway not far ahead, by hearing and then seeing plenty of vehicles moving back and forth. Finally at 1320 I met the Albany Highway and turned left onto it. The increased traffic, including large trucks, was now a problem. I had met very few cars on the Shamrock road. I was so tired by this stage that any slight incline made me change to my easiest gear, so that I was plodding along at little more than 10 kph. The wind freshened into my face (the road was now heading NW instead of NE) and the heaviest downpour of the day swept through, so that water was pouring off myself, the bike and the luggage in streams. My shoes squelched. The traffic sprayed me. But the signs told me KO 15, then KO 10, so I just had to keep going. I concentrated my mind on the nice motel unit that lay ahead, within reach.

After that it got easier. The wind eased and the rain stopped for a while, so that I was able to take a last drink stop at 1331, only 3km out of Kojonup. Riding on, I saw the town ahead. I passed the sign 'Kojonup' and rode over the tracks and up the steep hill that lasts for more than a km until you leave the town to the north.

The motel lay at the top of this hill, hence its name. On passing Foodland I decided to end the day's ride, in a statistical sense, there and do my shopping and get out of the weather for a while. It was 1:59, 1335.1.

I was surprised to find Foodland air-conditioned to be colder than the outside, but at least it was dry. I got some choc milk and ordinary milk and some nice things for breakfast (I would have a whole swiss roll, or a whole Brie cheese, or packaged pepper steak, or tinned herrings, in addition to sweet coffee and biscuits).

I left there into the warmer, though wetter, air outside and didn't feel able to ride the rest of the way up the hill. I walked the bike a couple of streets up before finding the opportunity to start it on a level side street to enable me to change to bottom gear again. In this way I at last dripped into the Golden Fleece roadhouse which is also the office for the adjacent motel.

I usually look pretty scruffy after a day's riding, what with rough riding shirt, sweat, zinc cream, dust and dirty boots, but on this day I looked worse than usual. I enjoy the surprise on people's faces when someone looking like me, on a home-made bike, walks in and whips out an AMEX gold card to pay for his accomodation.

Having done that and got my key I went to my unit. For $39 it was great. There were insect screens on all the windows, even a lockable screen door in addition to the main door. The TV had a remote and the airconditioner had a heat cycle. I turned it to full heat, unpacked everything and distributed it around the room. I hung the bags on chairs. The bike was not going to be properly sheltered in case of squally rain, since my unit faced west, so when it was not actually dripping, and when no-one was looking, I wiped the tyres and brought it inside too.

I had a quick hot shower and settled down under the quilt for a nice sleep. Outside the sky darkened and rain poured down again.

When I awoke I could not continue to relax for a while as there was a practical problem to deal with, namely, where to from Kojonup? The nearest stop with accomodation, heading back towards Perth, was Darkan, but after my hard two days I didn't feel up to that 82 km ride that I remembered too well from 1987, with conditions probably to be similar. I needed a rest day, but to stay at this comfortable motel would still leave the problem of reaching Darkan the following day. I needed an alternative of shorter rides.

Arthur River has no hotel but my accomodation guide showed a couple of 'farmstays' there, where farmers making no money out of sheep rent rooms or whole houses to tourists wishing to stay on a farm. I have avoided these because they are far from shops and hard to find, being located '2 hrs south of Perth' or 'on the Highdenup road' (only 30 km long) or 'southwest of Kulin'. But I rang up these Arthur River farmstays. Both had answering machines on. These asked me for my fax number so that they could get back to me. I tried again later with the same result. People who offer accomodation must have a live body near the telephone during reasonable hours, like between 5 and 6 pm on a weekday, which is when I rang.

My plan had been to go to Arthur River on Tuesday, 59 km but all sealed road and manageable. After that it was going to be - Wednesday, 38 km to Williams, where there was a proper motel; Thursday, 69 km to Boddington, where I have never stayed; Friday, 51km to Dwellingup; then, depending on weather and how I felt, I could go straight back to Armadale and get the train, or if there were easterlies I could use these to get to Mandurah on the coast and use the prevailing southwesterlies there to get back to Cottesloe.

All this depended on finding somewhere to stay in Arthur River on Tuesday. To go 97 km to Williams on Tuesday, into headwinds, after two hard days, didn't seem feasible. So I had to make another plan.

I found another farmstay, Proandra, '25 km north of Kojonup'. This would be a good rest day and would shorten the next day's ride to Darkan, when the weather might have changed to be more helpful. I rang Proandra and someone was there to book me in. She told me where it was and confirmed what my maps had indicated, that I could get through to Moodiarrup, thence Darkan, by continuing west from Proandra. It would be $45.

So my course was now clear for two days. I would make a decision about where to go from Darkan when I got there. I had a tentative plan to go from Darkan to Quindanning, a ride of less than 50 km but apparently all on gravel; thence to Dwellingup, 69 km; and so on.

I took a walk around the town before sorting all this out. I looked in a shop full of what they called 'brick a brack', many interesting things, including a variety of emu oil preparations made by a farm near Wagin. I thought of buying one of these to rub on my sore butt but a tiny jar was $12. I suppose they are geared mainly to tourists from countries with a favourable rate of exchange against the $A.

I wanted a postcard but the newsagent, with many other shops in Kojonup, shuts with a bang at 5 pm. Foodland was open until six, however, so I went in and got some more rich choc milk and some new insoles, since the two pairs I had were frayed. I would use three insoles in each shoe.

A heavy shower came through and I sheltered in a shop until it had passed, which it did quite quickly, allowing the low sun to break through quite strongly to end the day. I walked around the back streets and through the Rotary Park.

I went back to the roadhouse and bought some tasty junk food and at last settled down to a relaxing evening and a good night's sleep, with the prospect of an easy day the next day and no need to ride more than 70 km per day from now on. I felt satisfaction at the day just gone because it showed what I could cope with if I had to. It was one of the worst days of any of my rides, standing alongside the Kojonup-Darkan hail run in 1987 and the ghastly ride from Nannup to Augusta in 1981 into the face of a westerly storm.

Another good thing was that despite being rained on all day, neither my battery-powered analogue watch nor my digital speedo had stopped, faded or malfunctioned in any way.

Reading at Kojonup: End of day 1336.1. Day's ride: 86 km. Aggregate: 472. Km/day: 67.4. kph to Foodland: 14.3

DAY 8, Kojonup - Proandra

TUESDAY 22 OCTOBER

The day was clear but rain still threatened and the wind was still fresh, from the NW. I had no need to get up early or make an early start, so I had a late breakfast and lay in bed reading and listening to the radio, then I cleaned and oiled the bike and checked out of the motel right on 10 o'clock. Then I rode down the hill and made yet another visit to Foodland for some supplies I thought I might need. Then I rode to see the old barracks that were built in 1845. I could not see inside because they are only open for inspection for two hours each Sunday.

Finally I rode back up the hill and left the town. The cyclocomputer read 1339 at the northern town limit. I was not feeling up to much and was glad that after all I did not have to do 59 km to Arthur River. The bike started to show a problem that was to get gradually worse, nearly coming to a crisis on the last day of the ride. Sometimes when I turned the pedals the ratchet would not engage immediately and the pedals would spin uselessly. It wasn't too bad - I didn't really start to worry about it until the following Sunday. I assumed that water must have got deep inside the cluster and that the problem would go away when it dried out.

I took a drink stop at 1351 then reached the gravel Neymerup Road, with its signs for Proandra, at 1357. At 1361 I turned left onto the driveway and arrived in the farmyard of Proandra. I was immediately attacked by a pack of five dogs. Another thing that people who offer accomodation must learn to do is keep their dogs under control. Many tourists do not like being attacked by dogs and are not comfortable with dogs. Contrary to what many accomodation suppliers seem to believe, tourists are not obliged to like dogs, or to be good with dogs or to attend dog handling classes before beginning their holiday.

I stood in a corner of the farmyard with the bike between myself and the dogs until human beings appeared. They spoke to the dogs, who ignored them. Contrary to popular belief, dogs don't understand English. I usually find that they understand a stone or a kick but I didn't want to start my stay here that way.

Eventually the dogs were called away and I met the keepers of Proandra. They were a middle-aged couple, their daughter and son-in-law and dear little grand-daughter. The older man apologised for the toilet - he said he had spent the morning getting the flush to work, but now the water was coming through brown. I said that was all right - if the flush didn't work I could use a bucket. They laughed at that. I meant use a bucket of water to flush the toilet.

Now they showed me the accomodation. It was an entirely separate house with its own garden and gate. It was much bigger than the house at Nyamup, and completely furnished, with carpets, blinds, bookcases full of books and lots of pictures and ornaments. The bed was fully made up, towels and soap were provided, as were coffee, tea, milk and sugar. There were even a TV and radio and a washing machine with detergent and a spin-dryer, giving me the opportunity at mid-ride to do a complete wash of everything. All this for $45 a night for one person. The best value for money of the trip.

The older lady told me that she would be working with flowers in the shed after lunch if I wanted to come and see. I told her that I wanted to rest and do washing but I would certainly come later.

So I took possession for a day and night of this nice house. I took a stroll in the garden, inspected all the plants and flowers and the big rabbit in his enclosure against the fence near the toilet. Then I went inside for my snack and sleep, before which I washed my evening clothes and back-pack. A shower came through after I had put them on the rotary hoist and I had to run out and bring them onto the east-facing back verandah.

At mid-afternoon I awoke, had my shower, washed the riding clothes and put on clean, nearly-dry evening clothes. Then I went to find the shed. I found it, heard a radio going inside, but could find no way in. So I took a walk round the flower enclosure. Four big ducks quacked about, to keep the snails down I was told later. I was most impressed with the beauty, the variety and abundance and health of the proteas. In addition there was a mass of those flowers like everlastings, only with numerous small white and purple flowers on the end of the stalk instead of the daisy.

I looked around the outside of the shed again and found a door which looked as though it would only open from the outside. I tried it anyway and found myself in the right place - the radio was blaring and the older lady, her daughter and granddaughter were working with a light in a shed whose walls and roof hung with dried flowers. They were working on arrangements for a wedding. So I spent quite a long time in there while the lady told me about the place. She said there was no money in sheep - the sheep were a dead loss. There was not much in flowers either and she worked long hours. At present she was just doing some extra work for a wedding. She told me about other visitors who had stayed on the farm. A German lady had been intoxicated by the sight of the huge open field and had gone to run and dance around it, only to have to spend an hour afterwards picking seeds out of her suede shoes. It had been during the previous summer.

We discussed my ride and I told her my plans for the next day. She said yes, I could get straight through by getting back onto Neymerup Road and continuing west. She said it was 19 miles to Moodiarrup. She knew that because she used to take the kids for picnics to the lake there when they were young. That was what we city folk call about 30 kilometres. This would make it about 65 km to Darkan.

Later I helped the lady carry the dried flower arrangements outside where she sprayed them with gold paint. Then I went for a walk myself, across the big empty field, then around the paddock where the sheep and pet emu were and down to the lake to see the ducks. I saw a little rosella flitting amongst the proteas. I saw some old farm machinery rusting under a tree. The wheels and spokes were of wood, with an iron tyre.

Later I asked to use their telephone, to book the Darkan Hotel and ring Perth. I didn't know how much these calls would cost so I left $2 on the telephone and told the daughter when she came back.

At sunset I took my washing in and cooked a nice dinner from my dried food in the well-equipped kitchen. Then I settled down for an evening of TV and reading. The evening was very calm, the wind had dropped right away.

Reading at Proandra Farmstay: 1361.6. Day's ride 25 km. Aggregate: 497. Kpd 62.1. No times or kph - this was a slack rest day.

DAY 9, Proandra - Darkan

WEDNESDAY 23 NOVEMBER

During the night the wind strengthened from the north-west. I discovered this when I needed to get up in the night and find the toilet, which was some way from the house, out the back and off to the right down a path. It was hard to find my way in the dark. The wind swished the trees around and banged the toilet door. The signs weren't good for the coming day. But there were some hours before I had to start riding so I hoped that conditions might improve.

When I awoke later in daylight the wind was still up. I had a good breakfast and cleaned and tidied the house, moving any furniture back that I had shifted and washing the dishes. I finally left rather late, at 8:45. No-one was about, not even the dogs. I rode to the end of the driveway and turned left, west, onto the gravel road.

This day was to be remarkably similar to my previous ride to Darkan in 1987, only not so fierce, with less rain and no hail. The wind would freshen from the north-west as a shower came through, then slacken and turn south-west in between. I could see the showers coming and managed to avoid most of them.

I found the bitumen road at 1363 and enjoyed it for 11 km before getting onto gravel again at 1374. This conformed to my RAC map. I took a drink-stop at 1378. I had passed a sign saying 'floodway' earlier. I have often seen these signs on my rides and when I passed this most recent one I wondered what I would do if I actually came to a flooded section of road. I formed a plan in my head. Then, after my drink-stop, at 1379, I came to another sign saying 'floodway' and there indeed was the river bubbling merrily across the road, to a width of about 100 metres. There was no way around it because the river continued into the paddocks on the right and left. So I had a chance to put my plan into action. I took off my shoes and socks and carried them round my neck. Then I ;picked up the bike, complete with luggage, and carried it as I waded carefully into the stream. The surface was firm underfoot and the water was clear enough to see through. If it got too deep and difficult I intended to go back, unship the luggage that weighed as much as the bike, and make two journeys. But I got over in one, without mishap. At the other side I dried my feet on some long grass, put my shoes back on and resumed the ride.

At last at 1381 I met the main bitumen Kojonup-Darkan road. I now turned north-west, which made the going easier because the wind was no longer straight in my face. I passed the lake 30 km out from Proandra, like the lady had said, but when I say Moodiarrup I mean the store, which was another 2km. The lady had told me that the store was closed. I remembered that when I had stopped there in 1987 for a welcome rest and shelter and lunch on a stormy day the lady who was running it said that she had worked there since 1955 and was about to retire. I thought the store might have been closed since then. But when I got there (1393) I found that it had only been closed since April 1996. A shower came through just as I arrived, so I took a drink-stop and sheltered under the porch until the rain stopped. Because on this day the rain was no longer continuous there was no need to get wet. After quite a long wait the rain stopped and I could see from the grass that the wind had turned a little south of west. Since the rest of the way to Darkan was due north I felt that the hard part of the ride was over. I set off again.

I passed through Duranillin at 1404 and took another drink-stop at 1411. The going wasn't too easy - there were hills and I was still tired from the two hard days. But I rolled down the hill, turned east onto the Collie-Darkan road and arrived at the Darkan Hotel at 1:18, 1429.5.

I went into the front bar and the man I had spoken to when I made the booking greeted me. He was very friendly and seemed to enjoy being a hotel-keeper. On the telephone he had quoted $15 for the room only. When I told him that I would not be requiring dinner or breakfast because the roadhouse was next door and because I usually got going early in the morning, he decided that $10 for the room was enough. So I paid there and then at the bar. His wife said that people usually just went to the roadhouse. This was open for all meals seven days a week, being on the main road from Bunbury through Collie, Darkan and Arthur River to the Great Southern Highway. They told me to make myself at home - they said they were pretty laid-back.

The three small cabins at the back, in one of which I had stayed in 1987, were still there, but now it was possible to have a room in the main hotel building. I had room no. 5. This was a great contrast to Proandra - the room was so tiny that the bed just fitted in from one wall to the other. But it was clean and comfortable and there was a bedside light precariously clipped to an old chair and a wardrobe with a spare pillow and quilt and a coathanger.

I got some food from the roadhouse and went back to my room for a sleep. The sun was shining brightly through the window so I drew the curtain.

When I awoke dark clouds were building up in the west. I showered and changed and hung my washing on the line, hoping it would mostly dry before the rain came as it certainly would. I crossed the park where the old railway line used to go through (I'm sure it was still there in 1987) and did my shopping at Foodland, for breakfast food, boxed drinks and milk. I took this back to the hotel before setting off for a quick walk round the signposted 'Darkan Heritage Trail'. Locals are trying to make this insignificant and rather dull town into a tourist magnet. Rain started falling intermittently.

I made my telephone calls during one shower. I had decided to go to Collie the next day, then to try the short cut to Harvey along the Mornington Mills Road. The hotel-keeper had told me that it was indeed gravel all the way to Quindanning, and he didn't know how good it was. It might be like the Waterhatch Road (see 1995 ride) and I would have to ride 69 km to Dwellingup the following day. And there would be no television in the hotels. I hankered after a good-sized town with decent motels and shops and restaurants.

I walked up the hill but decided that there was not enough clear weather left to walk the full trail, so I just went back towards the Kojonup Road and through the park at that end. Five straggly little gum-trees stood around a path described by a sign as 'walk trail'. The trees carried a sign saying 'five gum trees forming a shady bower for walkers to rest.' Further on was a wooden rotunda with a flower-bed. None of the flowers were native but they carried a sign saying who had planted them and when. Many of the little houses in the town had better flowers in their gardens.

I mailed a postcard on my way back to the hotel. The rain was really threatening to start soon so I went to rescue my washing. The proprietor had said that there was a laundry, so I went in there and found a hot-air clothes dryer. Not bad for $10. Many expensive motels can't provide that for their guests. I got my stuff into this, then the bucketing started and continued for a couple of hours.

I got chicken and chips and a cheese sausage and a rich choc-milk from the roadhouse and settled into my tiny room to eat and read.

Later in the evening I decided to go into the bar, which was pleasantly old-fashioned with pool tables and a juke box and people allowed to smoke and wear thongs[footwear]. I played some tunes, drank beer with a lime dash, watched the games of pool and had pleasant chats with the hotel-keeper and friendly shearers who came over and introduced themselves and wanted to discuss my bike-ride.

The rain had gone, the sky was clear and starry and the air was cold when I left the bar and walked up the road and back before retiring for the night.

Reading at Darkan: 1429.5 km. Day's ride: 68 km. Aggregate 565 km. Kpd 64.2. Kph to Darkan 15.0.

DAY 10, Darkan - Collie

THURSDAY 24 OCTOBER

The morning was cool, clear and sunny with light S-SE winds as it had been in 1987 when I left Darkan, but there was no frost. The winds would help me a bit towards Collie because the road runs WSW for the first half of the journey, then WNW for the rest. This was to be one of those days when a journey that should have been straightforward and not hard became a labour. It happens sometimes. At other times a journey that should have been hard just gets done with little pain.

I left the hotel at 7:59 after pouring oil into the cluster in an attempt to cure the slipping-ratchet problem. The first 5 km out of Darkan are mainly uphill. You just have to put the bike in climbing gear and plod on for 20 minutes or so. When finally the continuous climb stopped I looked back and saw quite a view of the country behind. So I had gained some height. After that, the road just goes up and down, but steeply, not gently undulating like the country further north and east.

I took drink-stops at 1447 (at a bridge over a river) 1463 and 1478. I was really finding the climbing hard as I got closer to Collie. I remembered from 1987 that the last few km into the town gave a good downhill run, but it didn't seem so easy this time. A few km out I heard an enormous bang that resonated around the country, and I thought that the Muja power station had come to grief. This would mean no TV or hot shower for me in Collie. That power station supplies most of the southwest of W.A. Then I remembered that the power station is fed by an open-cut coal mine, so they must have been blasting.

I crossed the railway line and rode up the main street. A country driver cut in front of me without signalling and parked a short way ahead. He might have cleaned me up had my years of riding experience not made me apprehensive of that kind of behaviour. Normally his having parked would have given me the opportunity to offer him advice, such as I often offer bad drivers in the city. But I felt strangely subdued and just rode on. The motel was towards the western end of town, a couple of rows of units up a steep slope beside a fancy restaurant. The reception for the motel was inside the restaurant. I had been told on the telephone that the unit would be $60 - a lot more than average, so I was expecting something better than average. I arrived at 11:38, 1492.5.

The women in reception were friendly and helpful, though busy. The one who checked me in and took my money told me she had put me in Unit 24, which was quiet, being at the end of the row. When I got into it it was pleasant enough, but very ordinary. There were no insect screens and the air-conditioner didn't have a heat cycle, not that I needed it this day. There was nowhere to hang washing. When I did it later I hung it on a big yellow-flowering bush near my unit. This motel had not been my first choice - another one had looked cheaper and more attractive in the accomodation guide, but it was booked out.

I went down to the shopping centre across the tracks and bought a salad bun and a couple of vanilla slices. While I was buying these two women came in and one of them asked for a vanilla slice. The other one asked "Why are you buying a vanilla slice?" The first one replied "'Cause I know you gunna wannit later!" The second woman looked at me and smiled. How nice to have someone who anticipates your desires!

I also went into the Chemist to buy some cream for my sore butt. It wasn't going to stop being sore until I got home and got off the bike, but at least I could make it manageable.

I also went into the newsagent to get postcards and to check the maps for my next, and last, little adventure, which I had been contemplating since Rocky Gully and which was another unmet Challenge. I wanted to go from Collie to Wokalup, thence to Harvey and probably Waroona, the next day, via the back road, the Mornington Mills Road, and I wanted to look in the big new map book and check the road names and junctions on the route and how much of the way would be gravel.

I went back and had my lunch, sleep, etcetera. Then I took a walk around the town, taking the way up the steep hill to the south of the main street. I saw the Anglican church with the 'italianate tower' that I recorded in 1987. I couldn't get in to see the paintings depicted in one of the postcards I had bought. I walked further and had a good view of the tree-covered hills to the south of the town, with the afternoon sun giving them light and shadow and making a lovely, soothing scene that I contemplated for some time. I tested the wind - it was south-east. Even if it were east the next day it would help me over the hilly, gravelly, unfamiliar part of the ride. It would not help and might even hinder me once I hit the SW highway but remembering how flat and easy the road from Pinjarra to Harvey had seemed on the way down I didn't worry. I decided definitely to go to Waroona the next day, so I went to a telephone and booked the Drakesbrook Motel. This name is not as trendy as it seems - the area was originally called Drakes Brook, before the name Waroona was adopted.

I had another look round the shops and got a couple of Chinese take-away menus for later. Then I went back to the motel and took in my washing which was now in shadow and not likely to dry any more. It was not too damp. I gave the bike a bit more oil.

I went out and got a big meal, duck in plum sauce and combination omelette. Either one alone would have done, but I was worried about running out of strength the next day. I had got into the habit of sucking barley-sugars during each day's ride.

The day ended pleasantly as usual, watching TV, reading, writing up this log and lounging about. Just before going to bed, as usual I took a walk up and down the street to help me sleep. The main street was dark and cold but not quiet. Bumpkins in noisy cars were drag-racing. A car had been parked, some distance from the kerb, coming out of a side street and jutting into the main street. Its lights were off and no-one was inside. Perhaps it was acting as an obstacle in some game.

Reading at Collie: 1492.5. Km for day: 63. Aggregate: 628. Kpd 62.8. Kph to Collie 17.4.

DAY 11, Collie - Waroona

FRIDAY 25 OCTOBER

I woke up, broke my fast on Brie cheese and vanilla slice and choc milk and coffee and rode away at 8:05. The morning was clear and cold with E - SE winds, as expected. It was just as well I had checked the maps the previous day because the town map of Collie that I had gave a different name, to that in a more modern map, to the town road that led to the Mornington Mills Road. It was exactly the same road. This might have caused confusion. I did eventually find the correct way out of town after back-tracking and checking street signs once. Better sure than sorry. Angles at the site often look different from the way they do on the map. A road that goes off at right angles on the map often starts off by going at an angle forward or backward. A road heading west with a lesser branch to the left can in practice turn out to be a road heading west, then southwest, with a lesser branch to the right. Thus if you have in your head 'Stick to the main track, and don't take the branch to the left' you can end up some km south of where you want to be. This happened to me in 1995, on Day 7.

The road was quite good and wide but very hilly but the breeze was helpful, though not so effective since I was riding through the forest. I took a drink stop at 1508, leaning the bike against a log near a sign. While I was there the radio played a track from 'Riverdance'. This was delightful and energised me for the day ahead. At 1510 I found the junction with ### Road where I had to take a left, go a km and take a right. If you take a right at the junction you come to Wagerup Alumina Refinery, the establishment of which has caused these roads to be changed and upgraded. There is now a railway track where there wasn't 20 years ago.

The required right turn duly appeared at 1511 and the gravel started within a few hundred metres. Sometimes when a section of road is gravel it isn't so hilly, but this didn't seem to be true in this case. I did a lot of walking up and down stretches that were too steep and rough to ride down safely or up without slithering to a stop. But I had plenty of time and took it easy. I reckoned I had only at the most 20 or so km of this to get over before hitting the SW highway, i.e. civilisation, plenty of towns, end of problems. And some km before that I expected some km of easy fast riding down the scarp onto the coastal plain. This is a bonus which I have enjoyed before at other points on other rides.

I had a drink-stop at 1523, then ran onto bitumen at 1528. A few hundred metres later I got my first view of the vision splendid, of the coastal plain extended, through a gap in the hills. The downhill run started at 1531 and continued until 1534. At some point in this run I reached my highest speed for the ride, 61 kph, faithfully recorded on the cyclocomputer.

Turning at last onto the SW highway I felt stiff and sore and not very energetic, the wind was against me and I seemed to be going uphill. I laboured on for a while, got past Wokalup, and as the road turned from NE to N I took another drink stop at 1538. I passed the Harvey turnoff at 1540. Signs contradicted each other in the vicinity, but there were no more than 28 km to go now to Waroona town (a bit further to the motel, which lies on the northern outskirts of Waroona). Again it was one of those days when 28 km seems a long way. I did not remember the hills on the SW highway near Harvey being so steep going up, and so gentle going down. But the distance got done, km by km, and I stopped at Yarloop (1556), with only 13 km to go, to have a last rest and buy a rich choc milk from the store.

The SW highway is very pretty in October. Creeks and ponds and dams still have water in them, the hills and paddocks are green and anything that flowers at this time is doing so.

At last I came to some scattered buildings, then to the sign saying 'Waroona' then up the main street, noting the position and distance of post office, shops, bakeries and possible sources of hot food for dinner. I reached the motel at 12:49, 1570.3. It was a bit out of town. I would be using the bike for shopping and sightseeing.

The motel was nice, with a bar, restaurant, pool and convention area. The unit was $40 and was spacious with radio, TV and a back door leading to an internal corridor that terminated in a door leading to the pool area. I paid at the bar and settled in.

I rode back into the town to do my shopping and get lunch. The ride was fading into its last stages and there was little shopping to do except to get some nice things for the next morning's breakfast. Every ride comes to a point where I feel that it is 'over' even though I might be still some way from home. In 1995 I felt that way when I finally reached The Lakes after a long day on the gravel from Beverley. In the early rides I felt that way when I got back to Busselton, with only the easy flat 53 km ride to Bunbury and the train left. This year I felt that it was 'over' when I reached the comfort of the Drakesbrook motel, with only an easy 44km ride to Mandurah the next day, then the run up the coast on Sunday, to come, all on the coastal plain through relatively well-populated areas.

When I arrived at the shopping centre, four children were just inside playing around. When they saw me through the full length glass doors they all smiled in delight and came outside to ask me about my bike. We must have looked dustier and more interesting than I had thought. I answered them as well as I could, then their mother came and smiled at me as she told them to come back inside.

After my rest I enjoyed a swim in the pool, then rested on the sun-warmed concrete around the pool, against a wall. With my left eye, which can focus really close up, being extremely shortsighted, I watched a tiny insect crawl across the concrete. It was going very fast for such a small dot of a thing and was rimmed with tiny hairs. I wondered that such a small creature should be so perfectly structured, with efficient legs. It would only have been a couple of hundred micrometres in length.

I looked over the wall, expecting to see more grounds and buildings associated with the motel. Instead I saw a sheep paddock coming right up to the wall.

When I did my washing there was nowhere to hang it, but I festooned it outside my unit in the westerly sun and no-one seemed to mind.

I rode down through the town, made telephone calls, booked the Brighton Hotel in Mandurah for the next night and inspected the local tourist attraction, the Vision Splendid Gardens, a fanciful park created in his large garden by a local resident who has made a scale model of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and some other things and planted many interesting flowers and shrubs. I bought a postcard.

The day ended as usual with fast food, cakes, choc milk, TV and relaxation. I looked back on the day with some satisfaction. I had tried something new and succeeded at it, and stayed in a place where I hadn't stayed before. I had done 85 km, the second longest day's run of the trip. I also felt a bit sad that the ride was nearly over and that all the challenges and worries were over. I was glad that I had pursued my goal and hadn't bottled out. The ride hadn't been any easier than it should have been; on the contrary, it had been made more difficult by contrary winds, inconsistent maps and a whole day of unceasing rain that wasn't predicted and is not usual in October.

Reading at Waroona: 1577.6. Day's ride: 85 km. Aggregate 713 km. Kpd 64.8. Kph to Waroona: 16.4.

DAY 12, Waroona - Mandurah

SATURDAY 26 OCTOBER

I didn't need to wake up or get going early, so after a nice breakfast enjoyed while reading and watching TV video hits, followed by another swim, then a hot shower, I rode away from the motel at 8:56.

The problem with the ratchet in the cluster, which hadn't got much worse since Kojonup, took a turn for the worse this morning. In addition, I was getting along in top gear, the smallest cog on the cluster, and what started to happen now was that if I stopped pedalling the chain would suddenly flip back as though something had been wound up. This flipping could be so sudden that the chain would come off. I would have to get off the bike and find a couple of sticks, to avoid dirtying my hands, and lever it back on. The first time it happened I had just ridden over a bump and thought that the shock from that had knocked the chain off. That was the only time the chain actually came off on this day, but there were several flips and I realised that these could take the chain off. I had ridden bumpier roads without losing the chain. I hadn't noticed this problem at all on the long ride to Waroona the previous day. Maybe I hadn't ridden enough in top gear to make it apparent.

Winds were NE changing later to SE and SW near the coast, but I felt good and didn't feel resisted. I took a rest at 1592, rode through Pinjarra without stopping, as I did so passing the motel where I had spent the first night of the ride (the dogs were there, waiting about for targets), then turned left onto the Mandurah road. I had another drink-stop at Ravenswood, 1607, after which I waited for a tractor that was coming slowly along, half on the road and half on the gravel shoulder, to get past, before mounting up and spinning the pedals until they caught. I assumed that he would be going faster than me. I was wrong - he was only doing about 25 kph and I caught up to him quite quickly. At a suitable opportunity I overtook the tractor and gradually left it behind.

Approaching Mandurah, with its recent rapid growth, I had to pass through seven sets of traffic lights within the last few km. This was when the problem with the ratchet really started to become a nuisance. In the country proper there is no need to stop pedalling during the 15 - 20 km between drink-stops. But I was getting into the region of stop-start riding or driving, whether for traffic lights or stop signs or pedestrian crossings, and every time I stopped pedalling I had trouble getting started again. And if I had been travelling in top gear for some time, if I stopped pedalling the chain would flip. It wasn't until the next day that I realised that this only happened in top gear.

I rolled to a stop in front of the old Brighton Hotel at 11:15, 1622.2. I had been surprised and pleased the day before to find that it was still open and taking bookings. I had not been able to get an ensuite room because they were all booked out. The place is popular. In 1994 there had been a scheme to pull it down and replace it with a cinema complex and shopping centre, and I was sad because of its association with my early rides in the 1970s. But maybe they will keep it going for heritage reasons.

If so, it will need a bit of work. It is always clean but the hot water system is not efficient, mattresses are lumpy and sag in the middle and there is a pervasiveness of disrepair. The dining room is still the same, with those dark pictures painted straight onto the peeling wallpaper that covers the ceiling as well as the walls. It must have been there for decades. I remember it in 1977. It looks like the sort of eccentricity that people indulge in when they want to knock a few thousand dollars off the value of their house.

I got into my room, which was really dark. The only window opened not to the outside, but to a passage. I had thoughts of trying to sleep while people stomp, stomped back and forth. However, this passage led nowhere except to a bolted door that opened onto a narrow rickety wooden flight of steps that no-one was likely to use. And the room wasn't far from the bathroom. I chose the bed that had the flattest mattress. I prowled around, since it was early, looking for rooms that were still open, being cleaned. No-one was about and I was able to score a couple of coathangers for my washing and a spare towel and a spare blanket to fold and put on top of the mattress against the bumps and hollows.

I rested, then rode the 1.8 km to an ocean beach that I know, a little way north of the Atrium, and had a delicious swim. Then I went back for my tepid shower. The bathroom had changed so little that I had strong memories of 1977 and 1979.

I hung my washing on the old upstairs wooden verandah, on corroded disused light fittings, one of which broke, dropping my shirt in a pile of bird poo just beneath the light. I had to wash it again.

I looked around the shops and bought another postcard. There was no need to buy food because help-yourself breakfast is included in the price at the Brighton and there were plenty of restaurants in the town. On the last night of a ride I always have a celebratory dinner in a restaurant. On this occasion it was a nice Chinese one near the Atrium. It was not the oily restaurant that nearly destroyed my insides in 1994.

As in 1994 I went to the under-deck of the old bridge to watch the fishing, if any. A cold wind was blowing powerfully from the south-west, which seeemd promising for next day; to have such a wind still going after sunset suggested that it would start early the next morning. But the current was flowing just as powerfully in the opposite direction. When anything was thrown into the water it would go flying out on the breeze, then get dragged rapidly back towards and under the thrower.

I hoped that Fred, the expert fisherman I met there in 1994, would show up with his dog and we could have another chat as he hauled in salmon trout two at a time. I had seen him and his dog and his bike at the Brighton earlier in the day. But he didn't show, and people who were there weren't catching anything and were going home early. It wasn't the same as in 1994. Nothing ever is the same as a previous happy time. I went back to the hotel. The light in the guest TV lounge didn't go on. The TV worked but I had missed the start of the 'Bill' and just went back to my room and read my book before settling down to sleep.

Reading at Mandurah: 1625.9. Day's ride: 48 km. Aggregate 761. Kpd 63.4. Kph to Mandurah 19.3 (spoiled by traffic lights and ratchet problem).

DAY 13, Mandurah - Cottesloe

SUNDAY 27 OCTOBER

The final day. The dining room at the Brighton doesn't open till 8 on a Sunday, but there was no rush today. I enjoyed my help yourself breakfast of all the cereal, toast, jams, coffee or tea and milk you can eat. Then I showered and packed up in a leisurely way and started to ride at 9:39. This time it took a while to get the pedals to engage. I thought for a minute that the bike wouldn't work at all. Finally I got going and pedalled for a while in top gear, heading north up Mandurah Terrace. My right knee was sore because with all the trouble with the ratchet I had wrenched it a bit by pushing strongly forward on the right pedal, expecting the usual load, and finding the pedals not engaging, pushing nothing. Doing this many times had caused the wrench.

I stopped pedalling briefly and the chain flipped and came off. I had to stop to put it back on. Finally I realised that it was only doing this in top gear and kept out of that gear, going only as far as second-top and changing the chain-ring gear to the big ring if I wanted to ride in fast gear. This meant that my fully top gear would not be usable, but it didn't matter, because there were not to be any steep downhill runs on this last day and, despite the promise of the evening before, the winds stayed E all day, though they seemed to be trying to struggle round to the south early on. I think that Mandurah itself might have got a light SW but as I rode further north I left it behind. This was a Mandurah-Cottesloe ride with effectively no tailwind and a mechanical problem. I didn't expect a personal best.

I took a drink stop at 1642, on the shady side of a bus stop, and another one at 1659. Between Mandurah and Rockingham I rode past a huge new suburb, entirely contained within a continuous high wall. The wall went for several kilometres beside the road without a break, then there was a road in, then the wall continued for another four or five kilometres without a break. The houses were close together and I saw no trees. It was like a vast prison camp. How can people stand to live in such places? You couldn't just stroll out of your house and cross the road. Unless you drove everywhere, you would be trapped within the camp. If I lived in such a place I would get a few neighbours together and breach the wall.

Having solved the chain problem I made steady progress, only having trouble when I had to stop at a red traffic light, which didn't happen very often for the first 40 km. I made the last drink-stop for the day, and the ride, at Coogee beach shop, where I splashed my face and got a rich choc milk. It took a very long time to get the pedals to engage when I was ready to start riding again, and I was facing more traffic lights in the last 14 km than in the whole of the journey so far. I would just have to try to get through them all when they were green. I would have to try and pedal non-stop the rest of the way home. Also, I was fighting time. In 1986 I took 3 hours and 20 minutes to ride from Mandurah to Cottesloe, when I had already ridden 100 km from Bunbury that same day. I didn't want this day's ride to be slower than that.

Well, I won both challenges. I didn't stop pedalling for the next 14 km until I reached my house, and I made it with two minutes to spare. The 1996 ride ended at 12:57 pm, 1691.7, as I pulled up outside my side gate and looked up the lane in the direction in which I had departed 13 days before.

A postscript: I decided that I had to fix the cluster as a first priority, that day, so that I wouldn't worry. I got it off the wheel and took it apart. It was indeed dirty and gritty inside. The ratchet in these things consists of two steel tongues held in place by a broken circle of spring steel. The gap in the circle is supposed to be positioned on a ridge to hold the assembly in place, but it had slipped round, so that one of the steel tongues had fallen out and the other one was moving only with difficulty in its mess of grit. It could be that the wet day and the dust had caused this to happen, but it is also possible that when I dismantled, cleaned, oiled and reassembled the cluster as I usually do before starting a ride I had not positioned it properly. If so, I was lucky to have got away with it. The bike performed perfectly until the day after Kojonup, and apart from the ratchet problem (which caused the chain flipping problem; this did not recur after I had fixed the cluster) nothing else went wrong. I did not even need to pump the tyres. All the heavy tools and spares I had bought returned home unused. But it is good to have them. Anyway I cleaned and reassembled the cluster correctly and it performed perfectly when tested in the fading twilight.

This ride was the greatest ever in terms of distance, beating the 1987 aggregate of 779 km. It had the greatest number of nights away, 12, against 11 in 1987. The average km per day was less than in 1987 and 1991 (65) and the greatest ever in 1992 (70).

Final reading at end of ride: 1691.7 km. Km for day: 66. Aggregate: 827. Kpd: 63.6. Kph to home: 19.9. 3 hours 18 minutes from Mandurah to Cottesloe.

Charles A. Pierce 1996

Do you have questions about bicycle touring in Western Australia's SouthWest?  You're welcome to ask Charles!

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